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?http://www.dailyscript.com/scripts/silenceofthelambs.html