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A young F.B.I. cadet must confide in Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a brilliant psychiatrist who is also a violent psychopath, serving life behind bars for various acts of murder and cannibalism, to receive his help on catching another serial killer who skins his victims.
Hopkins' cumulative screen image is one of civility and decency, and the association adds to the withering, macabre effect of his murderer. It is a remarkably lucid portrait of lunacy.
Has any horror movie equalled it in the past 22 years? Perhaps. But if only one super-gory flick is ever considered worthy enough for the Academy's top prize, I'm fine with this being it.
This multi-Oscar-winning classic, adapted from Thomas Harris's bestseller, was responsible for giving cinematic serial killers a better image, thanks to Anthony Hopkins's enthralling portrayal of Hannibal Lecter.
The Silence of the Lambs, with its dark Freudian subtext, its Poe-like air of foreboding and its chillingly gritty characterizations, is simply a very tough and very scary little movie.