TWO-Scene [ Silence Of The Lambs by Thomas Harris & Ted Tally 1991 final draft ]

INT. DR. LECTER'S CORRIDOR - DAY

               MOVING SHOT - with Clarice, as her footsteps ECHO. High to 
               her right, surveillance cameras. On her left, cells. Some 
               are padded, with narrow observation slits, others are normal, 
               barred... Shadowy occupants pacing, MUTTERING... Suddenly a 
               dark figure in the next-to-last cell hurtles towards her, 
               his face mashing grotesquely against his bars as he hisses.

                                     DARK FIGURE
                         I c-can sssmell your cunt!

               Clarice flinches momentarily, but then walks on.

               DR. LECTER'S CELL

               is coming slowly INTO VIEW... Behind its barred front wall 
               is a second barrier of stout nylon net... Sparse, bolted-
               down furniture, many softcover books and papers. On the walls, 
               extraordinarily detailed, skillful drawings, mostly European 
               cityscapes, in charcoal or crayon.

               Clarice stops, at a polite distance from his bars, clears 
               her throat.

                                     CLARICE
                         Dr. Lecter... My name is Clarice 
                         Starling. May I talk with you?

               Dr. Hannibal Lecter is lounging on his bunk, in white pajamas, 
               reading an Italian Vogue. He turns, considers her... A face 
               so long out of the sun, it seems almost leached - except for 
               the glittering eyes, and the wet red mouth. He rises smoothly, 
               crossing to stand before her; the gracious host. His voice 
               is cultured, soft.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         Good morning.

               CUTTING BETWEEN THEM

               as Clarice comes a measured distance closer.

                                     CLARICE
                         Doctor, we have a hard problem in 
                         psychological profiling. I want to 
                         ask for your help with a 
                         questionnaire.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         "We" being the Behavioral Science 
                         Unit, at Quantico. You're one of 
                         Jack Crawford's, I expect.

                                     CLARICE
                         I am, yes.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         May I see your credentials?

               Clarice is surprised, but fishes her ID card from her bag, 
               holds it up for his inspection. He smiles, soothingly.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         Closer, please... Clo-ser...

               She complies each time, trying to hide her fear. Dr. Lecter's 
               nostrils lift, as he gently, like an animal, tests the air. 
               Then he smiles, glancing at her card.

                                     DR. LECTER
                              (continuing)
                         That expires in one week. You're not 
                         real FBI, are you?

                                     CLARICE
                         I'm - still in training at the 
                         Academy.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         Jack Crawford sent a trainee to me?

                                     CLARICE
                         We're talking about psychology, 
                         Doctor, not the Bureau. Can you decide 
                         for yourself whether or not I'm 
                         qualified?

                                     DR. LECTER
                         Mmmmm... That's rather slippery of 
                         you, Officer Starling. Sit. Please.

               She sits in the folding metal desk-chair. He waits politely 
               till she's settled, then sits down himself, faces her happily.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         Now then. What did Miggs say to you?
                              (she is puzzled)
                         "Multiple Miggs," in the next cell. 
                         He hissed at you. What did he say?

                                     CLARICE
                         He said - "I can smell your cunt."

                                     DR. LECTER
                         I see. I myself cannot. You use Evyan 
                         skin cream, and sometimes you wear 
                         L'Air du Temps, but not today. You 
                         brought your best bag, though, didn't 
                         you?

                                     CLARICE
                              (beat)
                         Yes.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         It's much better than your shoes.

                                     CLARICE
                         Maybe they'll catch up.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         I have no doubt of it.

                                     CLARICE
                              (shifting uncomfortably)
                         Did you do those drawings, Doctor?

                                     DR. LECTER
                         Yes. That's the Duomo, seen from the 
                         Belvedere. Do you know Florence?

                                     CLARICE
                         All that detail, just from memory...?

                                     DR. LECTER
                         Memory, Officer Starling, is what I 
                         have instead of view.

               A pause, then Clarice takes the questionnaire from her case.

                                     CLARICE
                         Dr. Lecter, if you'd please consider -

                                     DR. LECTER
                         No, no, no. You were doing fine, 
                         you'd been courteous and receptive 
                         to courtesy, you'd established trust 
                         with the embarrassing truth about 
                         Miggs, and now this ham-handed segue 
                         into your questionnaire. It won't 
                         do. It's stupid and boring.

                                     CLARICE
                         I'm only asking you to look at this, 
                         Doctor. Either you will or you won't.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         Jack Crawford must be very busy indeed 
                         if he's recruiting help from the 
                         student body. Busy hunting that new 
                         one, Buffalo Bill... Such a naughty 
                         boy! Did Crawford send you to ask 
                         for my advice on him?

                                     CLARICE
                         No, I came because we need -

                                     DR. LECTER
                         How many women has he used, our Bill?

                                     CLARICE
                         Five... so far.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         All flayed...?

                                     CLARICE
                         Partially, yes. But Doctor, that's 
                         an active case, I'm not involved. If -

                                     DR. LECTER
                         Do you know why he's called Buffalo 
                         Bill? Tell me. The newspapers won't 
                         say.

                                     CLARICE
                         I'll tell you if you'll look at this 
                         form.
                              (he considers, then 
                              nods)
                         It started as a bad joke in Kansas 
                         City Homicide. They said... this one 
                         likes to skin his humps.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         Witless and misleading. Why do you 
                         think he takes their skins, Officer 
                         Starling? Thrill me with your wisdom.

                                     CLARICE
                         It excites him. Most serial killers 
                         keep some sort of trophies.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         I didn't.

                                     CLARICE
                         No. You ate yours.

               A tense beat, then a smile from him, at this small boldness.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         Send that through.

               She rolls him the questionnaire, in his sliding food tray. 
               He rises, glances at it, turning a page or two disdainfully.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         Oh, Officer Starling... do you think 
                         you can dissect me with this blunt 
                         little tool?

                                     CLARICE
                         No. I only hoped that your knowledge -

               Suddenly he whips the tray back at her, with a metallic CLANG 
               that makes her start. His voice remains a pleasant purr.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         You're sooo ambitious, aren't you...? 
                         You know what you look like to me, 
                         with your good bag and your cheap 
                         shoes? You look like a rube. A well-
                         scrubbed, hustling rube with a little, 
                         taste... Good nutrition has given 
                         you some length of bone, but you're 
                         not more than one generation from 
                         poor white trash, are you Officer 
                         Starling...? That accent you're trying 
                         so desperately to shed - pure West 
                         Virginia. What was your father, dear? 
                         Was he a coal miner? Did he stink of 
                         the lamp...? And oh, how quickly the 
                         boys found you! All those tedious, 
                         sticky fumblings, in the back seats 
                         of cars, while you could only dream 
                         of getting out. Getting anywhere -
                         yes? Getting all the way - to the 
                         F...B...I.

               His every word has struck her like a tiny, precise dart. But 
               she squares her jaw and won't give ground.

                                     CLARICE
                         You see a lot, Dr. Lecter. But are 
                         you strong enough to point that high-
                         powered perception at yourself? How 
                         about it...? Look at yourself and 
                         write down the truth.
                              (she slams the tray 
                              back at him)
                         Or maybe you're afraid to.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         You're a tough one, aren't you?

                                     CLARICE
                         Reasonably so. Yes.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         And you'd hate to think you were 
                         common. My, wouldn't that sting! 
                         Well you're far from common, Officer 
                         Starling. All you have is the fear 
                         of it.
                              (beat)
                         Now please excuse me. Good day.

                                     CLARICE
                         And the questionnaire...?

                                     DR. LECTER
                         A census taker once tried to test 
                         me. I ate his liver with some fava 
                         beans and a nice chianti... Fly back 
                         to school, little Starling.

               He steps backwards, then returns to his cot, becoming as 
               still and remote as a statue. Frustrated, Clarice hesitates, 
               then finally shoulders her bag and goes, leaving the 
               questionnaire in his tray. But after just a few steps, as 
               she passes -

               MIGG'S CELL

               She sees that creature at his bars again, hissing at her.

                                     MIGGS
                         I b-bit my wrist so I c-can diiiieeee! 
                         S-ee how it bleeeeeeeeds?

               The dark figure suddenly flings his palm towards her, and -

               CLARICE

               is spattered on the face and neck - not with blood, but with 
               pale droplets of semen. She gives a little cry, touching her 
               fingers to the wetness. Stunned, near tears, she forces 
               herself to straighten up and walk on, fumbling for a tissue. 
               From behind her, Dr. Lecter calls out, very agitated.

                                     DR. LECTER (O.S.)
                         Officer Starling... Officer Starling!

               Clarice slows, stops. She shudders, but makes the very 
               difficult choice to turn, walk back, stand again in front of -

               DR. LECTER

               Who's shivering with rage. For an instant his face opens, 
               and we catch a glimpse into hell itself. Then he's composed 
               again.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         I would not have had that happen to 
                         you. Discourtesy is - unspeakably 
                         ugly to me.

                                     CLARICE
                         Then please - do this test for me.

                                     DR. LECTER
                         No. But I will make you happy... 
                         I'll give you a chance for what you 
                         love most, Clarice Starling.

                                     CLARICE
                         What's that, Dr. Lecter?

                                     DR. LECTER
                         Advancement, of course.
                              (beat)
                         Go to Split City. See Miss Mofet, an 
                         old patient of mine. M-O-F-E-T... 
                         Now go. Go.
                              (a smile)
                         I don't think Miggs could manage 
                         again so soon, even if he is crazy - 
                         do you?

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