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The Silence of the Hams

1994
6 min read
By VHS Heaven Team

Alright, fellow tape travelers, let's rewind to a time when the parody genre, still riding high from the Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker glory days, was getting… well, a bit weird. Dig past the Hot Shots! and Naked Gun sequels in your memory banks, maybe blow the dust off that mental shelf labelled "Wait, Did I Dream That?", and you might just find 1994's The Silence of the Hams (or Il Silenzio dei Prosciutti if you stumbled upon an imported NTSC copy from a particularly adventurous video store). This wasn't just a spoof; it felt like someone threw a blender full of early 90s thrillers at the wall and filmed the results.

### Lambs, Psycho, and… Pizza?

The setup is instantly familiar if you were anywhere near a cinema (or TV) in the early 90s. Rookie FBI agent Jo Dee Fostar – yes, really – played by a game Billy Zane (who audiences probably knew best then from Dead Calm (1989) or perhaps his villainous turn in Tombstone (1993)) needs help tracking down a serial killer. The twist? Fostar is the straight man here, more or less, seeking advice from the incarcerated Dr. Animal Cannibal Pizza, brought to life with manic energy by the legendary Dom DeLuise. If that name combo alone doesn't tell you what kind of movie this is, buckle up. The plot, such as it is, simultaneously riffs on The Silence of the Lambs (1991) and Hitchcock's Psycho (1960), sending Fostar to the infamous Cemetery Motel run by Antonio Motel.

Who plays Antonio Motel, you ask? None other than the film's driving force: writer, director, and star Ezio Greggio. Now, Greggio is a massive TV comedy star in Italy, a household name for decades. For most international audiences stumbling across this VHS, though, he was the slightly bewildered-looking guy mugging his way through a Norman Bates impression while occasionally breaking the fourth wall or contorting his face into impossible shapes. You have to admire the sheer audacity of him helming this American-shot production, pulling triple duty and clearly having an absolute blast doing it. It's a passion project, albeit one fueled by lasagna jokes and visual puns that land with wildly varying degrees of success.

### Gag Grenade Launcher

Unlike the precision-engineered joke machines of Airplane! (1980), The Silence of the Hams operates more like a gag grenade launcher. It fires jokes relentlessly in all directions, hoping enough shrapnel hits the target. The primary targets are obviously Lambs and Psycho, but the film crams in references to Basic Instinct (1992), Misery (1990), Terminator 2: Judgment Day (1991), Coppola's Dracula (1992), and dozens more. Sometimes it's a quick visual nod, sometimes it's a protracted scene, but the pace rarely lets up.

Does it work? Sometimes! Dom DeLuise is inherently funny, even when wrestling with dialogue that feels like it went through a translation blender. Billy Zane plays it commendably straight, which often makes the absurdity around him funnier. There are moments of inspired silliness – the sheer commitment to the visual puns, the blatant disregard for plot logic – that might have elicited a genuine chuckle between handfuls of popcorn back in the day, especially if you were renting this with a group of friends late on a Friday night. But let's be honest, a lot of the jokes fall flatter than a dropped tape on shag carpet. Some feel dated even for 1994, relying on references that were maybe too topical, while others are just plain baffling.

### Spot the Star (and the Director!)

One of the undeniable joys (or perhaps curiosities) of watching Hams today is the staggering number of cameos Greggio managed to wrangle. It's like a Hollywood Rolodex exploded on set. You get Mel Brooks showing up briefly, legendary directors like Joe Dante (Gremlins (1984)) and John Landis (An American Werewolf in London (1981)) popping in for blink-and-you'll-miss-them moments, and even comedian Rip Taylor. Perhaps the most meta and wonderful cameo comes from Martin Balsam, briefly reprising his role as Detective Milton Arbogast from the original Psycho! It's a moment that rewards eagle-eyed film buffs and adds a layer of affectionate film history reverence amidst the chaos. One wonders how Greggio convinced them all – perhaps his infectious Italian enthusiasm (and maybe a decent paycheck for a day's work) did the trick? Filming took place primarily in the US, aiming for that authentic Hollywood feel, even if the final product felt distinctly European in its comedic sensibilities.

### VHS Oddity or Hidden Gem?

So, how does The Silence of the Hams hold up in the harsh light of today? It's undeniably a product of its time – a second-tier parody riding the wave of bigger hits. Critically, it was largely dismissed upon release, seen as derivative and scattershot compared to its inspirations. It never achieved the cult status of some other 90s comedies, often relegated to the dusty corners of the rental store or the bargain bin. I distinctly remember seeing the box art countless times, that lurid pink pig mask staring out, and thinking, "Maybe next time..." until curiosity finally won.

Yet, there's a strange charm to its relentless, sometimes desperate, energy. It's goofy, it's uneven, and it's certainly not sophisticated satire. But for fans who remember the anything-goes spirit of mid-90s comedy and the sheer randomness of the video store shelves, there's a certain nostalgic appeal. It’s a reminder that not every spoof could be Spaceballs (1987), but even the lesser efforts could provide 80-odd minutes of bewildered amusement.

VHS Heaven Rating: 4/10

Justification: The rating reflects the film's wildly uneven quality. While the ambition, energy, surprising cameos (Balsam!), and sheer nostalgic oddity score points, the often weak, derivative jokes and scattershot approach prevent it from being genuinely 'good'. It earns marks for effort and for being such a quintessential example of a "What were they thinking?!" VHS find.

Final Take: A manic, messy, reference-stuffed relic from the parody boom's twilight hour. Watch it for the cameos and the sheer weirdness, not necessarily for consistent laughs – a true curio from the back aisles of the video store.