The Silence of the Lambs (1991)
Crawford: The psychiatrist - Hannibal Lecter.
Clarice: Hannibal, 'the Cannibal.'
Crawford: I don't expect him to talk to you, but I have to be able to say        we tried. So if he won't cooperate, I want just straight reporting. How's        he look? How's his cell look? Is he sketching, drawing? If he is, what's he        sketching?
By establishing a relationship with a captured serial killer       Lecter, Crawford hopes that Clarice will find special insights into the       personality of "Buffalo       Bill" - the at-large, random serial killer. Clarice is given a dossier       on  Lecter, a questionnaire, and a special ID. Instinctively, she has guessed        that there may be some connection between the homicidal "Buffalo Bill" and         Lecter. Crawford cautions her about her upcoming interview and contact        with  the quick-witted, brilliant, convicted and imprisoned serial murderer,        Dr.  Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter (Anthony Hopkins), who has turned        his ferocious  oral desires for flesh into an astonishing facility with        language:
Be very careful with Hannibal Lecter. Dr. Chilton at the asylum             will go over all the physical procedures used with him. Do not deviate            from  them for any reason whatsoever. And you're to tell him nothing            personal, Starling.  Believe me, you don't want Hannibal Lecter inside       your head. Just do your  job, but never forget what he is.
The scene ends with a question: "What is that?" There is       a transitionary cut to the Baltimore hospital, where the answer is heard       in voice-over from Dr. Frederick Chilton (Anthony Heald) in his office:
Oh, he's a monster. Pure psychopath. It's so rare to capture one        alive. From a research point of view, Lecter is our most prized asset.
The smarmy, self-serving Dr. Chilton, who runs the facility       where Lecter is imprisoned, is rebuffed for showing some uninvited letchery       toward the seemingly-helpless young woman. Expectations for the introduction       of the sinister Lecter (Chilton mentions that Lecter considers Chilton       his "nemesis")     are  raised to great heights on their maze-like journey through the state     institution  for the criminally insane.
An important parallel is established in the way that males have become     predators,  both on the side of the law and in the criminal behaviors of     the mass murderers.  The doctor divulges that her employer Crawford may be     exploiting his young  trainee - he may be deceiving the attractive Starling     into her mission with  a fake questionnaire - using her as bait to lure,     provoke and inspire psycho  Lecter into providing the Bureau with information     into the case of the latest  serial killer Buffalo Bill. Chilton uses a disguised     pun on Lecter's penchant  for eating his victims:
A pretty young woman to turn him on. I don't believe Lecter's even        seen a woman in eight years. And oh are you ever his taste, so to speak.
Dr. Chilton rattles off rules as they pass through locked gates in their      menacing, lurid approach to the high-security area where she will have access      to the killer:
Do not touch the glass. Do not approach the glass. You can pass           nothing but soft paper - no pencils or pens. No staples or paperclips in his           paper. Use the sliding food carrier, no exceptions. If he attempts to pass        you anything, do not accept it.
There are reasons for the high-security precautions - nearly a decade earlier,      the cannibalistic Lecter proved how dangerous he really was:
On the afternoon of July 8, 1981, he complained of chest pains and           was taken to the dispensary. His mouthpiece and restraints were removed for           an EKG. When the nurse leaned over him, he did this to her? (In the reddish-hued           light, Chilton holds up a small photo) The doctors managed to re-set her jaw           more or less, and save one of her eyes. His pulse never got above eighty-five,        even when he ate her tongue.
The film is most memorable for her introduction scene to the notorious,      satanic, cannibal-psychiatrist Lecter, as she takes a tense walk along a     dank  row of medieval, high-security underground prison cells on her left     to meet  him. Before she proceeds - by herself - past other barred cells     toward a chair  in the middle of the corridor next to Lecter's cubicle -     down a gauntlet in  Hell itself - she steels herself for the confrontation.     One of the gibbering  crazy inmates, a dark, grotesque occupant in one of     the cells named Miggs  (Stuart Rudin), mashes his face against the bars and     hisses charmingly with  some verbal abuse:
I c-can sssmell your c--ttt!
She finds Hannibal Lecter, the brilliant, but insane criminal monster,     imprisoned  in a windowless, glassed-in, dungeon-like cell, decorated with     his own charcoal  or crayon drawings of European cityscapes. [The name is     symbolic, recalling  the legendary, elephant-leading military leader Hannibal,     and Lecter or lecteur,      a French word for reader becomes the intellectual, cultured component of     his  fiercesome character.] Filmed from her point of view, the notorious     psychiatrist  makes a dramatic film entrance. He first appears standing,     ironically still  and at attention in his cell, watching her with twinkling,     chillingly-dead,  blue eyes. His hair is closely-cropped and his head is     tilted slightly in  her direction. The menacing, fiendish, but polite, suave     and gracious Hannibal  takes the initiative and urges the clever, intelligent,     but inexperienced  Clarice to step closer to his cell to show her ID credentials: "Closer,     please.  Clo-ser." She complies, trying to hide her fear from the lethal     predator.
Their dialogue is a masterful parry and thrust confrontation,       complemented with long, sustained, extreme close-ups of their faces on       opposite sides of the glass wall - the elegantly-evil, brilliant, omniscient       Lecter is skillfully observant with extraordinary, diabolically-developed       human faculties, perceptively capable of acutely deducing much about her       identity, life, and character with just a cursory glance (and smell). Contemptuous       of her from the start, Lecter is initially insulted when he learns that       Crawford sent a neophyte "trainee" to him. He tries to unnerve her by staring directly into her eyes and testing      her with questions. Clarice struggles to maintain her separate identity     from  him to avoid being overwhelmed - she never flinches away or averts     her gaze,  and he begins to take an analytical and personal interest in Crawford's     protege:
Lecter: You're not real FBI are you?
Clarice: I'm still in training at the Academy.
Lecter: Jack Crawford sent a trainee to me?
Clarice: Yes, I'm a student. I'm here to learn from you. Maybe you can decide        for yourself whether or not I'm qualified enough to do that.
Lecter: Mmm. That is rather slippery of you, Agent Starling. (In a gentlemanly        way, he offers her a seat in the metal chair in the corridor) Sit, please.        Now then, tell me, what did Miggs say to you? Multiple Miggs in the next cell.        He hissed at you. What did he say?
Clarice: (openly with honest candor) He said, 'I can smell your c--t.'
Lecter: I see. I myself cannot. (He acutely senses her smells through the        air holes above him.) You use Evyan skin cream, and sometimes you wear L'Air        du Temps, but not today.
Clarice: (She changes the subject after noticing his works of art.) Did you        do all these drawings, Doctor?
Lecter: Ah! That is the Duomo, seen from the Belvedere. Do you know Florence?
Clarice: All that detail just from memory, sir?
Lecter: Memory, Agent Starling, is what I have instead of a view.
To get on with her job, Clarice changes the subject (and mood) and takes      the questionnaire from her case, readying herself to proceed with the questions.      But Lecter chides her, an ever-scolding teacher in her presence:
No, no, no, no, no. You were doing fine. You had been courteous           and receptive to courtesy. You had established trust with the embarrassing           truth about Miggs, and now this ham-handed segue into your questionnaire.        (He tuts reproachfully) It won't do.
Lecter knows that Crawford has recruited help from "the student body" to "hunt" for "that new one" - the country's latest serial mass murderer: "Buffalo      Bill":
Lecter: What a naughty boy he is! Do you know why he's called 'Buffalo           Bill'? Please tell me - the newspapers won't say.
Clarice: Well, it started as a bad joke in Kansas City homicide. They said,        'this one likes to skin his humps.'
Lecter: Why do you think he removes their skins, Agent Starling? (sarcastically)        Thrill me with your acumen.
Clarice: It excites him. Most serial killers keep some sort of trophies from        their victims.
Lecter: I didn't.
Clarice: No. No. You ate yours.
Smiling to himself for her precise boldness and accuracy, he allows Clarice      to send through the profile questionnaire. But he is deeply insulted by     the  few pages he glances at:
Oh, Agent Starling, do you think you can dissect me with this blunt        little tool?
With a purring, soft voice, he dissects her personality       with a witty, but perversely intimate portrait of her soul - it is a chilling       speech, imitating her way of speech with mocking criticism. His assumptions       about her hillbilly roots, her limitations, and her aspiring ambitions       are based solely on her West Virginia accent and the appearance of her "cheap shoes" -       the cadences of Lecter's delivery are memorable:
You're so-o ambitious, aren't you? You know what you look like to            me, with your good bag and your cheap shoes? You look like a rube. A well-scrubbed,            hustling rube, with a little taste. Good nutrition's given you some length            of bone, but you're not more than one generation from poor white trash, are            you, Agent Starling? And that accent you've tried so desperately to shed -            pure West Virginia. What does your father do? Is he a coal miner? Does he            stink of the lamp? You know how quickly the boys found you. All those tedious,            sticky fumblings in the back seats of cars, while you could only dream of        getting out. Getting anywhere, getting all the way to the F...B...I.
The psychoanalytic words strike deep into Clarice's heart because she knows      she hasn't lived up to her own expectations, and his words are right on     target  - her truest and most pleasurable thoughts were of leaving her home     and moving  ahead with her career. Her self-confidence is worn thin, and     she is visibly  shaken and ashamed. Yet she composes herself and manages     to swing back with  concentrated anger, retorting that he should fill out     the questionnaire:
You see a lot, Doctor. But are you strong enough to point that high-powered          perception at yourself? What about it? - why don't you, why don't you look        at yourself and write down what you see? Or maybe you're afraid to...
He slams the sliding food tray back through with the questionnaire. Lecter      graphically tells her about his ferocious oral impulses and how he eats     parts  of his victims:
A census taker once tried to test me. I ate his liver with          some fava beans and a nice Chi-an-ti. (He approaches the glass and          lets go with a slurping sound.) You fly back to school now, little Starling.          (He turns his back on her and speaks in a whisper.) Fly, fly, fly. Fly, fly,        fly.
Lecter steps back from the glass window and turns his back       on her. Resigned and frustrated by his denial, Clarice leaves the questionnaire       in the tray and slowly walks down the corridor. She passes Migg's cell       - the demented inmate is naked and masturbating on his bench/bed, moaning: "I bit      my  wrists so I can diiiiie...," and gleefully yells: "See how      it bleeds?" He then flings a handful of fresh semen at her, spattering her hair and face      with it. Agitated, stirred, and shaking with rage, Lecter calls out to her      and she runs back to him.
Lecter sets up the beginnings of an irresistible, exploitative       relationship with Agent Starling, bargaining with her to let him have a "view" in return       for her "advancement." She will earn his complicity, and clues-information        about Buffalo Bill if she will look "deep within" and share some of her        personal  self [Clarice has already dismissed Crawford's primary warning        to not let  Lecter inside her head]:
Lecter: I would not have had that happen to you. Discourtesy is             unspeakably ugly to me.
Clarice: Then do this test for me.
Lecter: No. But I will make you happy. I'll give you a chance for what you        love most.
Clarice: And what is that, doc?
Lecter: Advancement of course, listen carefully. Look deep within your self,        Clarice Starling. Go seek out Miss Mofet, an old patient of mine. M-O-F-E-T.        Go now. I don't think Miggs could manage again so soon, even though he is        crazy. GO NOW!
Outside the hospital after being sent away on a cryptic treasure hunt,     she  is visibly upset and disturbed by her encounter with Lecter. When she     looks  at her old Pinto in the parking lot, she experiences a short flashback     which  takes her back to when she was ten years old (Masha Skorobogatov),     the daughter  of a small-town West Virginia policeman/marshal. From the porch     of the Starling  house, she rushes into her biological father's (Jeffrie     Lane) arms and embrace  - and he twirls her around. The young agent slumps     next to her car in the  parking lot, sobbing.
The scene cuts to a rapid series of gunshots on the FBI       practice firing range - in a determined, combat stance, Clarice pumps and       fires rounds into a rotating target, the silhouette of the chest of a man.       Other training experiences are quickly presented: (1) with another male       trainee, she breaks into a room with guns drawn, but forgets to cover her "danger area" in       the corner. Clarice is instructed that, in real-life, she would have been       dead. (2) with a female trainee/friend Ardelia Mapp (Kasi Lemmons) while       jogging, Clarice mentally rehearses some of her studies. (3) in the Academy       library, Clarice intently looks at microfilm rolls of newspaper stories       recounting the 'horrors' that renowned Baltimore psychiatrist Hannibal       Lecter committed:
NEW HORRORS IN 'CANNIBAL TRIAL'
The Doctor of Death Cooked His Victims for Gourmet Meals Then Served Them        to His Friends, Michael Ronboz of City Council Among Those at Dinner Table
On the phone, "guru" Crawford tell Starling that "Miggs is dead" - he swallowed      his own tongue and Lecter is implicated: "Lecter did it to amuse himself." Following up on the "Mofet" lead, Clarice discovers that Lecter altered or      destroyed most of his patients' histories prior to capture and there is     no  record of anyone named Mofet. However, Clarice intelligently figures     out that  the "Your Self" reference in his words meant a "Your-Self Storage" facility      outside downtown Baltimore close to where Lecter had his practice.
At the storage area, the attendant Mr. Lang (Leib Lensky)       informs Clarice that Lecter's storage unit was leased for ten years and       the contract was pre-paid in full since 1980: "The contract is in the name of 'Miss Hester     Mofet.'" Resourcefully, Clarice retrieves the bumper jack from her own car and pumps      open the jammed, wedged-tight storage door only about 18 inches. She peers      into the storage area with a flashlight, and then non-chalantly, but ominously      hands Mr. Lang her business card:
If this door should fall down, or ha, ha, anything else, uh, this           is the number for our Baltimore field office. Now they know that you're with        me. You call them if anything should happen.
As she squirms her way in, she snags one thigh on the metal edge of the      door and draws blood. In the light of her flashlight, she sees lots of piled      up, dusty pieces of furniture, boxes, a wooden statue of an owl in flight,      mannequin parts lying on shelves, an old upright piano, and a 1931 Packard      beneath a huge American flag. After opening the door to the back passenger      compartment, she finds a beheaded, dressmaker's mannequin seated there,     garbed  in a fancy satin evening gown and costume pearls, with elbow-length     gloves.  On the broad back seat next to the mannequin is an open album of     lacy, old-fashioned  Valentines. Clarice removes a red silky handkerchief,     revealing a horrifying  find - a grotesquely-bloated man's severed head preserved     in a laboratory  specimen jar. The face, whose identity is later revealed     by Lecter, has been  transformed into the face of a woman with the addition     of heavy makeup (now smeared).
After a penetrating close-up of the deformed, decapitated head, she drives      up to the Baltimore hospital and rushes up the steps in the rain. A discussion      with Dr. Lecter has already commenced, their second suspenseful confrontation      in his darkened cell. Wet-haired Clarice, sitting on the floor, has deciphered      his cryptic words:
It's an anagram, isn't it, Doctor? Hester Mofet, 'The rest of me.        Miss The-Rest-of-Me,' meaning that you rented that garage.
Suddenly, Lecter responds by sliding out his food carrier,       making her jump. In the tray is a clean, folded white towel which she uses       to dry off her hair [breaking another of the explicit rules of the institution].       From the floor in the shadows of his cell, he speaks intuitively: "Your bleeding     has stopped." Behind Clarice is a television set tuned to a preacher on a gospel station.      Although Lecter really wants to see the case file on Buffalo Bill, he tells      her about "Miss Mofet" with moments of black humor:
Lecter: His real name is Benjamin Raspail. A former patient of mine,           whose romantic attachments ran to, shall we say, the exotic. I did not kill           him, I assure you. Merely tucked him away, very much as I found him. After           he'd missed three appointments.
Clarice: If you didn't kill him, then who did, sir?
Lecter: Who can say? Best thing for him, really. His therapy was going nowhere.
Clarice: His dress, uh, makeup, Raspail was a transvestite?
Lecter: In life, oh no. Garden variety manic-depressive, tedious, very tedious.        No, no. Just think of him as a kind of experiment. A fledgling killer's first        effort at - transformation.
And then, the ex-psychiatrist Lecter psychologically penetrates and presses      into Clarice with personal questions, exposing more of the mind-messing,     exploitative  game he has prepared for her. Powerfully desirous of knowing     more about her,  he circles around her in a dance of questions like a predator     or in a courting  ritual, asking if Crawford is using her or wants her sexually:
Lecter: How did you feel when you saw him, Clarice?
Clarice: Scared at first. Then - exhilarated.
Lecter: Jack Crawford is helping your career, isn't he? Apparently he likes        you and you like him too.
Clarice: I never thought about it.
Lecter: Do you think Jack Crawford wants you sexually? Truly he is much older,        but do you think he visualizes scenarios, exchanges, f--king you?
Clarice: That doesn't interest me doctor. Frankly, it's, it's the sort of        thing that Miggs would say.
Lecter: Not any more.
When the lights come on in his cell, the cell walls have       been stripped bare of his paintings: "Punishment, you see, for Miggs. Just       like that gospel program. When you leave, they'll turn the volume way up.     Dr. Chilton does enjoy his petty torments."
Clarice returns to the subject of the killer during their riveting interview.      Lecter slowly stands and rises above her, speaking down to her submissive      figure, and enticing her with more information about the killer's characteristics:
Clarice: What did you mean by transformation, doctor?
Lecter: I've been in this room for eight years now, Clarice. I know they will        never, ever let me out while I'm alive. What I want is a view. I want a window        where I can see a tree, or even water. I want to be in a federal institution,        far away from Dr. Chilton.
Clarice: What did you mean by fledgling killer? Are you saying that he's killed        again?
Lecter: I'm offering you a psychological profile of Buffalo Bill based on        the case evidence. I'll help you catch him, Clarice.
Clarice: (She rises) You know who he is, don't you? Tell me who decapitated        your patient, doctor.
Lecter: All good things to those who wait. I've waited, Clarice. But how       long  can you and old Jackie boy wait? Our little Billy must already be searching       for that next special lady.