The Killer Inside Me

Noir (as an otherwise fairly infantile post-theatrical subgenre... well, basically, the 50s) can't be denied one huge credit, and that's as the basis for neonoir. The classic noir plot scheme is no longer enough on its own and is at most only good as a model for parody. However, as a basis it will always be attractive, and thus opens up a heap of possibilities for building on the genre. To do that, The Killer Inside Me goes to the woods. The main character (dude I almost typed hero -)) is also lonely and has the (quite justified) feeling of being alone in enemy territory. However, she deserves it and actually deserves far worse. It's just that she's still the main character that we follow step by step, and the counterparts a.k.a. supporting roles can’t really be empathized with because of their detached cold portrayals of the characters. And then there's the femme fatale (Mortal Kombat femme fatalities would be more appropriate here), in whom the viewer can't identify anything even suggestive of the noir label. So the audience has no view of the plot other than from Lou Ford's position. From him they take the paranoia, the uncertainty, and the irrational view of the world around him. Asking the audience to do that is a risky move, because it requires perspective and focus; in any case, I pretty much snorted. Pity about the music, which delivers some cheerful old school spark at moments of plot gradation and the atmosphere is suddenly gone. But otherwise The Killer Inside Me definitely deserves to be seen. You don't often see such scum. (10/18/2010)

The Killer Inside Me promised a lively crime show in a fitting retro stetson. The film, based on the novel by cult "pulper" Jim Thompson, stands out especially due to its sly appearance and the voice of Casey Affleck, who explicitly enjoys studying deadly perversion under the facade of a perfect good guy and carries the entire film, which sometimes bends a little under the weight of imposed erotic scenes and chattering dialogues. The excellent musical dramaturgy, strong cast, and tobacco-smelling Coen spirit of the harsh detective story really gets going at the end, in which, instead of stripping, Jessica Alba tries to act, and Winterbottom, who had been restrained up to this point, reaches for B-movie fiery properties. [KVIFF 2010] (07/05/2010)

The Killer Inside Me is an unpleasant, brainless film full of unlikeable characters and disgusting, selfserving violence. The A-list cast and the name of its director alone are not enough for me to give it a higher rating. (05/19/2011)

Casey Affleck’s performance is the only thing worthy of attention in this film. He plays a sadistic asshole who’s controlled in public. He probably was also supposed to look smart, but the problematic script prevented it, unfortunately, and instead of that, he constantly frets unnecessarily over problems, without properly revealing any reasonable motivations. It was impossible to see further than a couple of centimetres below the skin of the characters. (09/01/2010)