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Directed Michael Feifer. Starring Antonio Sabato Jr, Kostas Sommer, Kelly Curran, Caia Coley. Horror / thriller USA 87 mins.

DVD Release Date : 12th April 2010 £12.99. BUY NOW.

There appears to be no end to director Michael Feifer’s lazy pilfering of the life-work of America’s top-ranking serial killers in order to have at least two movies out each year. Feifer has already helmed B.T.K., ED GEIN, CHICAGO MASSACRE - RICHARD SPECK, BUNDY - AN AMERICAN ICON and THE BOSTON STRANGLER : THE UNTOLD STORY. In most cases, the exploits of these killers have already been documented in superior earlier movies, but this kind of thing is still an easy-sell in the DVD market, so you can probably expect more snails’-paced movies from him about Gein, Manson, Dahmer, et al. By the year 2020 he might have to branch out with FRED WEST : THE UNTOLD STORY and perhaps SUTCLIFFE : A YORKSHIRE ICON.

Feifer’s movies, in spite of the potentially compelling material, are consistently deadening experiences. This one is characteristically lifeless, virtually bloodless and totally devoid of conviction despite the fact that it sticks much more closely to the real Henry’s life than John McNaughton’s outstanding HENRY PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER, a benchmark in this sub-genre. Given that Feifer is the guy who (mis)cast human tree-trunk Kane Hodder as the slightly built momma’s boy Ed Gein, that’s at least to be commended. But the excellence of McNaughton’s movie only serves to highlight how redundant this movie is.

The awkwardly structured script has at least one framing device too many though largely unfolds via flashback from Henry’s 1983 incarceration as he recalls his assorted murder sprees (in reality, Henry sensationalised his undetermined bodycount by claiming 3000 kills) and the warped childhood that led to such a life. Antonio Sabato Jr, in the shadow of the estimable Michael Rooker, makes for an annoyingly mannered Henry and the movie is far less disturbing than the 1986 interpretation, despite depicting the guy’s sideline in necrophilia : “I don’t like having sex with the live ones - I enjoy ‘em more when they’re not talking”.

Henry’s West Virginian origins, being beaten with planks and sent to school in a dress by grotesque hooker-mom Caia Coley, may be an accurate reflection of the real Henry’s early life, but the scenes still feel like tedious clichés. Coley is shrill and one-note as the sub-Mrs Bates Mom From Hell and the movie fails to provide any insight into Henry’s later relationship with cannibalism-prone rapist Otis and his 14 year old niece Becky (here played by Kelly Curran, who is clearly closer to 24).

Credibility takes a very early bath somewhere around the point that Henry slowly slashes a guy’s throat in an over lit movie theatre without the guy’s wife (sat in the next seat) actually noticing. The murder scenes are embarrassingly amateurish, marred either by histrionic victim-performances or laughably staged brutality - far removed from the powerful, challenging portrayal of violence that made McNaughton’s film so memorable and controversial. Sabato Jr.’s mumbling monologues make the final half-hour a particular chore to watch.

If you happen to catch Michael Feifer in your local library researching the life and times of Dennis Nilsen, kindly stop him, with brute force if necessary. Everyone else is advised to turn to HENRY : PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER to see how this kind of thing should be done.

Steven West

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