Analyze this, Dr. Lecter.
Jul. 19th, 2001 10:59 amI read The Silence of the Lambs, the book, on Sunday. I was gravely disappointed. I found it to be neither frightening nor any more compelling than any other thriller.
Do those of you who have never read the book, never seen the movie, know that the interaction between Hannibal and Clarice is not the only focus of the story? I didn't. The other focus is on the search for a serial killer nicknamed "Buffalo Bill." Buffalo Bill kidnaps young women, drops them into a pit in his basement for some period of time, then kills and skins them. I read Kiss the Girls last year. Young women being held captive underground is not enough to hold my interest.
Part of my problem with the book is, I suppose, that the iconography of The Silence of the Lambs is too much with us. My reaction might have been different had I not had any expectations.
We all know the image of Anthony Hopkins, bound up and with a hockey mask over his face, saying, "Hello, Clarice," in his scariest voice. This represents for us the face of menace. Hannibal is, of course, rather menacing. He is a cannibalistic serial killer. But the Hannibal Lecter of the book is also warm, caring. All he wants out of his confinement is a window. He wants to preserve his own dignity. He wants the man in the next cell to be diagnosed properly and receive the proper treatment, and it seems he does it out of genuine concern for another human being, not merely to spite Dr. Chilton. He genuinely cares about Clarice; he's not just toying with her. Hannibal Lecter is far too human to be frightening. Perhaps that's exactly what's supposed to be frightening about him, but it's not. Cold-blooded killers who toy with the authorities chasing them make for frightening books. Warm-blooded humans who just happen to be serial killers and form relationships with the authorities do not. Hannibal, however, is not without his good qualities. The best pieces of the book are Hannibal's flashes of humor: "A census taker tried to quantify me once. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a big Amarone." "Frankly, I got sick and tired of his whining. Best thing for him, really. Therapy wasn't going anywhere. I expect most psychiatrists have a patient or two they'd like to refer to me." "When you show the odd flash of contextual intelligence, I forget your generation can't read, Clarice."
Clarice, too, is a disappointment. We all know that the Clarice of the movie is played by Jodie Foster. Jodie Foster is capable, organized, businesslike, grown-up. Clarice is not. Oh, she's capable enough, but Clarice feels very, very young. She's a trainee, not a full-fledged FBI agent. The emotional knowledge we have of Clarice centers around her parents, around how they were when she was a child, and around her childhood just after her father's death. Her relationship with Jack Crawford is very nearly a father-daughter relationship. She doesn't really know what she's doing. She stumbles upon Buffalo Bill's hideout almost by accident. She's a far cry from the capable, knowledgable, unflappable, Jodie Foster-like woman I expected.
The title, too, revolves around Clarice's childhood. I had hoped that it would refer to something biblical, silencing a flock, or even to Hannibal's predilection for human tongues. Its reference to Clarice's nightmares, which don't seem all that nightmarish as she tells them, is as much of a disappointment as the rest of the book.
Do those of you who have never read the book, never seen the movie, know that the interaction between Hannibal and Clarice is not the only focus of the story? I didn't. The other focus is on the search for a serial killer nicknamed "Buffalo Bill." Buffalo Bill kidnaps young women, drops them into a pit in his basement for some period of time, then kills and skins them. I read Kiss the Girls last year. Young women being held captive underground is not enough to hold my interest.
Part of my problem with the book is, I suppose, that the iconography of The Silence of the Lambs is too much with us. My reaction might have been different had I not had any expectations.
We all know the image of Anthony Hopkins, bound up and with a hockey mask over his face, saying, "Hello, Clarice," in his scariest voice. This represents for us the face of menace. Hannibal is, of course, rather menacing. He is a cannibalistic serial killer. But the Hannibal Lecter of the book is also warm, caring. All he wants out of his confinement is a window. He wants to preserve his own dignity. He wants the man in the next cell to be diagnosed properly and receive the proper treatment, and it seems he does it out of genuine concern for another human being, not merely to spite Dr. Chilton. He genuinely cares about Clarice; he's not just toying with her. Hannibal Lecter is far too human to be frightening. Perhaps that's exactly what's supposed to be frightening about him, but it's not. Cold-blooded killers who toy with the authorities chasing them make for frightening books. Warm-blooded humans who just happen to be serial killers and form relationships with the authorities do not. Hannibal, however, is not without his good qualities. The best pieces of the book are Hannibal's flashes of humor: "A census taker tried to quantify me once. I ate his liver with some fava beans and a big Amarone." "Frankly, I got sick and tired of his whining. Best thing for him, really. Therapy wasn't going anywhere. I expect most psychiatrists have a patient or two they'd like to refer to me." "When you show the odd flash of contextual intelligence, I forget your generation can't read, Clarice."
Clarice, too, is a disappointment. We all know that the Clarice of the movie is played by Jodie Foster. Jodie Foster is capable, organized, businesslike, grown-up. Clarice is not. Oh, she's capable enough, but Clarice feels very, very young. She's a trainee, not a full-fledged FBI agent. The emotional knowledge we have of Clarice centers around her parents, around how they were when she was a child, and around her childhood just after her father's death. Her relationship with Jack Crawford is very nearly a father-daughter relationship. She doesn't really know what she's doing. She stumbles upon Buffalo Bill's hideout almost by accident. She's a far cry from the capable, knowledgable, unflappable, Jodie Foster-like woman I expected.
The title, too, revolves around Clarice's childhood. I had hoped that it would refer to something biblical, silencing a flock, or even to Hannibal's predilection for human tongues. Its reference to Clarice's nightmares, which don't seem all that nightmarish as she tells them, is as much of a disappointment as the rest of the book.