Hilary Moore: Reminisces on America, Penn and life

OK, I should be studying, but I'm not. I'm watching Silence of the Lambs -- again -- but let's face it -- it's brilliant. It cuts right to the core of dirty old humanity and lays bare its most gruesome appetites -- and I don't mean just Hannibal Lecter's.

Lecter's sensual enjoyment of Clarice Starling's pain-filled life story and our own inexplicable fascination with the film's portrayal of pure evil and mind-boggling gore, force us to ask one crucial question: what is it we're so hungry for?

Is there a little bit of Hannibal Lecter in all of us? We may not be suppressing a deep-seeded desire to consume human flesh, but there's a bit of the twisted carnivore in us somewhere. Lecter, as the liberated, pure form of our own predatory natures, is therefore enticing -- and horrifying -- beyond belief. That's why he has to break free. We want to know he's out there.

And what about the bit when Buffalo Bill's watching Starling through the night goggles -- so he can see her, but she can't see him? That scene is all about voyeurism. And we love it.

So is voyeurism just a dirty word -- a sub-division of the porn world that none of us (of course) knows anything about? Is it just for sad, skinny guys who have no life, never take showers and just sit in dark rooms spying on people?

Maybe not. After all, what's a cinema if it isn't a dark room where we sit watching people -- devouring the most intimate and gruesome moments of their lives? Wildly twisting bodies, whether in sexual ecstasy or artery-tearing agony, carry us on a fateful journey with one overriding goal -- to satisfy our appetite for tragedy, fear, violence, romance, sex and heartbreak just enough to leave us satisfied -- temporarily.

Now "romance" and "sex" -- I get that. It seems perfectly normal that we all want a bit of those in our lives (real or imagined). But "violence," "heartbreak," "fear" and "tragedy"? Isn't that a bit disturbing?

Why are we so thrilled by the thriller -- hungrily feeding on our simulated terror? Why are we so intrigued by hospital dramas and cop shows -- riddled with violence and tragedy?

Yes I know, it's all just entertainment, but let's think about what entertainment can actually tell us about ourselves.

First off, it isn't just some vacuous way of spending our time -- it's when we're most ourselves. Entire countries show their personalities in the way they celebrate their leisure time.

Take basketball games -- mindblowing for a foreigner like me. From ice cream, burgers and chips (french fries to you people), to flashing TV screens, automated mass-chants and rock songs, it is pure, unadulterated, high-energy fun. It shows a nation that's young -- full of belief and riddled with insatiable appetite. Celebrating its ability to celebrate itself, America believes it can achieve anything.

In Scotland the soccer is humble and gritty. Fans hold no illusions that the players have any talent, but cling to their teams with fierce loyalty. Swilling beer and shouting morose expletives under the (permanently) pouring rain, they reflect Scotland's own character -- downtrodden and tough-spirited, with few delusions of grandeur.

In England, they haven't quite got used to the fact that they're not the British Empire anymore. The soccer fans always believe they're going to win the World Cup. Constantly anticipating glories that never arrive and excusing unexpected failure through some long-winded process of self-justification, English fans are passionately optimistic and permanently angry.

But back to voyeurism (although sport is of course about watching people, too). It seems like a whole lot of our lives are spent watching other people's. We watch them on TV, we listen to their voices on the radio and we read about them in books. In fact, 90 percent of college is spent filling our heads with other people's thoughts. Of course no woman is an island, but a vaguely independent nation would be nice.

Thankfully, the holidays are coming and we have a chance to break free! We can get back to the real deal. I'll be moving back to the United Kingdom and finally spending time with my husband. I'm going to learn jazz piano and hopefully fit in a trip to Croatia. I'm going to try not to turn on the TV.

Life -- however tiring -- shouldn't become a spectator sport. As my time at Penn runs out, I find my self savoring the "normal" moments of life. I'll remember the sun setting on Locust Walk, the Hey Day shenanigans and students' laughter. I'll remember this column, conversations with fellow residents and beer nights at New Deck.

I don't (and won't) remember the TV shows.

Hilary Moore is a third-year Ethnomusicology graduate student from Perth, Scotland.

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