THE STORY – A motorway patrol officer sets out to find the man responsible for the brutal murder of her husband. Her quest leads her to a sadistic serial killer whose mental depravity and sinister agenda are more twisted than anyone could have ever imagined.
THE CAST – Georgina Campbell, James Preston Rogers & Malcolm McDowell
THE TEAM – Gavin Polone (Director) & Andrew Kevin Walker (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 91 Minutes
Something desperately missing from the theatrical horror landscape is low-budget schlock. In the latter third of the 20th century, such gloriously tacky, subversive, and even juvenile scary movies were common, and have a word-of-mouth legacy to this day thanks to the wonderfully depraved sickos that serve as the bedrock of the horror community. Perhaps the closest thing movie theaters have gotten recently is the “Terrifier” series, but it has an epic scale and an even more epic box-office performance, which most mainstream films would envy. Sure, streaming services may be stuffed with stupid, scary films made on a shoestring budget, but nothing beats watching some truly gnarly shit with a crowd. “Psycho Killer” would’ve undoubtedly benefitted from more limitations, which may seem like an odd observation, but any true horror fan knows that restrictions and restraints often lead to more creativity in filmmaking. But alas, because this is 2026 and this lane of theatrical release no longer exists, “Psycho Killer” has an inflated budget, all the sheen of modern prestige horror, and absolutely zero scares.
As our story begins, the titular killer (James Preston Rogers) is in the middle of a spree that has left a bloody trail of corpses across the American West. We’re first introduced to him in his car, his face hidden from the audience (as it will be the entire movie, just like all the best on-screen murderers). After being tailed by a state trooper named Mike (Stephen Adekolu), the killer pulls over and shoots him in the face. All of this is witnessed by Mike’s wife, Jane (Georgina Campbell), a fellow trooper on highway patrol. The killer gets away, and it’s not long before the police connect the dots and recognize him as the serial killer known as the Satanic Slasher. Forced to go on leave from her job, the grieving Jane is unable to sit and wait for her husband’s murderer to be caught. Instead, she sets out on a vigilante investigation, doing her best to track the killer across state lines, hoping to crack the mystery of his motivation and bring him to justice herself.
Every slasher movie needs a singular, instantly recognizable villain at its center. Director Gavin Polone attempts to do just that with the killer’s styling and presentation, which is admittedly striking. He has long, greasy hair and a penchant for wearing a strange face covering that looks sort of like a gas mask without the trademark protruding filters (or, to be less charitable, it’s a rip-off of Bane’s mask from “The Dark Knight Rises”). The 6’5” and totally yoked Rogers also brings an instantly intimidating physical presence to the character. Unfortunately, the killer’s voice is so absurdly deep (and obviously ADR’d) that he comes off much more comical than anyone involved in the film certainly intended. He’s something like a cross between Darth Vader and the Zodiac killer, only much less exciting than that description makes him out to be. Leading lady Campbell continues her horror movie streak after her recent turns in “Barbarian” and “The Watchers.” She has an effective natural screen presence, but her character is as one-dimensional as they come. She’s a Diet Clarice Starling, and we’re not even talking Jodie Foster, we’re talking Julianne Moore. Campbell’s talents aren’t enough to make Jane a compelling central figure.
The laughably simple title doesn’t indicate a level of irony one might expect from such an obvious name. Instead, it feels like a placeholder that never got revised. Indeed, so much of the film feels just as basic in its choices and execution. As can be guessed by his nickname, the Satanic Slasher has a fondness for the Prince of Darkness, which he shows through the vaguely ominous messages and symbols he leaves for the police, written in his victims’ blood. The film fails to approach this hackneyed motivation from a new angle, instead rehashing the same tired fears and motivations that most horror storytellers left behind in the Satanic Panic. Drawn to the set by what must’ve been a handsome paycheck, Malcolm McDowell eventually shows up to lead a group of Satanists in a ritualistic orgy, carried out with absolutely no fresh approach or perspective. Instead, such details only make the film feel horribly dated or as if it were assembled by someone new to the scene and unaware of all that has come before. But that’s absolutely not the case here; the screenplay is by Andrew Kevin Walker, most famous for writing “Seven.” In other words, he should know better.
Again, if such storytelling beats were found in something with lower aspirations and lesser resources, it could be seen as charming in a throwback kind of way. But instead, every element of the film would be more at home in a film with more original intentions. Magnus Jønck’s cinematography, for example, is slick and well-composed (the opening shots make excellent use of the killer’s reflective sunglasses and car mirrors), and the performances are nearly all underplayed in what feels like an attempt to keep the film grounded. Even the CGI blood makes the movie feel overproduced. It may seem strange to wish that a film were executed with less polish, but this would’ve at least given “Psycho Killer” a grotesquely charming personality. Instead, it’s an unremarkable and totally forgettable slasher film that likely won’t be resuscitated by even the most deep-digging horror enthusiasts. Instead, scary movie nerds are likely to quote Talking Heads when “Psycho Killer” is brought up in the future, with a simple “qu’est-ce que c’est?”
