Casts=Lawrence A. Bonney, Jodie Foster
country=USA
Creator=Thomas Harris
Info=Young F.B.I. trainee Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) is assigned to help find a missing woman to save her from a psychopathic serial killer (Ted Levine) who skins his victims. Clarice attempts to gain a better insight into the twisted mind of the killer by talking to another psychopath: Dr. Hannibal Lecter (Sir Anthony Hopkins), who used to be a respected psychiatrist. F.B.I. Special Agent Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn) believes that Lecter, who is also a very powerful and clever mind manipulator, has the answers to their questions and can help locate the killer. However, Clarice must first gain Lecter's confidence before the inmate will give away any information
director=Jonathan Demme
1991

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That the film has its moments cannot be denied. Hopkins is slightly over-the-top as the diabolical yet urbane Lecter, but it's an enjoyable performance all the same. Lecter's finest moment is when, bound, straightjacketed, and face-masked, he is brought before Senator Martin and, after relentlessly goading her about the fate of her daughter, blurts out the identity of Buffalo Bill and adds, Love your suit."
Beyond the superficial appeal of a character who can interject such misanthropic witticisms, Lecter embodies the repulsive seduction of this thoroughly erudite monster, utterly free of societal constraints in spirit if not in body. His intelligence is, if remorseless and amoral, open and searching and methodical. We are time and again shown his superiority to the FBI, who rush hither and yon after clues they don't begin to understand, and to the pettiness of his jailor, Dr. Chilton, who subjects Lecter to televangelist broadcasts as punishment for brutal misbehavior.
Yet Lecter is poorly contrasted throughout the film, and his intelligence is falsely elevated by comparison to the unimaginative mediocrities he is up against. Starling is a dreary feminist with a white trash inferiority complex, Dr. Chilton is a preposterously snide asshole, and none of the other characters rise above their status as plot devices. There is something particularly prim and humorless and unlikeable about Starling, and it is impossible to determine why Lecter would take an interest in her childhood trauma about lambs.
Several points regarding Lecter's escape make no sense at all, and at crucial stages the total incompetence of his captors is required to pull it off. That Hopkins manages to keep the suspense going is a testament to the actor's ability to rise above the script. Regarding the ultimate capture of Buffalo Bill, it is too much to swallow that Starling's success hinges upon uncovering photographs in the victim's abandoned bedroom years after it had been scoured for evidence by FBI agents. This twist hangs one ridiculous premise on another and is a sorry attempt to justify Starling's centrality to the story.
The cinematography and direction do contribute something interesting to the tumultuous descent to Lecter's asylum cell, but are otherwise unremarkable. Buffalo Bill is more bizarre than chilling, and the final confrontation between him and Starling is contrived. The film ends on a note that suggests it could have been alot better.
Warning: If you purchase the DVD of THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS, resist the urge to listen to Jodie Foster's commentary. While the lambs may be silent, it is next to impossible to get her to shut up. Her grating, man-hating (and totally outdated) style of feminist rhetoric comes close to self-parody, although not often enough to be truly entertaining. Conclusion: this über-bitch is a gaseous windbag. But if you don't believe me, listen for yourself. You'll be saying "Pass the Chianti" before you make it through the first reel.