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The Silence of the Lambs is a 1991 American psychological horror[3] film directed by Jonathan Demme from a screenplay written by Ted Tally, adapted from Thomas Harris’s 1988 novel of the same name. The film stars Jodie Foster, Anthony Hopkins, Scott Glenn, Ted Levine, and Anthony Heald.[4] In the film, Clarice Starling, a young FBI trainee, seeks the advice of the imprisoned Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a brilliant psychiatrist and cannibalistic serial killer to apprehend another serial killer, known only as “Buffalo Bill”, who skins his female victims’ corpses. The novel was Harris’s first and second respectively to feature the characters of Starling and Lecter, and was the second adaptation of a Harris novel to feature Lecter, preceded by the Michael Mann-directed Manhunter (1986).

A young F.B.I. cadet must receive the help of an incarcerated and manipulative cannibal killer to help catch another serial killer, a madman who skins his victims.

 

F.B.I. trainee Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) works hard to advance her career, while trying to hide or put behind her West Virginia roots, of which if some knew, would automatically classify her as being backward or white trash. After graduation, she aspires to work in the agency’s Behavioral Science Unit under the leadership of Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn). While she is still a trainee, Crawford asks her to question Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Sir Anthony Hopkins), a psychiatrist imprisoned, thus far, for eight years in maximum security isolation for being a serial killer who cannibalized his victims. Clarice is able to figure out the assignment is to pick Lecter’s brains to help them solve another serial murder case, that of someone coined by the media as “Buffalo Bill” (Ted Levine), who has so far killed five victims, all located in the eastern U.S., all young women, who are slightly overweight (especially around the hips), all who were drowned in natural bodies of water, and all who were stripped of large swaths of skin. She also figures that Crawford chose her, as a woman, to be able to trigger some emotional response from Lecter. After speaking to Lecter for the first time, she realizes that everything with him will be a psychological game, with her often having to read between the very cryptic lines he provides. She has to decide how much she will play along, as his request in return for talking to him is to expose herself emotionally to him. The case takes a more dire turn when a sixth victim is discovered, this one from who they are able to retrieve a key piece of evidence, if Lecter is being forthright as to its meaning. A potential seventh victim is high profile Catherine Martin (Brooke Smith), the daughter of Senator Ruth Martin (Diane Baker), which places greater scrutiny on the case as they search for a hopefully still alive Catherine. Who may factor into what happens is Dr. Frederick Chilton (Anthony Heald), the warden at the prison, an opportunist who sees the higher profile with Catherine, meaning a higher profile for himself if he can insert himself successfully into the proceedings.

 

Perplexed by a string of grisly murders elaborately executed by the elusive mass killer nicknamed “Buffalo Bill”, the vulnerable and untried F.B.I. trainee, Clarice Starling, is assigned by the Special Agent, Jack Crawford, to assist in the manhunt. Hoping to attain a clearer perception of the psychopathic serial killer’s modus operandi, the young investigator reluctantly accepts the help of another hideous monster: the brilliant psychiatrist and cannibalistic mass murderer, Dr Hannibal Lecter. Now, with every visit to the manipulative doctor’s heavily reinforced prison cell, Clarice delves just a little bit deeper into the dark mind of a homicidal maniac; however, how far is she willing to go to unearth pure evil?

 

Young F.B.I. trainee Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) is assigned to help find a missing woman to save her from a psychopathic serial killer (Ted Levine) who skins his victims. Clarice attempts to gain a better insight into the twisted mind of the killer by talking to another psychopath: Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Sir Anthony Hopkins), who used to be a respected psychiatrist. F.B.I. Special Agent Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn) believes that Lecter, who is also a very powerful and clever mind manipulator, has the answers to their questions and can help locate the killer. However, Clarice must first gain Lecter’s confidence before the inmate will give away any information.

 

Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster), a young intelligent F.B.I. trainee, has been sent to the Baltimore state hospital for the criminally insane to interview an inmate, Dr. Hannibal “the cannibal” Lecter (Sir Anthony Hopkins), a brilliant renowned psychiatrist turned infamous psychopathic serial killer. She must match wits with Lecter, who has the darkest of all minds, and trust him to give her clues in the search for “Buffalo Bill” (Ted Levine), a nickname given to a loose, unknown, unstoppable psychopathic serial killer.

 

A psychopath known as “Buffalo Bill” (Ted Levine) is kidnapping and murdering young women across the Midwest. Believing it takes one to know one, the F.B.I. sends trainee Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) to interview a demented prisoner who may provide psychological insight and clues to the killer’s actions. The prisoner is psychiatrist Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Sir Anthony Hopkins), a brilliant, murderous cannibal who will only help Starling if she feeds his morbid curiosity with details of her own complicated life. This twisted relationship forces Starling to not only confront her psychological demons, but leads her face to face with a demented, heinous killer; an incarnation of evil so powerful, that she may not have the courage, or strength, to stop him.

 

FBI trainee Clarice Starling is pulled from her training at the FBI Academy at Quantico, Virginia by Jack Crawford of the Bureau’s Behavioral Science Unit. He assigns her to interview Hannibal Lecter, a former psychiatrist and incarcerated cannibalistic serial killer, whose insight might prove useful in the pursuit of a psychopath serial killer nicknamed “Buffalo Bill”, who kills young women and then removes the skin from their bodies.

Starling travels to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, where she is led by Frederick Chilton to Lecter’s solitary quarters. Although initially pleasant and courteous, Lecter grows impatient with Starling’s attempts at “dissecting” him and rebuffs her. As she is leaving, one of the prisoners flicks semen at her. Lecter, who considers this act “unspeakably ugly”, calls Starling back and tells her to seek out an old patient of his. This leads her to a storage shed, where she discovers a man’s severed head with a sphinx moth lodged in its throat. She returns to Lecter, who tells her that the man is linked to Buffalo Bill. He offers to profile Buffalo Bill on the condition that he may be transferred away from Chilton, whom he detests.

Buffalo Bill abducts a Senator’s daughter, Catherine Martin. Crawford authorizes Starling to offer Lecter a fake deal, promising a prison transfer if he provides information that helps them find Buffalo Bill and rescue Catherine. Instead, Lecter demands a quid pro quo from Starling, offering clues about Buffalo Bill in exchange for personal information. Starling tells Lecter about the murder of her father when she was ten years old. Chilton secretly records the conversation and reveals Starling’s deceit before offering Lecter a deal of Chilton’s own making. Lecter agrees and is flown to Memphis, where he verbally torments Senator Ruth Martin, and gives her misleading information on Buffalo Bill, including the name “Louis Friend”.

Starling notices that “Louis Friend” is an anagram of “iron sulfide”–fool’s gold. She visits Lecter, who is now being held in a cage-like cell in a Tennessee courthouse, and asks for the truth. Lecter tells her that all the information she needs is contained in the case file. Rather than give her the real name, he insists that they continue their quid pro quo and she recounts a traumatic childhood incident where she was awakened by the sound of spring lambs being slaughtered on a relative’s farm in Montana. Starling admits that she still sometimes wakes thinking she can hear lambs screaming, and Lecter speculates that she is motivated to save Catherine in the hope that it will end the nightmares. Lecter gives her back the case files on Buffalo Bill after their conversation is interrupted by Chilton and the police, who escort her from the building. Later that evening, Lecter kills his guards, escapes from his cell, and disappears.

Starling analyzes Lecter’s annotations to the case files and realizes that Buffalo Bill knew his first victim personally. Starling travels to the victim’s hometown and discovers that Buffalo Bill was a tailor, with dresses and dress patterns identical to the patches of skin removed from each of his victims. She telephones Crawford to inform him that Buffalo Bill is trying to form a “woman suit” out of real skin, but Crawford is already en route to make an arrest, having cross-referenced Lecter’s notes with hospital archives and finding an autogynephilic man named Jame Gumb, who once applied unsuccessfully for a sex-change operation, believing himself to be a transgender woman. Starling continues interviewing friends of Buffalo Bill’s first victim in Ohio, while Crawford leads an FBI HRT team to Gumb’s address in Illinois. The house in Illinois is empty, and Starling is led to the house of “Jack Gordon”, whom she realizes is actually Jame Gumb, again by finding a sphinx moth. She pursues him into his multi-room basement, where she discovers that Catherine is still alive, but trapped in a dry well. After turning off the basement lights, Gumb stalks Starling in the dark with night-vision goggles, but gives his position away when he cocks his revolver. Starling reacts just in time and fires all of her rounds, killing Gumb.

Sometime later, at the FBI Academy graduation party, Starling receives a phone call from Lecter, who is at an airport in Bimini. He assures her that he does not plan to pursue her and asks her to return the favor, which she says she cannot do. Lecter then hangs up the phone, saying that he is “having an old friend for dinner”, and starts following a newly arrived Chilton before disappearing into the crowd.

Wikipedia

 

Reviews

by Aaron_Kyle

The Silence of the Lambs is a timeless classic, whose more than adequate storytelling never ceases to amaze.
The Silence of the Lambs is one of the most entertaining but least fun films to watch all because of its disturbingly genius atmosphere. It’s masterfully acted, especially from Hopkins’s side turning this film into a clever and unforgettable masterpiece. Even though Hopkins and Foster don’t have much screentime together they still put on a show to remember. Aside from top of the line acting and the directing the script from Ted Tally’s (based on the novel by Thomas Harris) is career-defining. From thriller to psychological horror, this movie handles the tone and atmosphere perfectly while switching between the two. In terms of being a psychological horror movie, it does it perfecting as it wraps itself around the viewers’ head and proves that gore and blood aren’t needed to scare an audience. Surprisingly (and deservedly) this film swooped all five major Oscar categories (Best actor, actress, director, screenplay and picture) even though it was released in February, a whole year before the academy awards.
The Silence of the Lambs is a remarkable feat in film making and you be seen by everyone, a film lover or not. Shocking and suspenseful it is a thrill to behold.

 

 

Scudder-3

Sweeping all five major Academy Awards (“Oscars” for Best Movie, Director, Actor, Actress, Screenplay) is quite an accomplishment. Doing it nearly a year after a film was released is a miracle considering the notoriously short attention span of Oscar voters. It is a powerful example of how great a movie can be when superb writers, directors, actors, and others work at the top of their craft.
`Silence of the Lambs’ is the story of a young FBI trainee Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) who is summoned to help find one serial killer called `Buffalo Bill.’ by interviewing another. Foster’s performance is absolutely brilliant. While Anthony Hopkins receives most of the (well-deserved) praise for his chilling portrayal of incarcerated serial killer `Hannibal ‘the Cannibal’ Lector’, it is Foster’s performance that holds the movie together. The fear she shows just behind her eyes makes Clarice’s outward courage all the more interesting and vulnerable. This is the perfect way to play the part because it explains Lector’s interest in Clarice. Her only bargaining chip in getting Lector’s help is to let him `feed’ on her innermost secrets and fears in exchange for his brilliant insights into the psychotic mind. The title of the movie comes from these exchanges and is very poignant.
Director Jonathan Demme is masterful. There is one scene late in the movie that I will not spoil. It is one of the most simply brilliant scenes ever staged in a movie. I don’t know if all the credit goes to Demme or the writers, but there is a moment in the film where the suspense builds beautifully to a what seems to be a common movie scene. However, through skillful timing of the direction, the audiences assumptions are used against them and when the truth is revealed (hint: it involves a doorbell) it is shocking and induced a collective gasp from the audience I saw it with at the theatre. It set the stage for an edge-of-your seat climax.
Do not miss this movie.
 

 
 
 

Roger Ebert 4/4


A fundamental difference between “The Silence of the Lambs” and its sequel, “Hannibal,” is that the former is frightening, involving and disturbing, while the latter is merely disturbing. It is easy enough to construct a geek show if you start with a cannibal. The secret of “Silence” is that it doesn’t start with the cannibal–it arrives at him, through the eyes and minds of a young woman. “Silence of the Lambs” is the story of Clarice Starling, the FBI trainee played by Jodie Foster, and the story follows her without substantial interruption. Dr. Hannibal Lecter lurks at the heart of the story, a malevolent but somehow likable presence–likable because he likes Clarice, and helps her. But Lecter, as played by Anthony Hopkins, is the sideshow, and Clarice is in the center ring.

The popularity of Jonathan Demme’s movie is likely to last as long as there is a market for being scared. Like “Nosferatu,” “Psycho” and “Halloween,” it illustrates that the best thrillers don’t age. Fear is a universal emotion and a timeless one. But “Silence of the Lambs” is not merely a thrill show. It is also about two of the most memorable characters in movie history, Clarice Starling and Hannibal Lecter, and their strange, strained relationship (“people will say we’re in love,” Lecter cackles).

They share so much. Both are ostracized by the worlds they want to inhabit–Lecter, by the human race because he is a serial killer and a cannibal, and Clarice, by the law enforcement profession because she is a woman. Both feel powerless–Lecter because he is locked in a maximum security prison (and bound and gagged like King Kong when he is moved), and Clarice because she is surrounded by men who tower over her and fondle her with their eyes. Both use their powers of persuasion to escape from their traps–Lecter is able to rid himself of the pest in the next cell by talking him into choking on his own tongue, and Clarice is able to persuade Lecter to aid her in the search for the serial killer named Buffalo Bill. And both share similar childhood wounds. Lecter is touched when he learns that Clarice lost both her parents at an early age, was shipped off to relatives, was essentially an unloved orphan. And Lecter himself was a victim of child abuse (on the DVD commentary track, Demme says he regrets not underlining this more).

These parallel themes are mirrored by patterns in the visual strategy. Note that both Lecter in his prison cell and Buffalo Bill in his basement are arrived at by Starling after descending several flights of stairs and passing through several doors; they live in underworlds. Note the way the movie always seems to be looking at Clarice: The point-of-view camera takes the place of the scrutinizing men in her life, and when she enters dangerous spaces, it is there waiting for her instead of following her in. Note the consistent use of red, white and blue: not only in the FBI scenes, but also in the flag draped over the car in the storage shed, other flags in Bill’s lair and even the graduation cake at the end (where the U.S. eagle in the frosting is a ghastly reminder of the way Lecter pinned a security guard spread-eagled to the walls of his cage).

The movie’s soundtrack also carries themes all the way through. There are exhalations and sighs at many points, as when the cocoon of the gypsy moth is taken from the throat of Bill’s first victim. Much heavy breathing. There are subterranean rumblings and faraway cries and laments, almost too low to be heard, at critical points. There is the sound of a heart monitor. Howard Shore’s mournful music sets a funereal tone. When the soundtrack wants to create terror, as when Clarice is in Bill’s basement, it mixes her frightened panting with the sound of Bill’s heavy breathing and the screams of the captive girl–and then adds the dog’s frenzied barking, which psychologically works at a deeper level than everything else. Then it adds those green goggles so he can see her in the dark.

Jodie Foster and Anthony Hopkins won Oscars for best actress and actor (the movie also won for best picture, for Demme’s direction and Ted Talley’s screenplay, and was nominated for editing and sound). It is remarkable that the Academy would remember, let alone single out, a film released 13 months before the Oscarcast; it usually votes for films that are still in theaters, or new on video. But “Silence” was so clearly one of a kind that it could not be ignored.

Hopkins’ performance has much less screen time than Foster’s, but made an indelible impression on audiences. His “entrance” is unforgettable. After Clarice descends those stairs and passes through those doors and gates (which all squeak), the camera shows her POV as she first sees Lecter in his cell. He is so . . . still. Standing erect, at relaxed attention, in his prison jump suit, he looks like a waxwork of himself. On her next visit, he is erect, and then very slightly recoils, and then opens his mouth, and I at least was made to think of a cobra. His approach to Lecter’s personality (Hopkins says on his commentary track) was inspired by HAL 9000 in “2001”: He is a dispassionate, brilliant machine, superb at logic, deficient in emotions.

Foster’s Clarice is not only an orphan but a disadvantaged backwoods girl who has worked hard to get where she is, and has less self-confidence than she pretends. Noticing the nail polish on one of Bills’ victims, she guesses that the girl is from “town,” a word used only by someone who is not. Her bravest moment may come when she orders the gawking sheriff’s deputies out of the room at the funeral home (“Listen here now!”).

One key to the film’s appeal is that audiences like Hannibal Lecter. That’s partly because he likes Starling, and we sense he would not hurt her. It’s also because he is helping her search for Buffalo Bill, and save the imprisoned girl. But it may also be because Hopkins, in a still, sly way, brings such wit and style to the character. He may be a cannibal, but as a dinner party guest he would give value for money (if he didn’t eat you). He does not bore, he likes to amuse, he has his standards, and he is the smartest person in the movie.

He bears comparison, indeed, with such other movie monsters as Nosferatu, Frankenstein (especially in “Bride of Frankenstein”), King Kong and Norman Bates. They have two things in common: They behave according to their natures, and they are misunderstood. Nothing that these monsters do is “evil” in any conventional moral sense, because they lack any moral sense. They are hard-wired to do what they do. They have no choice. In the areas where they do have choice, they try to do the right thing (Nosferatu is the exception in that he never has a choice). Kong wants to rescue Fay Wray, Norman Bates wants to make pleasant chit-chat and do his mother’s bidding, and Dr. Lecter helps Clarice because she does not insult his intelligence, and she arouses his affection.

All of these qualities might not be enough to assure the longevity of “Silence” if it were not also truly frightening (“Hannibal” is not frightening, and for all of its box-office success it will have a limited shelf life). “Silence” is frightening first in the buildup and introduction of Hannibal Lecter. Second in the discovery and extraction of the cocoon in the throat. Third in the scene where the cops await the arrival of the elevator from the upper floors. Fourth in the intercutting between the exteriors of the wrong house in Calumet City and the interiors of the right one in Belvedere, Ohio. Fifth in the extended sequence inside Buffalo Bill’s house, where Ted Levine creates a genuinely loathsome psychopath (notice the timing as Starling sizes him up and reads the situation before she shouts “Freeze!”). We are frightened both because of the film’s clever manipulation of story and image, and for better reasons–we like Clarice, identify with her and fear for her. Just like Lecter.

In her attempts to find a missing girl, a young FBI agent enlists the help of another psychopath. To gain his help she has to win his trust and gives him an insight into her own personal fears and issues.

 

 
“A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti.” Anthony Hopkins as Dr. Hannibal Lecter suddenly relives this glorious moment of cannibalism – a speech now doing the party-turn circuit in the US – with a noise more appropriate to professional winetasting, revelling in the memory of the sweet taste of human flesh. And, by the look of sheer horror on her face, it is at this moment that Jodie Foster as budding FBI Agent Clarice Starling first truly realises the type of animal she is dealing with here, a charming, intelligent gentleman at first impression, a quite terrifying pyschopath at will.

It is testament to Jonathan Demme’s superb adaptation of Thomas Harris’ cult 80s novel that these two images of Lecter never lose their grip from the quite brilliant opening visiting sequence, the one reaffirming the other, combining to create the most memorable basketcase in the movies since Norman Bates first opened for business. This is a man who sketches and listens to Mozart while planning to literally eat off a policeman’s face, a creature sensitive to Starling’s tale of childhood torment yet cruelly reticent in supplying clues that might lead to the capture of the serial killer closest to his natural heir.

If Hopkins’ unforgettable Lecter is what puts The Silence Of The Lambs into genuine phenomenon territory, it is Foster’s fleshing out of FBI student Starling which gives the film real class, a performance easily on a par with her Oscar-winning turn in The Accused and one likely to see her back in the frame next March. Scott Glenn provides typically solid support as the G-man charged with leading the hunt for the killer, the ubiquitous Chris Isaak makes a distinctly cameo appearance as leader of a SWAT team and even good old Roger Corman gets in on the act as a blink-and-you’ll-miss-him exponent of the FBI school of excellence.

Ultimately, though, Demme’s breakthrough film is a triumph by virtue of its narrative strength, its sheer confidence in tackling Harris complex characterisation head-on, and its ability to scare the shit out of its audience without ever once resorting to amateur hour frightwigs and hands-over-the-eyes. Fingerlickin’ good.

 | Posted 1 Jan 2000

Jonathan Demme’s thrilling masterpiece holds up terrifically well after 26 years, as Anthony Hopkins plays perilous mind games with Jodie Foster


It’s a film with the most sensational “entrance” scene in modern film history – and the person doing the entering is entirely still. This is also the least cute meet-cute. FBI rookie Clarice Starling is sent to interview notorious incarcerated serial killer Dr Hannibal Lecter in his glass cell, to see if he can be intrigued, or persuaded, or teased, into helping the agency track down another psychotic murderer, nicknamed Buffalo Bill, who is still at large.

We come upon Lecter, along with Clarice, as he stands ramrod straight with his impassive black stare and thin smile, as still as a reptile in his tight-fitting prison fatigues. It’s a measure of the film’s horribly potent entertainment value that we take this preposterous situation seriously as a toughly realist, almost procedural thriller, and genuflect to Lecter’s fantastically preposterous intellectual attainments, making Woolworth’s-style pencil sketches of Clarice, cuddling a lamb.

With her sharp-faced intensity, Jodie Foster is outstanding as Clarice, the brilliant young operative who once made her mark as a student questioning the bureau’s civil-rights record in the Hoover era, it seems, and for her pains got an A-minus from her buzzard-like boss, Jack Crawford, played by Scott Glenn. Crawford is one of the many older men with an ambiguous, apparently romantic interest in Clarice. These include creepy Dr Frederick Chilton – played by Anthony Heald as hardly less weird than any of the imprisoned killers under his care – and of course Lecter himself.

Anthony Hopkins’ performance as Lecter is an uproarious technical masterpiece. All his stage work and accumulated Shakespearian savvy had been leading to this moment. The high-impact closeups on his face that director Jonathan Demme creates are moments of climactic confrontation, intercut with closeups on Clarice, and they land like crashes of timpani. His Dr Lecter whimsically declares that he will help Clarice, but only in exchange for being allowed to psychoanalyse her, listen to her most intimate fears and memories and … what? Exorcise them? Violate them?

Then it turns out that Buffalo Bill’s most recent prisoner-victim, Catherine (Brooke Smith), is the daughter of a US senator, Ruth Martin (Diane Baker) – a brilliant narrative contrivance which means that Lecter’s expertise is now such that he must be treated as a kind of VIP prisoner and transported to Memphis, facilitating the use of those extraordinary restraints and masks.

Cell mates … Clarice confronts the monstrous Dr Lecter.

But how exactly does he reach Chilton’s carelessly unguarded pen, extract the inner nib, keep it in his mouth until such time as he can use it to unlock handcuffs – which themselves would appear to have a very serious design flaw? Well, these feats give Lecter an almost supernatural edge on his enemies. For me, the strangest moment is when Senator Martin makes her TV broadcast statement to Buffalo Bill, repeatedly using Catherine’s name and using old photos of her as a child, in an attempt to make him see her as a human being. It’s a psychologically sophisticated approach that onlookers call “smart”. And yet the awful, unemphasised point is that it doesn’t make the slightest difference. There are no scenes in which Buffalo Bill is shown ignoring her on the TV, or coldly or irritably snapping the TV off. He just never sees this broadcast and the utter failure of this “smart” appeal is never remarked on. There is a grisly pessimism in this.

After 26 years, The Silence of the Lambs holds up terrifically well; what emerge stronger than ever are Clarice’s flashback memories of her cop dad. Like Spielberg’s Jaws, this movie evolves the style of Roger Corman, who is given a cameo, although if this was being made today, the writers might be a bit charier of venturing into trans issues with the egregious Buffalo Bill, and the misjudged condescension of Clarice saying that trans people are generally “very passive”.

The bizarre autopsy scene is still horribly unnerving, with the participants putting a powder menthol smudge under their noses to stop the smell freaking them out, and the roll-film camera doing its periodic snap and uncanny, keening whine.

And then of course there is the relationship of Hannibal and Clarice. He is the villain, and yet not the villain; he is her mentor, her undeclared lover, her opponent. The open-ended nature of his destiny sadly left things open for a disappointing franchise series, when Hannibal’s final phone call and psycho-Pimpernel disappearance before the closing credits was the perfect way to end it. It has bite.

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