Oh, Hannibal Lecter material: the one great love of my life. Sometimes it makes me a little uncomfortable the veritable genius that is Hannibal Lecter's character is to my heart. It would make my dad uncomfortable, too, if he weren't a forensic sciences teacher with just as much of a soft spot for deranged psychopaths as I have. Now I've made myself sound creepy. We're off to a great start.

Silence of the Lambs is a story about a FBI trainee on the hunt for a serial killer by the name of Buffalo Bill, of "IT RUBS THE LOTION ON ITS SKIN OR ELSE IT GETS THE HOSE AGAIN" fame. She is asked by her friend and mentor to go to an institution for the criminally insane and talk to the world-infamous Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter for help with their case.

At least, that's what Silence of the Lambs is about on the surface.
We know better, though, don't we? Because what Silence of the Lambs is about, I mean REALLY about--but maybe not so much as its sequel, Hannibal, is--is the power struggle between Hannibal Lecter and young trainee Clarice Starling. That is why I chose this film, and this scene from this film, for my analysis: because there is no topic, at least in my opinion, that better covers all the bases: the dynamic between man and woman, and dynamic between a "formerly white trash" woman and a (I use this term lightly and ignoring the whole serial killer bit) respectable gentleman, and the dynamic between a criminal, a dangerous psychopath, and, as demonstrated constantly throughout the films, one of the few "totally straight" FBI agents in the movie's universe.

(It turns into a very uncomfortable love story. I'll just say that right now. You can believe what you want but the books make it the most disturbing love story in the entire world.)

All right then, let's discuss the scene, shall we?
The infinitely interesting dynamic between Lecter and Clarice is established mostly throughout the physical spaces they occupy. Lecter is in a cage, and Clarice is free; that much is abundantly obvious from the get-go. But if you look closer, it becomes apparent that there is more going on in there. Clarice sits in the hallway occupied by nothing but a single metal fold-out chair, a manila envelope full of case information, and the dull drone of the lunatics in the other cells. The colors are warm but only as much as they are brown, and dirty, and all the walls, the floors, the ceilings are bare.

Lecter's cell is full of cold blue light and rough gray brick, but there are beautiful sketches on the walls--it is established during the scene that he drew them himself, and their skill helps to establish him as an artistic and evidently genius man--and a single desk. When it zooms in, the color of the bright in the background matches his eyes. The overhead lights make him appear exceptionally pale, as if he really has been hidden away in some dungeon for eight years.

It's interesting to note that Lecter and Clarice actually have the same color eyes (and that Lecter is SUPPOSED TO HAVE RED EYES IN THE BOOKS) but his seem more blue, and harsh, than hers, simply because he is surrounded by color that reminds us of sterility even in such a dirty place, and, maybe, even ice. Lecter is the prisoner, that's for sure, but it does not necessarily seem that he is the uncomfortable one in this situation.

This is a relatively easy to understand scene, as far as cinematography goes. It's only a conversation between two characters, after all, and neither of them necessarily moves around a lot (one of them is in a cell, you know). Shots consist mostly of medium and close-up shots of the characters speaking with one another, which is a very important decision. Hannibal Lecter is a character that moves only deliberately, and never any less casually than he is required to. From a basic keeping-the-audience-entertained standpoint, it's important that they are given something to focus on.

In this case, that thing just happens to be Lecter, glaring with malicious intent into the camera.

One of the big reasons I chose this scene plays into this idea of Clarice's power struggle with Lecter, and also her power struggle with the outside world.  Clarice is dressed in a pant-suit and a loose-fitting shirt that does not just fail to accentuate her femininity, it all but erases it. When you think about it, this is a statement that Clarice lives in the man's world of law enforcement and rather than retain her femininity in the face of so much prejudice and opposition, she chose to assimilate herself mostly into their culture.

As far as the power play between Clarice and Lecter goes, this cinematographer's choice to focus intently on the characters' expressions, as well as their use of varying distance, helps to enhance it. Clarice is very obviously uncomfortable for a number of reasons, but while Lecter is interrogating her he is also establishing his control over her.

Take this for example: at the 0:38 mark in the video, we have a medium shot of Lecter, while he taunts Clarice, asking her with no shortage of contempt just what she thinks of the serial killer she's hunting down. The camera switches to Clarice in another medium shot, who tells Lecter that "most serial killers keep trophies of their victims." The next shot is Lecter again, closer. "I didn't," he says. The zoom makes him appear larger, more intense, more demanding. The shot of Clarice, where she chokes back some uncomfortable feeling and mutters, weakly, "No, you ate them," is still the same distance. Compared to the last image we had of Lecter she appears small, even less significant. The scene goes on with Lecter physically and bluntly demanding something of Clarice, which is to put the case information in the slot so he can read it over. Through the entire shot of her submitting to his demands, we see her perform this duty over Lecter's shoulder. She is watching him. And he is never out of the shot, reminding us that he is there, and that he is the one in control, because he is the one allowed to make the demands in their relationship. Immediately after that we see Lecter thumbing through the file, leaned against the wall, while he gives a smug wink to Clarice, sat stiffly on her crappy little chair. It is very, very obvious that she has lost their game, at least for now.

This same strategy is utilized later in the scene, when she lapses in her courtesy and Lecter, who had been quiet and observant like a snake waiting to strike, finally attacks her, and Clarice has just flat out had enough of being insulted.

Because the power dynamic between the two of them has switched at least temporarily, so does the camera. Clarice's shots do not necessarily move closer, but remain steady, while Lecter's are a little bit further away than hers. To me, this signifies that while she has not gained any ground, she has also not lost any, even tough what he says is... well, frankly, pretty terrible. It should be noted that when he yanks on the slot and she flinches, we return to close-ups of Lecter.