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August 16, 2001|While The Criterion Collection's The Silence of the Lambs LaserDisc and DVD versions are long out-of-print, MGM has stepped up to the plate with a new Special Edition. More or less a promotional tool for their concurrent, mega-stacked release of Hannibal, the DVD does improve on what little could be recyled from the proprietary Criterion package: the deleted scenes and excerpts were transferred from a workprint, not a multi-generation cassette, and there are twenty-two here versus Criterion's seven (though Reverend Jim's televangelism is back on the cutting room floor); as for the film itself, the most crucial element, it's never looked this vivid, mastered in HiDef and downconverted for 16x9-enhanced displays at last. The all-important shadow detail is so fine that for the first time, The Silence of the Lambs can be watched comfortably in less than total darkness, and the opening credits, once speckled, appear clean as a whistle. Still, to my knowledge MGM did not consult cinematographer Tak Fujimoto, unlike Criterion, and the image does sport a tighter frameline and cooler colours than we're accustomed to, as this example shows.
As for the 5.1 Dolby Digital remix, it sounds like the original audio has been distributed to six channels instead of four--I didn't detect any discrete rear-channel effects. Howard Shore's passionate music benefits from the inevitable boost in volume. New to MGM's DVD is a rather thorough retrospective called "Inside the Labyrinth" (approx. 60 mins.--the studio has foregone timecode), featuring fresh interviews with everybody you can think of--except Foster, Demme, or Glenn, each probably too soured by producer Dino De Laurentiis' disastrous behind-the-scenes handling of Hannibal to speak further on record about its predecessor. (Foster and Glenn do cameo in archival junket footage.) Egregious emphasis is placed on the film's backlash in the gay community (that The Silence of the Lambs is one of only three films to sweep the five major Oscar categories is given comparatively little attention), but at least it was duly noted. If nothing else, the documentary succeeds in making us miss Orion, a filmmaker-oriented studio. The 1991 press kit's quality making-of (10 minutes or so), a so-lengthy-it's-ridiculous message for answering machine use recorded by Hopkins, a funny gag reel (see Hopkins impersonate Sylvester Stallone and Foster tell a perp, "Put your hands on your hips!"), several extensive photo galleries, the theatrical trailer, a Hannibal "DVD trailer," and nine badly-dated TV spots complete MGM's Special Edition, which comes with a very respectable eight-page booklet. P.S.: I prefer Criterion's main menu to MGM's.-BC
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Like
The Exorcist before it,
The Silence of the Lambs has been riffed on and parodied so many times that we tend to forget what a solid piece of scare cinema it really is. (How many times have you made the old "fava beans and a nice Chianti" joke over supper--or, better yet, in a waiting room?) In 1986, John McNaughton's penetrating
Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer was considered barely releasable; by the time
Lambs had collected multiple Oscars at the 1992 Academy Awards, the serial killer was a pop icon of sorts, with
Henry enjoying a Phoenix-like resurrection on home video and a bevy of
Lambs facsimiles in the offing. We nationally embraced the unembraceable, desensitizing it perhaps to stave off fear, perhaps incidentally out of an apparently ceaseless fascination with the grotesque.
Jonathan Demme's film explored themes analogous to Michael Mann's 1986 Manhunter, which was based on Red Dragon, also a Thomas Harris novel. (A more compassionate one, let it be said.) Both stories assert that in order to get into the head of a homicidal maniac, we must offer a piece of our mind (and indeed, our peace of mind) in exchange. While Mann's Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter (played by Brian Cox) is a little less charismatic and arguably more vulnerable than Anthony Hopkins' interpretation, in either film, the character is merely a device, a psychiatric robot of superhuman intelligence who provides the G-person (as well as the audience) a window to the non-souls of hyperrealistically-drawn psychos Francis Dollarhyde (memorably portrayed by Tom Noonan in Manhunter) and Buffalo Bill (ditto Ted Levine). In fact, with each viewing of Lambs, I find myself paying more attention to Jame "Buffalo Bill" Gumb (a composite of three real-life sociopaths), who offers a more homespun picture of mental illness than Lecter, his cultured counterpart.
I'm certainly not faulting Demme's film for that (observe the four-star rating): Lecter may only exist in a parallel universe lorded over by Patricia Highsmith, but his theatricality is intelligible and deserving of all the screen time accorded it. Without Lecter, Clarice Starling (Jodie Foster) has no outlet for her trauma, and catharsis is the key to her gaining the self-confidence needed to confront Buffalo Bill. Lecter serves two purposes, actually, the second ironic: so self-assured is Lecter, and so sincerely does he care about our protagonist, that he becomes a secondary character to root for--the 'good' murderer versus the 'bad' one. Even though he's a brutally violent cannibal (!), he is the sole beacon of levity, and he welcomely diverts our attention from Jame Gumb's pure ugliness.
The film is delicately structured, a pared-down yet faithful adaptation of the source material that stays two steps ahead of its audience at all times. And thanks to mesmerizing performances across the board, Lambs is not spoiled after its first viewing--during their many scenes together, Foster and Hopkins often stare straight into the camera (a Demme signature that sheds its gimmicky quality here--it's as though his folksiness had always been misspent genre technique), hypnotizing us with equal and enduring force.
And just like a film from fifty years ago (when WWII resulted in less condescension towards women on screen, since they were suddenly a vital demographic), The Silence of the Lambs has at its centre a whip-smart but quietly terrified heroine whose bravado has a diverse range of effects, mostly positive, on her male superiors and counterparts. As played by the brilliant Foster, Clarice is hardly the plucky young thing whose spunk will see her through--no one, in fact, is tougher on Clarice than she is on herself. Propositioned twice (even while investigating the deaths of women who were skinned alive), she handles it the way she handles the plot's myriad uncomfortable encounters: with a cool stare that reveals not so much a naïve willingness to match wits (hers, considerable) as moral strength. We've seen an awful lot of Lecter imitators in The Silence of the Lambs' wake (Copycat's Harry Connick Jr. role and Ed Harris in Just Cause come to mind), but--and this is a testament to her singularity rather than a condemnation of Hollywood sexism--very few Clarice Starlings.
The Silence of the Lambs was first released by Criterion on LaserDisc a few years back in movie-only and feature-loaded editions. The latter set one back $100; at less than half that price Criterion's DVD (which replicates the extras from the SE) is a far wiser investment. That's not to say this is one hell of a great disc--it has numerous flaws, and in the age of Warners' "Premiere Collections" and New Line's "Platinum Series," Criterion's features look a bit skimpy.
The Criterion LD featured a THX-approved transfer supervised by cinematographer Tak Fujimoto. The DVD features this same IP master, albeit without the THX stamp of approval. Is that because the cost of renewing the logo license is too steep, or because the image quality on the DVD really isn't up to the THX standards of 1998? The colour on the disc is dazzling but the remainder of the image is nothing to brag about. Presented in a 1.85:1 aspect ratio, the print is often speckled--distracting nicks I can't believe exist on such a recent film. (Or are these frequent white dots heinous compression artifacts?) Blacks are muddy, and there is a general lack of sharpness to the print that appears unintentional. To be fair, some scenes look fine, even great, such as the final "session" between Clarice and Lecter (the film's centrepiece, as this is the point when Clarice explains away the obscure title); the ambient 2.0 Dolby Surround mix sets the perfect mood (Howard Shore's unsettling score never sounded so good); and the RSDL break is nearly invisible. (The layer switch occurs in another Starling-Lecter scene, just after the spooky excavation of a public garage.)
The bonus material is decent. Without a doubt, the highlight of this package is the commentary, with Foster, Hopkins, Demme, FBI agent John Douglas, and Ted Tally providing individual accounts of the movie's creation and its aftermath. (They were recorded seperately and the results have been stitched together into an informative audio documentary.) Foster babbles a bit, while Hopkins reveals his attempt to play Lecter like HAL-9000 of 2001: A Space Odyssey. (Hopkins has a quirk: every anecdote he tells is prefixed with a date of origin.) Demme marvels at how much he actually likes his own film, Ted Tally marvels at how the public embraced Lambs immediately upon its release, and Douglas marvels at how realistic the grisly movie sometimes is. (He is also quick to point out where Demme and co. have taken liberties, e.g. no federal agent would venture into Buffalo Bill's lair alone the way Clarice does.)
Also of interest is a section likening the storyboards to the finished product for select scenes. In most cases, what you see on screen is what was conceived of on paper, though Fujimoto strays from the blueprints when necessary. There are also seven "deleted scenes" (taken from a video edit, thus the image is unstable and a timecode bar is always on display), many of which are extensions of existing scenes. (Criterion refers you to the chapter of the film in which you can see the final version for comparison.) Of note: Demme wisely butchered the previously mentioned "Your Self Storage" sequence, and Reverend Jim's child abuse rant (seen silently on Lecter's television in the actual film) is amusing but off-key for this movie.
Last but not least* are some testimonials from actual serial killers, such as Charles Starkweather and Henry Lee Lucas, transcribed for your reading pleasure. They discuss everything from choosing victims to necrophilia, though I suspect the nastiest bits were omitted for this disc. You can also peruse the FBI's homicide classification guide and peg your next door neighbour for an organized or disorganized sexual killer. These are interesting supplements, but reading a television is not easy on the eyes. (I write that, of course, while staring at the cursor of my computer monitor.)
I was disheartened by the absence of Lambs' wonderful trailer (most non-special edition DVDs these days contain at least a trailer), but at least the material that is there can be accessed via a superb, subtle menu. (I wasn't sure if the butterfly was changing colour at first or if my eyes were playing tricks on me in anticipation of the spooks to come.) The Criterion Collection The Silence of the Lambs DVD is so far the best way to watch the film at home, but a murky transfer and extras that hardly place it above the pack don't justify its $39.95 SRP. (That they once charged $100 is downright criminal; call the Feds!)-Bill Chambers
*As with all Criterion releases, the liner notes include an essay; Amy Taubin of THE VILLAGE VOICE writes about Lambs.
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