“Have you come to confess?”
Capturing the unique tone and energy of a Rob Zombie goth-centric feature, Gavin Polone’s Psycho Killer leans heavily into the religious underbelly of Satanism. And while the film struggles to find its way through a rift of adolescent impulses that deprive the dark narrative room to breathe, one cannot ignore the ambitious attempt to thwart social norms and aim hard (and fast) for the jugular.
Georgina Campbell stars as Jane Archer, a Kansas highway trooper who, after witnessing her husband’s brutal murder during a routine traffic stop, vows vengeance on the fugitive known only as the Satanic Slasher (played in dominating fashion by James Preston Rogers).
Campbell, a genre veteran thanks to her work in Barbarian and Black Mirror, embodies the role of a grieving widow with valor and courage. A mere two days after she lays her husband to rest, she sits in a therapist chair, performing her required duties, retribution the only thing sitting squarely on her mind.
And while everyone watching knows where the film is headed, a heated cross-state manhunt that can only be led by a partner suffering silently, their anguish and sorrow seeping from every crevice, there’s a black, murky essence that exists beneath the narrative’s surface.
It is here that the film dives deep into its strangely built underworld. The Satanic Slasher is, above all else, a large-scale secret character. Laden with a “no mercy” tattoo on his left hand, he maneuvers his way through the film wearing a mask, his face forever hidden from those watching on. Even as he sidesteps authority and easily dominates his victims without any serious threat to his own safety, questions begin to arise. The most prominent one? Just how towering is he?
And that is where the problems begin.
While thematically interesting and artistically shot, Psycho Killer leaves much to open interpretation. Even as the story dives deep into the demonic world of evil diabolism, Polone attempts to keep things broad, leaving the viewer to interpret key elements as our villain maneuvers the streets, killing at what appears to be random and at will.
Written by Andrew Kevin Walker of Se7en fame, the story contains all the necessary elements to be considered good. But something feels off. Containing a unique, muted color palette and an undeniable '90s feel, the film bears a sinister, demonic aura. But things never materialize beyond the eye, leaving audiences scratching their heads at the absurdity unfolding onscreen.
Real-world authenticity aside, the film does occasionally work. But it continuously struggles to answer the important questions, ones that would ultimately shape the world and create a sense of understanding about our characters and their often nonsensical choice of action.
Undoubtedly, Archer is acting on emotion. Hellbent on vindicating her husband's death, she longs for another chance to pull the trigger and deliver the fatal shot that will close the case and bring a sense of comfort to the communities affected by the sudden string of brutal murders. But her fervently centric motive grows thin as the film progresses, opening the door to more audience uncertainty as she often seeks help from local authorities, bypassing the standard process and appearing to follow her own, unsupervised set of rules.
After a rather eventful visit to a local community house, our serial killer heads towards his final destination. Archer, feverishly nipping at his heels, is in hot pursuit. Having presumably placed the final pieces of the case’s puzzle into place, she appears to have gained an understanding of the mind and motive behind our killer. Unfortunately for the viewer, she keeps much of that knowledge to herself, leaving us confused and honestly disinterested in the forthcoming confrontation.
But even that high-stakes struggle proves rather anticlimactic.
Granted, the final visuals are vicious and obscene. But after almost ninety minutes, that doesn’t come as a surprise. Walker has a reputation to keep. But he is certainly not able to recreate the lasting effect he had on audiences when Mills, standing in the middle of a desert, found a severed head in a cardboard box in late September 1995. And though this film bears many visual similarities to that cinematic masterwork, the stories don’t translate. And at the end, fans will be frustrated, annoyed, and unentertained.
