The Silence of the Lambs Page #3

CUT TO:

INT. ASYLUM CORRIDOR - UPPER FLOOR - DAY

Clarice flinches as a heavy steel gate CLANGS shut behind

her, the bolt shooting home. Chilton walks ahead of her.

CHILTON:

Lecter carved up nine people - that

we're sure of - and cooked his

favorite bits. We've tried to study

him, of course - but he's much too

sophisticated for the standard tests.

And my, does he hate us! Thinks I'm

his nemesis... Crawford's very clever,

isn't he? Using you.

CLARICE:

How do you mean, Dr. Chilton?

CHILTON:

A pretty young woman, to turn him

on? I don't believe Lecter's ever

seen a woman in eight years. And oh,

are you ever his "taste" - so to

speak.

CLARICE:

I graduated magna from UVA, Doctor.

It's not a charm school.

CHILTON:

Good. Then you should be able to

remember the rules.

CUT TO:

INT. DIFFERENT CORRIDOR - LOWER FLOOR - DAY

A darker, even grimmer area. Heavy grids over the lights.

Distant SLAMMINGS and faint, hoarse SHOUTS. They walk briskly.

CHILTON:

Do not reach through the bars, do

not touch the bars. You pass him

nothing but soft paper - no pens or

pencils. No staples or paperclips in

his paper. Use the sliding food

carrier, no exceptions. Do not accept

anything he attempts to hold out to

you. Do you understand me?

CLARICE:

I understand.

CHILTON:

I'm going to show you why we insist

on such precautions... On the

afternoon of July 8, 1981, he

complained of chest pains and was

taken to the dispensary. His

mouthpiece and restraints were removed

for an EKG. When the nurse bent over

him, he did this to her...

He hands Clarice a small, dog-eared photo. Looking at it,

she is stopped in her tracks. This pleases Chilton.

CHILTON:

The doctors managed to re-set her

jaw, more or less, and save one of

her eyes. His pulse never got over

eighty-five, even when he ate her

tongue.

(pauses, he smiles)

I keep him in here.

He turns, pushes a button. A steel door BUZZES slowly open,

and BARNEY - a big, impassive orderly - awaits them in an

anteroom. On its walls: restraints, mouthpieces, Mace,

tranquilizer guns.

CLARICE:

(quickly blocking him)

Dr. Chilton - if Lecter feels you're

his enemy - as you've said - then

maybe I'll have more luck by myself.

What do you think?

CHILTON:

(annoyed)

You might have suggested that in my

office, and saved me the time.

CLARICE:

But then I would've missed the

pleasure of your company.

She holds out the photo. A beat. He grabs it, jaw twitching.

CHILTON:

When she's finished, bring her out.

He turns on his heel, goes. Barney smiles reassuringly.

BARNEY:

Hi, I'm Barney. He told you, don't

get near the bars?

CLARICE:

(shaking his hand)

Clarice Starling. Yes, he did.

BARNEY:

Okay. Past the others, it's the last

cell. Stay to the middle. I put out

a chair for you.

Sensing her tension, he indicates a nearby security monitor.

BARNEY:

I'm watching. You'll do fine.

Clarice nods gratefully. She looks down the long corridor,

takes a deep breath, walks into it. He watches her go.

CUT TO:

INT. DR. LECTER'S CORRIDOR - DAY

MOVING SHOT - with Clarice, as her footsteps ECHO. High to

her right, surveillance cameras. On her left, cells. Some

are padded, with narrow observation slits, others are normal,

barred... Shadowy occupants pacing, MUTTERING... Suddenly a

dark figure in the next-to-last cell hurtles towards her,

his face mashing grotesquely against his bars as he hisses.

DARK FIGURE:

I c-can sssmell your c*nt!

Clarice flinches momentarily, but then walks on.

DR. LECTER'S CELL

is coming slowly INTO VIEW... Behind its barred front wall

is a second barrier of stout nylon net... Sparse, bolted-

down furniture, many softcover books and papers. On the walls,

extraordinarily detailed, skillful drawings, mostly European

cityscapes, in charcoal or crayon.

Clarice stops, at a polite distance from his bars, clears

her throat.

CLARICE:

Dr. Lecter... My name is Clarice

Starling. May I talk with you?

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