Review for Henry: Portrait Of A Serial Killer

Henry: Portrait Of A Serial Killer

Special Edition

Dir: John McNaughton(1986)

"Look at the World.it's either you.or them.."


John McNaughton shot his debut picture, Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer in 1986. Not seen until four years later, the horrific film seared across the screen, astounding a generation of viewers with it's brutal force and sickening realism.

The film is loosely based upon American, Henry Lee Lucas, born in 1936 and convicted of 11 murders. He was dubbed "The Confession Killer" following his arrest in 1983, after which he confessed to hundreds of murders. At the time of his death in 2001, he was awaiting the death penalty, although doubt remains over the accuracy of the police work involved in the murders he was convicted for. Most believe he is not responsible for the entire 600 that he claims to have slaughtered. Apparently, at one point, 350 was the number considered to be credible, but even this has since been evaluated as untrue.

Despite the true-to-life background, until this point, Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer does not seem to have quite acquired the same familiarity with house-hold audiences that subsequent serial killer entries have garnered. The film was overshadowed when The Silence of the Lambs exploded onto screens in 1990, marking the genre as a potential audience favourite, and again in 1995 when the genre became trendy thanks to David Fincher's astounding film, Seven.

Perhaps part of the problem is the censorship history the film has endured, certainly in the UK. The movie's completion was initially delayed for several years thanks to a combination of budget problems, and the likelihood of censorship problems in the US. In the UK, it endured cuts for the cinema, and a genuine butchering at the hands of BBFC lug-head James Ferman, upon it's home video release. Such cack-handed censorship did little to endear subsequent VHS releases to horror fanatics. Yes it's a film with a strong reputation amongst genre aficionados, and it did cultivate extremely positive mainstream reviews, but the low-budget, and inconsistent releases enabled it too all too often appear obscure and elusive.

An attempt to carve Henry back into a wider audience psyche is therefore long overdue, and an uncut Blu-ray release from Studio Canal could not be more welcome.

Michael Rooker plays Henry, an ex-con who is taken in by old friend Otis (Tom Towles), an uncouth redneck who lives with his younger sister Becky (Tracy Arnold). Becky has arrived at Otis' hoping to make some quick cash in the big city for her young daughter. Living in Chicago, Henry's pathologically disturbed lust for murder blossoms, and as he leaves a trail of bodies, he integrates Otis into his way of life. Attracted to Henry, Becky is clearly equally as troubled as her two well, guardians, and does not recoil in horror upon the revelation that Henry murdered his mom. Instead, it seems to increase the sexual tension. Otis proves to be a willing follower of Henry, but while Henry's trail is defined by cold, controlled, detachment, Otis is reckless, fuelled by obscene sexual desire. Otis' perversion and Henry's professional approach to his rampage creates a combustible dynamic that threatens to unravel at any time. It is a brutal, uncompromising, and terrifying depiction of life at it's lowest depths.

The key ingredient behind Henry's success is the chilling lead performance of Michael Rooker. He is truly stunning throughout. Cold, menacing stares from Rooker haunt the picture. Talking about the death of his mother, Henry tells two different versions within the same story, hinting towards an unsettled past. At no point does Rooker waiver. Largely left to his own devises by McNaughton, who allowed him to fill in the details of his performance himself, he is an unwavering portrait. The other key members of the cast though, Tom Towles, and Tracy Arnold are equally as impressive, particularly Towles' toothy, low-life turn. But give the film's downbeat tone, and documentary realism, the performances are not the only facet of the piece that are compelling.

One of the most attention grabbing aspects of the film is the arresting, pounding soundtrack, which emphasises the dread and underlines the rough, edgy tone of the material. Henry though is visually just as grubby, and just as harsh. Victims are depicted after the act, in nauseating little dioramas that magnify without exploiting. Revealing the bodies in this manner really benefits the film's documentary-like aesthetic. The closest relative I can imagine, is the early work of Abel Ferrara, though his later, Bad Lieutenant certainly conveys a similar mood. The scene that adorns the majority of press material and posters for the film, shows Rooker staring into a mirror, seemingly into his own vacant eyes. It's certainly a moment right up there with Robert DeNiro's Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver in terms of being both memorable, and frightening.

Most disturbing of all though, is the vile scene in which Henry and Otis butcher an entire family. Depicted entirely through the video they filmed on their camcorder, it's an intensely disturbing sequence. Henry murders the son whiles Otis restrains his mother, who struggles, crying. In the aftermath, the deranged Otis molests the breasts of the dead woman. This is all shown to us as Henry and Otis view the footage back for the first time, with Otis in particular being fascinating with the event. This has obviously proved to be the instance in the film that has troubled the censor most, and it's an obvious one. However, cutting it in order to make it more palatable and therefore, acceptable, is surely more morally repugnant than showing is an odious act that makes us feel as we should towards it: utterly ashamed. Henry's causal viewing of the slaughter, and calculating, clinical descriptions to Otis as to how one successfully kills and gets away with it, are also uniquely unsettling.

Only a brief moment featuring a poor special effect of a stabbing in an eye is a let-down, and in fact… an unnecessary one. In general though, Henry is nowhere nearly as violent a film as the censorship debate over it would suggest. Much like the earlier Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the implication is so unnerving, and the results are depicted so unflinchingly that one associates more visceral material with the film, than actually exists. And much like the later Man Bites Dog, Henry operates as a commentary on violence itself. Henry is a horrible, repressible protagonist, but he's composed and assured, compared to those whom he encounters. They're portrayed as genuine low-lives. Deplorable hicks like Otis, a foul-mouthed, overweight beast of a TV salesman. Henry is almost as sympathetic as these specks of humanity, even though in the this world, nobody is truly deserving of empathy, least of all our lead. There is no redemption for these people, least of all Henry, a man so twisted by this upbringing that is lost in his own sickness. The VHS family massacre scene is stunning, a voyeuristic nightmare, cleverly placing the viewer in the midst of a genuinely upsetting moment, even if it is one that isn't even graphically extreme. Like much of the film, the makers force the viewer to engage with the actions of the killers on a level to which we are not comfortable with. Henry is a movie that removes the fantasy, withdraws the excitement, and presents a pure sense of horror and dread.

But that's the secret behind the power of Henry, it's raw, emotional cinema at it's very best. This isn't an entertaining picture, it is as far from Hollywood as filmmaking can get and the most unflinching, challenging movie to be made about violence since Cannibal Holocaust.

Underneath the twisted, repulsive surface though, the real horror lies- that Henry is based on reality.

For their new double play disc, Studio Canal have seen fit to include an enormous assortment of extra features. Portrait of a Serial Killer: The Making of Henry, is a cracking retrospective Making of documentary, that runs for nearly an hour. Bringing together the key players, it's a fascinating look at McNaughton's thought process, and the general ineptitude with the process at times of how the film was handled. Informative and entertaining, this is a prime example of what a "making of" feature should look like.

The Serial Killers: Henry Lee Lucas, is a short but detailed TV documentary about the real-life killer and feels like a much needed addition to the set. An Interview with John McNaughton meanwhile, is a thirty minute feature that treads the same ground as much of the documentary, piece, but still provides enough titbits to make it worthwhile. John McNaughton is also featured in a conversation with Nigel Floyd. This is an intriguing interview from the previous DVD release by Floyd that veers mainly into talk of the UK release problems, censorship, and other contemporary efforts. This is pretty fascinating stuff if similar to the main interview with the director.

A Discussion of BBFC cut scenes between McNaughton and Nigel Floyd is a really clever manner in which to look at the issue of censorship. Floyd poses a well-informed series of questions, while McNaughton adds insight, without getting bogged down by simply speaking over a series of images.

Deleted Scenes with McNaughton commentary add to the fascinating depth of bonus material, while we're also treated to the usual batch of Stills, Storyboards, Trailers, and an informative Director's Commentary track.

The image is of high a standard as one could expect from a film twenty-five years old, and made for an incredibly restrictive budget of just over $100,000. The Blu-ray transfer is cropped into a 1.33:1 ratio, complete with window-box, however the image is much clearer than in previous versions, particularly for those of us who first encountered the film in shoddy VHS prints.
John McNaughton's debut is a quintessential modern serial killer picture. It's a stark, ugly, and unglamorous depiction of an uncompromising individual. Impressively, it has not aged, despite the passing of time, and it's gritty realism remains fresh and as powerful as ever. Furthermore, this new Double-Play release is a fine package and one for which such a great movie is truly deserving.
Unquestionably, Henry remains amongst the greatest character studies of our time committed to film.