The Silence of the Lambs - Review

Anyone who knows me well enough knows that The Silence of the Lambs is actually my favorite film. I personally find that anyone can narrow down a favorite film if they sat down and gave it enough thought. However, that’s not to say I think that film should remain your favorite for all time, as I know that a favorite can change on a whim. Hell, I know there’s a genuine possibility I could watch film in five years or maybe even tomorrow that may kick mine off its throne. But, as it stands, this has been my favorite film for a long time. Now, the trouble lies within whether you think I’ll have a bias position from the start when I get into my review. And so I illustrate the point that while this may be my personal favorite, I don’t believe it to be the greatest film ever made nor do I choose it as the standard by which I compare all other films to. With that in mind, I begin.

The Silence of the Lambs is the 1991 psychological crime thriller (also considered horror by many) directed by Jonathan Demme and based on the novel of the same name by Thomas Harris. The film follows FBI Agent-in-Training Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) on her hunt for “Buffalo Bill” (Ted Levine), a wanted murder of a number of women, taking advice from the infamous and intelligent former psychiatrist Dr. Hannibal “the Cannibal” Lecter (Anthony Hopkins). Clarice is inexperienced but ambitious and determined, Lecter to the surprise of audiences unfamiliar to the novel or film is calculative, polite, and well-spoken. Lecter, sporting only roughly 16 minutes of overall screen time, is often the most well remembered aspect of the film, rightly so, as Anthony Hopkins’s performance has gone down in history as one of the most iconic film antagonists.

However, while I of course support the unanimous praise Lecter often receives as a character, I feel that there are other aspects of the production that help exemplify the film than Lecter on his own, after all, he is but a secondary antagonist. Jonathan Demme’s use of multiple extreme close-ups on Lecter and Clarice as well as many minor characters exhibit a sense of discomfort and judgmental leer upon the character’s psyches as well as the idea of an audience’s sense of personal space much like the opening dolly shot of A Clockwork Orange twenty years prior. Set design also plays a major part in the aesthetic, in very subtle manners. Upon our first meeting of Lecter, he is incased in glass like an animal or a museum item put on display, he follows Clarice as her point-of-view pans over his cell, prepared, ready, quite possibly smelling her as she traveled down the bleak hallway from hell. By the time we reach the climax, Clarice delves into the labyrinth that is Jame Gumb’s basement, each section containing an essential theme or purpose to itself, doors open about to travel to any of them, all connected to the center, the well in which Catherine Martin has resided, the essential motivation, the drive. We have been figuratively following Clarice’s trek through the many paths of Gumb’s mind as she unraveled his identity, and so at the climax she is now trapped within a physical manifestation of his consciousness.

Ted Levine plays a man who had been made a monster, not born one. His attacks are coordinated, planned, and handled with care. His obsession and desire is a drastic one, and therefore he exhibits the intelligence he needs to carry it out, no matter what he has to do to fulfill it. While Lecter may be the more intriguing of the two, Gumb is by all definition the central focus of the narrative and the most tragic of the pair. Not even Clarice herself, our guide, our heroine is perfect, try as she may, her sessions with Lecter begin to weigh on her as he learns more and more about her, finally embedding himself into her mind when she confesses her darkest memory, the scene playing out in beautiful ECUs that only become tighter and tighter as the conversation builds. When I hear criticism toward Clarice Starling as a character or Jodie Foster’s portrayal of said protagonist, it usually harkens back to her intimidation from Lecter, as she often stands shocked and wide-eyed in the few instances the claws come out from him. To Clarice’s defense, she isn’t a full-fledged agent throughout the case and wouldn’t have the stonewall reserve of a seasoned agent like Will Graham from Red Dragon, who has dealt with Lecter before and knows how to keep him out (for the most part).

Howard Shore’s score is elevates the drama but is used appropriately, never does it overshadow the actors nor create tension that would be lost were it not implemented. Combined with a strong script and consistent through progressively chilling tone, as well as some notable design and editing, The Silence of the Lambs deservedly remains one of most renowned titles in the thriller and horror genres. I personally prefer it considered a thriller, but it’s inconsequential either way. 9.5 out of 10.