Sample hook




              T H E   S I L E N C E   O F   T H E   L A M B S





                                screenplay by

                                  TED TALLY



                            based on the novel by

                                THOMAS HARRIS








                                  2nd draft
                                July 28, 1989



    ______________________________________________________________________

                                   NOTE

                   For legal reasons, the names of three
                   of Tom Harris's characters have had to
                   be changed. It is my hope, and certainly
                   Tom's, that the original names can be
                   restored in time for the making of this
                   movie.

                   For the purposes of this draft, however,
                   Jack Crawford has become "Ray Campbell,"
                   Frederick Chilton has become "Herbert
                   Prentiss," and Dr. Hannibal Lecter is
                   called "Dr. Gideon Quinn."

    ______________________________________________________________________

      FADE IN:

      INT. GRUBBY HOTEL CORRIDOR - DAY (DIMLY LIT)

      A woman's face BACKS INTO SHOT, her head resting against grimy
      wallpaper. She is tense, sweaty, wide-eyed with concentration.
      This is CLARICE STARLING - mid-20's, trim, very pretty. She wears
      Kevlar body armor over a navy windbreaker, khaki pants. Her thick
      hair is piled under a navy baseball cap. A revolver, clutched in
      her right hand, hovers by her ear. She raises a speedloader, in
      her left hand, locks it into her cylinder, twists and reloads.

      CLOSE ON

      a guest room door, with a small, wired pack attached to its knob.
      Suddenly, wish a sharp CRACK!, the knob explodes, and the door
      bursts open.

      WITH CLARICE - MOVING SHOT -

      as she runs around a corner, through a cloud of smoke. She
      shoulders aside the shattered door and rushes inside, gun at
      the ready in both hands...

                                                   CUT TO:

      INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY

      CLARICE'S POV - MOVING - as she first sees, sitting on the edge
      of a bed - a FEMALE HOSTAGE. Black, late 20's, gagged, hands
      behind her back. Then, SWIVELLING... she sees a startled MALE
      SUSPECT - white, mid-20's - standing by a window with a rifle
      in his hands. He is turning towards her...

      CLARICE

      drops into a combat crouch, gun extended, and shouts.

                               CLARICE
                  Freeze! FBI!

      CLARICE'S POV - SLOW MOTION -

      all natural SOUND suspended - as the Suspect faces her with
      a strange, pleading expression. The rifle is rising in his hands,
      but oddly enough, it is held across his chest, not pointing. Then
      another puzzling detail registers...

      THE SUSPECT'S HANDS

      are taped to his gun, away from the trigger; he couldn't use it
      even if he tried. Suddenly we hear a metallic CLICK, which reg-
      isters with unnatural amplification, as -

      CLARICE

      reacts, drops to the floor, rolling sideways, and -

      THE "HOSTAGE"

      pulls a revolver out from behind her back, still in SLOW MOTION,
      raising it in her untied hands. She fires repeatedly, flames
      leaping from the muzzle; the SOUND is an echoing roar in these
      close quarters, but -

      CLARICE

      has come up on one knee, beside an armchair, and is already
      firing back herself, two quick SHOTS, which send -

      THE "HOSTAGE"

      pitching over the bed, backwards, to shudder and lie still in a
      haze of gunsmoke. Clarice rushes to her, clamping one knee down
      on her gun hand, still keeping her covered in case of movement.
      HOLD for a few beats... then we hear the shrill blast of a
      WHISTLE from somewhere, O.S., as normal ACTION and SOUND are
      restored.

                               BRIGHAM (O.S.)
                  Okay, people, good exercise...

      Clarice relaxes, lowering her gun. The lights brighten.

      PULLING BACK -

      we see that we're in some sort of auditorium, with the "hotel
      room" and its "corridor" built as a training set. JOHN BRIGHAM
      walks onto this set, thumbing a stopwatch. Mid-40's, ex-Marine.
      His T-shirt's lettering says "Firearms Instructor / FBI Academy."

                               BRIGHAM (contd.)
                  Starling's reaction time was excellent.
                  Let's break. Critique in five.

      A class of about forty young FBI trainees, of both sexes, be-
      gins to rise from their seats, mingling and chatting.

      CLARICE

      nods amiably to the "Suspect", then gives her "Hostage" a hand
      up. It's ARDELIA MAPP, her roommate. Her broad, clever face
      breaks into a big smile, as they both remove ear plugs. Clarice's
      voice has just a soft trace of southern accent.

                               ARDELIA
                  Damn, Clarice, how'd you make me?

                               CLARICE
                     (indicating her gun)
                  Never cock. Just squeeze.

                               ARDELIA
                     (grins)
                  I love it when you talk dirty.

      As Brigham joins them, Clarice can't resist a star pupil's little
      smile of pride. He frowns good-naturedly.

                               BRIGHAM
                  What're you laughin' at, Junior G-Man?
                  She got off four rounds to your two.

      He takes out a steel-coiled grip flexer, drops it onto her palm.

                               BRIGHAM (contd.)
                  One hundred reps, each hand, every day.
                  Now tidy up, the Section Chief wants to
                  see you.

      He nods a direction, then moves off. Clarice, with her smile
      finally fading, looks out into the auditorium.

      SPECIAL AGENT RAY CAMPBELL

      sits on the top step of the aisle, looking down at her. He is 53,
      strongly built. He rises impassively, exits through the back door.
      He carries a think manila envelope under one arm.

      ARDELIA

      who is helping Clarice unbuckle her bullet-proof vest, follows
      her worried gaze.

                               CLARICE
                  What'd I do?

                               ARDELIA
                  Stay cool. Just remember to call
                  him "God."