The Silence of the Lambs (1991)

TW: Transphobia, Sexual Assualt, Violence, Misogyny // Spoilers for Sleepaway Camp ahead

We [meaning mainly the girls, the gays, and the theys] all love a good revenge film — Jennifer’s Body, Ms. 45, Carrie, and the new addition to the canon: Promising Young Woman. All the films feature a woman who enacts her own version of justice against those who are not being punished for a heinous crime — normally upholders of oppression like sexual assaulters. Though violent, sometimes exploitative, and not usually having a happy ending for the femme protagonists, at the center of these stories are questions about how justice truly functions in our society. As we’ve seen post #metoo, industries have slowed in making progress and even the so-called damaging “cancel culture” has not removed most abusers from their platforms. In this subgenre, fantasy and catharsis intertwine as one where we can escape to an alternate reality where the oppressed play karma in making those who killed our soul suffer in response. Though it does not fix the structural roots and usually punishes the women in the finale, the everlasting images are an escapist fantasy where related audience can feel sublime satisfaction that only comes with pure vengeance. That’s why we [see previous] love them.

For anyone who is not a cis white woman, a justice-fueled murderous rampage is not framed as liberation. Instead, they contribute to harsh stereotypes that vilify minority women with dangerous consequences. Particularly, trans women have been coded as serial killers for decades — especially since, possibly the most famous horror film ever, Psycho. The trope has expanded since then where explicitly or implicitly coded trans serial killers have made up some of the most well-known villains in horror and cinema history: including Leatherface, Bobbi, and, worst of all, Buffalo Bill. The most explicit — and “coincidentally” the most egregious, in my opinion — is the 1983 B-movie Sleepaway Camp. The protagonist is revealed to be trans, forced into being a girl by the eccentric aunt she is sent to live with after a freak boating accident kills both her sister and father. She goes on a killing rampage murdering all the bullies who torment and do her wrong during her time there. When Carrie did this to her classmates, there was a certain sympathetic tone to her atrocities. There’s even a clear case of justification for her murderous escapade. She, however, has never been referred to as a serial killer in cinematic discourse but more as something closer to a misunderstood superhero. For trans women in media, their perception and representation are completely different with grave consequences. Historically, when they have been shown in mainstream media, there is an association of fear, intense violence against women, and an issue of severe psychological trauma on part of the trans character. Cis white women from Carrie to Cassie are given the guise of innocence and retaliation while trans women are stereotyped into monstrous creatures more often than not.

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Look, I think we can all agree Silence of the Lambs is, for all intents and purposes, a perfect movie. The film is one of (so far) only three in history to win the “Big Five” Oscars: Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actress, Best Actor, and Best Adapted Screenplay. Dr. Hannibal Lecter became a mainstay part of pop culture history, and the film is regarded as a classic. Needless to say, attempting to one up such a massive hit (and one of my own favorite films) was a lot to ask of Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal. And yet, through three intricately crafted seasons of television, Hannibal has managed to make itself into the best incarnation of a property based off of Thomas Harris’ Hannibal books.

Hannibal focuses on the titular Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the high class forensic psychiatrist with a taste for human flesh, which would earn him the nickname “Hannibal the Cannibal.” Juxtaposed to Lecter’s story is that of Will Graham, an FBI case profiler who suffers from encephalitis and a very exaggerated ability to empathize with serial killers and follow their footsteps a little too well. He’s a man who dances on the line between good and bad, and just barely holds onto the good side. Graham is the obvious weirdo, who struggles in social interactions, and thus, most people assume he has Asperger’s syndrome, whereas he is actually struggling to contain a need to fully act on those psychopathic impulses he harbors inside from years of placing himself in murderer’s shoes. And on the other hand, Dr. Lecter exudes class and charisma, casually murdering people he finds rude and eating them (even feeding them to guests at dinner parties), and shows no obvious signs of his sadistic nature. Naturally, their two stories intertwine, and the interactions between them are nothing but fascinating. A friendship turns to a game of cat and mouse, and from there it actually evolves into a mutual respect, and from there, blossoms into a romance, over the course of the series. It was the only natural path that the show could take. And the twisted relationship is the highlight, though it is not the only great element. Let me run down what makes it so special: