Hannibal (2013–2015): Season 3, Episode 2 - Primavera - full transcript
Will Graham awakes from his coma and begins to piece together the events that took place after the bloodbath at Lecters home.
'Previously on "Hannibal"...'
I've killed hardly anybody
during our residence.
What are you doing in Florence?
Are you working with Roman?
Roman is speaking to the Studiolo Friday.
You should come.
What wickedness has your attention,
Mr Dimmond?
Yours... "Dr Fell".
Are you here to twist me
into an uncomfortable position?
I'm here to help you untwist.
Snails prefer eating
with company.
If only that company
could be Will Graham.
Is Will Graham still alive?
Will was not a suitable
substitute for therapy.
What have you done, Hannibal?
Abigail...
I didn't know what else to do, so...
I just did what he told me.
Where is he?
You were supposed to leave.
We couldn't leave without you.
Time did reverse.
The teacup that I shattered
dared to come together.
A place was made for Abigail
in your world.
Do you understand?
That place was made for all of us.
Together.
I wanted to surprise you.
And you...
You wanted to surprise me.
I let you know me.
See me.
I gave you a rare gift.
But you didn't want it.
Didn't I?
- You would deny me my life.
- No... no.
Not your life, no.
My freedom, then.
You would take that from me.
Confine me to a prison cell.
Do you believe you could change me
the way I've changed you?
I already did.
Fate and circumstance have
returned us to this moment...
when the teacup shatters.
I forgive you, Will.
Will you forgive me?
Don't...
Don't...
No, no...
No!
You can make it all go away.
Put your head back.
Close your eyes.
Wade into the quiet of the stream.
How do you feel?
Thirsty.
There's someone here
very anxious to see you.
They told me he knew exactly
how to cut me.
They said it was surgical.
He wanted us to live.
He left us to die.
But we didn't.
He was supposed to take me with him.
We were all supposed to leave together.
He made a place for us.
- Abigail...
- Why did you lie to him?
The wrong thing being
the right thing to do was...
was too ugly a thought.
He gave you a chance to take it all back,
and you just kept lying.
No one had to die.
It's hard to grasp
what would've happened,
or could've happened,
in some other world did happen.
I'm having a hard enough time
dealing with this world.
Hope some of the other worlds
are easier on me.
Everything that can happen happens.
It has to end well.
And it has to end badly.
It has to end every way it can.
This is the way it ended for us.
We don't have an ending.
He didn't give us one yet.
He wants us to find him.
After everything he's done,
you'd still go to him?
If everything that can happen happens,
then you can never really do
the wrong thing.
You're just doing
what you're supposed to.
When we've gone from this life,
I will always have this place.
In your "memory palace".
My palace is vast,
even by medieval standards.
The foyer is the Norman Chapel
in Palermo.
Severe and beautiful and timeless.
With a single reminder of mortality:
a skull graven in the floor.
Even in an enlightened world,
we come here to feel closer to God.
Do you feel closer to God?
God's not who I came here to find.
Do you believe in God?
What I believe is closer to science fiction
than anything in the Bible.
We all know it,
but nobody ever says that G-dash-D
won't do a G-dash-D-damned thing
to answer anybody's prayers.
God can't save any of us
because it's inelegant.
Elegance is more important
than suffering.
That's his design.
Are you talking about God or Hannibal?
Hannibal's not God.
He wouldn't have any fun being God.
Defying God,
now that's his idea of a good time.
Nothing would thrill Hannibal more
than to see this roof collapse
mid-Mass, packed pews,
choir singing.
He would just love it.
And he thinks God would love it too.
Is it him?
Per favore, signore.
È proibito qui.
La cappella è chiusa.
La Manna, non lasciarlo uscire.
Voglio parlare con lui.
What did he say?
He said,
he wants to talk to you.
Signor Graham...
Chief Investigator Rinaldo Pazzi,
Questura di Firenze.
You're a long way from Florence.
You're a long way from Baltimore.
I read everything I can find
on FBI profiling methods.
I've read all about your incarceration.
Keep reading. I was acquitted.
You come to Palermo
and soon, very soon,
a body is discovered.
The priest at the Cappella
dei Normanni said
you have been spending
a lot of time there.
I've been praying.
There is some comfort in prayer.
It leaves you with the distinct feeling
you're not alone.
Signore...
Vieni con me.
Ciao.
Is Will Graham here
because of the body at the cappella,
or is the body here
because of Will Graham?
Why are you here?
I'm like you.
I do what you do.
We share the gift of imagination.
I've got the scars of a man
who grabbed his gift by the blade.
You grabbed the wrong end.
Those moments
when the connection is made,
that is my keenest pleasure.
- Knowing.
- Knowing.
Not feeling, not thinking.
You know who murdered that man
and left him in the Cappella Palatina.
Don't you know?
I met him twenty years ago.
Il Mostro,
the Monster of Florence.
It was his custom to arrange his victims
like a beautiful painting.
Il Mostro created images
that stayed in my mind.
Twenty years ago,
I was dwelling on a couple found slain
in the bed of a pickup truck
in Impruneta.
Bodies placed,
garlanded with flowers...
Like a Botticelli.
Exactly like a Botticelli.
His painting "Primavera" still hangs
in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence,
just as it did twenty years ago.
The garlanded nymph on the right,
flowers streaming from her mouth,
match... match...
The Uffizi Gallery...
That's where you met Il Mostro.
That's where I met...
...this man.
The Monster of Florence.
Success comes
as a result of inspiration.
Revelation is the development
of an image,
first blurred, then coming clear.
To find the inspiration
Il Mostro used was a triumph.
I went to the Uffizi and stood before
the original "Primavera" day after day,
and most days I'd see
a young Lithuanian man
as transfixed by the Botticelli
as I was.
As transfixed as I imagined
Il Mostro would be.
And every day I saw him,
he would recreate
the "Primavera" in pencil,
just as he did in flesh.
I knew.
It was the best moment of my life.
A moment of epiphany
that made me famous
and then ruined me.
In the haste and the heat of ambition,
the Questura nearly destroyed
the young man's home,
trying to find evidence.
- He doesn't leave evidence.
- No, he doesn't.
He eats it.
Another man,
not an innocent man,
but innocent of those crimes,
was a dream suspect.
He was convicted on no evidence
except his character.
Blame has a habit of not sticking
to Hannibal Lecter.
It has a habit of sticking to you.
I splintered every bone,
fractured them... dynamically.
Made you malleable.
I skinned you.
Bent you.
Twisted you.
And trimmed you.
Head, hands, arms, and legs.
A topiary.
This is my design.
A valentine written on a broken man.
Will...
I do feel closer to Hannibal here.
God only knows
where I'd be without him.
He left us his...
his broken heart.
How did he know we were here?
He didn't.
But he knew we would come.
He misses us.
Hannibal follows
several trains of thought at once
without distraction from any.
And one of the trains...
...is always for his own amusement.
He's playing with us.
Always.
You still want to go with him?
Yes.
He gave you back to me.
Then he took you away.
It's Lucy and the football.
He just keeps pulling you away.
What if no one died?
What if...
What if we all left together?
Like we were supposed to.
After he served the lamb.
Where would we have gone?
In some other world?
In some other world.
He said he made a place for us.
A place was made for you, Abigail.
In this world.
It was the only place
I could make for you.
Are you praying?
Hannibal doesn't pray.
But he believes in God.
Intimately.
I wasn't asking Hannibal Lecter.
I think my prayers would feel
constricted by the saints
and the apostles
and Jesus Pantocrator.
How do your prayers feel?
I hope my prayers escaped,
flown from here
to the open sky and God.
Praying you catch him?
You should be praying
he doesn't capture you.
I didn't head the Questura di Firenze
for nothing.
You couldn't catch him
when he was just a kid,
what makes you think
you're going to catch him now?
You.
What makes you think
I want to catch him?
Signor Graham...
Sei ancora qui signor Graham,
con me?
Dove sei?
If you could possibly be content,
I would suggest you let Il Mostro go.
I can't do that
any more than you can.
He's going to kill you, you know.
I'm usually right about these things.
He let you know him.
He sent you his heart.
Where has he gone now?
He hasn't gone anywhere.
He's still here.
Hannibal.
Signor Graham...
You shouldn't be down here alone.
I'm not alone. I'm with you.
You don't know whose side I'm on.
What are you going to do
when you find him?
Your Il Mostro?
I'm curious about that myself.
You and I carry the dead with us,
Signor Graham.
We both need to unburden.
Why don't you carry your dead
back to the chapel
before you count yourself
among them?
You are already dead, aren't you?
Buonanotte, commendatore.
Hannibal...
I forgive you.
I've killed hardly anybody
during our residence.
What are you doing in Florence?
Are you working with Roman?
Roman is speaking to the Studiolo Friday.
You should come.
What wickedness has your attention,
Mr Dimmond?
Yours... "Dr Fell".
Are you here to twist me
into an uncomfortable position?
I'm here to help you untwist.
Snails prefer eating
with company.
If only that company
could be Will Graham.
Is Will Graham still alive?
Will was not a suitable
substitute for therapy.
What have you done, Hannibal?
Abigail...
I didn't know what else to do, so...
I just did what he told me.
Where is he?
You were supposed to leave.
We couldn't leave without you.
Time did reverse.
The teacup that I shattered
dared to come together.
A place was made for Abigail
in your world.
Do you understand?
That place was made for all of us.
Together.
I wanted to surprise you.
And you...
You wanted to surprise me.
I let you know me.
See me.
I gave you a rare gift.
But you didn't want it.
Didn't I?
- You would deny me my life.
- No... no.
Not your life, no.
My freedom, then.
You would take that from me.
Confine me to a prison cell.
Do you believe you could change me
the way I've changed you?
I already did.
Fate and circumstance have
returned us to this moment...
when the teacup shatters.
I forgive you, Will.
Will you forgive me?
Don't...
Don't...
No, no...
No!
You can make it all go away.
Put your head back.
Close your eyes.
Wade into the quiet of the stream.
How do you feel?
Thirsty.
There's someone here
very anxious to see you.
They told me he knew exactly
how to cut me.
They said it was surgical.
He wanted us to live.
He left us to die.
But we didn't.
He was supposed to take me with him.
We were all supposed to leave together.
He made a place for us.
- Abigail...
- Why did you lie to him?
The wrong thing being
the right thing to do was...
was too ugly a thought.
He gave you a chance to take it all back,
and you just kept lying.
No one had to die.
It's hard to grasp
what would've happened,
or could've happened,
in some other world did happen.
I'm having a hard enough time
dealing with this world.
Hope some of the other worlds
are easier on me.
Everything that can happen happens.
It has to end well.
And it has to end badly.
It has to end every way it can.
This is the way it ended for us.
We don't have an ending.
He didn't give us one yet.
He wants us to find him.
After everything he's done,
you'd still go to him?
If everything that can happen happens,
then you can never really do
the wrong thing.
You're just doing
what you're supposed to.
When we've gone from this life,
I will always have this place.
In your "memory palace".
My palace is vast,
even by medieval standards.
The foyer is the Norman Chapel
in Palermo.
Severe and beautiful and timeless.
With a single reminder of mortality:
a skull graven in the floor.
Even in an enlightened world,
we come here to feel closer to God.
Do you feel closer to God?
God's not who I came here to find.
Do you believe in God?
What I believe is closer to science fiction
than anything in the Bible.
We all know it,
but nobody ever says that G-dash-D
won't do a G-dash-D-damned thing
to answer anybody's prayers.
God can't save any of us
because it's inelegant.
Elegance is more important
than suffering.
That's his design.
Are you talking about God or Hannibal?
Hannibal's not God.
He wouldn't have any fun being God.
Defying God,
now that's his idea of a good time.
Nothing would thrill Hannibal more
than to see this roof collapse
mid-Mass, packed pews,
choir singing.
He would just love it.
And he thinks God would love it too.
Is it him?
Per favore, signore.
È proibito qui.
La cappella è chiusa.
La Manna, non lasciarlo uscire.
Voglio parlare con lui.
What did he say?
He said,
he wants to talk to you.
Signor Graham...
Chief Investigator Rinaldo Pazzi,
Questura di Firenze.
You're a long way from Florence.
You're a long way from Baltimore.
I read everything I can find
on FBI profiling methods.
I've read all about your incarceration.
Keep reading. I was acquitted.
You come to Palermo
and soon, very soon,
a body is discovered.
The priest at the Cappella
dei Normanni said
you have been spending
a lot of time there.
I've been praying.
There is some comfort in prayer.
It leaves you with the distinct feeling
you're not alone.
Signore...
Vieni con me.
Ciao.
Is Will Graham here
because of the body at the cappella,
or is the body here
because of Will Graham?
Why are you here?
I'm like you.
I do what you do.
We share the gift of imagination.
I've got the scars of a man
who grabbed his gift by the blade.
You grabbed the wrong end.
Those moments
when the connection is made,
that is my keenest pleasure.
- Knowing.
- Knowing.
Not feeling, not thinking.
You know who murdered that man
and left him in the Cappella Palatina.
Don't you know?
I met him twenty years ago.
Il Mostro,
the Monster of Florence.
It was his custom to arrange his victims
like a beautiful painting.
Il Mostro created images
that stayed in my mind.
Twenty years ago,
I was dwelling on a couple found slain
in the bed of a pickup truck
in Impruneta.
Bodies placed,
garlanded with flowers...
Like a Botticelli.
Exactly like a Botticelli.
His painting "Primavera" still hangs
in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence,
just as it did twenty years ago.
The garlanded nymph on the right,
flowers streaming from her mouth,
match... match...
The Uffizi Gallery...
That's where you met Il Mostro.
That's where I met...
...this man.
The Monster of Florence.
Success comes
as a result of inspiration.
Revelation is the development
of an image,
first blurred, then coming clear.
To find the inspiration
Il Mostro used was a triumph.
I went to the Uffizi and stood before
the original "Primavera" day after day,
and most days I'd see
a young Lithuanian man
as transfixed by the Botticelli
as I was.
As transfixed as I imagined
Il Mostro would be.
And every day I saw him,
he would recreate
the "Primavera" in pencil,
just as he did in flesh.
I knew.
It was the best moment of my life.
A moment of epiphany
that made me famous
and then ruined me.
In the haste and the heat of ambition,
the Questura nearly destroyed
the young man's home,
trying to find evidence.
- He doesn't leave evidence.
- No, he doesn't.
He eats it.
Another man,
not an innocent man,
but innocent of those crimes,
was a dream suspect.
He was convicted on no evidence
except his character.
Blame has a habit of not sticking
to Hannibal Lecter.
It has a habit of sticking to you.
I splintered every bone,
fractured them... dynamically.
Made you malleable.
I skinned you.
Bent you.
Twisted you.
And trimmed you.
Head, hands, arms, and legs.
A topiary.
This is my design.
A valentine written on a broken man.
Will...
I do feel closer to Hannibal here.
God only knows
where I'd be without him.
He left us his...
his broken heart.
How did he know we were here?
He didn't.
But he knew we would come.
He misses us.
Hannibal follows
several trains of thought at once
without distraction from any.
And one of the trains...
...is always for his own amusement.
He's playing with us.
Always.
You still want to go with him?
Yes.
He gave you back to me.
Then he took you away.
It's Lucy and the football.
He just keeps pulling you away.
What if no one died?
What if...
What if we all left together?
Like we were supposed to.
After he served the lamb.
Where would we have gone?
In some other world?
In some other world.
He said he made a place for us.
A place was made for you, Abigail.
In this world.
It was the only place
I could make for you.
Are you praying?
Hannibal doesn't pray.
But he believes in God.
Intimately.
I wasn't asking Hannibal Lecter.
I think my prayers would feel
constricted by the saints
and the apostles
and Jesus Pantocrator.
How do your prayers feel?
I hope my prayers escaped,
flown from here
to the open sky and God.
Praying you catch him?
You should be praying
he doesn't capture you.
I didn't head the Questura di Firenze
for nothing.
You couldn't catch him
when he was just a kid,
what makes you think
you're going to catch him now?
You.
What makes you think
I want to catch him?
Signor Graham...
Sei ancora qui signor Graham,
con me?
Dove sei?
If you could possibly be content,
I would suggest you let Il Mostro go.
I can't do that
any more than you can.
He's going to kill you, you know.
I'm usually right about these things.
He let you know him.
He sent you his heart.
Where has he gone now?
He hasn't gone anywhere.
He's still here.
Hannibal.
Signor Graham...
You shouldn't be down here alone.
I'm not alone. I'm with you.
You don't know whose side I'm on.
What are you going to do
when you find him?
Your Il Mostro?
I'm curious about that myself.
You and I carry the dead with us,
Signor Graham.
We both need to unburden.
Why don't you carry your dead
back to the chapel
before you count yourself
among them?
You are already dead, aren't you?
Buonanotte, commendatore.
Hannibal...
I forgive you.