LYT Review: THE KILLER INSIDE ME

“The trouble with growing up in a small town is everyone thinks they know you.” Thus speaks Lou Ford (Casey Affleck) a sheriff’s deputy in one of those timeless small towns that’s probably in the ‘50s, but could almost be just anywhere off the beaten path that hasn’t changed. Ford, however, has changed – he’s about to start doing horrible things.

Called to issue a warning to a prostitute, he finds himself instead getting involved with her, despite the fact that he already has a fiancé. Then again, the prostitute is Jessica Alba, after all. They like doing it in all kinds of weird positions, which can be better understood once you realize that Alba never ever wants to show naughty parts, so even if it’s awkward for Affleck’s arm to be in the way, it’ll make it over there somehow to block the nipple just perfectly.

Now, mind you, I’m not the sort who insists on nudity from actresses. I do, however, think that if you have an aversion to it, maybe playing hookers, strippers, and sluts is the wrong thing to do. Just like if you have no physique, playing an action hero is the wrong thing to do unless you’re being ironic or anti-typecasting. I am still a little pissed that in the otherwise slavishly faithful SIN CITY, Alba was playing a character who walks around naked in the books, and somehow got to be constantly clothed onscreen (in a sexy outfit, yes, but still a cop-out one). End rant.

Anyway, Lou’s engaged to Kate Hudson, so he can’t go on with this forever, and soon enough, opportunity presents itself to shake things up. One of the other guys banging the hooker is the son or nephew or something-or-other of a powerful businessman played by Ned Beatty, who wants the whole thing over with, because of the potential blackmail material. Lou acts like he’s gonna broker a deal to take care of everything, but then it turns out that his idea of taking care of things involves beating people to death. He’s pretty careful about covering his tracks, but as tiny clues threaten to leak out, Lou gets ever more homicidal in his attempt to cover his tracks.

Except that he doesn’t really need to – Lou chooses the path of most violence not because it’s the only way to keep his alibi tight, but because he’s just a little nuts, and brutal murder tends to be the first thing that occurs to him. We don’t really know why, because he doesn’t either. It simply is what it is. He’s not unlike Patricia Highsmith’s Talented Mr. Ripley in this regard, except that he’s undeniably less talented.

Michael Winterbottom might be just the right guy for this kind of thing, too. Though the director has made wildly divergent genres of movies, from the absurdist comedy of A COCK AND BULL STORY to the low-budget rockumentary-porn of NINE SONGS and the semi-documentary ROAD TO GUANTANAMO, one thing that does define much of his work is that it’s from the outside in, rarely immersing the viewer in emotional portraits but rather studying characters externally. Lou Ford has an internal monologue, which would suggest a more intimate examination, but since he doesn’t really know himself, the viewer must judge more by his actions.

This can be frustrating; given the material, based on a Jim Thompson novel that was previously filmed in 1976 to generally negative reactions, one might expect a Hitchcockian escalation of tensions and suspense as Lou frantically evades each pursuer...but even as the story suggests such an approach, this just ain’t that kind of movie. Lou ultimately doesn’t seem to care too much about anything, including whether or not his plans ultimately pay off. Or at least, to the extent that he does, his internal monologue is able to distance himself from his emotions. Stanley Kubrick was a fan of the book, and it’s easy to see why.

Unlike the more justified killer also named Ford that Affleck played previously (in that Jesse James movie I will not retype the entire title of), Lou’s justifications for himself, when they exist, are flimsy at best, hilarious other times. When he his fiancé accuses him of cheating, he deflects by insisting “Don’t tell me that the girl I’m about to marry is sleeping with a guy who’s been running around with whores!” This being the ‘50s – or that being the most convoluted non-excuse ever – that actually makes her back down. But don’t try it at home.

Alba and Hudson, generally considered acting lightweights (often unfairly...the latter was certainly good in ALMOST FAMOUS), manage to hold their own, which is quite something when one considers all the great character actors onscreen who specialize in sleazy, among them Elias Koteas as a twitchy, self-interested union man, and Brent Briscoe as an ominously slow-talkin’ wino who knows too much. The only one who doesn’t quite measure up is Simon Baker, whom I’ve never particularly cared for. It may be that his out-of-place, pretty-boy vibe is meant to annoy us the same way it annoys Lou, but nevertheless, what can I say but I don’t like it.

Much ado has been made about a scene in which Lou unleashes the thunder against Alba’s character, but what controversy there is has been overblown. Yes, makeup renders the after-effects of a nasty beating in more realistic fashion than usual, and it is supposed to shock. But to read some accounts, you’d imagine this is the film’s center of attention, and it isn’t. Lou does brutal things, and they aren’t romanticized...his actions with the hooker are far from the last, but on the other hand, this isn’t really a movie for gorehounds either. It’s a character study of a sociopath, and works as such...as narrative or titillation, a lot less so.

You want an unsparing imagining of the thoughts of an American psycho, you got it. If you just want “American Psycho,” there was a movie of that already.

Luke Y. Thompson is an actor, writer, and film critic living in Hollywood.