
Thirty years ago this week, The Silence of the Lambs was released in theaters, giving Hannibal Lecter the opportunity to ask FBI agent Clarice Starling if “the lambs have stopped screaming”. Three decades have passed and, metaphorically, the lambs are still screaming. Now they are just screaming within the confines of a CBS procedure.
Clarice, which opens Thursday night, takes place a year after the events of The Silence of the Lambs. Played in the 1991 film by Jodie Foster and in this new series by Rebecca Breeds of Little liars, Clarice is trying to silently move forward with her career in the FBI while fighting the PTSD that followed her investigation and capture of Buffalo Bill, the serial killer and skinner who played a leading role in the film and in Thomas’s novel Harris on which it was based. Naturally, in less than ten minutes on the pilot, she is called by US Attorney General Ruth Martin (Jayne Atkinson), the mother of Catherine Martin (Marnee Carpenter), the woman held hostage by Buffalo Bill until Clarice saved her, to join the Violent Criminal Seizure Program (ViCAP) and investigate a series of murders in Washington, DC (Well, Washington, DC, through Vancouver).
Clarice mostly works like any other CBS crime series. It has horrible photos of women victims of crimes, mistakes made by those who try to solve the murders and the revelation of circumstances behind the deaths that are more complicated than they seem at first. But it’s also covered enough Silence of the innocents accessories to make it look more elegant than the typical transmission offering.
In the flashbacks of moments from that Best Picture winner – there are brief and fleeting glances at Buffalo Bill and that horrible hole where he imprisoned Catherine – as well as the visions of moths that meddle in Clarice’s thoughts, of course creators Alex Kurtzman and Jenny Lumet intends to take this project to a more abstract and artistic territory. But that goal is in direct conflict with the rest of the series, which, at least in the first three episodes provided to critics, is more focused on driving the plot forward than actually maintaining the atmosphere and the mood. For atmosphere and climate in a Thomas Harris adaptation, you better watch cannibal, NBC’s three-season series that can now be streamed on Netflix. (By the way, due to rights issues, Hannibal Lecter is prohibited from appearing or even being referenced in Clarice.)
While Clarice it aims to be a study of the psychological character of a figure often overshadowed by the cannibal alluded to above, has a tendency to exaggerate in explanation and operate in very literal terms, a common problem in conventional broadcast TV. During the interrogation of a suspect in episode three, for example, other ViCAP members add unnecessary color comments while watching what is happening through a two-way mirror. “Keep digging,” whispers Clarice as her colleague Tomás (Lucca de Oliveira) continues his line of questioning. “There we go,” says Emin (Kal Penn) just as the suspect is about to share potentially important information. For a show that tries to be ambitious, he is the victim of many clichés and an unreal glorification of Clarice. In any situation, whether it makes sense or not, Clarice is always considered the perfect person for the job, whether investigating a serial killer, dealing with a hostage situation or trying to extract information from a potentially guilty party.
The cast deserves credit for trying to make the best of the material. Breeds is stepping into scary shoes like Clarice, with the spectrum of performances by Foster and Julianne Moore, who played the role in the film cannibal, looming in cultural awareness. But she takes on the role, giving the young agent discreet determination and courage, sustained by a sadness that Clarice tries to ignore. And like his boss / pseudo-nemesis Paul Krendler, Michael Cudlitz allows enough kindness to infiltrate his stubbornness and suggest that perhaps he could be totally affectionate with Clarice.
In addition to all the other stressors she faces, Clarice is in the frightening position of being the only woman on ViCAP. On more than one occasion, when she tries to offer an opinion or information, her other four male colleagues turn to look at her simultaneously, a moment that the program intelligently highlights for its intimidation factor. The series would be wise to continue to explore these gender dynamics, both within the FBI and in the relationship between crime solvers and victims, usually all women, for whom they seek justice. This is one of the most interesting dynamics in the drama, and it has not been explored as much as it could be.
Clarice Starling is certainly, then and now, a fascinating character. She is certainly worthy of her own series. But this specific attempt to place her at the center of a narrative does not reach the woman’s own intelligence and complexity. The agent deserves better and, at least in the initial episodes, does not seem Clarice knows how to give it to her.