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The Silence of the Lambs: (Howard Shore) A number
of seemingly unrelated concepts were irrevocably tied to sickness in
Jonathan Demme's monumentally successful 1991 film
The Silence of the
Lambs, not the least entertaining of which were fava beans, census
takers, livers, and nice Chiantis. The world suddenly became fascinated
with the brilliant cannibal Hannibal Lecter, enough so to encourage
Anthony Hopkins to reprise his incredible performance of the character
in multiple sequels. He is the unfortunate key to success for a young
FBI agent (played by Jodie Foster) who solicits help from the
psychologically menacing criminal in her frantic investigation into the
mind of a psychotic kidnapper from whom she needs to rescue a
politician's daughter. As tense a conversational thriller to ever come
from Hollywood,
The Silence of the Lambs swept through the awards
season like an uncontrollable wildfire, the interactions between Hopkins
and Foster achieving legendary status. The substandard sequels did a
great injustice to the quality of the original film, which managed to
maintain an uncomfortable level of tension throughout its entire length,
even extending its heavy atmosphere to the sudden plot shifts and
demented humor contained in its story. Among the few aspects of the
production of
The Silence of the Lambs that really didn't gain
much attention at the time was Howard Shore's troubling score. Had the
composer enjoyed better name recognition at the time, he might have been
carried on to his own awards due to the overwhelming critical and
popular triumphs of the film. Despite producing quality suspense
material dating back to
The Fly in the 1980's, Shore's reputation
as a solid composer for this genre didn't really become widespread until
a number of higher profile projects later in the 1990's. Stylistically,
his music for
The Silence of the Lambs has many fundamental
similarities to subsequent efforts for
Seven,
The Game,
and
Panic Room, though none of these scores was known for
translating into standalone success in album form. Shore's approach to
these assignments is effective nearly every time, perfecting his recipe
for orchestral brooding and smothering the listener with uncomfortable
tones in each section of the ensemble in its lowest ranges.
Unfortunately, while these scores have a following from Shore's devoted
pre-
Lord of the Rings collecting base, their appeal on album is
limited.
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Although
The Silence of the Lambs contains more
thematic development and melodramatic chord structures than many of its
siblings, the score's album presentation is nevertheless unnerving to
the point of questionable merit. This does not reflect the quality of
the composition and its chilling performance for the intended context.
Shore not only affords Foster's Clarice Starling a very appropriate
seven-note ascending and descending figure reflective of her ambitious
rise to prominence in the FBI and subsequent disgrace, but he provides
an almost intoxicating, neo-classical series of dramatic chord shifts
that may be somewhat stereotypical, but are strikingly powerful for
Lecter as he walks off into a crowd to have an old friend for dinner.
The adaptation of these two ideas during the course of the two
characters' conversations is smart, with Starling's rising and falling
theme becoming more clearly enunciated as she nears her answers (it
starts as a five-note fragment in the opening scenes) before turning
slightly frantic as counterpoint to Lecter's far more methodical shifts
of the minor-key in "Finale." These manipulations of theme are
intriguing, but they by no means define the score. The intangible sense
of dread that accompanies Shore's constantly morbid progressions is the
heart of
The Silence of the Lambs, and although many of those
movements are harmonic in nature, they have enough edgy character to
take full advantage of the low woodwinds and brass in every cue. Slight
percussive motifs offer some glimpses of hope at the opening and closing
of the score (similar to vintage John Williams in parts of "Main
Title"), countered at its darkest moment ("The Cellar") with
alternatively challenging electronic textures. The whole listening
experience is so bleak that it's difficult to recommend for standalone
enjoyment. There really is no respite from the creepy environment of
this score, which for some will be interpreted as an arguably boring
hour on album. Because the Munich Symphony Orchestra is employed to
dwell in the lower regions with such immense weight at every moment,
there isn't much to intrigue in terms of instrumental or motific
creativity. Some occasional ostinatos performed by mid-range woodwinds
and violins are about the extent of such activity. It is an atmospheric
work of the highest level of consistency, its volume only interrupted by
Lecter's two "out and about" cues that stray into the tones heard at the
end of
Seven. An hour is, in all reality, too much of this score
to handle in one sitting, unless you're really keen on unnerving
yourself or your roommates late at night. Otherwise, you'll likely
respect this score and appreciate it in the film, but undoubtedly you'll
rarely revisit it on its unpleasant, oppressive album.
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| Bias Check: | For Howard Shore reviews at Filmtracks, the average editorial rating
is 3.43 (in 23 reviews)
and the average viewer rating is 3.25
(in 93,154 votes). The maximum rating is 5 stars.
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The insert includes no extra information about the score or film.