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The
Killer Inside Me (Michael Winterbottom, 2010)
A classic crime novel is given an adaptation that pulls no punches in Michael
Winterbottom’s
The Killer Inside Me.
Starring Casey Affleck as a Texas deputy sheriff who belies his clean-cut
appearance, this daring (if not entirely successful) film forces us to contend
with the cold, amoral logic of a madman. The plot here, which begins as a
prostitute upsets the delicate balance of power in a small-town, is not very
strong. It features overfamiliar revelations about the petty corruption inherent
in local politics, stiffly drawn, archetypical characters, and a few too many
dramatic coincidences for comfort. What power the story does have is gained from
its ironic symmetry, with events becoming increasingly disturbing as they grow
more repetitive. If the plot is somewhat routine,
Killer focuses its energies instead
is in its single-minded depiction of Affleck’s psychic decay. Perhaps not since
Gaspar Noe’s I Am Alone has a movie
serial killer felt so perched on the edge of the void.
It's no great spoiler to state that Affleck plays said killer, and that his
croak of a voice and physical stature make him a less than authoritative screen
presence and an unlikely psychopath. Winterbottom does little to exploit the
tension between his lead actor’s appearance and actions, however. No one in the
film seems to underestimate him at any turn. Affleck’s creepiness has been
better exploited in his past work (e.g.
The Assassination of Jesse James…), making his performance here slightly
redundant, even if it’s far from lousy. His acting still registers more
profoundly than any from the mediocre supporting cast. Kate Hudson and Jessica
Alba play Affleck’s love interests, but neither of them generates much interest
as either femme fatale or victim.
Winterbottom is a director who is noteworthy largely for the extreme variety in
his output, but he has indulged similar themes before, most notably in 1995’s
Butterfly Kiss. While this movie is
more classically structured than that one, it’s nearly as psychologically
implausible, similarly valuing shock effects over character insight. Watching
Affleck spank or brutally attack his sex partners, one certainly is unsettled,
but the pulpiness of the film’s other scenes ensure that these transgressions
cannot be taken too seriously. They are just another stock perversion in a world
filled with them. Affleck’s character is meant to represent an unfathomable
evil, but his interior nothingness seems just one cliché among many.
50
Jeremy
Heilman
06.25.10
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