Diving into "Carl Panzram: The Spirit of Hatred and Vengeance" with the expectation of uncovering the dark, complex layers of one of history's most infamous criminals, I instead found myself lost in a sea of cinematic despair. This documentary manages the remarkable feat of making a story about a notorious murderer and anarchist about as engaging as watching paint dry - and at least the paint has the common decency to change color. From the monotonous voiceovers that sound like they were recorded in a janitor's closet to the bewildering decision to use reenactments that wouldn't look out of place in a high school drama class, the film leaves much to be desired.
The narrative flow of the documentary is as erratic as Panzram's own criminal career, but without any of the intrigue. It zigzags through time and space with little regard for coherence or the viewer's sanity, leaving one to wonder if the editor was using a dartboard to decide the sequence of scenes. The filmmakers attempt to humanize Panzram, but the execution is so ham-fisted that it inadvertently turns him into a caricature. Imagine trying to paint a nuanced portrait of a deeply troubled soul but your only brush is a sledgehammer - that's the level of subtlety we're working with here.
In what could only be described as an act of sheer defiance against the concept of entertainment, "Carl Panzram: The Spirit of Hatred and Vengeance" turns a fascinating subject into a test of endurance. The documentary's only saving grace is that it serves as a cautionary tale about the perils of amateur filmmaking. By the time the credits mercifully roll, you'll find yourself filled with a spirit of hatred and vengeance - not against Panzram, but against the film itself for robbing you of precious time that could have been spent doing literally anything else. In conclusion, this documentary is a cinematic crime, albeit one that sadly won't be featured in any thrilling retellings.
