Granted, THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS is a great thriller. On a humanistic level, I prefer RED DRAGON, for its marvelous payoff at the end and for its humane characterization of the villain (played by Ralph Fiennes). But back to THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS. Despite its grandeur, there is a huge flaw in the script. Yves Lavandier has expressed it well in his book WRITING DRAMA.
Remember. To help Clarice understand Buffalo Bill's mentality, her superior (Scott Glenn) suggests she visit another serial killer, Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins). Lecter is reputed to be fiendishly manipulative. Clarice is warned by her superior: "You tell him nothing personal. Believe me, you don't want Hannibal Lecter inside your head." The warning is clear-you do so at your peril. Soon afterwards, we learn that Lecter has driven the man in the next cell to commit suicide. And it is very clear to us that Clarice will need to be extremely cautious. When Lecter, at their first meeting, asks her questions about her private life, we feel concern. When, at their next meeting, Clarice starts to talk about herself, we fear the worst. But nothing happens-Clarice opens up but suffers no consequences. Her superior's warning and Clarice's subsequent attitude do not lead to a payoff.
I was disappointed by this unkept promises since it represents a lost opportunity for further conflict. But there is more to it than that. If the writers had established a close link between Clarice's confidences and Lecter's subsequent break-out-the former contributing to the latter, for example-not only would the film have gained in rigour and unity of action, it would also have shown more clearly that in order to catch one dangerous psychopath, the FBI trainee has been obliged to allow free another, much more dangerous psychopath. In other words, the powerless of American society would have been demonstrated more convincingly.
Another missed opportunity.
Remember. To help Clarice understand Buffalo Bill's mentality, her superior (Scott Glenn) suggests she visit another serial killer, Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins). Lecter is reputed to be fiendishly manipulative. Clarice is warned by her superior: "You tell him nothing personal. Believe me, you don't want Hannibal Lecter inside your head." The warning is clear-you do so at your peril. Soon afterwards, we learn that Lecter has driven the man in the next cell to commit suicide. And it is very clear to us that Clarice will need to be extremely cautious. When Lecter, at their first meeting, asks her questions about her private life, we feel concern. When, at their next meeting, Clarice starts to talk about herself, we fear the worst. But nothing happens-Clarice opens up but suffers no consequences. Her superior's warning and Clarice's subsequent attitude do not lead to a payoff.
I was disappointed by this unkept promises since it represents a lost opportunity for further conflict. But there is more to it than that. If the writers had established a close link between Clarice's confidences and Lecter's subsequent break-out-the former contributing to the latter, for example-not only would the film have gained in rigour and unity of action, it would also have shown more clearly that in order to catch one dangerous psychopath, the FBI trainee has been obliged to allow free another, much more dangerous psychopath. In other words, the powerless of American society would have been demonstrated more convincingly.
Another missed opportunity.