The Silence of the Lambs

Anthony Hopkins holds the record for least amount of screen time in an Academy Award-winning Best Actor role for his part as Hannibal Lecter in The Silence of the Lambs.  That's not a terribly obscure factoid, but it's worth pointing out because Hopkins really steals the show in his sixteen minutes on screen.  Why do I bring this up?  Well, despite Hopkins' scene-stealing performance, the movie isn't about Hannibal Lecter.  It's not even about chasing down serial killers.  It's about Clarice Starling.  "What?  A girl?"  No, really.

Clarice (Jodie Foster) is an FBI agent-in-training that gets the opportunity to tag along with one of her instructors, Jack Crawford (Scott Glenn), as part of an FBI task force.  The task force is focusing on an ongoing hunt for a serial killer that the FBI has nicknamed Buffalo Bill because he skins his victims.  Using it-takes-a-thief logic, Crawford sends Clarice to a maximum security mental facility to pick the brain of the incarcerated serial killer, Dr. Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter, hoping that she can persuade Lecter to give his undoubtedly intelligent input on the case.  The film spends some time checking up on Buffalo Bill and his latest soon-to-be victim, but the bulk of the film is spent on Clarice decoding Lecter's input and investigating those leads.  Once she is assigned to Lecter duty, Clarice's time in the big leagues with the task force seems done.  Of course, that is only until her intelligence (and Lecter's help) leads her to the killer without any back-up.

In some ways, this film is a common horror/thriller.  The climax is essentially a cat-and-mouse game, one not terribly different from what has come before it.  Buffalo Bill's tendencies are taken from real-life serial killer M.O.'s (Ted Bundy and Ed Gein, most notably), so his horrific work is also somewhat familiar.  Heck, this isn't even the first movie to feature Hannibal Lecter, although the role was played by Brian Cox in Manhunter.  So what makes this movie so special?  It is only the third movie to have swept the major Academy Award categories (Best Picture, Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Director - Jonathan Demme, Best Actor - Anthony Hopkins, and Best Actress - Jodie Foster), so there is clearly something that separates this film from the many others that it superficially resembles.

One of the primary differences is the story's focus.  So often, movies of this type boil down the story to one cop and one criminal gunning for each other.  Here, more so than in Thomas Harris' novel of the same name, the focus is on Clarice's experience on the case.  It is not about how she solves the case, but her complete experience.  Yes, her experience is surrounded by one major case, but her experience is so much more than just the case; I cannot think of another movie where an officer of the law character is not completely defined by their case, which makes this a very unique approach.  You can notice this from the clever use of the cameras (it often assumes her point-of-view), but the script is just as responsible for this.  The opening credits have Clarice running through a training obstacle course; this course is not important to the story, so the only reason to show it is to let the audience learn something about her character.  First off, she's a woman surrounded by men that smirk as they see her struggle.  More importantly, though, she works through her troubles and appears to be succeeding.  Instead of treating this as an ensemble cast, the choice to stick with Clarice is really what makes it stand out.  That choice is why the relationship between Clarice and Hannibal is so compelling and that is why the climactic scenes are effective and creepy.  Following Clarice around so closely makes her readily identifiable, likable, and impressive.  This almost never happens with female leads in these genres, and her gender plays a part in what makes this movie so noteworthy.  Jodie Foster does a great job with this unique role; she is understated an earnest, both of which are essential for making this character work.

Demme's direction is fantastic here, as well.  There are a lot of good uses of music and lighting and there are ongoing themes and symbols (I can't be the only one who keeps noticing red, white and blue all over the place in this film) and there are clear parallels between Clarice's journey to meet Hannibal and when she chases Buffalo Bill.  As someone who notices (or, at least, tries to notice) the subtle things that directors do, I cannot express how much of a treat it is to see so much done so well here.  That is enough to deserve acclaim, but that doesn't even cover his work with the actors.  Do you know how easily the first Hannibal scene could have been overacted?  Yes, the actor is ultimately the one doing the heavy lifting with the part, but the director decides what a good idea is and what makes the final cut.  Sometimes that means just getting out of the actors' way.  Whatever the case in this movie, Demme did a great job of getting the best work from his cast and using it well.

The supporting cast is good here, despite most of the roles being cameos.  Scott Glenn is decent in his role as Clarice's superior; he comes off as condescending and confident, which are probably the right traits for his character to exude.  Ted Levine is frightening and a little funny as Buffalo Bill.  Levine has a deep voice, but it seems to croak out of him here, making his disturbing acts seem all the more unnatural.  I have always believed that Levine gets short changed when people discuss this film because the focus is (justifiably) on Anthony Hopkins' performance, but the movie would have felt uneven if Levine was not able to construct a movie monster of his own.  Anthony Heald has a knack for playing pompous jerks, and this is one of his best roles.  His petty antics amidst a serious criminal investigation ring true, and the closing scene with him always makes me smile, despite the serious context.  The rest of the cast is made up of primarily television actors, but they don't distract from the more important roles at all, which is a feat unto itself.

And then there is Anthony Hopkins' performance.  One of the big reasons this film works is because Hopkins was able to live up to the film building up to his character.  The elaborate check in process in his Baltimore prison, the enormous cage when he is in Washington, DC, the face mask --- all of these make Lecter seem terrifying before you even get a chance for Hopkins to act.  Now, picture Gene Hackman (who nearly played the part) saying "Good evening, Clarice."  It just doesn't feel right.  Almost any other take on the character would have been a let down, given the reactions that the other characters have to Lecter.  It's not difficult to believe that Anthony Hopkins can convincingly play an intelligent character (he's got a British accent --- the work is half done for him already), but the type of intelligence he displays here is ingenious.  Instead of playing Lecter as a psychopath, or even as a less funny version of the Joker, Hopkins plays the character so cold and calculating that he seems almost mechanical (Perhaps even War Games-ish?) at times.  The unblinking stare he gives Clarice only reinforces his lack of humanity and his analytical prowess.  And then, out of nowhere, he'll make a wry comment about Senator Martin's shoes.  Lecter's coldness is what makes him frightening, but his ability to charm (even when he's insulting someone) is what makes him dangerous.  Hopkins did a fantastic job balancing the two tendencies, which lends a plausibility to the relationship he and Jodie Foster build together.

It's rare to find a film that can balance directorial voice, high quality acting, and a story that the masses readily embrace.  Any one of those qualities is enough to make a movie recommendable.  This film goes above and beyond.  It is disturbing, yet artfully done.  The acting is honest and empowering, but also frightening.  The story is familiar, and yet distinct.  Yes, the one thing you remember about the movie is undoubtedly Hopkins being creepy, but this movie is so much deeper than that, and so much more rewarding.

Shutter Island

It's difficult to write about a thriller or mystery movie because nobody wants to be That Guy who reveals that Darth Vader is Luke Skywalker's Keyser Soze.  This presents me with a challenge: to ramble on at length without being That Guy.  I think I can manage that, but this is a mystery movie, so it has a twist.  That's as much of a spoiler as I'm going to give you.

Adapted from Dennis Lehane's best-selling book of the same name, Shutter Island has more than a few similarities to Lehane's Mystic River.  Boy, that Lehane has a tough life; a best-selling author who gets his books optioned into movies that are directed by some of the most talented directors in the world.  You would think he'd write happier tales.  Anyway, both Mystic River and Shutter Island are mysteries that rely heavily on their characters' secrets to reach their logical conclusion.

Here, we have Teddy Daniels (Leonardo DiCaprio), a US Marshall that volunteered for a case that would give him an excuse to poke around Shutter Island, a maximum security mental hospital for the criminally insane.  On the ferry ride to the island, Daniels meets his new partner, Chuck (Mark Ruffalo), and they enter the facility together.  They are ostensibly there to investigate the disappearance of Rachel Solando (Emily Mortimer), a patient --- not a prisoner! --- that managed to escape the facility, despite a locked door, barred windows, no shoes, rugged terrain, and several guards stationed throughout the building.  That doesn't sound like an inside job at all, does it?  Rachel was incarcerated for drowning her three children.  The real reason for Daniels' visit is to learn the fate of Andrew Laeddis (Elias Koteas), the pyromaniac that burned down Daniels' home with his wife (Michelle Williams) inside.  Laeddis was assigned to the facility after going to jail, but his paper trail ended on Shutter Island...but no one admits to knowing him.  Once inside the facility, Daniels and Chuck meet Dr. Cawley (Ben Kingsley), a practitioner of humane treatment for the mentally ill, and Dr. Naehring (Max von Sydow), a member of the old-school of psychiatric treatment that prefers lobotomy over patience.

From the start of the investigation, nothing goes Daniels' way.  The facility guards refuse him entrance while armed, so he has to give up his gun.  He asks for files that are clearly commonsense ways for him to get the essential information he needs, but he is blocked by the facility's bureaucracy at every turn.  He lost his cigarettes before the boat arrived at the island, and is forced to bum smokes from his new partner.  Orderlies and nurses are sarcastic and generally less than helpful.  The patients he interviews appear coached and seem afraid when he questions them about Andrew Laeddis.  When he faces the truth that the doctors are refusing to aid his case, Daniels can't even leave the island because a hurricane is on its way.  With nothing else to do, Daniels continues his investigation.  Clearly, there is some secret that is being covered up, and he is determined to discover that truth.  He eventually meets with an old informant (Jackie Earle Haley) that is now confined in the most violent ward of the facility, who seems to confirm Daniels' greatest fear; Daniels can uncover the truth behind the island and blow the lid off the whole conspiracy, or he can find out what happened to Andrew Laeddis.  He cannot do both.  The question is what is more important to Daniels: uncovering a terrible truth for the world to see, or finding (killing?) the man responsible for the death of his wife?

Martin Scorsese's direction really stands out in this film, particularly because of Daniels' dreams.  Daniels is suffering from a string of nightmares, hallucinations and waking dreams that are reminding him of his late wife and the Dachau concentration camp that he helped liberate in World War II.  In the dream world, identities are transposed, but the emotions are not.  Memories are shown, but they are spliced with his own subconscious.  At times, the imagery is a little trippy, like when his cigarette briefly smokes in reverse.  Other times, it is sad, as when his wife becomes ash in his arms while he professes his love for her.  And yet other times are the stuff of nightmares, with Holocaust children accusing him of not doing enough to save them.  Scorsese is given free reign to use a lot of symbolism in these scenes, and he throws a lot at the viewer.  In a lot of Scorsese films, he makes good use of camera angles and general cinematography to imply moods or hint at his characters' frame of mind.  He does that in Shutter Island, as well, but he has a lot more freedom to get creative, thanks to the dream scenes.

As far as acting goes, it is all pretty much above board.  Leonardo DiCaprio is consistently good, and working so frequently with Scorsese seems to have taught him the value of subtlety and nuance.  I'm not saying that he was ever an over-actor, but there are a lot of little things he does with his character that I appreciate, from the hunched shoulders and bold stance to the frequent (but not horribly obvious) reminders of his character's tendency for migraine headaches.  DiCaprio carries this movie on his own, but there are a lot of good supporting cast members that briefly pop up.  Mark Ruffalo does a pretty good job as the junior partner and his compassion shows through consistently.  Ben Kingsley and Max von Sydow both play their parts well, but what else would you expect from two respected actors?  Ted Levine has a very brief, but frightening, cameo as the facility warden.  Jackie Earle Haley appears to be having a career renaissance playing disturbed characters, and that pleasant trend continues here with some of the more curious wound makeup I have seen in a while.  Michelle Williams was impressive in her small supporting role and was used effectively.  The rest of the cast (including Patricia Clarkson, Emily Mortimer, and John Carroll Lynch) is good too, but perhaps not as attention-grabbing.

Even with good direction and good acting, a mystery movie can still be underwhelming if the mystery is no good.  I really liked the story in Shutter Island, even though I was not particularly surprised by the ending.  Normally, if I guess the ending to a mystery correctly, it bothers me a bit.  Here, though, Scorsese drops a lot of hints that flesh out the story and the characters.  While one side effect of those choices was a less than surprising answer to the mystery, it was also satisfying because the twist made sense.  You still might not guess the ending correctly (or, at least, not entirely correctly), but you won't feel as if the end came out of left field.  Since the movie spent so much time on Daniels' subconscious mind, the mystery really takes a back seat to that as the primary plot propeller.  As such, the surprise-worthiness of the ending turned out to be a lot less important than I thought it would be.

This is the sort of film that college students love to write about.  It has excellent direction with a lot of stylistic choices and meaningful symbolism and imagery.  After the movie, you can revisit scenes in your head (or just re-watch the scenes on your DVD) and pick out important details that you missed the first time through.  This is a movie that I expect to be better the second time I watch it because being fully informed of the story will allow me to understand many of the scenes from a different angle next time.  While I completely understand anyone who enjoyed the movie less because the mystery's answer was a little predictable, I thoroughly enjoyed the story, acting and the film as a whole the first time through, and look forward to a repeat viewing.  I may be a little artsy fartsy with movies sometimes, but I appreciate good craftsmanship when I see it.