A good film, but falls just that little bit short of greatness

Rating: 7/10 (30 July 2007)

The Silence of the Lambs is considered by many to be a modern classic. Even the DVD informs you its the thriller all others are measured against. Although I did enjoy TSOTL, I'm not sure if it has the components necessary to make it a true classic. Its not the masterpiece it's often made out to be.
Certainly you can understand its appeal. Its a story that comes with a rich premise ripe for delving into dark, psychological corners. Thomas Harris' novel was a wonderfully compelling page-turner. A tightly wound thriller that sent my pulse racing.
But the film skates over some of the things that made Harris' novel so wonderful. I'm not saying its a terrible film. Far from it. Jonathan Demme's direction is excellent, with lots of brilliant camera tricks. And he gets a superb performance out of Jodie Foster. Clarice Starling is the best thing she's ever done. She won a well deserved Oscar for the part. But still, the film doesn't always satisfy like it should.
Everyone knows the story. FBI trainee Starling is assigned to glean information from incarcerated serial killer, Dr Hannibal Lecter (Anthony Hopkins) concerning the whereabouts of another serial killer on the loose, Buffalo Bill. A former patient of Lecters, he's killed and skinned several women. Starling and Lecter's interrogation sessions become a slowly spreading invasion within the background of Starling's emotionally fragile psyche. All the while Buffalo Bill has himself a new victim, and Lecter is already planning his escape.
First I will praise the film's merits. Yes it does have excellent performances. The scenes between Starling and Lecter are electrifying. They're the high-point of the whole film. And Demme does superb things with his camera. I like the way he shoots many of Clarice's scenes from her POV, like when she descends several staircases and goes through several doors at the asylum until she finally meets Dr Lecter.
He stands straight. Perfectly still. Almost waiting in anticipation for Clarice. They lock eyes. He reads things about her. From her body language. The look of nervous anguish she tries to bury. Examining first her face. Then her temporary FBI badge. Sniffing her perfume through the holes in the glass partition. The only thing keeping them apart. He runs off a number of things about her personality. Capped by the surprising concern he shows when she's attacked by another cell-mate.
That one scene is quite wonderful. Both Hopkins and Foster shine in this moment, arguably the best one they share. There are times when you're not sure who has the upper hand. Lecter gets under her skin. But you can tell Starling hits a nerve when she questions his choices in life. Just listen to the sharp clang the steel drawer makes when Lecter shoves a psychological profile Clarice brought back in her face. That's more jarring than his infamous Chianti speech.
Although much has been made of Hopkins' admittedly impressive performance, Jodie Foster is the real star. She gives a perfectly balanced blend of tough resolve and emotional fragility. The way expressions play out over her face are easily decipherable and greatly accessible. She doesn't make any grand gestures. The pain of her troubled childhood and the growing horrors of her work are communicated in her beautifully expressive eyes. She's the heart and soul of the picture. Jodie Foster is one of my favourite actresses, and she inhabits the role of Clarice Starling so well, there comes a time when it stops being acting.
You could say the same of Hopkin's quietly sinister performance. Hopkins learned not to blink his eyes for extended periods. Something he utilises to great effect. I love the scene when Lecter is probing Clarice while she's talking about the time she ran away from home. Demme has the camera right in his face. Resolved. Implacable. Unrelenting. Its a frightening scene of equal manipulation and concern on Lecter's part.
The film is less successful in its supporting cast. Scott Glenn is OK as Jack Crawford, Starling's superior. But he's only designed to be there when the plot is moving along. Anthony Heald's Dr Chilton is purely one-dimensional. There's no depth to his character. And I was a bit disappointed with Ted Levine's Buffalo Bill. A transvestite making a coat from women's flesh. The film tries to craft a similar relationship between Levine and Catherine Martin, his abductee, in the same manner as Lecter and Starling. A killer and an innocent. But it doesn't work the same way. The chemistry just isn't there.
One thing I liked about the book was I got the impression Dr Lecter was pulling the strings from the comforts of his jail cell. I didn't always get that same impression with the film. Not to criticise Demme's direction. He keeps things moving at a brisk pace. But still, he throws in a few hackneyed ideas here and there, e.g. anagrams with hidden clues, to keep things moving.
And I'm not sure I believe Lecter's method of escape. It seems a bit ridiculous to me. And it makes fools out of real SWAT teams. The ending seems hard to believe too. I didn't buy for a second an FBI trainee would be sent into such a potentially dangerous situation, even if she thought it wasn't the home of the killer. Although it does build up to a tense, well sustained climax in the blacked out interior of Buffalo Bill's basement. Where we see through his night vision goggles, leering at a frightened and bewildered Clarice. Images of his hand reaching out for her are scary as hell, and reminds me of John Carpenter's techniques in Halloween.
The Silence of the Lambs is undeniably an enjoyable effort that occasionally digs into some dark areas. But it doesn't quite do the novel justice. Excellent performances from Hopkins and Foster. Superb direction too. But its lacking that essential ingredient, brilliance, to elevate it to classic status.