Confessions of a Serial Killer - La vera storia di Henry Lee Lucas

This brilliant, unsettling film was glossed over in favor of the higher profile maelstrom of ratings controversy, "Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer." That's a shame, because, like John McNaughton's brilliant low budget film, Mark Blair's "Confessions" is extremely well made, has an emphasis on documentary-like distance over horror movie theatrics, and some wonderfully seedy and intense characterizations. Genre addicts disappointed by "Henry" will be pleased by this film which "delivers the goods" in spades. Veteran genre production designer ("Texas Chainsaw Massacre" and "Re-Animator") Robert A. Burns steps in front of the camera as "Confessions'" Henry Lee Lucas substitute, Daniel Ray Hawkins. Nondescript and passive, a captured Hawkins relates the murderous swath he cut across the rural South to skeptical cops in a series of flashbacks that include his abusive childhood, his routine of picking up female hitchhikers, home invasions, and quick stop holdups turned bloodbaths, all documented via his trusty Polaroid camera. Closer to the actual events than "Henry," "Confessions" gives us a substitute Ottis Toole in the form of "Ole Moon," Daniel's partner in slime, an overweight homosexual serial killer who brings along his equally deranged sister for the ride. Although the last act is a tad anticlimatic and the secondary characters' performances are sometimes uneven, but this is an excellent, shocking movie. Like "Henry," it was shot on 16mm by local filmmakers, sat on the shelf for many years, has many similarities in tone and style, and was snatched up to capitalize on the success of a certain Jonathan Demme film when serial killers were hot stuff. Concorde even whipped up ad art with a guy in a Hannibal Lector mask! Aided immeasurably by a creepy synth score by William Penn and solidly directed by Blair, don't watch this one alone.

8/10

Please note: I wrote the following comment after watching the R2 UK DVD release, which I have since learnt is heavily edited, with the complete removal of graphic violence (including rape scenes), a heavily cropped nude shower scene, and even lowered volume whenever swearing occurs. Since I abhor such censorship, I refuse to give a rating until I have had a chance to see the whole thing as originally intended by the film-makers, and remind you that all remarks I have made apply only to the butchered UK version.

Rule number one according to 'BA_Harrison's Indispensible Guide to Blind-Buying Horror Films': beware of DVDs bearing glowing quotes from IMDb users (unless you know for a fact that they were written by me): chances are the film isn't the masterpiece it purports to be.

Confessions of a Serial Killer has two such enthusiastic quotes on its cover (plus a rather cheesy picture of a loony in a Hannibal Lector style mask that never actually appears in the film), and although it's definitely not the worst film I've ever seen (which would be a mighty achievement in itself), I wouldn't describe it as 'an excellent, shocking movie' or 'gruesome and compelling' either.

Shooting on grainy 16mm film, first time (and only time) director Mark Blair effectively captures that grimy vibe synonymous with the nastier, grittier serial killer flicks; he also commands some credible performances from his cast of unknowns, and displays a certain amount of know-how behind the camera. However, despite these admirable qualities, Confessions of a Serial Killer fails to satisfy thanks to a somewhat leaden pacing, a tendency by Blair to be rather careless with his narrative (some silly moves are made by both victims and assailants), but most noticeably, a refusal to get really down and dirty when necessary.

Presented as a series of flashbacks, the murderous activities of psycho Daniel Ray Hawkins (Robert A. Burns) and evil siblings Moon and Molly Lewton (Dennis Hill and Sidney Brammer) are frustratingly bland, never entering the truly shocking territory inhabited by similarly themed classics such as Henry Portrait of a Serial Killer and Maniac: the film shies away from depicting the actual murders, preferring instead to let the audience to use their imagination—which is fine some of the time, but not for every bloody (or rather, unbloody) scene.

A shame, because with some in your face brutality, this could have been the exception that proves my IMDb rule.

This is a perfect little movie in its way, succeeding as a voyeuristic experience from start to finish with just the right balance of banality, surprise, horror, disgust and curiosity-arousal & satisfaction. Like watching the seamier part of life through a perpetual keyhole. The art is in the actors & director never giving the appearance of "artfulness". Bravo!!!

This is a very strong entry in the serial killer genre. Robert A. Burns portrayal of Daniel Ray Hawkins (a very thinly veiled character based on the notorious serial killer, Henry Lee Lucas), is disturbingly low-key and realistic. The film itself has a gritty, dirty feel that also adds to the realism. The acts of violence are suitably brutal but lack any real gore, which really doesn't deter from the film at all. CONFESSIONS plays out more like a case study than a "horror" film. Those seeking blood and guts may want to look elsewhere, but if you are looking for a good psychological scare, this may be the one for you. Definitely not for the casual horror goer, this film may be disturbing to those who enjoy mainstream horror fare. Every bit as good as the more popular HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER (also a great film). Highly recommended 8/10

This movie isn't kidding. That's why so many comments are hostile to the extreme. The late Robert A. Burns plays the serial killer who's confessing, and he's unforgettable. It's one of those performances that really get you because there's no pretense in his acting. Burns plays a guy who, on the surface, seems pretty ineffectual: polite, soft spoken, and when dealing with the police, always upbeat and gentle. But when the seasoned sheriff starts to interrogate our friend, this soft spoken fellow never breaks a sweat nor raises the tone or timber of his voice as he tells of one murder after another after another. I know of no other actor who has so vividly created this kind of sociopath on the screen before. Burns never plays it up. Rather, the contradictions he seamlessly illustrates in this character continually draw us into his horrible world. That's why all these folks have written negative, hostile comments. Burns gets to you in a way that's profoundly unsettling. You can't take you eyes off him. The film itself takes the approach that the world exists to provide killers like this with toys to play with. It relentlessly positions the viewer in the center of the sociopath's experience, creating a world that defies civilized restraint, tenderness of any kind, and replaces all with a cold and casual cruelty. This is a film that reeks of endgame; God is dead and the beasts rely on instinct and the smell of blood to survive. Not a pleasant film, for sure, but in it's own right a kind of classic because it fulfills its goals without generalizing or in anyway trumping up its dark, relentless vision into something like Jason and Freddy, a faceless cartoon. This movie haunts one because the terror it illustrates comes from a very real and very recognizable human being. Terror is a man. Burns is extraordinary, and so is the film.