The result was keep. Liz Read! Talk! 08:35, 15 October 2023 (UTC)
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Sources in the article are either primary or do not prove the character's notability, a quick Google search does not give any sources that prove individual notability, and per WP:N, it is not worth a standalone article. If the character is not notable, I suggest a redirect and/or merge to Hannibal Lecter (franchise)#Cast and characters (perhaps not the best redirect target, but I can only think of that). Spinixster (chat!) 02:59, 8 October 2023 (UTC)
addresses the topic directly and in detail. You should also read WP:FICT and Wikipedia:Plot-only description of fictional works. Spinixster (chat!) 07:38, 9 October 2023 (UTC)
In both Red Dragon and The Silence of the Lambs ,Harris has recourse to a rather different version of the FBI, one centred on the Behavioral Science Unit and the figure of the profiler. Harris’s sources for Crawford, Robert Ressler and John Douglas (the latter would act as a consultant on the film), have both published accounts of their work. Thus, as Seltzer notes, the image of the profiler has a popular currency in true crime literature as much as crime fiction.
...
As a cinematic and literary phenomenon the profiler is a great success (setting aside the ‘real’ world for now). Though not a profiler as such, Seven’s Detective Somerset (Morgan Freeman) also exemplifies the type.
...
As a cinematic and literary phenomenon the profiler is a great success (setting aside the ‘real’ world for now). Though not a profiler as such, Seven’s Detective Somerset (Morgan Freeman) also exemplifies the type.
Clarice’s relationship with Lecter and Crawford has been widely read as paternalistic – they are seen as representing bad and good fathers respectively. For Martha Gever, Starling’s ‘heroic trajectory is plotted by a pantheon of fathers’.71 It is true that Hollywood, when it has time for adventurous young women at all, tends to emphasise their relationship to their fathers: think of Jodie Foster as Ellie in Contact (US, Robert Zemeckis, 1997) ... or Helen Hunt as Jo in Twister (US, Jan de Bont, 1996).... Yet, although Lecter and Crawford are both figures of authority, there is no reason to assume that they are father figures.
Certain elements in the original novel pertaining to the Jack Crawford character are wisely removed in the film adaptation, such as his anguished visits to the bedside of his dying wife. Although in the source material this is an important element, in the context of the filleting that is necessary when creating a screenplay from a novel, such peripheral elements not only become inessential, but their removal can forge a certain opaqueness which is actually helpful to a particular film (as when Clint Eastwood persuaded Sergio Leone to abandon acres of dialogue when the two worked together in Italy on the ‘spaghetti Westerns’). Here, the streamlining obliges us to regard Crawford (to some degree) from the outside – in precisely the way, in fact, that Starling perceives him. We know no more about him than she does, and this mystique makes the character, and his motives regarding Starling, more intriguing.
Again, Crawford gently tests Starling’s ability to analyse what she knows of the killer they are both pursuing – a reminder that the whole narrative might be seen as something of an educational primer detailing the development/upskilling of Clarice Starling.
At this point, we once again we find ourselves surprised by the legerdemain that Demme extrapolates so successfully from the Harris novel. Lecter abruptly changes the conversation to a discussion of Jack Crawford and his interest in Clarice Starling. If audiences really examined Lecter’s insights (of which this is a classic example), they might be bemused by (or sceptical of) the fact that this incarcerated prisoner can have access to so much privileged information. But the conjuring trick played by director and screenwriter in such instances is to maintain the level of focused intensity that simply steers us away from such inconvenient questions. Lecter attempts to embarrass Starling again with sexually explicit questions: ‘Do think Jack Crawford wants you, sexually? True, he is much older, but do you think he visualises scenarios, exchanges, fucking you?’
The result was keep. Liz Read! Talk! 08:35, 15 October 2023 (UTC)
[Hide this box] New to Articles for deletion (AfD)? Read these primers!
Sources in the article are either primary or do not prove the character's notability, a quick Google search does not give any sources that prove individual notability, and per WP:N, it is not worth a standalone article. If the character is not notable, I suggest a redirect and/or merge to Hannibal Lecter (franchise)#Cast and characters (perhaps not the best redirect target, but I can only think of that). Spinixster (chat!) 02:59, 8 October 2023 (UTC)
addresses the topic directly and in detail. You should also read WP:FICT and Wikipedia:Plot-only description of fictional works. Spinixster (chat!) 07:38, 9 October 2023 (UTC)
In both Red Dragon and The Silence of the Lambs ,Harris has recourse to a rather different version of the FBI, one centred on the Behavioral Science Unit and the figure of the profiler. Harris’s sources for Crawford, Robert Ressler and John Douglas (the latter would act as a consultant on the film), have both published accounts of their work. Thus, as Seltzer notes, the image of the profiler has a popular currency in true crime literature as much as crime fiction.
...
As a cinematic and literary phenomenon the profiler is a great success (setting aside the ‘real’ world for now). Though not a profiler as such, Seven’s Detective Somerset (Morgan Freeman) also exemplifies the type.
...
As a cinematic and literary phenomenon the profiler is a great success (setting aside the ‘real’ world for now). Though not a profiler as such, Seven’s Detective Somerset (Morgan Freeman) also exemplifies the type.
Clarice’s relationship with Lecter and Crawford has been widely read as paternalistic – they are seen as representing bad and good fathers respectively. For Martha Gever, Starling’s ‘heroic trajectory is plotted by a pantheon of fathers’.71 It is true that Hollywood, when it has time for adventurous young women at all, tends to emphasise their relationship to their fathers: think of Jodie Foster as Ellie in Contact (US, Robert Zemeckis, 1997) ... or Helen Hunt as Jo in Twister (US, Jan de Bont, 1996).... Yet, although Lecter and Crawford are both figures of authority, there is no reason to assume that they are father figures.
Certain elements in the original novel pertaining to the Jack Crawford character are wisely removed in the film adaptation, such as his anguished visits to the bedside of his dying wife. Although in the source material this is an important element, in the context of the filleting that is necessary when creating a screenplay from a novel, such peripheral elements not only become inessential, but their removal can forge a certain opaqueness which is actually helpful to a particular film (as when Clint Eastwood persuaded Sergio Leone to abandon acres of dialogue when the two worked together in Italy on the ‘spaghetti Westerns’). Here, the streamlining obliges us to regard Crawford (to some degree) from the outside – in precisely the way, in fact, that Starling perceives him. We know no more about him than she does, and this mystique makes the character, and his motives regarding Starling, more intriguing.
Again, Crawford gently tests Starling’s ability to analyse what she knows of the killer they are both pursuing – a reminder that the whole narrative might be seen as something of an educational primer detailing the development/upskilling of Clarice Starling.
At this point, we once again we find ourselves surprised by the legerdemain that Demme extrapolates so successfully from the Harris novel. Lecter abruptly changes the conversation to a discussion of Jack Crawford and his interest in Clarice Starling. If audiences really examined Lecter’s insights (of which this is a classic example), they might be bemused by (or sceptical of) the fact that this incarcerated prisoner can have access to so much privileged information. But the conjuring trick played by director and screenwriter in such instances is to maintain the level of focused intensity that simply steers us away from such inconvenient questions. Lecter attempts to embarrass Starling again with sexually explicit questions: ‘Do think Jack Crawford wants you, sexually? True, he is much older, but do you think he visualises scenarios, exchanges, fucking you?’