Le tueur en moi

Casey A. is a 50s Sheriff's Deputy in small-town Texas. He is a sadistic train wreck who even though he finds himself in the possession of not one but two luscious female bottoms to paddle with his belt he still has to kill everyone in sight. I may be wrong about that but it started to seem he was going to be of the "kill em all and let god sort em out" school. Even so this movie is marvelous. We get a nice little bit of back story explaining his predilections but to me it's the reactions of those around him that make the movie and not his back story. This is a layered, nuanced tale with many lovely ingredients, not the least of which is this newish, noirish serial killer type. The music is of the rockabilly, C&W, operatic type: it does wonders.

If you've followed the history of this film, then you know it was twenty years in the making. The producers who optioned the rights were on a veritable quest. At one point, Val Kilmer was slated to act, Sean Penn, to direct.

Eventually, many Thompson fans consigned the project to limbo, not knowing how passionate the parties involved actually were. (Chris Hanley is the same producer who delivered This World, Then the Fireworks -- one of the most faithful and unapologetic Thompson adaptations.) Having seen Winterbottom's final cut, I'm glad the producers took their time. The screenplay writer and director have made a film so uncompromisingly faithful to Thompson's novel that a few audience members will usually leave the theater during the most graphic scenes.

Make no mistake: This movie is more grisly than anything by Sam Peckinpah, and the subject is as misogynistic as that of Straw Dogs (though it's the character, not the director, who hates women in this case). If you're a person who can't watch or sanction scenes in which women are brutalized, then this is a film to avoid.

If not, then you're ready to see the book represented in its pulpy essence, with excesses and virtues on display.

Psychopathic sheriff Lou Ford is equal parts self-destructive sadist, con man and facade. For him, excessive politeness and long-windedness are forms of veiled hostility. Brutal sarcasm is delivered in a good-natured everyman way. Everything Ford says is double entendre, the punchline, only apparent to him. He ushers people to their doom in the same tone he might use to offer them a drink.

Other film adaptations, from Tavernier's Coup de Torchon to the 70s version of Killer, have missed Ford's quintessentially Southern hostility. Those French and So Cal readings failed to recognize the specific way in which Thompson, himself a Texan, turns the naive good-natured American stereotype on its head. Winterbottom understands it and shows it, as does his lead.

The actor who plays Ford is famous but not yet so ubiquitous that his celebrity obscures the power of Ford's character. Since character carries an unusual amount of weight in Thompson stories, Casey Afflick was a perfect choice: Likable and chameleonic, with an admirable range and a delivery so spent and inviting it will remind you of Bill Clinton's. You don't just enjoy this portrayal of Ford because he's an interesting villain. You actually sympathize with the character's attempts to regain self-control.

When I read a reviewer's description of Ford listening to classical music and reading Freud, I groaned. I thought he'd been reduced to another Hannibal Lecter. The psychopath who resembles a James Bond nemesis and reveals his intelligence by listening to classical music and quoting Nietzsche is an '80s cliché.

Not to worry: Affleck's Ford never talks about culture and he never air-conducts.

From the period-specific tone to the apparent humility and social restraint of the killer -- which made readers sympathize with him even after he committed acts that seemed designed to justify the death penalty -- this film is to Thompson what Wynton Marsalis is to Miles Davis: Reverent to the point of sacrificing personality, but giving back everything in terms of performance, style and formal correctness. The attention to form was particularly appreciated: Having read the book twice, I knew what was coming and still enjoyed the ending.

"The trouble of growing up in a small town is everybody thinks they know who you are."

I was initially interested in The Killer Inside Me because I'm a fan of both Casey Affleck and Jessica Alba, but I soon became even more intrigued by what I was reading in the early reviews about how brutal it is. And it is brutal. I don't mean the over the top, fanciful gore-drenched brutality of a movie like Saw, I mean the kind of realistic, stomach- churning violence that isn't easy to watch. This movie is definitely not for everyone, as a result. I just thought I'd put that disclaimer out there.

The story is about a 29 year-old sheriff deputy named Lou Ford who leads a double life. He's a sadistic, violent, disturbed man who hides his true nature under the gentlemanly, courteous reputation he has amongst the denizens of the Texas town he's lived in since he was born. An encounter with a local prostitute triggers the violent urges in him that have been somewhat buried, and a cascade of murders upon murders result as he tries to cover his tracks and avoid the scrutiny of a district attorney who is deeply suspicious of him. 

I though Affleck was great in this. The guy is just a natural actor, and he pulls off both the unnerving psychopath and small town local aspects of the character. I wanted Ford to get caught for his utterly despicable actions, yet I still found myself feeling anxious whenever he seemed in danger of being found out. If that's not a compliment of Casey's performance, I don't know what could be. Alba was good in her somewhat limited role, and it was a pretty risk choice for her to tackle a part like this where so much violence was directed at her character. Kate Hudson also does well in a role that very different from much of her recent work, and Simon Baker rounds out the main cast with a solid performance as the district attorney.

I was drawn into this movie from the opening credits. If you're not put off by the violence and the sex (often mixed together), The Killer Inside Me is well worth watching. I thought the ending wasn't pulled off as well as the rest of the film was, but that's really my only complaint. Recommended.

Having read the novel by Jim Thompson, I think I can safely say that The Killer Inside Me sets a certain challenge for director Michael Winterbottom, or for that matter a challenge for anyone who wants to adapt it for the screen. It is a story that takes us deep into the mind of a Texas psychopath. Getting inside peoples heads is so much easier on pages than on screen. Winterbottom gives it a game shot, but doesn't quite manage to capture the book's depth and scope. The occasional use of narration (using segments from the book) or flashback, only helps a bit. Anyone who has not read the Thompson will find this movie somewhat hard to follow.

It's worth noting I guess that the movie is a noble adaptation, but for some odd reason, the plot is more convoluted in film format. There is a certain lack of explanation, and this is the film's biggest weakness. That does NOT mean however, that is isn't worth seeing.

As a dramatic thriller, The Killer Inside Me is effective. It is gritty, and grim, with good performances, nicely composed montages, and Winterbottom captures the essence of 1950's Texas fairly well. There is something kind of warm and communal about the town of Central City, the grass is green and the sun is always shining. Ignoring the fact that there is a psycho in the local law enforcement, which is discouraging, this is the kind of place where one might fancy a summer home. The movie comes with an ending that is absolutely devastating (despite being a bit rushy). Overall, Winterbottom makes mostly good decisions, but also a few not so good ones. He throws in country music jingles in places that are quite unnecessary.

I think I can recommend the film, but not without warning. It's tricky, and it needs a bit of a tune up. It's still an evocative drama though, which packs a dirty punch, and leaves you thinking.

They read books don't they?

I have a little habit on this site especially when I am unfamiliar with a films content, its director or writer. I look at the IMDb viewer reviews, starting by filtering them with the "hated it" box checked. If people have a good solid reason for hating a film or disliking it, a reason of substance, then I read 1 or 2 of "the bests" but consider twice whether I want to watch it. In the case of this film, I'd already seen it. I looked at the viewer reviews because it was an adaptation of a Jim Thompson novel and I wanted to see how people reacted. Especially because I was surprised, having seen it, by the films low rating.

For those of you who know nothing of Thompson's work I direct you to the Wikipedia article on him. In it, Steven King (who I assume most people on this site know as he wrote the IMDb rated #1 film of all time, "The Shawshank Redemption") said he "most" admired Thompson specifically for three lets... "he let himself see everything, he let himself write it down, then he let himself publish it".

Now I know that the ratings here can be a little skewed. For example, is Inception really the 6th greatest film ever made. Is "Sin City" a better movie than say "Jaws", "Blade Runner" or "The Wizard of Oz" or any number of extraordinary foreign entry's. In the IMDb world virtually every episode of every TV show ever made is always ranked higher than any feature. Look at Jessica Alba's work sorted by rating... Could every episode of Dark Angel have really been that good? Maybe it just means that IMDb viewers prefer short form fiction to the long form. Or as the editor of New York Magazine is quoted to have addressed his staff, "I don't want anything in this rag I can't read in one good crap".

Its a foregone conclusion that lot of people who frequent IMDb spend a good portion of their time being visually entertained and they might not have enough time left to peruse the printed work as much as they aught; Maybe not even enough time to search out some intelligent criticism before they make their viewing choices. But the number of 1 star, I hated it, reviews for this film defy all reason. Sure the subject matter is inherently offensive. But as Andrew O'Hehir said in his Salon.com review, to hate this faithful delivery of Jim Thompson's book, or to complain that "The Killer Inside Me" is full of misogynistic violence is a little like reading "Moby-Dick" and objecting to all the stuff about whaling.

Maybe if people read a little about a film before they invest their 2 bucks and 2 hours they could avoid subjecting themselves to films they won't like and spare us all their trenchant voicing of how they hated London because their vacation there was ruined when it rained the whole damn time they were there.

Paris would be great too, if they spoke more English and... "if you wanted the steak 'why'd ya order the duck"?

This is A GREAT FILM great film, unerringly faithful to its decidedly American literary roots, with great performances by some great actors. And if you find Jessica Alba so one dimensional you want to kill her, maybe that's the point.

Other suggested recent American Rural Noirs of note: Winters Bone (2010) The Frozen River (2008)

To see what a more lyrical Mexican voice has added to the genre: The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada (2005) The Burning Plain (2008)

And of course the Cohen's brilliant noirs: No Country For Old Men (2007) Blood Simple (1984)

Lastly, there is always Tavernier's beautifully exuberant french adaptation of Thompson's "Pop. 1280", "Coup de Torchon", with the story moved from North Carolina to French West Africa. There is a likable comic buffoon in Noiret's playing of the character a little at odds with Thompson's... but if you don't like the French, stay out of the kitchen.