Hannibal Review: “And the Woman Clothed in Sun” (3×10)

Given its parallel title, it should be no surprise that “And the Woman Clothed in Sun” is, more or less, a direct continuation of the preceding episode, even more so than this highly serialized final run of episodes. Mostly, what's here is further explication of Francis Dolarhyde, specifically and more generally, a further explication of exactly what goes on in the mind of a psychopath. Much of Hannibal has been concerned with the finer points of sanity, ever since Hannibal asked Will to draw a clock. Where does sanity end and insanity begin? How fuzzy is the line? Is it a gradient? a cliff? Are you born into it, or can it be cultivated?

Not that the episode offers any outright answers; in fact, the overarching argument seems to be that there are no answers. But in keeping with its subject matter, what Hannibal does offer is case studies. We spend much time with Dolarhyde this week, as his strange courtship with Reba McClane rounds home base. One of the eeriest scenes from the novel, in which Reba fondles an anaesthetized tiger, junk and all, causing Dolarhyde's audible arousal, is here basically intact, and it's lovingly shot, even if it is sometimes a little too obvious that that's a tiger-patterned rug (maybe). Immediately after, Reba cozies up to Dolarhyde in similar fashion, feeding into his ever-growing ego as the “Red Dragon” begins to possess his mind.

With this continued focus on Dolarhyde, Richard Armitage continues to be a standout member of an already stacked cast. He plays the duality of the character with an unsettling ease. At times, he is vulnerable, even scared; at others, he is menacing. The combined effect is one of confusion and disorientation, which is never more effective than at the episode's end, when Dolarhyde steals and eats the creepy Blake watercolor from which the novel takes its name. It falls just short of a punchline, which is just where the scene should land for maximum effect.

Another welcome case study is of Bedelia Du Maurier, who makes a triumphant return here as a speaker, capitalizing on her experiences with Hannibal, in which she has recast herself as a victim. Will is obviously unappreciative of this decidedly radical reinterpretation, and their back and forth throughout the episode is a highlight, providing the delightful repartee so many of the pairings on this show share. Bedelia steps almost gleefully into the Hannibal role, poking and prodding at Will as best she can. Hasn't he learned his lesson? “Or do you just miss him that much?” she teases, raising that homoerotic specter once more. Her best line: “I don't lie; I obfuscate.” If that isn't a rationalization right out of Hannibal Lecter's playbook, I don't know what is.

The centerpiece of this story is Bedelia's extended flashback to her first murder, of the patient whom Hannibal “manipulated” her into finding dangerous. The patient is played by Zachary Quinto, who is subdued and effective. It's no stunt cast; a serious actor is necessary, even for this small role, to give the scene the weight it requires. This scene is beautifully edited, crossing back and forth to her appointment with Will, so that without a careful look at Bedelia's wardrobe, it's never clear to whom she's saying what. This is a moment that we've heard about before, but to see it dramatized here, especially in such gory detail, puts a fine point on the dialogue that Bedelia has with Will. She harps about his exceptional empathy, and argues that it is just as empathetic to end a life as it is to save one; in some cases, it is perhaps smarter. Will refuses to believe this, and it's that basic good nature (or is it naïveté?) that will ultimately undo him.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, this is a typically excellent episode of a show that is ending far too soon, and yet, I suspect, also at exactly the right time. The themes are coming full circle; the plot, building to a fever pitch. The effect of the Red Dragon arc is to take one of the “killers of the week” and make him a central figure on the show, and by placing Dolarhyde into relief with these other incredibly damaged people, we see the spectrum of sanity of which Bryan Fuller wishes to convince us. It's all of a piece, and for that thematic consistency to remain as flawless as it now is, the piece must come to completion. Better a little perfection than a lot of mediocrity, and with this episode, we are one step closer to a perfect version of Red Dragon.

Stray Observations:

• I love the way this season plays with time and space, in a manner that surely was fueled as much by budgetary concerns as by artistic intent. There are the flashbacks with Bedelia, but throughout the season, characters have been in multiple places and multiple moments simultaneously; each time Hannibal sees himself in his office, rather than his prison, is another little pang, a sense of justice served to a mad man, for now.
• Dolarhyde seems himself, like Will, in a fractured mirror.
• Will gets more help from Hannibal, and there's a great shot of them staring at each other through the glass, and Will's reflection merges with Hannibal's body