Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer will make the typical teenage fan of Freddy or Jason s*** their pants. Or maybe not. Maybe this might actually, when it's not ratcheting up the precisely random violence and kills, bore some of the younger audience looking for stupid characters doing stupid things and getting killed by a bogeyman. Henry, based on real life serial killer Henry Lee Lucas, wasn't a bogeyman. He was more like your friend who is usually bored every other night and goes out to do something. But that something, instead of like going to a bar or a movie or a show, is killing people, whomever, as long as it's not too obvious (never using a gun twice, and proper disposal of bodies, is some advice given by Henry), with a hapless dumb-ass, Otis, usually in tow.
What makes it so unnerving is how McNaughton chooses to just show his protagonist doing these things, without passing any judgment exactly. Perhaps some did think judgment was passed somehow, or that the controversy came from just showing a killer as is, and without proper law and order about (a cop car shows up literally once, for a goof). It's a downright sad and vicious bastard of a movie, showing the primitive horrorshow of, say, the massacre of the wife, husband and child, as seen through the staggering hand-held vision of the camcorder that Henry is operating while he and Otis do the slaughter. And yet for all the horrible things they do- and, arguably, Otis does worse ultimately, if only by way of Becky- they're never shown as caricatures, or as supernatural creatures. They're just killers, doing it for the hell of it, or, perhaps as reason Henry gives, 'do it before they do it to you' (this also goes for defenseless hookers).
It might not be entirely a great movie - it's shot roughly and some of the editing is crude and the use of music and sound effects (yes, sound effects) is cheesy and a little laughable, not to mention the shoe-string special effects and make-up - but it's got great things about it, memorable notes to take. Tom Towles is excellent as a downright creep of a human being, while Michael Rooker does perfectly as a tortured soul who, as Henry, just does what he does, though at the same time was, at one point, a victim himself from his mother (who, apparently, he also killed). Some vulnerability is found with the Becky character, though Arnold' performance is just passable.
What makes the movie for me is Rooker's hold on the character, so dark and deep and scary that you can feel your skin crawl knowing he could just snap at any moment (albeit not as awful as Otis, in a weird way), and McNaughton's lack of easy answers - certainly not with the ending, which is equally bizarre and chilling. A minor cult item to take note of: it's the kind of movie I always saw on the video shelf in the horror section as a kid, looking dangerous with Rooker leering at the mirror and a warning on the video box. Now I know why.
