Hannibal Review: “The Number of the Beast is 666” (3×12)

Let’s get one thing straight immediately: “The Number of the Beast is 666” is a non-stop tour de force, from beginning to end. It is virtuosic in its scope, full of intimate scenes and juicy dialogue arranged around a lurid, stunning centerpiece that takes one of the most iconic, oft-parodied scenes of modern horror and makes it freshly terrifying. Make no mistake, Hannibal’s penultimate episode is perfect. It pains me that we have just one more week to revel in this brilliance.

That’s not hyperbole, either. The opening conversation between Will and Bedelia is, as is any conversation on this show featuring Gillian Anderson’s magnificent, lilting delivery, magnetic. A similar conversation appears later in the episode the episode, and taken together they are revelatory. Subtext has been becoming text for most of this season, but here we officially go there, with Will’s realization, at Bedelia’s suggestion, that Hannibal may in fact be in love with him. Leaving aside how very cool the notion of recasting the Hannibal mythos as a queer story is, the idea that the series has all along been built around, and in fact is building toward the conclusion of, this relationship provides context and weight to this final arc.

The discussion of Bluebeard’s wives, the idea that Hannibal uses Will as his agent in the world, and the return to the notion of participation—the suggestion that Will in fact chooses to be Hannibal’s agent in the world—all serve to recapitulate and to magnify the conflicts that have defined the series. Because with Hannibal behind bars, are not many of these conflicts beside the point? The devil is caged. And yet Jack is still a vengeful, manipulative, deceitful God. Alana is still cold and caustic, a far cry from the warm, nurturing woman we met three seasons ago. Will may very well be the murdering lunatic Freddie Lounds accused him being. Francis Dolarhyde may appear to be a wild card streaking through this assemblage, but it is all Hannibal Lecter’s design.

This is something Bedelia knows first-hand, knows instinctively, and perhaps this is why she seems to take such relish in laying it out for Will. Gillian Anderson’s addition to the cast has paid dividends this season, and her delivery here is as on point as ever; each word is clipped and crisp and fraught with meaning beneath the monotone of her voice. Bedelia is not the only who appears to be enjoying herself, either. Hannibal himself is a delight this episode, as Mads Mikkelsen’s performance edges closer to the rendition of the character with which we are most familiar. He has a permanent smirk plastered across his face, whether he is taunting Jack and Alana with their errors, lambasting Chilton one final time, or even, in a split-second gag shot, slurping up one of Chilton’s disembodied lips.

So much of the momentum here, then, is derived from long-standing character arcs coming to a head; from the continued twisting and turning and repeating of various motifs. Jack has always been manipulative of Will; now Will is aware of it and can call Jack on it, even if he continues to participate. Hannibal ribs at Alana, reminding her that he once tasted her lips, as well. Bedelia alludes to Bluebeard’s wives, but says with emotion that she would have preferred to have been the last (implying instead that she, like all of the others, has suffered some sort of death at Hannibal’s hand).

If the episode had just been a string of these sorts of scenes it would have been a series highlight. But it is the Red Dragon’s contribution to the episode that makes “The Number of the Beast is 666” the pinnacle of the series. (At least, one hopes, to date.) Dolarhyde’s abduction and torture and eventual murder of Chilton occupies an entire, extended twenty minute act of the episode, though it is unfortunately split by a commercial break (to give NBC credit, they did time it with a natural deflation of the tension, at Reba’s appearance). The entire thing is masterful, not least because this is such a recognizable, work-defining sequence. If you are anything like me, you cannot hear “do you see?” and not think first of South Park’s parody. But here we have a marvel of sustained a horror, a writer’s workshop in the slow ratcheting up of dramatic tension. Small scenes within the sequence fade to black and fade back in, mimicking Chilton’s consciousness throughout. Chilton is tied to a chair, shot from below, and above him the Dragon towers, his face obscured by a black mask that is more than a little reminiscent of our old friend, the Wendigo.

The writing and the direction are top-notch, but it is both performances that seal the deal. Raul Esparza plays Chilton with the perfect degree of smarm, but he turns that performance on its head here, parlaying Chilton’s fear into a considerable amount of audience sympathy. As for Richard Armitage, he is terrifying. His performance is so innately physical, from the jerking motions he makes as the Dragon, to the guttural growl the he modulates seemingly from the pit of his stomach. You are, in large part thanks to Armitage, on the edge of your seat for the full sequence, and only when you look up do you realize twenty minutes have gone by.

This is how great television is done, full stop—a textbook example of mood-setting, of dramatic structure, of thoughtful performance.

Stray Observations:

• “Quantifiably bitchy!” Chilton gets one last sick burn in before he, well, you know.
• “Are you a small or medium? Small, I bet.” Freddie Lounds, national treasure. TattleCrime is still a stupid name, though.
• The makeup work this episode is phenomenal, as well; Hannibal has never shied from gore, but the work on Chilton’s lipless face is among the grossest things the show has done.
• We have been advised to watch the final through the credits. Will there be a tag teasing Silence of the Lambs? Some other sort of Easter egg? My fingers are crossed for an eleventh hour renewal.