General multifandom blog
It was dark and grotesque, yet at the same time there was something really beautiful about it. There are parts where you want to turn away, but you are drawn in. You have this exquisite cinematography mixed in with all these disturbing scenes — it’s intriguing.
It brings up an interesting question about ‘what is love’? And love between two characters doesn’t necessarily have to be sexual to still be love. It can still be valid, it can still be powerful.
tell ur dog i said hi
me to all my friends w/ dogs (via babyferaligator)
He’s elegant, soft-spoken and full of sly, European charm. And yet, his sartorial shrink is absolutely terrifying throughout
He (ahem) carves out his own unique take on the role. He’s elegant, soft-spoken and full of sly, European charm. And yet, his sartorial shrink is absolutely terrifying throughout
He sounds moist.
My mother, describing Mads voice.
Of all the words in the world she chose this one.
(via meganmachine)
Move to Florida, now. Get ahead of yourself. I think that Will has the capacity to be a really — not healthy, exactly — but a happy person. I always think of him as a funny character who is having an extremely unfunny period in his life. He’s a lover who is turning into a fighter, and neither is working very well for him.
Bryan Fuller likes to use his powers for good. Creator of Hannibal and Pushing Daisies, and with writing credits ranging from Star Trek: Voyager to Heroes, Fuller is an outspoken advocate for LGBT media representation. Far from trying to circumvent the topic, the openly gay showrunner welcomes discussion of TV’s diversity problem in interviews and on social media. Moreover, Fuller has fought for diversity in every one of his many shows. He hasn’t always succeeded, and compromises have been made, but for sheer effort Fuller earns a spot.
It could be his ability to deliver huge lies and half-truths as psychoanalysis in a way that ensorcells viewers as much it would Will Graham. It could be his stillness, or the micro-expressions that betray a monster who’s worried about ripping his person suit. It could be his ability to infuse that monster with a warped sense of compassion and tenderness, even if the compassion and tenderness feel like the traits of a well-behaved predator. Or it could be, as Season 2 amply demonstrated, that Mikklesen is a skilled comedian, underplaying certain campy lines so that they’re not even campy until you stop to think about them (“You can slice the ginger.”) and finding utter delight in Hannibal’s machinations (“Eat your nose.”). Or maybe it’s just all of the above.
The subjective storytelling and flagrantly unreal atmosphere make what might otherwise be an unbearably gruesome spectacle not just tolerable but fascinating, at times weirdly stirring, in the way that a depressing opera or brutal fairy tale or Greek tragedy can be stirring. “Hannibal” showcases the most hideous violence ever seen on commercial TV — some of the murders and mutilations make the ghastliest stuff on “True Detective” and “The Following” seem mild
A Madness Between Two 