Director Jonathan Demme's adaptation of Thomas Harris' best-selling novel swept across the globe in 1991, eventually winning five Academy Awards and becoming a prestigious topic of discussion among critics. Its moody influence crept across the popular '90s sub-genre of "serial-thriller." This lent The Silence of the Lambs a growing reputation for being an adult thriller (and drama) of horror-like capabilities. The mythically monstrous and deliciously manipulative Hannibal Lecter became an immediate household name, and now remains among the most popular fictitious villains in modern cinema. Such a figure could only be played by one man (has it become unimaginable to picture it any other way?), that man being Anthony Hopkins, who slipped himself into the role with matchless prestige, therefore giving birth to a cultural icon of both literature and cinema.
Disturbingly accurate in its portrayal of law enforcement, psychology and crime, The Silence of the Lambs stitches a tight, finely-tuned visage of the criminal psyche. Such a narrative instantaneously drags the viewer into the murky underworld of criminal investigation and dangerously murderous mind games. Jodie Foster performs as Clarice Starling, a trainee FBI agent, with extreme ingenuity and awareness. She is a feminist symbol and a woman rightfully fighting to succeed in the job she so deserves, but because of gender stereotypes she finds herself suffering from sexist reactions. Clarice gets employed by the FBI to question the captured serial-killer and ex-psychiatrist, Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He is believed to hold the key to capturing the uncaught serial-killer, nicknamed Buffalo Bill. Unfortunately for Clarice, Dr. Lecter is not keen on extracting information easily and for personal amusement, manipulates and interrogates Clarice for every ounce of information she receives.
One of the most important aspects of Jonathan Demme's seminal thriller is its subjective vision. Much of the camera-work deceitfully places the viewer in the shoes of Clarice, while occasionally reverting to even the killer's perspective of the unfolding events. Yet the key behind the ability to frighten is when one becomes witness to the meticulously considered process Dr. Lecter executes before providing Clarice with the information she so desperately needs. From these scenes we begin to learn that Clarice is suffering from her own inner-torment and childhood anguish. Dr. Lecter is not indirect with his queries, but deviously confrontational, allowing Clarice to unknowingly expose her past to the audience. Many parallels are distinctly demonstrated throughout; an example being Clarice's loss of her parents, in contrast with Buffalo Bill's abusive childhood. The scenes filmed between the two central characters define "mise-en-scène", a film-making technique used to convey emotion through set design. In this case, the clinical-looking prison ward emphasises a character's isolated, but systematically secured state.
The Silence of the Lambs is and always will be an exciting cinematic adventure, not only for its knack of sending sudden bolts of shock through the viewer, but for its admirable talent to tell a story. There are plot holes and clichés littered throughout the surprisingly unpredictable narrative; nevertheless, it will not distract you from being more-than-momentarily immersed over the two-hour running-time. Much of the time is spent periodically conceiving a bundle of well-earned scares, while also allowing time for the audience to ponder the possibilities over what will happen next. Boasting a tremendously taut screenplay, some abrasively framed visuals and a lingering score by composer Howard Shore, this 1991 classic is a treat for film-buffs and casual cinema-goers alike. Even with those brief, glimmering compliments, it is the performances which are showcase material.
Disturbingly accurate in its portrayal of law enforcement, psychology and crime, The Silence of the Lambs stitches a tight, finely-tuned visage of the criminal psyche. Such a narrative instantaneously drags the viewer into the murky underworld of criminal investigation and dangerously murderous mind games. Jodie Foster performs as Clarice Starling, a trainee FBI agent, with extreme ingenuity and awareness. She is a feminist symbol and a woman rightfully fighting to succeed in the job she so deserves, but because of gender stereotypes she finds herself suffering from sexist reactions. Clarice gets employed by the FBI to question the captured serial-killer and ex-psychiatrist, Dr. Hannibal Lecter. He is believed to hold the key to capturing the uncaught serial-killer, nicknamed Buffalo Bill. Unfortunately for Clarice, Dr. Lecter is not keen on extracting information easily and for personal amusement, manipulates and interrogates Clarice for every ounce of information she receives.
One of the most important aspects of Jonathan Demme's seminal thriller is its subjective vision. Much of the camera-work deceitfully places the viewer in the shoes of Clarice, while occasionally reverting to even the killer's perspective of the unfolding events. Yet the key behind the ability to frighten is when one becomes witness to the meticulously considered process Dr. Lecter executes before providing Clarice with the information she so desperately needs. From these scenes we begin to learn that Clarice is suffering from her own inner-torment and childhood anguish. Dr. Lecter is not indirect with his queries, but deviously confrontational, allowing Clarice to unknowingly expose her past to the audience. Many parallels are distinctly demonstrated throughout; an example being Clarice's loss of her parents, in contrast with Buffalo Bill's abusive childhood. The scenes filmed between the two central characters define "mise-en-scène", a film-making technique used to convey emotion through set design. In this case, the clinical-looking prison ward emphasises a character's isolated, but systematically secured state.
The Silence of the Lambs is and always will be an exciting cinematic adventure, not only for its knack of sending sudden bolts of shock through the viewer, but for its admirable talent to tell a story. There are plot holes and clichés littered throughout the surprisingly unpredictable narrative; nevertheless, it will not distract you from being more-than-momentarily immersed over the two-hour running-time. Much of the time is spent periodically conceiving a bundle of well-earned scares, while also allowing time for the audience to ponder the possibilities over what will happen next. Boasting a tremendously taut screenplay, some abrasively framed visuals and a lingering score by composer Howard Shore, this 1991 classic is a treat for film-buffs and casual cinema-goers alike. Even with those brief, glimmering compliments, it is the performances which are showcase material.