I Am Not A Serial Killer Review

There’s a wickedly humorous, dark wit that illuminates Billy O’Brien’s I Am Not A Serial Killer, which, considering the material, is quite something. Though a constant throughout, sadly it’s the change of pace and commitment to realism that lets this title down though, as narratively this feature loses its way.

John Wayne Cleaver (Max Records) harbours a worrying obsession with the act of killing, afraid of his own tendencies, and potential ability to one day commit a murder. Candidly discussing his curiosity with his beleaguered therapist (Karl Geary) he becomes completely enamoured by the elusive serial killer on the loose in his small town. His mother (Laura Fisher) is worried, and even requests he stops tending to the family business (they’re morticians), while he becomes distracted by his relationship with neighbour Crowley (Christopher Lloyd) who he cares for in his spare time.

Records (the kid from Where the Wild Things Are) turns in a fine display as the film’s protagonist and entry point, matching the more experienced, and equally as brilliant Lloyd at every turn. He’s wonderfully self-referential too, outpouring his thoughts, no matter how dark, to anybody who’ll listen, as we get a window into his warped imagination. Given he’s the viewer’s eyes and ears into this world, the film adopts a very self-aware approach, quite meta in its execution. The film, if nothing else, works as a means of getting into the mind of a teenager vying to discover exactly who he is, to make sense of the world and of his own deranged fantasies.

But while the opening act works as this intimate character study of Cleaver, we begin to steadily head downhill throughout the middle stages, not helped at all by the fact the killer’s identity is uncovered far too early into proceedings. Though there is the argument that we need to know who it is, for the way Cleaver studies their craft is imperative to the narrative, but holding back on the information for just that little bit longer would have made the world of difference, for we’re lacking suspense, which derives from the mystery of the murderer.

The film does remain compelling however, it’s only really when we reach the finale where the flaws truly begin to show, as we veer carelessly away from the more naturalistic elements. It almost feels like the filmmakers had made the majority of the film, and then thought, now what?, which is not a particularly great way to conclude your movie.