Special Agent Clarice M. Starling

This was the first horror movie I ever saw that made me ponder the act of killing as an Art. To see it a bit more sympathetically from the Killer’s perspective, however twisted, was so moving for me. I also love the sexual tension that results between Lecter and Clarice after their intimate quid pro quo exchanges. You can’t go that deep cerebrally without some consequences. Beautiful, Powerful film

“It occurred to Dr. Lecter in the moment that with all his knowledge and intrusion, he could never entirely predict her, or own her at all. He could feed the caterpillar, he could whisper through the chrysalis; what hatched out followed its own nature and was beyond him. He wondered if she had the .45 on her leg beneath the gown. Clarice Starling smiled at him then, the cabochons caught the firelight and the monster was lost in self-congratulation at his own exquisite taste and cunning.

A furrow has appeared in the broad rubbery space between Barney’s eyes. “May I put something in here, Mr. Verger, since you asked me?” He did not wait for permission. “In the asylum, Dr. Lecter responded to her when she held on to herself, stood there wiping come off her face and did her job. In the letters he calls her a warrior, and points out that she saved that child in the shoot-out. He admires her and respects her courage and her discipline. He says himself he’s got no plans to come around. One thing he does not do is lie.”