I Am Not a Serial Killer

What sets I Am Not A Serial Killer apart from other takes on this “killers hunting killers” concept (Dexter, anyone?) is its naturalistic, character-based approach.

Intelligent, original and committed, it’s also a little meandering. But Records cuts a strikingly amoral figure, and the sight of Christopher Lloyd intoning poetry over dying embers reminds us what a wonderful actor he is.

Breathing new life into the overfamiliar terrain of the serial killer, Irish director Billy O’Brien here both successfully reintroduces Max Records to the world, and elicits Christopher Lloyd’s best performance in a long time. His film deserves cult classic status at the very least.

The icky, well-teased, nightmarish climax is visually stunning for a low-budget project, though perhaps a touch too straight-up strange for some.

The arbitrary value of life in I Am Not a Serial Killer makes its nature as an ostensibly character-driven mystery that much harder to swallow. Don't bother with this nonsensical time-waster.

The film comes unsettlingly close to being an apologia for the kind of violence that stems from adolescent disaffection.