Standing before me was death, but I’ve never been happier.
The Allure of Death: Hannibal Lecter as the Personification of Death
It is strange to see Will returning to Hannibal time after time, even after nearly being killed by him, suffering deep wounds, and knowing he remains a constant threat to his safety and life. But it is not strange at all once you consider that Will harbors a fascination with all of it, rather than the deep and active fear most people have of death.
Death is not just the feared unknown. More often, we fear its means, the manner in which it takes us, the devastation and emptiness it leaves in its wake. We fear dying as much as we fear losing others to death. After all, She is the great inescapable, the one absolute truth of existence. She will come for you, no matter what. This is a terrifying reality, one that lurks like a shadow in every corner, waiting for its opportunity to claim you.
Will Graham seems to be captivated by death and does not run from it, but runs toward it. Death, for him, is a great relief. Someone so perpetually tense, whose body and mind are in a constant state of pressure and contraction, finds in death a release. After all, one has never felt such relief in breathing as when they have been holding their breath. The incredible sensation of relief after a scare makes one crave more scares, just to feel that relief again. It is the contrast that makes it intoxicating. Pleasure only exists in juxtaposition with pain; without it, pleasure is not something enjoyable but merely something neutral, something there.
Will is deeply melancholic, and rather than resisting this nature, he embraces it. He is in love with his darkness, seduced by his own doom, wanting to let it consume him entirely. He plays a game of seduction with it, allowing it to lure him, strip him, whip and batter him, leave him cold and naked and alone, just to experience the thrill of anticipation when it finally takes him. It is not a coincidence that Will is often likened to Christ, the lamb, or religious iconography in general. He does not look like someone suffering in agony but rather someone in rapture. He is a character who derives immense pleasure from pain, but not in a way that is easily comprehensible. It is something intrinsic to a particular type of mind, an essence that is inevitably misunderstood by those who do not share it. To them, it appears as though he is romanticizing abuse or fetishizing pain, but this is not the case. Those who believe so do so precisely because of how they, themselves, relate to pain and death. They are unable to grasp Will’s perception, which does not regard death and pain as enemies but as inevitable forces he craves, not as a sadomasochist, but as someone who does not see them as inherently bad or frightening.
For the melancholic, pain is the only way to feel happiness, for it is through suffering that joy becomes defined. When one falls ill, they resent their past self for not appreciating health, yearning to feel well again and promising to be more grateful once healed. Will, however, does not suffer from such amnesia. He is always acutely aware of the power that pain holds. With a mind that perpetually drowns in its own depths, death becomes a peaceful release from the pressure of life and the self.
Hannibal Lecter, who is larger than life, a presence so powerful it bends and dominates all who come into contact with him, is death itself. He is the inevitable, the overwhelming force that swallows everything in its path. And yet, Will wants to be devoured. He craves to be consumed by the beast, to be finally freed from himself, from the burden of his own identity, from the constraints of his deafening mind. To be wholly absorbed by something else is, in its own way, the ultimate peace. When everything fades into that darkness, there is nothing left to fight.
“I have never known myself better than when I am with him.”
Hannibal strips away illusions, unburdens him, absorbs him, leaving nothing but truth. The only truth: death.