You do not currently have permission to view the full text for this document. Please sign in to an account with an active subscription or contact support.
The film The Silence of the Lambs , based on the novel by , is of interest to psychoanalysts not only for the intriguing portrait it presents of a murderous psychiatrist, but also for its fascinating presentation of a filmic fantasy of psychoanalysis. In the film, FBI-trainee Clarice Starling is sent by her boss to interview the imprisoned, criminally insane psychiatrist Hannibal Lecter, who killed and ate his victims (some of whom were his own patients). The FBI hopes to get from Lecter information and insights that will help them capture a serial killer nicknamed Buffalo Bill, who kills women and partially skins them. Lecter agrees to help Clarice only on condition that she reveal personal information to him; he is especially interested in her most painful childhood memories. Like an anti-Kohut, an analyst who uses empathy in the service of sadism, Lecter toys with her, tortures her with his knowledge, but in the end gives her clues that allow her to personally track down and kill Buffalo Bill. He also gives her insights about herself and her inner relationships with her childhood parents that strengthen her and allow her more inner peace. Thus, Lecter does for Clarice at least part of what a good analyst would do, and I think we are justified in thinking of the narrative as relating a portion of Clarice's analysis. In addition, the film, together with the novel on which it is based (and which I shall consider together with the film, as though they were two different tellings of the same dream or fantasy), reveals what remains unresolved in the analysis.
What is Clarice's presenting problem? She wants to identify and catch a killer. But, as Lecter immediately picks up, she has conflicts about her own identity: “You're so ambitious,” he tells her; “you look