WARNING: spoilers below
When it comes to the kind of movies that typically come to mind when you think of Best Picture winners, what pops up first? Do you think of an emotionally solemn, three hour black-and-white drama about The Holocaust? Or maybe a classy Mafia epic, driven by one man's slow but inevitable fall from moral grace? How about a disturbing, repulsively grimy thriller about an FBI agent's race to catch a serial killer before he slays and skins his next victim? Wait, that last one sounds a bit out of place, doesn't it? Well, if that's the case, then it's an eternal credit to the skill of the artists involved in making Silence Of The Lambs that the film managed to transcend its lurid trappings in the process of becoming a great film, one that not only won an aforementioned Best Picture Oscar, that not only additionally dominated that year's ceremony with its rare haul of all five "top" Oscars (Picture, Director, Actress, Actor, and Screenplay), but has also stood tall in the past thirty years as a truly iconic work of modern film, and one of the most influential Thrillers to ever come out of Hollywood to boot.
Adapted from the novel of the same name by Thomas Harris (who's actually from my hometown of Jackson, Tennessee; woot!), Silence tells the story of Clarice Starling, a young FBI trainee who is tasked with the "interesting errand" of profiling Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a brilliant but utterly sadistic serial killer, in the desperate hope that doing so may lend some psychological insight into the mindset of another killer, "Buffalo Bill", before he can notch up yet another victim. However, when it's unexpectedly discovered that Lecter has a personal connection to Bill deep in his murky past, his relevance to the case suddenly becomes one of upmost importance, with his captors, the politically powerful family of Bill's latest intended victim, and the FBI as a whole all jockeying to position themselves close to the fine (not so young) cannibal, all the while his real subject of interest remains Clarice, and the series of sadistic mind games he repeatedly ensnares her in.
It's the central dynamic that gives the film its drive, with both actors putting on superb, Oscar-worthy (and more importantly, Oscar-winning) performances, with Anthony Hopkins' Lecter making for a one-of-a-kind, highly cultured killer, one who's always acutely aware of his surroundings, seeming like he's in complete control of his situation at all times, even when he's trapped in a glass box, or completely restrained from head-to-toe. He sort of comes off like a giant spider wearing human skin, luring its victims into his web with his particular brand of mind games, as he's immediately able to zero in on his prey's deepest insecurities and fears, abusing his intellectual brilliance in psychiatry for his own sinister means, as he always knows just what to say or do in order to get under other people's skin (in more ways than one, as a shocking mid-film development shows).
On the other hand, while Jodie Foster's Clarice hasn't become quite as big a cultural icon (because who else could've, honestly?), she makes up for it with her overall relatability, serving as an empathetic "everywoman" surrounded by a bunch of freaks, and showcasing a shaky vulnerability in a world full of predatory men throughout (particularly in the scene where she recounts her worst childhood memory, which nearly certainly cinched her that Best Actress Oscar), while also showing a certain resilience and resourcefulness at the same time, whether it be her taking the initiative to open up a long deserted crime scene, boldly taking down a killer single-handedly, or continually being the only character clever enough to decipher the cryptic trail of clues Hannibal leaves behind him everywhere he goes. However, even though that process brings her ever closer to solving the case, it still ends up unlocking her darkest, most personal secrets at the time, leaving her with fresh scars on her psyche, and the question of whether it was all worth it by the film's end.
However, what is not even remotely in question for us is if Silence was worth the time it takes to watch it, since the answer to that is a resounding "YES", as the film simultaneously submerses us in a deep, dark world of serial killers, a world comprised of dank, dungeon-like psychiatric facilities, abandoned storage units that hold nasty surprises within, and grimy, labyrinthine killers' lairs, while also avoiding a potentially trashy, exploitative overall tone at the same time, with the combination of Harris's strong underlying source material (which managed to carry even a hack like Brett Ratner to a solid film with Red Dragon) and Johnathan Demme's classy, intelligent overall direction of the film, as Silence contains the most striking examples of the technique that Demme was best known for, that of having his actors looking directly into the camera, in order to bring a whole new level of intimacy to the film, one that makes us feel as one with the characters, even when we'd really rather not. It's a film that doesn't flinch one bit from peering deep down into the darkness of the human soul, bringing back with it some of the most iconic performances in modern film, an undeniably blurring of the line between "high" & "low" art in cinema, and what has to be admitted as just a great filmmaking in general, regardless of how disturbed it may make one feel personally; if you don't agree, then feel free to go eat your own liver, with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.
When it comes to the kind of movies that typically come to mind when you think of Best Picture winners, what pops up first? Do you think of an emotionally solemn, three hour black-and-white drama about The Holocaust? Or maybe a classy Mafia epic, driven by one man's slow but inevitable fall from moral grace? How about a disturbing, repulsively grimy thriller about an FBI agent's race to catch a serial killer before he slays and skins his next victim? Wait, that last one sounds a bit out of place, doesn't it? Well, if that's the case, then it's an eternal credit to the skill of the artists involved in making Silence Of The Lambs that the film managed to transcend its lurid trappings in the process of becoming a great film, one that not only won an aforementioned Best Picture Oscar, that not only additionally dominated that year's ceremony with its rare haul of all five "top" Oscars (Picture, Director, Actress, Actor, and Screenplay), but has also stood tall in the past thirty years as a truly iconic work of modern film, and one of the most influential Thrillers to ever come out of Hollywood to boot.
Adapted from the novel of the same name by Thomas Harris (who's actually from my hometown of Jackson, Tennessee; woot!), Silence tells the story of Clarice Starling, a young FBI trainee who is tasked with the "interesting errand" of profiling Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a brilliant but utterly sadistic serial killer, in the desperate hope that doing so may lend some psychological insight into the mindset of another killer, "Buffalo Bill", before he can notch up yet another victim. However, when it's unexpectedly discovered that Lecter has a personal connection to Bill deep in his murky past, his relevance to the case suddenly becomes one of upmost importance, with his captors, the politically powerful family of Bill's latest intended victim, and the FBI as a whole all jockeying to position themselves close to the fine (not so young) cannibal, all the while his real subject of interest remains Clarice, and the series of sadistic mind games he repeatedly ensnares her in.
It's the central dynamic that gives the film its drive, with both actors putting on superb, Oscar-worthy (and more importantly, Oscar-winning) performances, with Anthony Hopkins' Lecter making for a one-of-a-kind, highly cultured killer, one who's always acutely aware of his surroundings, seeming like he's in complete control of his situation at all times, even when he's trapped in a glass box, or completely restrained from head-to-toe. He sort of comes off like a giant spider wearing human skin, luring its victims into his web with his particular brand of mind games, as he's immediately able to zero in on his prey's deepest insecurities and fears, abusing his intellectual brilliance in psychiatry for his own sinister means, as he always knows just what to say or do in order to get under other people's skin (in more ways than one, as a shocking mid-film development shows).
On the other hand, while Jodie Foster's Clarice hasn't become quite as big a cultural icon (because who else could've, honestly?), she makes up for it with her overall relatability, serving as an empathetic "everywoman" surrounded by a bunch of freaks, and showcasing a shaky vulnerability in a world full of predatory men throughout (particularly in the scene where she recounts her worst childhood memory, which nearly certainly cinched her that Best Actress Oscar), while also showing a certain resilience and resourcefulness at the same time, whether it be her taking the initiative to open up a long deserted crime scene, boldly taking down a killer single-handedly, or continually being the only character clever enough to decipher the cryptic trail of clues Hannibal leaves behind him everywhere he goes. However, even though that process brings her ever closer to solving the case, it still ends up unlocking her darkest, most personal secrets at the time, leaving her with fresh scars on her psyche, and the question of whether it was all worth it by the film's end.
However, what is not even remotely in question for us is if Silence was worth the time it takes to watch it, since the answer to that is a resounding "YES", as the film simultaneously submerses us in a deep, dark world of serial killers, a world comprised of dank, dungeon-like psychiatric facilities, abandoned storage units that hold nasty surprises within, and grimy, labyrinthine killers' lairs, while also avoiding a potentially trashy, exploitative overall tone at the same time, with the combination of Harris's strong underlying source material (which managed to carry even a hack like Brett Ratner to a solid film with Red Dragon) and Johnathan Demme's classy, intelligent overall direction of the film, as Silence contains the most striking examples of the technique that Demme was best known for, that of having his actors looking directly into the camera, in order to bring a whole new level of intimacy to the film, one that makes us feel as one with the characters, even when we'd really rather not. It's a film that doesn't flinch one bit from peering deep down into the darkness of the human soul, bringing back with it some of the most iconic performances in modern film, an undeniably blurring of the line between "high" & "low" art in cinema, and what has to be admitted as just a great filmmaking in general, regardless of how disturbed it may make one feel personally; if you don't agree, then feel free to go eat your own liver, with some fava beans and a nice Chianti.
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