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I was born in 1991, the same year Jonathan Demme’s The Silence of the Lambs was released in theaters. My first name is Claire, and at this point in my life, I’ve heard “Hello, Clarice…” more times than I can count. As a teen, some friends and I finally managed to get our hands on a copy of the film all our parents had forbidden us from watching. But after my first viewing, I admit, I was a little bit let down. Everyone had promised me it would be this terrifying, repulsive experience, but the lack of jumpscares and relatively mild gore left teenaged Claire completely baffled. It was creepy, sure, but it wasn’t scary. By my 20s, NBC’s ultra-gory Hannibal was my favorite adaptation of Thomas Harris’ novels, and it still holds a fond place in my heart.
But rewatching The Silence of the Lambs this week, just days before its 35th anniversary, completely changed my mind. The gore (which, again, is pretty mild by today’s standards) still didn’t faze me. What did faze me was the script. Anthony Hopkins’ performance as Hannibal Lecter is undeniably unsettling, but it’s the film’s dialogue — and Hopkins’ delivery of each line — that had me squirming in my seat.
Sure, there’s the infamous line, “I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti,” but I honestly find that one pretty funny. What’s truly terrifying is Lecter’s first interaction with FBI agent Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster), in which he psychoanalyzes her in a manner that makes my skin crawl.
“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?” Lecter declares within moments of meeting her. “And that accent you’ve tried so desperately to shed: pure West Virginia. What is your father, dear? Is he a coal miner? Does he stink of the lamp? And oh, 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 FBI.”
Clarice, to her credit, fires right back, asking Lecter if he’s “strong enough to point that high-powered perception” at himself and perform a psychological inventory of his own past. Every interaction they share is a verbal sparring match, and though Clarice can usually keep up, their tense exchanges are simultaneously enthralling and hair-raising.
In another scene, after which one of Lecter’s fellow inmates, Miggs (Stuart Rudin) tells Clarice he can smell her privates. Lecter asks Clarice what Miggs said to her, and she repeats the disgusting comment.
“I see,” Lecter replies. “I myself cannot. You use Evyan skin cream, and sometimes you wear L’Air du Temps, but not today.”
Lecter somehow manages to one-up Miggs’ creepiness without uttering a single explicit word.
Even when Lecter himself isn’t speaking, the way others speak about him paints a more horrifying picture than prosthetics or CGI ever could. Before Agent Starling has even met Lecter, she’s given a warning by Dr. Frederick Chilton (Anthony Heald), the administrator of the state hospital where the cannibal is being held. After listing the many rules Agent Starling must follow to safely interact with Lecter, Dr. Chilton explains why those rules are necessary.
“On the evening of July 8th, 1981, he complained of chest pains and was taken to the dispensary,” Chilton explains. “His mouthpiece and restraints were removed for an EKG. When the nurse leaned over him, he did this to her.”
Chilton pulls out a photograph of the incident, but it’s facing away from the camera, preventing the audience from seeing the gruesome details.
“The doctors managed to reset her jaw, more or less,” Chilton continues. “Saved one of her eyes. His pulse never got above 85, even when he ate her tongue.”
Once again, the film’s dialogue is the source of the terror here, rather than what’s actually on the screen. The script provides just enough information for viewers to form their own horrifying mental image, and this understated approach to gore is far more effective than shoving some bloodied SFX creation in front of the camera. In many ways, screenwriter Ted Tally’s Academy Award-winning script reads like a Stephen King novel, providing just enough horrific detail for viewers’ imaginations to fill in the blanks.
One thing Tally’s script doesn’t include? The line, “Hello, Clarice.” Lecter never utters this phrase a single time in the film. At one point, he greets Agent Starling with “Good evening, Clarice,” but the infamous “Hello, Clarice,” is actually a line from the 2001 sequel Hannibal, also starring Hopkins.
Mandela Effect aside, The Silence of the Lambs is full of plenty of unsettling lines ranging from outright horrifying to darkly funny. My personal favorite? After unleashing a repulsively creepy monologue on Senator Ruth Martin (Diane Baker) — whose daughter’s disappearance he has the knowledge to solve — Martin becomes understandably furious, demanding that Lecter’s handlers “Take this thing back to Baltimore.” As she turns to leave, Lecter finally relents, spouting off everything he knows about her daughter’s captor, Buffalo Bill (Ted Levine), with the speed of an auctioneer.
“Five foot ten, strongly built, about a hundred and eighty pounds,” Lecter recalls of the suspect. “Hair blonde, eyes pale blue. He’d be about thirty-five now. He said he lived in Philadelphia, but he may have lied. That’s all I can remember, Mum, but if I think of any more, I will let you know.”
Bewildered but clearly relieved to have the information, Senator Martin nods and turns to leave again, eager to rescue her daughter before serial killer Buffalo Bill can turn her into a skinsuit.. But Lecter isn’t finished just yet.
“Oh, and Senator, just one more thing: Love your suit!”
The scariest thing about this version of Lecter isn’t what goes into his mouth. It’s what comes out of it.
