Confessions of a Serial Killer – 1985, US, 89m. Director: Mark Blair.
Dawn of the Dead – 1978, Italy/US, 127m, 156m (extended cut). Director: George A. Romero.
Late Night with the Devil – 2024, US, 93m. Director: Cameron Cairnes, Colin Cairnes.
CONFESSIONS OF A SERIAL KILLER (1985) Daniel Ray Hawkins (Robert A. Burns) is a prolific killer driving through Texas. After slashing a woman’s throat on the side of the road, Daniel is captured by police, interrogated, and confesses to murdering over 200 victims. Daniel’s first is a prostitute he bludgeons to death after she turns him down for sex—this charming scene is followed by the requisite childhood trauma prologue, in which little Daniel is forced to watch his mother have sex with strange men. The majority of the film’s nonlinear flashbacks offers the viewer a possible account of real life murderer Henry Lee Lucas, who Confessions of a Serial Killer is modeled after. This is especially obvious when Moon Lewton (Dennis Hill), a gay hillbilly, participates in Daniel’s killing spree. Despite having been made and released a year before Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, Confessions of a Serial Killer has been unfairly criticized as a rip-off. It’s by no means a good movie and it lacks Henry‘s brutal intensity (as well as Michael Rooker’s charisma), but the film is undeniably well made and acted, and its depiction of violence is treated with a little more realism than your typical slasher flick—a sequence in which a teenager stumbles upon Daniel’s and Moon’s living quarters as they slice up a woman with a chainsaw is both suspenseful and horrific without being graphic. Not nearly as exploitative as the much-ballyhooed miniseries, Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story. B– (Currently streaming on Tubi.)
DAWN OF THE DEAD (1978) Civilization has collapsed in the weeks after the initial zombie outbreak in Night of the Living Dead (1968). The last remaining TV news stations are going off the air, with a Philadelphia-based network falling apart at the seams. One of the employees discovers the station was knowingly airing false information on local rescue shelters just to keep the panicked viewers tuned in and the ratings high—a darkly humorous bit, one of many that underlines George Romero’s partially satirical screenplay. In an effort to escape large cities, a quartet of people steal a helicopter and fly to a more secluded part of the country. The gang eventually comes upon a massive indoor shopping center, which becomes a haven of food and shelter once they secure the place from the walking dead. As time goes by, the survivors find the mall too ideal to leave, ultimately making the place their private “island paradise,” a self-contained bubble of false security and happiness. That is until a murderous society of bikers crashes the party. Replacing the nightmarish atmosphere of Night with more of a black humor vibe, Dawn of the Dead encapsulates Romero at his prime as a filmmaker. The script works as both a social commentary on consumerism as well as a colorful comic book adventure, mixing comedy and suspense extremely well—despite its two-hour run-time, the film is breathlessly paced and delivers almost nonstop action. Add to the pot well-written characters, Tom Savini’s trendsetting gore FX, and a pounding score by Dario Argento’s favorite rock band, Goblin, and you have one of the defining horror films of the 20th century. Followed by Day of the Dead and a remake. A+ (Currently not streaming.)
LATE NIGHT WITH THE DEVIL (2024) Seventies television personality Jack Delroy (David Dastmalchian) becomes a national celebrity with his quirky late night talk show but fails to garner Johnny Carson-like numbers. Taking time off after the untimely passing of his wife, Delroy plots his comeback by hosting a live 1977 Halloween Night special in which his guest, 13-year-old Lilly (Ingrid Torelli), is the sole survivor of a demonic cult that kidnapped children and committed mass suicide. The less you know about the plot the better, which makes it all the more disappointing to discover the filmmakers spilling nearly whole story details within the film’s brief prologue. The TV-show-within-the-film angle gives Late Night with the Devil an authentic and fun vibe, yet whenever the Jack Delroy show (named Night Owls) cuts to commercial, the actual movie switches gears (too often—perhaps to pad out the running time) by offering behind-the-scenes exposition that viewers could have easily assessed themselves. An enjoyable but ultimately missed opportunity. C+ (Currently streaming on Shudder.)