If one were to describe Jonathan Demme as a filmmaker; humour and humanity would be some of the first things that come to mind. Some might argue that the furthest film from those principles would be the serial killer psychological thriller The Silence of the Lambs. However in actuality I really do feel that it’s Demme’s humanity, drama and yes, even humour that actually leads to what could be seen only on its surface level as a very formulaic murder drama. Of course it is not only Demme’s work, there are simply so many things that lead to this glorious film still working so tremendously well today, and still feel so terrifying, so unsettling and so perfect. For me Silence is still, by far, the greatest psychological thriller of all time, and of course one of the best films, full stop. 

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Even if it isn’t the greatest of all time, Silence certainly is at least in its own field of the perfect thriller. Not a single frame is wasted and not a single step is wrong-footed. The film truly is flawless, but I’ve said that about a lot of films on this blog so far, so what makes this film even more flawless, if that’s possible? For me, it’s the construction; starting from the effortless adaptation of Harris’s novel by Ted Tally, to the way the Jonathan Demme put it to the screen, to way that Foster, Glenn, Levine, and of course, Hopkins, bring those horrifyingly intelligent words off the page and inhabit the brutality, wit, humour and scariness of each and every character in this exceptional motion picture. I’m noticing again that when I talk about films from my absolute Top Ten of all time, what I have to say about each film is waining, whereas surely it should be the other way around. Perhaps this is due to the fact that I feel the films more than speak for themselves, or at least, that’s what I’ll say is the reason. The lynch pin to my second favourite film of all time is of course Jodie Foster as Clarice Starling as she leads us through every scene and the every twisting path of this thriller classic. The scenes between Foster and Anthony Hopkins are the most delicate tango imaginable and the two meet in the middle so perfectly that the scenes became instant classics and have remained as such ever since. I sometimes question who is the better performance in this film between Hopkins’ Hannibal and Ted Levine as Buffalo Bill. The obvious answer is Hopkins as Lecter. An undeniably classic performance dripping with insidious remarks and pure terror, yet we beg for more and even find ourselves rooting for him to escape. I won’t say that Hopkins makes this monster empathetic, because I don’t believe he does, but he makes Lecter deftly re-watchable and we simply love spending time with him on screen. The less obvious, but no less deserving answer would be to award Levine’s work. Similarly grotesque and horrifying, but with no relief. Levine shoots us up with pure terror and leaves us terrified, but still wanting to see more. Although we know what’s in that basement, we want to go down there all the same.


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What most other thrillers of this films ilk fail to realise I feel is to what extent Lambs earns its moments of relish. It’s methodical and simple nature for the longevity of its run time earn its long scenes of contemplation and ferociously visceral dialogue dissections of character. In its plotting and its editing, Silence strives for a form of complicated simplicity that is perennially hard to achieve. It’s not that the plot is overly dense, but it isn’t overly complex either. It’s pathway of clues and characters are repeatedly intriguing and do indeed keep us guessing up until everything is revealed. The deeply intelligent game of cat and mouse at the heart of the film fuels this, with us figuring the mystery out as we go with Clarice, but also attempting to engage in the battle of wits and respect that she plays with Hannibal. The clincher for me when it comes to the brilliance of the film is of course is that all of this is playing tandem with a Colombo format where we already know who the killer is and repeatedly take long deeply unsettling stretches to stay with him and see the truth of what is occurring. This tandem storytelling of course reaches its pinnacle of craft with the iconic cross-cutting of Jack Crawford and his team arriving at what they believe to be the home of Buffalo Bill, along with Bill reacting to his doorbell. For a film so cold and clinical in so many different ways, Silence really is a film with an implicit and razor sharp focus on relationships and human emotion, and how we interact with one another in life. Of course there is Clarice and Hannibal, but then there’s Catherine and Bill, Clarice and Jack. I simply choose to return to my opening statement to conclude. Silence would certainly not be the film it became, going on to win the big five at the Oscars (Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Director and Best Original Screenplay), without Hopkins, Foster, Levine, Glenn or the other members of the tremendously talented ensemble. Nor without Ted Tally’s pitch perfect adaptation of Thomas Harris novel. Nor even without Tak Fujimoto’s cinematography, Craig McKay’s editing or Howard Shores score. But I do feel that the films greatest asset has always been and will always be, almost stealthily so, Jonathan Demme - whose tour de force direction solidifies a film undoubtedly brilliant at its core into an absolute masterpiece of tension, tone and drama. 

-        -  Thomas Carruthers