Let's see if lightning strikes twice. Probably not, but since a few people asked if I'd done other movies, and this one is fresh in my mind froom Saturday night's airing on CBS...
With many thanks to The Movie Spoiler, which helped refresh my memory, I bring you: Hannibal in Fifteen Minutes.
Note: Lines with a single asterisk (asterisk*) are actual lines from the movie, because I can't make shit like this up.
Biltmore Verger Mansion
Mason Verger is a raging pedophile (now confined to a wheelchair) with no face, in a role so freaky that even Gary Oldman didn't want his name in the credits.
VERGER: So, Barney... you've brought the mask?
THE AUDIENCE: HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK WHERE THE FUCK IS HIS FACE?
BARNEY: Yeah. I'm running out of props to sell from the first movie, so I want a shitload of cash for this.
VERGER: I spend more than that on eyeball sunscreen. Deal.
The FBI Plans the Take-Down of a Drug Queenpin
CLARICE: You sure you want to do this at a crowded fish market?
SOON-TO-BE-DEAD FBI GUY: Oh, yeah, I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm sure only the people we shoot at will die.
CLARICE: I mean, really, we can do this at some place with fewer people, or at least fewer fish.
SOON-TO-BE-DEAD FBI GUY: Nah, man, it's cool. I'm a nameless character played by an actor nobody's ever heard of; I'm sure I'll make it out alive just fine.
GHETTO-FABULOUS DRUG QUEENPIN: *arrives with baby strapped to chest, shoots up entire market*
SOON-TO-BE-DEAD FBI GUY: *dies*
CLARICE: God dammit.
Clarice is forced to shoot Ghetto-Fabulous Drug Queenpin, who is also HIV-positive, or die. Thoughtfully, she rescues the baby and, ignoring her compatriots dying amid the chipped ice and overturned fish, starts hosing the baby off.
CLARICE: It's all right, baby, it's all right...*
BABY: I'm covered in my dead ghetto-fabulous mother's HIV-positive blood. On what planet is this remotely considered "all right"?
The Mean FBI Office of Mean, Mean, Sexist Men:
MEAN FBI GUY: You know, Jodie Foster would have never let this happen. We're going to blame everything on you, even though you're the one who thought this was a bad idea and had to kill or be killed.
RAY LIOTTA: *leers*
CLARICE: Shut your face before I shut it for you, weaselfuck.
MEAN FBI GUY: Whatever. Sign here.
Biltmore Verger Mansion
CLARICE: So... you're a... child molester. Good on you. You wanted to talk to me because...?
VERGER: Because Hannibal Lecter fucked up my face and didn't even call the next day!
CLARICE: And this happened how...?
FLASHBACK: In the only scene in which you will actually see Gary Oldman's real face in the entire movie, he and '80s Lecter, who mercifully does not have the ponytail he was sporting in Red Dragon, go back to Verger's Apartment of Child Molesting, because Lecter is his psychiatrist and... what? That's professional. He offers Verger "a poppah" and proceeds to watch Verger lose his fool mind, which Verger appears to do for fun most weekends anyway.
LECTER: You know, really, I hardly did anything to the guy. I'm not even sure he actually took the damn pill. He just started flailing around and shouting, "I'M SO CRAZY! LOOK AT ME! I'M CRAZY GARY OLDMAN!" If you hand a shard of mirror to a guy and he thinks cutting off his own face is a good idea, how is that my fault? Look, he hadn't fed those dogs in four days. I'm surprised they hadn't started gnawing on his toes before then, much less his severed face.
VERGER [present day]: So, you wanna help me find Lecter and revenge myself, or what?
CLARICE: Uh... no, I'm good. Thanks.
Casa Lecter, Florence, Italy
It looks like you're not doing too well at the moment. Which is a shame, because you could have made a killing (ha!) writing books about me and your other cases for the rest of your life. I all but handed you a fortune, babe. Look at John Douglas--he makes out just fine with the I'm Such a Tortured Profiler true-crime books. Anyway. Better luck next time, and sorry about you having to visit Freakshow McFaceless back there.
Looking forward to eating you Hope to sniff you soon
Some Extremely Uppity Perfume Company
PERFUME CHICK: This is the most fabulous letter I have ever smelled.
PERFUME GUY: I do believe I smell 36 different, entirely rare fragrances. And lanolin. You know. Wool fat. FROM LAMBS.
CLARICE: *massive eyeroll* Whatever. Sign here.
Ass-Old Museum, Florence, Italy
LECTER: I'm "American" and totally not an internationally-wanted cannibal. Can I have the old curator's job?
ASS-OLD MUSEUM: How'd you know we needed a new curator?
LECTER: . . .
ASS-OLD MUSEUM: You got the job.
Asylum from the First Movie, Baltimore
At some point, Clarice visits the ruins of the now-closed asylum where she first met Lecter. The set is carefully reconstructed from the first movie's, so as to preserve perfect continuity as Not Jodie Foster wanders around. When Clarice gets back to her office in a scene that may or may not be immediately after this one, she listens to tapes of her old interviews with Lecter, in which Julianne Moore's voice has been dubbed instead of Jodie Foster's, and some of the conversations were not even in the first movie at all.
Casa Lecter, Florence
INSPECTOR PAZZI: Hi, I'm here to pick up the old curator's stuff. The FBI asked for this tape? From a really ritzy rare perfume shop? That sells this hand cream? That some really uppity perfume people smelled on this letter? That this cannibal? Sent to this woman he's kinda got a thing for?
LECTER: . . .
PAZZI: You wouldn't happen to be that cannibal, would you?
LECTER: No, totally not.
PAZZI: Oh. Okay, then.
LECTER: *puts on black gloves*
PAZZI: Uh... why are you putting on gloves? You're, like, in your pajamas and barefoot, dude.
LECTER: The better to kill you with.
LECTER: I said, "Because it's cold in here."
PAZZI: Oh. Okay, then.
Casa Pazzi, Florence
PAZZI: *logs onto FBI website*
WEBSITE: WARNING! WARNING! THIS IS A RESTRICTED WEBSITE ONLY FOUND IN MOVIES, BECAUSE REAL WEBSITES DON'T FLASH WARNINGS LIKE THIS! WEEE-ooo-WEEE-ooo-A-OOOOOGA!
PAZZI'S HOT-ASS WIFE: Everything okay in there, hon?
PAZZI: Oh yeah. Just fine. *logs in with a screen name based on his actual name, because he is a moron*
PAZZI'S HOT-ASS WIFE: Are we still going to the opera? Because I like expensive things, even though we don't have a lot of money.
PAZZI: Yeah, yeah, I got the tickets.
PAZZI'S HOT-ASS WIFE: Because I really like expensive things. And we don't have a lot of money. Did I make that clear?
WEBSITE: And here's what you went through all that trouble to access: the FBI's 10 Most Wanted. Which you totally can't access any day of the week without a password by searching Google for three seconds. Which Hannibal Lecter is on. Also, there is some guy without a face offering $3 million for his capture.
PAZZI'S HOT-ASS WIFE: Wow. It's the year 2001 right now, right?
PAZZI: Uh... yeah.
PAZZI'S HOT-ASS WIFE: It's going to be really unfortunate when this movie's out on DVD in the fall and there's Hannibal Lecter's face right next to Osama Bin Laden.
PAZZI: Yeah, that's... that's gonna suck.
Secret Basement of the FBI for Agent Chicks Who Didn't Actually Fuck Up
CLARICE: Hello, Inspector Pazzi? I'm stuck down here in this wonderfully blue basement with nothing to do but dick around on the internet all day, and I noticed that you just accessed our FBI website.
PAZZI: *checks watch* Damn, that was fast.
CLARICE: Anyway, I know what you're thinking. I CAN READ YOUR MIND.
PAZZI: I don't know what you're talking about, Spooky, so, if you don't mind--
CLARICE: I wouldn't go after Lecter if I were you.
PAZZI'S HOT-ASS WIFE: Hon, who's that on the phone?
PAZZI: It's--uh--it's--nobody, nobody! I TOLD YOU, I LIKE MY LONG-DISTANCE CARRIER JUST FINE!
CLARICE: You better recognize, fool.
PAZZI: *hangs up*
Some Opera in Florence
I think this scene comes here, but I can't remember. Let's just pretend. Back when people, who had clearly not read the book, still thought this movie had a chance of being good, they had actual opera music commissioned specifically from this movie. It is supposed to be about a man who loves a woman he can't be with, and is v. v. symbolic, except for the part that no one in the movie theater has any idea.
PAZZI'S HOT-ASS WIFE: This music! It is so sad! And so symbolic! Dr. Fell, you look like you love someone you can't be with.
LECTER: . . .
PAZZI'S HOT-ASS WIFE: I SAID, Dr. Fell...
LECTER: Oh, yes, that's me. Almost forgot. Yes, I am totally in love with this woman that I can't be with because I'm totally not a poor lonely cannibal exiled from home. *sniff*
PAZZI'S HOT-ASS WIFE: Awwww!
PAZZI: STEP OFF MY WIFE, HOR!
Some Street in Florence
Feeling extremely squirrelly, Pazzi calls Verger's people from an anonymous phone booth. They tell him that they need proof that he's found Lecter. A fingerprint, or something. Pazzi sees a young guy bump into some guy and pick his pocket.
PAZZI: So I want you to take this smooth silver bracelet, go bump into this guy, and get him to grab your wrist and leave a print on the bracelet. Got it?
PICKPOCKET: Yeah, sure. Any particular reason...?
PAZZI: Oh, no reason. He's totally not a dangerous cannibal. I don't know why you'd think that.
Verger phones the proprietors of his dirty, dirty farm in dirty, dirty Sardinia, where he has been raising the Sixteen Giant Killer Pigs of Death for more than ten years, specifically for the purpose of feeding Lecter to them, because... that makes sense in... some dimension. That we haven't discovered yet. Possibly.
SIXTEEN GIANT KILLER PIGS OF DEATH: *SNORT SNARL RIP CHEW SQUEEEEEEEEEE!*
DIRTY, DIRTY SARDINIANS: *laughing at the Pigs of Death mauling a crash-test dummy*
THE ITALIAN ISLAND OF SARDINIA:
Drop dead, you ignorant bastards.
Fuck you muchly,
The Italian Island of Sardinia
Some Street in Florence--Night
Lecter is strolling around Florence, because he has come here to eat people or chew gum, and... he's still got plenty of gum. (I am not making this up. He is totally chewing gum through the whole scene.) The pickpocket starts tailing him in an incredibly squirrelly and obvious manner.
PICKPOCKET: *dodging behind pillars* Quick as a cat! Quick as a cat! You never see me!
PAZZI [from the shadows]: Get. the bracelet. before. he kills you. moron. Get. the bracelet.
The pickpocket manages the bracelet maneuver, but gets himself a stiletto in the groin for his trouble.
PAZZI [covering his eyes]: Oh, God! Right in the tenderloin!
As the pickpocket dies in Pazzi's arms, Pazzi looks up and sees a bronze fountain of a Giant Killer Pig grinning down on him. There is Washing of Symbolic Blood in a Symbolic Fountain off Symbolic Hands. Since this is Ridley Scott, we're lucky the symbolism isn't in slo-mo, too.
RIDLEY SCOTT: HEY!
CLEO: . . .
RIDLEY SCOTT [hangs head]: Okay. You got me. We took it out in the editing room.
Ass-Old Museum, Florence
Lecter is giving his final Please Hire Me, I'm Totally Not a Fugitive Cannibal presentation. It's on the motif of the hanged man in Renaissance art. Or something. Despite the fact that his audience is entirely Italian, he gives the presentation in English. Also, his pronunciation of the Italian he does quote is not very good. Clearly, he is the man for the job. Pazzi arrives late, because he had to arrange a pickup with the Dirty, Dirty Sardinians. Everyone else leaves.
LECTER: Remember that conversation we had earlier? About that relative of yours way back in the day? Who got hanged, or something? Who has the same name as you?
PAZZI: Something like that, yeah.
LECTER: And how hanging is identified with greed? And how you've got a hot-ass wife you can't afford?
PAZZI: *shifts uncomfortably*
LECTER: Man, I can't thank you enough for giving me a nice, ironic murder to commit. I haven't had one of those in years.
PAZZI: *getting antsy* Are you sure it's really ironic, or just Alanis Morrisette ironi--MMMMFFFHHHGHGHGH!
Lecter chloroforms Pazzi, ties him to a handtruck with a big orange electrical cord, and wheels him up to the balcony.
LECTER: So, Verger sent you?
LECTER: Look, you can either tell me the truth, or I can pay a visit to Mrs. Hot-Ass.
LECTER: Yeah, that's what I thought.
Pazzi's cellphone rings. Lecter answers it. I have no idea who he thinks is calling, or why he thinks it would be a good idea to officially place himself in the vicinity of Pazzi's cellphone at the time of Pazzi's death.
CLARICE: Look, fool, I told you, he is going to barbecue your ass and then you're gonna be sorry--
LECTER: Hello, Clarice.
THE AUDIENCE: Now we feel like we got our money's worth!
LECTER: So, how's it shakin'?
CLARICE: Is he dead? I SAID, IS HE DEAD?*
LECTER: Hey, it's not like you didn't warn him. Anyway--weather's great, wish you were here, catch you later. *hangs up*
LECTER: An old friend.*
PAZZI: mmmmfffhhhghghgh! (Translation: "Jesus, you had to work that in somewhere, didn't you?")
Lecter guts Pazzi and throws him over the balcony. Hilariously, the Japanese tourists gathered below think it's some kind of historical reenactment and laugh initially. Then the greater part of Pazzi's intestines hit the ground and they start screaming. I am not making this up.
OLDER SARDINIAN GUY: Oh, shit.
The two Sardinian brothers race into the Ass-Old Museum looking for Lecter. The younger one wanders around calling for his brother so that Lecter can find him more easily, because he is a moron. Lecter cuts his throat and disappears.
OLDER SARDINIAN GUY: MY BROTHER! NOOOOOOOO!
THE VAGUELY PLAUSIBLE PART OF THE MOVIE: *is over*
Clarice's Morning Run, D.C.
A shadowy figure seems to be following Clarice as she jogs along her normal, extremely wooded and isolated trail. Yes, she knows that Lecter is on the loose. Yes, she knows that he will probably come to visit her. No, I don't know why she's suddenly a moron. She finally gets freaked out and starts looking over her shoulder and around the trees and decides to turn back. Meanwhile, Lecter has apparently teleported back to her parked car and has not been following her for several minutes, preferring instead to sniff her steering wheel. I am not making this up. No, really, I'm not. On the DVD's deleted scenes, he licks the steering wheel. Hand to God. Also, flights from Florence apparently now feature gyms and tanning salons, because all the pasty pasta weight from Florence is gone.
Secret Basement of the FBI for Agent Chicks Who Didn't Actually Fuck Up
I can't remember where this scene came in, but basically Ray Liotta keeps coming into Clarice's office to bug her and poke around her Wall o' Lecter Memorabilia, where she sits and listens to The Tapes of Retconned Dubbing all day. Ray Liotta, whose character's name escapes me because I loathe him (the character) too much to actually store it in my long-term memory, comes in and surmises that Lecter is a faggot and that Clarice is "cornpone country pussy" and so on and so forth.
CLARICE: "Cornpone country pussy"? You've got to be kidding me. Is that one of the lines the great and wonderful David Mamet wrote?
RAY LIOTTA: I dunno, but he's prolly a faggot too.
CLARICE: I'm sorry, could you paint your loathsomeness in broader strokes?
RAY LIOTTA [on phone in D.C.]: So... this postcard that Lecter wrote, I'm putting it in Clarice's Basement of Exile... why?
VERGER: BECAUSE HE DIDN'T ACTUALLY WRITE IT, YOU SEXIST MEATHEAD, WE'RE SETTING HER UP SO SHE'LL GET KICKED OUT FOR WITHHOLDING EVIDENCE! GOD! DO YOU EVEN HAVE TWO BRAIN CELLS TO RUB TOGETHER?
RAY LIOTTA: Dahhhhhh...
VERGER: *hangs up* Whatever. She'll get kicked out and Lecter will be all sad and he'll come to save her. Woot.
VERGER'S DOCTOR, CORDELL: Uh... is that legal?
VERGER: Oh, Jesus, not you too with the stupid, Cordell.
CORDELL: . . .
VERGER: And hurry up with the eyeball sunscreen, plzkthnx.
Chez Clarice, D.C.
Pissed, Clarice dumps her office shit under a table and starts scrubbing her cabinets. As one does, when one is fired for "withholding" evidence of the movements of a lovelorn cannibal. Yes. She falls asleep with a glass of scotch in her hand. A shadowy figure enters in the cool blue night, pads up to her and brushes a strand of red hair from her porcelain face.
LECTER: Uh... you're not... you look kinda dif... I'm in the right house, aren't I?
Clarice wakes up to find candles burning on the table and a magazine open to a two-page Gucci ad with her face pastede over the model yay.
LECTER: There's a new battery all charged up for your cell phone and ready. Don't forget to bring the gun you keep in your clothes hamper.
CLARICE: Well, aren't you just Mommy's little helper cannibal?
Having slept in her clothes, she leaves the house directly, gets in her car, and starts following his directions to Union Station. A giant, dark-windowed, completely inconspicuous yes really van follows her. Turns out Lecter was really waiting for her at Union Station the whole time, and the giant van belongs to... the Dirty Sardinians.
Both Lecter and Clarice have headsets for their phones, so not only are they prattling rather loudly and calling each other by name in a public place, it totally looks like they're talking to themselves like crazy homeless people. She tracks him around the station by listening to the background noise on his end, which ought to be drowned out by the background noise on her end, but we left plausibility back in Florence, so whatever. Clarice is standing with her back to the carousel, which he is apparently on, so as he comes around behind her he reaches out and whiffles a hand through her hair.
THE DIRTY SARDINIANS: AHA! WE SEE YOU NOW, CRAZY AMERICAN CANNIBAL!
LECTER: Anyway, I'm getting bored, and since the Dirty Sardinians are here, I probably ought to be going.
CLARICE: Where are you?
LECTER: You were really close. You were so warm.*
CLARICE: Dude... are you getting off on this?
LECTER: . . .
She finally manages to trace him to a photo booth where he has left her... a pair of Gucci heels.
CLARICE: WTF? I've been wearing cargo pants and combat boots the whole movie! WHAT IF THEY'RE NOT THE RIGHT SIZE?
Outside, the Dirty Sardinians catch up to Lecter with their Tag You're It Acme Cattle Prod and stuff him in the giant van. No one in the parking lot notices. Clarice runs after them and her clearly distinguishable stunt double ends up flying over a couple of cars for her trouble. Finally, someone notices and the cops arrive.
CLARICE: We have to find him, Mason Verger has kidnapped him and is going to do something terrible to him, and I know he's a wanted fugitive cannibal, but two wrongs don't make a right and--
COPS: Whatever. Sign here.
FBI: Sorry to bother you, Mr. Wheelchair-Bound Chester, but you wouldn't happen to be hiding a cannibal on the premises, would you?
VERGER: Certainly not, my good sir.
VERGER: ...the Dirty Sardinians are hiding him in a van down the street! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
FBI: Now, Starling, don't you go looking for him by yourself. You're suspended and if you go pestering Mason Verger you will never, ever work for us again.
CLARICE: Go fuck yourself sideways.
CLARICE: I said, "I would never go down that highway."
FBI: Whatever. Sign here.
Giant Ramshackle Barn, The
VERGER [en route to barn in van]: Squeeee! My day has come! I knew I would wear this tux again!
CORDELL [driving van]: *beleaguered sigh*
Naturally, Clarice busts into Verger's barn before he can get there and tells the Dirty Sardinians to FREEZE! Lecter is trussed up on a handtruck with his old mask on, just chillin'.
SIXTEEN GIANT KILLER PIGS OF DEATH [behind flimsy wooden gate]: *SNORT SNARL RIP CHEW SQUEEEEEEEEEE!*
CLARICE: I know that if I ask you nicely, you'll put your guns down and your hands up.
THE DIRTY SARDINIANS: *do no such thing*
CLARICE: *kills them all*
LECTER: I knew you'd come save me.
CLARICE [cutting bonds with knife]: Look at me cross-eyed and I cut you, cholo.
LECTER: This would go faster if you gave me the knife.*
CLARICE: You must think I have the mental capacity of a breath mint.
LECTER: Also, there's one more Dirty Sardinian behind me.
CLARICE: *hands him the knife*
Clarice shoots the one last Dirty Sardinian, but not before he takes her out with a shot to the shoulder. Lecter now has Clarice's knife and her gun, and lifts her up into his arms. Verger and Cordell arrive on the platform above.
VERGER: AHHHH! WTF! HE'S GETTING AWAY! SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM, CORDELL! SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM! CORDELL! WHY THE FUCK AREN'T YOU SHOOTING HIM!
LECTER: Hey, Cordell--you could always just push him in and say it was me.*
VERGER: That's your big scary psychological technique? "You could just push him in"? What'd you say in the first movie? "Hey, you could just swallow your tongue"? What kind of AHHHHHH! AHHHHHHHHH! CORDELL! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
CORDELL: *pushes him in and says it was Lecter*
LECTER: *exits with Unconscious Clarice in his arms in a silhouette beauty & beast shot Ridley Scott is obviously very proud of*
SIXTEEN GIANT KILLER PIGS OF DEATH: *SNORT SNARL RIP CHEW SARDINIANS SQUEEEEEEEEEE!*
GIANT KILLER PIG OF DEATH #6: Man, I don't want to eat the one without the face. You eat the one without the face.
GIANT KILLER PIG OF DEATH #14: Dude, I don't want the one without the face, you eat him.
GIANT KILLER PIG OF DEATH #9: God, you two are such pussies. I'll eat him, for chrissakes, if it means that much to you.
Clarice wakes up, her shoulder stitched up and the bullet removed, in a bedroom in Ray Liotta's lake house. She is wearing a black designer dress that magically fits her perfectly, and is similar in construction to the famous green Jennifer Lopez dress, only without sleeves. In other words: cut down to here and up to there. She wobbles down the stairs, clearly drugged out of her mind, and hears Ray Liotta cheerfully chatting with Lecter as he cooks. On the way down, she finds her old clothes folded up, her wallet, gun, handcuffs, and a disconnected phone. Somehow, she MacGyvers the frayed cord back together and calls 911.
911: Ma'am, it'll be about ten minutes until someone gets there. Please stay on the phone until...
CLARICE: *does not stay on the phone*
Lecter looks up from the stove and notices the phone's light flashing and smiles to himself. He looks up at the clock and magically surmises that he has about ten minutes, because cannibalism makes you psychic. Yes. Clarice picks up a blunt object on her way to the dining room.
CLARICE: I KEEL YOU WITH MY SNOWGLOBE OF DOOM!
RAY LIOTTA: Hey... that's... mine... !*
CLARICE: I KEEL YOU WITH MY BUTTER KNIFE OF DEATH!
LECTER: Aww. I give you points for trying.
She flops druggily into her chair and stares as Lecter removes Ray Liotta's carefully-sawed cranium and begins to select a piece to sauté in brown butter.
CLARICE [freaking out]: Could I have a glass of wine?*
LECTER: That wouldn't be good with your morphine.*
CLARICE [in tears]: I WOULD REALLY LIKE A GLASS OF WINE.*
This scene is almost completely unrecappable, I swear. It's definitely parody-proof, because there is nothing I can say that is funnier, in a completely horrifying way, than what actually happens. Ray Liotta sits there slurring insults at Clarice and offering her secretarial work while Lecter tells him to behave or he'll have to sit at the kiddie table. Then he fries up a bit of his frontal lobe and feeds it to Liotta. Liotta concurs that it is fine and tasty. I swear to God, this actually happens. Clarice weeps great silent tears of paralyzed horror. Liotta's speech capabilities are running down like HAL the computer at the end of 2001. The sad thing is, he's only a little less articulate than he was the rest of the movie.
THE AUDIENCE: *GAG RETCH SQUIRM BARF EWWW!*
Now Lecter tries to ply her with wine, but she won't have it, and shuts him down completely no matter what he says. He excuses himself to clear the table and stuff Liotta in the kitchen (with a discreet dishtowel tossed over Liotta's head: because it's the little things, when you're entertaining, that count). Clarice bursts into the kitchen and tries to attack him with, like, a fork or something. He shoves her against the retro fridge and tries to give her some speech about the integrity in her face, and then she tries to attack him again. Finally, he slams her ponytail in the fridge door.
LECTER: Would you ever say, "If you loved me, you'd stop"?*
CLARICE: Why are we even having this conversation? You know I'd never say that, and furthermore, if I did, you wouldn't love me anymore anyway.
LECTER: ...I'm really never getting into your pants, am I?
After pretending to bite her nose off, per the normal courtship rituals of the North American cannibal, he kisses her.
CLARICE: *one perfect tear streams down her face*
LECTER: What the--? Did you smuggle those down here inside your ponytail or something? Give me the key.
LECTER: Give me the key.
LECTER: Give me the key.
SIRENS: *wail in distance*
LECTER: WOMAN, YOU ARE STARTING TO PISS ME OFF!
He grabs a nearby meat cleaver. Clarice does not budge. He asks if she wants her hand cut off below the wrist or above the wrist. No reaction. Sirens! One perfect Lecter tear! Clarice screams! And... scene.
Woods Outside the Lake House
FBI: Who's there? Give us your name or we kill you, even though you're clearly a woman in a skimpy designer dress!
BOTH CLARICE'S HANDS: *still attached to her arms*
THE AUDIENCE: Awwwww! True love means cutting your own hand off!
CLARICE: My name is Special Agent Clarice Starling!*
FBI: Girl, please. You will never work in the bureau again. Sign here.
Fireworks of Love and Swoony Music ensue.
Some Plane Flying Somewhere
SOME KID: Hey, can I have some of what you're eating?
Lecter has brought his own food, including Leftover Brain à la Tupperware. Apparently he shops at Dean & DeLuca, in possibly the strangest product placement ever.
LECTER: Really, kid, I don't think you want this.
SOME KID: It looks good.*
LECTER: Well, never too young to get started on your psychoses, I guess. *feeds the kid leftover brain*
The movie, very proud of itself, ends on a shot of Lecter's eyes.
Theater 7, Wildwood, February 13, 2001
AUDIENCE: *staggers away*
CLEO: Hey, guys... I'm... I'm kinda hungry.
BRETT THE VET: Yeah... me too.
MR. TYPO: Wanna to go to the Purple Onion or something?
CLEO: Yeah, sure.