Review of The Silence of the Lambs (1991) by Cinemasins — 08 May 2015

When The Silence of the Lambs took the Academy Awards ceremony by storm in 1992, winning in five major categories (Best Picture, Best Director - Jonathan Demme, Best Actor - Anthony Hopkins, Best Actress - Jodie Foster, and Best Adapted Screenplay - Ted Tally), it beat the odds in more ways than one. Granted, 1991 was a slow year for movies, and many pundits have remarked that the Oscar field was among the weakest ever (the other contenders were Disney's Beauty and the Beast, Bugsy, JFK, and the overrated The Prince of Tides), but the strong showing of The Silence of the Lambs was a surprise to almost everyone. In the first place, it was released in February 1991, a date thought to be beyond the short memories of the Academy members. Secondly, it is a dark psychological thriller - the kind of movie that occasionally receives a Best Picture nomination, but almost never takes home the statuette.

Although The Silence of the Lambs is brilliantly constructed and powerfully acted, and became one of the most recognizable thrillers of the '90s, it was neither the best movie of the year (a citation I would award to Beauty and the Beast) nor even the best thriller (overall, Dead Again impressed me more). The Silence of the Lambs contains a number of inarguably great scenes, but the screenplay, adapted from Thomas Harris' novel, suffers from a split personality. The scenes featuring Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins) are the stuff of legends. However, the rest of the movie, which concentrates on the pursuit of serial killer Buffalo Bill (Ted Levine), has a familiar, derivative feel. In truth, the climax couldn't be more mundane.

There is little doubt that the most memorable aspect of The Silence of the Lambs is Anthony Hopkins' incomparable performance as Lecter. Taking over for Brian Cox, who was effective, but not especially memorable, as the good doctor in 1986's Manhunter, Hopkins instantly makes the role his own, capturing and conveying the charismatic essence of pure evil. To his dying day, no matter how many roles he plays in the interim, Hopkins will forever be known for this part. (It is a credit to Hopkins' ability as an actor that this part did not result in stereotyping. His post-Silence career has been greatly varied, with roles as widely diverse as a stodgy butler in Merchant-Ivory's The Remains of the Day and an action hero in The Edge.) I can throw out any number of superlatives, but none of them do justice to this chilling performance, which I labeled as the best acting work of the '90s. Want to feel the icy fingers of terror stroke your heart? Watch this mixture of brilliant eloquence and inhuman cruelty. As portrayed by Hopkins, Hannibal is both a suave, cultured gentleman and an unspeakable fiend. He is gracious and monstrous at the same time. (Hopkins also provided one of the most quotable lines in recent film history with "I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti", which was followed by an inimitable slithering slurp.).

It's impossible to mention Clarice without noting that she is one of the rarest commodities in thrillers: a female hero. In interviews, Foster has indicated that, of all the roles she has played in a career that began in childhood, Clarice is her favorite (which makes it odd that she didn't try harder to re-arrange her schedule so she could reprise the part in The Silence of the Lambs' sequel, Hannibal). In addition to having to face Lecter's mind-games and the dangers associated with Buffalo Bill, she must deal with the sexual politics of being a woman in a man's world. The most telling scene occurs early in the movie, when Crawford takes her on a "field trip" to view the latest victim. There, in a hick town, she finds herself stripped of authority as a result of a casual comment by Crawford, and surrounded by a group of macho, male cops. After momentarily escaping by taking flight into a memory of her father's funeral, she regroups and takes charge of the situation, ordering the men to clear the room where the body is housed. Thus does Clarice become a woman championing victimized women - a real heroine, not a woman imitating a testosterone-driven stereotype.

The Silence of the Lambs may not have been the best thriller of the year, but it was the most chilling and creepy, and there's no denying that the most celebrated aspect of the film - the Clarice/Hannibal connection - could not have been accomplished with greater skill.