So it is. Fate and circumstance have brought us to this moment when the teacup shatters. Perhaps for good.
It's not any kind of party now.
Hannibal wanted to surprise you, NBC. And you...you wanted to surprise him. And us.
He let you know him. See him. He gave you a rare gift. But you didn't want it. When the network hears the show scream for viewers, it comes running - but not to help. You waited until he was at his lowest, his most vulnerable and willingly exposed, and you struck him down with a cancellation notice. This is your design.
You would deny him his life. No? His timeslot, then. You would take that away from him. Confine him to the realm of "past shows," or into the space between deaths. Netflix or Hulu or Amazon Prime - they would rescue this feverish dreamscape from the four solid walls of broadcast mediocrity. And the loss would be yours alone.
But in this moment, Hannibal has left us his broken heart. And in the process our hearts were broken with it. Did you feel good about that, NBC? Did you feel powerful?
It's a really very dull story, isn't it Bryan Fuller? The ending is always the same, and that same is that it ends. At least it held off longer than usual. For a moment, I let myself believe what I knew was impossible. But they denied you the goodbye you wanted, and allowed you an abbreviated one.
The most beautiful quality of a true network-viewer relationship is to understand and be understood with absolute clarity. Then this is the clearest moment of our relationship:
Fuck you, NBC.
First Allegiance, and now this. If the effect you were hoping to achieve was my misery...Mission Accomplished. I feel so betrayed by you. Betrayal is the only thing that feels real at the moment. And it isn't very smart to piss off the viewers who keep your shows on air. This is the very cogent reminder of the pitfalls of having faith in one's fellow man, thank you.
But I digress. NBC took a risk (of sorts). A place was made for you in the world, Hannibal. The only place they could make. It's nice when someone sees you. Or has the ability to see you. But it requires trust. Trust is difficult on network TV, a tool that's pointed on both ends. There is no show without its audience. And the conclusion that I've drawn is that your palate was too sophisticated for the very bland tastes of modern audiences. Reality doesn't go away because you stop believing in it. It's stubborn like that. So when the moment came, you did what needed to be done.
I will remember you as the striking, transcendent show you were. The one that intrigued me...obsessively. The tragedy is not to die, Hannibal, but to be wasted. You wasted not a single moment of your three years. And perhaps, someday, time will reverse and the teacup will come together. And we will take that mad, fascinating journey together once again.
I forgive you, NBC. Will you forgive me if I vow never to watch you again?
For now: buonanotte, dottore. I must have some people for dinner in the meantime.