Blu-Ray Review: ‘Henry’ Remains an Indelible ‘Portrait’ of a Sociopath

CHICAGO – Twenty-three years after it was made, and nineteen years after its limited theatrical release, “Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer” is as potent and relevant as ever. Filmmaker John McNaughton, along with writing partner Richard Fire, proved that true horror is found not in manufactured scares that jolt the audience like a theme park ride, but in the corrupted mind and soul of an evil being. The film truly is a human “portrait,” since it is more interested in behavior than plot. McNaughton used the true story of a Texas killer named Henry as his inspiration for this masterwork, which still stands as one of the finest and most unsettling independent films ever made.

Blu-Ray Rating: 4.5/5.0

There are definite echoes of “Psycho” in the film’s unforgettable opening sequence, where the camera focuses on Henry’s recent victims with a quiet horror that evokes memories of Marion Crane’s lifeless body draped over the tub. Sounds of the murders echo over the footage, which is intercut with Henry himself, behind the wheel and always on the move. He’s played by Michael Rooker in a performance that easily ranks alongside the great screen sociopaths, from Michael Madsen to Javier Bardem.

Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer was released on Blu-Ray on September 29th, 2009.
Photo credit: MPI Home Video

Much of the film’s power comes from its three central performances. Tom Towles, looking like a young Sid Haig, emits ghoulish sleaze as ex-con Otis, who shares his Chicago apartment with Henry. When Otis’s sister Becky (Tracy Arnold) moves in, the simmering tensions between the unstable trio begin to threaten an inevitable eruption. Rooker and Arnold have a mesmerizing scene together as they come clean about their unhappy backstories. Arnold is heartbreakingly empathetic, while Rooker is coldly calculating, speaking in a grizzled murmur that conceals his inner rage. Yet the glimmers of concern he shows for Becky, while protecting her from the abusive Otis, makes her all the more attracted to him.

Henry gradually draws Otis into his random murder sprees, which they eventually videotape in a scene of uncompromising brutality. This leads to a brilliant moment in which the partners in crime watch the footage from the comfort of their couch, while freezing the film frame by frame. For a generation raised on multimedia narcissism, the moment is chillingly timely, while also highlighting the intrinsic voyeurism of the cinematic medium (as “Rear Window” and “Peeping Tom” previously did). The sociopaths watch the murder onscreen with the same detachment they felt while committing it.

Countless acclaimed indie hits, from “Pulp Fiction” to “Monster,” owe a lasting debt to “Henry.” Though the score is somewhat dated (and sounds heavily influenced by John Carpenter), the film is every bit as disturbing and provocative as it was in 1986. The Chicago locations dramatically flesh out an urban underbelly where no pedestrian is safe. Charlie Lieberman’s grainy cinematography lends the film the immediacy of a documentary, Elena Maganini’s editing is viscerally effective, and McNaughton’s direction is riveting in its attention to character nuance, and deeply unsettling in its objectivity. No filmmaker or film buff can afford to miss this galvanizing portrait.

“Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer” is presented in its original 1:33:1 aspect ration in a High Definition transfer that amplifies the eerie mundane beauty of its original 16mm film negatives. Special features include feature-length commentary from John McNaughton, deleted scenes and outtakes, original storyboards, still gallery, theatrical trailer and an extensive interview with McNaughton. There are also two superb documentaries: one chronicling the film’s production, the other profiling the real-life killer Henry Lee Lucas.

By MATT FAGERHOLM
Staff Writer
HollywoodChicago.com