hannibalstills:

It occurred to me recently how Will typically avoids describing various situations or how he feels as ‘good’— we know that for Will, nothing is simple. So I suppose it isn’t surprising that he should feel some sort of aversion to using the word ‘good.’ Good for Will is too simple a feeling— basic, one dimensional. Does Will feel good about, really, anything? Probably not (well, besides dogs). But he does feel “righteous” among other things. 

In Amuse-Bouche, Hannibal begins to poke at Will’s potentially murky desires. Being Hannibal, he alludes to God and his unpredictable design (in this case the cruelty in the deaths of his devout followers). But Will has a hard time accepting what Hannibal is implying. “Did God feel good about that?” Hannibal supplies him with something more concrete, a footnote to ‘just good’: “He felt powerful.”

Later, in Yakimono, Will subverts Hannibal’s initial question asking if it would feel good to kill him. Good? No, he needs something more specific to harness those feelings. Not good, but righteous.

Will doesn’t seem to allow ‘good’ to mean anything other than good alone— he complicates the word. Does he feel good about seeing Hannibal after three years apart? Of course not. How could he? But that doesn’t mean he feels altogether negatively, or worse, feel nothing. I imagine Will feels the same sort of nourishment Hannibal feels upon laying eyes on him. It’s a terrifying mode of comfort for which ‘good’ alone does not encompass.

In Dolce, I realized Will was originally scripted to say that it was, in fact, good to see Hannibal sitting there in front of the Primavera. In the final version, however, Will opts for something less distinct, something more open to interpretation: “Strange seeing you here in front of me.”

Hannibal seems to accept the term differently, allowing its multiple implications. When Bedelia asks if it was ‘nice’ to see Will in the catacombs, Hannibal agrees— but attaches an open-ended tag to this response, because ‘good’ or ‘nice’ still does not mean enough on their own: “It was nice, among other things.”

Will can’t seem to do this, however. In a final desperate attempt to reel Will back in during TWOTL, Hannibal asks: “Was it good to see me?” “Good?” Will repeats, completely struck by the simplicity of it, “No.” And that’s that. 

But it isn’t.

Will doesn’t elaborate like Hannibal did. It wasn’t ‘good,’ no— but might it have been nourishing, just a little? Had it been at once and unexpectedly comforting, like finding the light switch in the dark? Perhaps, but Will shuts out this possibility due to his understanding of what good means to him. It reminds me a bit of what Hugh offered during RDC3, the idea that Will puts love on a pedestal— that words like ‘love’ and ‘good’ should only be used with a sense of finality and authority. But, of course, love (and perhaps the simple feeling of ‘good’) is never so clear cut.

Lucky for them, though, Hannibal doesn’t give up so easily. He will try again. Gradually, Will accepts the magnificence of his becoming. While this insight is by no means a good thing, something else has been acknowledged: “It’s beautiful.”