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GILLIAN ANDERSON as BEDELIA DU MAURIER  Hannibal 1x08

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Bedelia: Did you have to stab him?

Hannibal: You weren’t there. You didn’t hear what he said to me.

Bedelia: What did he say?

Hannibal: “What are you gonna do? Stab me?”

Bedelia, nodding: That’s fair.

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You hitched your star to a man commonly known as a monster. You’re the Bride of Frankenstein.

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@electric-couple Florence arc prompt

Hannibal and Bedelia’s Florence apartment

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‘Your lips may be sweet,

Such that I can’t compete,

But your heart is as black as night.’ –Melody Gardot

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Hannibal 0301 Antipasto | Costume appreciation 

Dr Bedelia Du Maurier accompanies Dr Hannibal Lecter to a ball. She wears a Marchesa strapless fishtail gown with ornamental embroidery. 

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Here & here !!

After filling up my last Hannibal journal, I was in desperate need of a new one- leave it to Redbubble to give me a wealth of options, and of course, your girl had to represent her ship and my unquenchable thirst for Gillian Anderson as Bedelia Du Maurier. They’re such fantastic quality, and I will literally throw all of my money at any Hannibal artist who sells their work online. Can’t recommend them enough !!

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have I ever mentioned how much I love Bedelia Du Maurier or

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I would sell my soul to find someone to talk to about all my Bedelia Du Maurier feelings, I have been searching for months

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Welcome to my Hannibal/Bedelia snail-scene Ted Talk.

( video in question can be found here on my twitter )

This is, without a doubt, my favorite fucking scene from the entirety of the Hannibal TV show. I watch it daily. You know Hannigram is my number one ship, but Du Maurier has always been my favorite character. And I find her relationship with Hannibal to be one of the most honest, intimate, and scathing shown on the show. This scene in particular perfectly sums up the love that they share in Italy and I want to talk about why.

We open up on Hannibal and Bedelia after intimacy, we know this because of the way they are dressed (or lack thereof), and Bryan’s infinitely infamous tweets “THEY TOTALLY BONED” and how he mentioned that the snails they are eating are “post-coital munchies.” Hannibal gingerly feeds her before himself, which for a hungry and terribly selfish man, doesn’t go unnoticed. He serves her a drink of whiskey and begins to stroke and caress her neck for the entire duration of their conversation, occasionally taking her pulse as they speak. The way he plays and toys with her hair, the wandering fingers never ceasing their affectionate actions is not only totally ASMR-worthy, it’s extraordinarily soft for such a violent and untrustworthy man. He’s admiring her, worshiping her gingerly as they discuss Will and his intentions here.

Notice her acceptance of the touch, not only leaning into it, but leaning against him as he embraces her from behind. Her cheek pressed against his as she relaxes under his comforting, but suspicious touch.

The first thing Bedelia says is a toast to “the misfortune of the snail,” mourning the loss of a life, no matter how little. Even though Bedelia has taken a life of her own (or two, but who’s being TECHNICAL here), even that urge to crush the baby bird she confides in about with Will, she still bemoans for the loss. Bedelia doesn’t lack empathy. She’s somewhere between Will’s empathy disorder and Hannibal’s complete lack of it. She’s a foil to their black and white humanity- Bedelia Du Maurier is simply grey. Hannibal swiftly turns the topic onto her. “Snails follow their nature surely as those who eat them.” She is guilty by accepting the cooked snail, regardless of her sympathy for it’s situation. He says this as he first makes contact and strokes her hair, one side, a hand crawling up her back, and to the other side. Bedelia explains that fireflies live brief lives, and Hannibal responds that it’s “better to live true to yourself for a moment, then to never know it.” Which is directly about himself and Will; Hannibal has lived true to his vile nature, shining bright, while he believes that Will has never accepted his true self.

“Like Will Graham does?” Bedelia isn’t interested in speaking in thinly veiled metaphors any longer, she says his name directly to get a reaction out of Hannibal. After all, he just loves speaking about that sad, shaggy dog-man. She’s abundantly aware, but Hannibal doesn’t confirm nor deny. He simply states “an insect lacks morality to agonize over,” but that isn’t true, because Will Graham has absolutely agonized over his morality since the moment he came into contact with Hannibal Lecter. “Will agonizes about inevitable change.” That change references being the change in the men’s relationship, with Will accepting his fate as no better or no worse than a serial killing cannibal. That change also being the gutting and being tossed aside as Hannibal had done before eloping to Italy.

Bedelia is listening closely, and you can tell by the way she is gently tilting her head and her ear towards him. As a trained therapist, she is detecting every word, every syllable, and analyzing it carefully. Bedelia is careful about the words she chooses, speaking slowly, clearly, and concisely. Hannibal does this as well, making their conversations lengthy and difficult to decipher. But here, she’s dropped her shoulders under his touch and finds herself vulnerable enough to admit something:

“Almost anything can be trained to resist it’s instinct,” and she looks directly at him, eyebrows raised. Hannibal’s idle fingers continue to wander up her neck. She’s speaking about herself now, no longer Will. Her instincts tell her she should run from the man in the person suit, she’s overtly aware of how dangerous he is and how futile their relationship in Italy is. She’s gone against the law, aiding his escape, and encouraging his bad behavior. As his therapist, she’s gone against everything she’s been working toward to join him in another country. Perhaps she feels she owes him when he helped cover up the murder of her previous patient, or perhaps against her better judgment, she does love him. But whatever it is, it’s caused her to resist her nature to run from him. The raised eyebrows imply she’s almost amused by this, not having expected such a strong, independent woman (no partner, no children) to fall for such a thing. “A Shepard dog doesn’t savage the sheep,” she tells him, and his fingers wander up to behind her ear. He’s listening to her just as closely.

Hannibal responds by embracing her from behind, arm encircles her shoulder, and he presses himself and his cheek against hers. Bedelia relaxes into it, not only allowing the touch, but leaning into it. She feels safe and relaxed amongst their quiet conversation- she may even feel relieved for admitting such things aloud. “But it wants to,” Hannibal whispers to her, referring to the urges of the hound who vows to protect. Hannibal is very much this hound. He would not savage her, he has promised as much and he respects her far too greatly to do such a thing, but as always, that urge resides him. It will never go away. And with that confession in response to hers, the topic returns to Will. Bedelia visibly swallows.

“Will has reached a state of moral confounding. Empathy and reciprocity.” Hannibal states, and this makes her laugh. “Oh,” she breathes with a chuckle, suddenly understanding the relationship between the two men more clearly than she ever has before: “Reciprocity. If we keep track of incoming and outgoing intentions, Will Graham is en route to kill you, while you lie in wait to kill him.” Because that is the circle of life the two men have found themselves dancing around since the moment they laid eyes on one another. Horns locked in a constant battle of wills, each struggling to grasp the upper hand, but it will always end in a stalemate, as they are equally matched. They find fulfillment in each other in this deadly exchange. It benefits them both. It’s simply cat and mouse.

rec·i·proc·i·ty /ˌresəˈpräsədē/

noun

the practice of exchanging things with others for mutual benefit, especially privileges granted by one country or organization to another.

Hannibal’s eyes close from behind her as she says these painfully accurate words, they touch something deep inside him. A hand wraps around her neck with need, but he doesn’t squeeze- the touch is intimate, not lethal. Bedelia doesn’t flinch, simply staring out the window as she realizes she’s figured the men out. She sips her whiskey, proud of herself, and whispers her final parting words to Hannibal Lecter:

“Now, THAT’S reciprocity.”