Despite much of the talk that has been made about HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER, it is no horror film in the conventional sense of that terminology. It's too slow, too biliously building to be that kind of abrupt horror. Rather, HENRY fits into a disturbing group of cinematic quasi-breakthrough. Released Unrated in the 80's in order to avoid an NC-17 rating, HENRY tells the sickening tale of a tall, stoic drifter named Henry (Michael Rooker). He lives in an apartment with a drug dealer just out of jail named Otis. Henry kills people, he's a serial killer, but no enigmatic, hammy type like Hannibal Lecter. Instead, Henry is cold and gross. We see his mangled victims, each killed in different ways to keep the cops off his trail, and the camera pans in on their empty eyes, their screams acting as background music. One day, Otis' sister Becky comes into town. She begins to live with Henry and Otis, and takes a great liking to Henry. She's a damaged person though in the greatest sense of that elusive phrase. Molested as a child, Otis has the same tendencies as their deranged father, and Becky's in danger. Henry and Otis start killing people together, and Becky stands on the sidelines in some sick admiration and some ignorance. What is ultimately devastating about HENRY though is the coldness of its subject, and the relentless sickening scenes after sickening scenes. There's not even a style to the kills, but an ugly abruptness followed by quasi-methodical ritual. As what it purports itself to be, a 'Portrait of a Serial Killer' HENRY is a good film, but just that. For reasons I cannot pin down, its detachment, and the general pathetic-ness makes the film appear as disaster porn. Still, however, worth seeing.
Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer: ★★★
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