The Success of "The Silence of the Lambs" is Not So Silent

          From the start, it was obvious to me that the success of The Silence of the Lambs was anything but silent. Before seeing the movie, my teacher rattled of some of its accomplishments, including an Oscar sweep of Best Picture, Actor, Actress, Director, and Writing. I have not previously watched many horror films previous to this movie, and I didn't know what to expect -- where in this odd title and odd movie poster laid the secret to this success? I admit this was probably a good way to introduce the movie; immediately I liked the idea of the maniacal, brilliant, imprisoned Hannibal Lector, whom seemed to be the main character the film kept drawing me into. The Silence of the Lambs, directed by Jonathon Demme, tells the story of Clarice Starling -- an aspiring FBI agent -- who attempts to help in the case of Buffalo Bill, a brutal serial killer sought by the FBI. Starling is assigned by Jack Crawford, head of the FBI's Behavioral Science Bureau, to talk to Hannibal Lector in an attempt to learn about Buffalo Bill, who was affiliated with him. Throughout the film, the tension grows as Lector surprisingly gives veiled information about Buffalo Bill, who has captured a senator's daughter and is known to skin and kill his victims. Although it could be said that The Silence of the Lambs is needlessly brutal and horrific in its violence, The Silence of the Lambs intelligently and seriously utilizes these elements to create a tense, compelling, and thought-provoking movie.

          One central reason The Silence of the Lambs is so compelling is the extent by which it is unified in plot. The obvious one is the recurring "lamb" motif -- when Starling was young, she had to live at a lamb slaughter house, whose screams haunted Starling for years. As the tension increases and the movie gets closer to the climax, I got a sense that Starling was trying to make amends for these horrors; to try and make right a terrible wrong, in her mind. This was reinforced as Lector asks "Will the lambs be silent, then?" in reference to the event that Starling should save Catherine Martin, who was captured by Buffalo Bill. Starling embodies this mindset as her desperation increases to save Catherine -- and then, she does in a climatic series of events. Meanwhile, Lector escapes to the streets in a complex plot twist. He calls Starling after everything has settled down, and asks her: "Have the lambs gone silent, Clarice?" Then once again, the audience is left pondering the internal struggle Starling has gone through, and whether she will be at peace with Lector -- whom she respects and loathes -- on the loose once again.

          Another aspect that makes this movie so compelling is its implantation of several types of irony, which gives the film a sense of mystery along with unique moods. First, Hannibal Lector uses verbal irony quite a bit. That is, he says things that he means in an entirely different way. For example, he uses anagrams to give one name to Starling and his captors, and yet hides what he really means underneath it. Probably the most interesting aspect of Lector is his complete irony of character. While he is an intellectual beyond anyone he has ever met, a doctor in psychiatry, he embodies the urge for primal cannibalism. This juxtaposition of complete opposite mindsets creates a mystery around Lector; the audience wants to know why he is the way he is. Lastly, Demme constructs irony of tone to highlight this part of Lector. After he escapes the cage by brutally beating both guards, and pepper spraying and eating another man's face, he listens to calm, sophisticated classical music. The audience is left with a bizarre feeling: should I feel repulsed or relaxed? Over and over again, Demme uses irony to provoke our interest in the origins of Lector's personality traits. 

          While it is true that The Silence of the Lambs is brutal and violent, the compelling traits of Buffalo Bill, Clarice Starling, and Hannibal Lector would not be able to be revealed as effectively without it. Demme recognizes that often the most dramatic, heart-felt truths are only drawn out with such primal aspects as cannibalism and death. I, on my part, am reminded of a study done in which it was found that rapists, pedophiles, and the like score perfectly high on moral exams; yet, they are testaments to anything but morality. This part of Lector fascinates me -- obviously he has perfect understanding of morality. Yet, he doesn't care for any of it. I am left thinking of his ironic traits and his views on "the lambs" whenever I think of the movie; yet, I can't quite make sense of it. I suppose that was Demme's intention from the start.

Hannibal Lector