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Reds and monsters
Kathy Hofmeyr
Posted Fri, 10 Aug 2007
What is it about serial killers? They capture the public imagination with such ferocity and mesmeric wonder — more so than just about any other monster does. It’s not merely a macabre fascination, that rubber-necking trance-like state one experiences when driving past a car crash; some people actually admire these psychopaths. There are fansites, conventions, online debates as to which serial killer is the coolest; women write love letters to killers in prison they’ve never met.
But the purpose of this column isn’t to wax speculative on the popularity of serial killers.
As far as I can see, serial killer movies fall roughly into three types: firstly, there’s the slasher pic, which focuses mostly on the oversexed teenage victims of a stalking killer whose identity is (usually) revealed at the very end. Second, there’s the serial killer exploito-pseudo-biopic, usually bearing a known serial killer’s name as its title (‘Ted Bundy’, ‘Ed Gein’ and ‘Dahmer’, to name just three) and focusing squarely on the crimes from the killer’s point of view.
The third type is the forensic thriller — these are typically classier films with back stories, plausible characters and psychological twists which focus on the detectives out to catch the vicious murderer, or on the intricate psychological backgrounds of the killers themselves. Perhaps the two best known and most admired examples are Jonathan Demme’s ‘The Silence of the Lambs’ and David Fincher’s ‘Seven’ and 'Zodiac', but other worthwhile films in the sub-genre include Hitchcock’s timeless ‘Psycho’, Michael Powell’s extraordinary (but career-destroying) ‘Peeping Tom’ and Richard Fleischer’s classic ‘10 Rillington Place’.
A little-known but truly wonderful film that fits into this category is Chris Gerolmo’s ‘Citizen X’ (1995). There is a tendency amongst connoisseurs to sneer at the made-for-TV film market, but with the advent of HBO, this is no longer the case — except among real snobs. HBO has given us not only terrific television from ‘The Sopranos’ to ‘Six Feet Under’, but a veritable library of excellent movies. If you haven’t seen ‘Winchell’ (starring Stanley Tucci as the McCarthy-era radio columnist) or ‘RKO 281’ (a star-studded take on the making of ‘Citizen Kane’ and, to the average viewer, far more engaging than the film whose story it tells), you don’t now what you’re missing.
‘Citizen X’ is the story of the “Rostov Ripper” or “Red Ripper”, Andrei Chikatilo. It stars Stephen Rea (‘The Crying Game’, ‘V for Vendetta’) and Donald Sutherland, supported by Joss Ackland, Max von Sydow and the ever-impressive Imelda Staunton. Rea plays Viktor Burakov, a run-off-his-feet forensic investigator in the criminally under-equipped Communist-era facilities in Russia. One evening a body is discovered and the local police grudgingly return to the site to look for any evidence. Within three hours the bodies of eight children are found, in varying states of decomposition.
Kathy would like to be remembered as a best-selling author, a little-known blues singer and perhaps someone’s favourite aunt. She is the Senior Copy Editor for FHM and lives in Jo’burg with her dogs, three pure-bred mongrels named Harpo, Buffy and Guinness.
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Burakov approaches the committee heading the Department of Especially Serious Crimes to request extra manpower, equipment and access to the FBI’s databases and experts in Quantico, having reached the (one would think) indisputable conclusion that a serial killer is on the loose. The Committee, however, refuse to accept such an explanation on the basis that serial killers are a “decadent, western phenomenon”.
The film poses the question of who exactly the monster is in this scenario — the serial killer himself who has raped and murdered at least 53 people, most of them children, from 1978 to 1990; or the staggering bureaucracy that will not acknowledge his existence, using the killings instead as an excuse to persecute those who do not toe the party line, such as free thinkers and homosexuals?
It is a deeply affecting film, but for all that it is also remarkably witty and quite charming. One would think it bizarre, even perverse, to find comedy in a situation such as this, and yet one has to laugh out loud at times, so taut and clever is the dialogue.
The bulk of the comedy arises from the friction between the two central characters: Burakov (Rea) and his superior, Colonel Fetisov (Sutherland). Fetisov is a consummate diplomat; infuriatingly, denture-grindingly calm — almost languid — willing to flatter and endure in order to get what he wants. By contrast, Burakov is a passionate criminalist who recognises that in such a case every hour counts — so as time is fruitlessly wasted and the bodies pile up, the situation frustrates him to the point of utter distraction.
The differences between these two men, who, despite sharing a vital goal, have such diametrically opposite methods of achieving it, are the source of much of the script’s effervescence.
Unfortunately, having the death-knell description “made for TV” attached to it has done little to boost this film’s popularity among the sort of audience it deserves. The tagline, “You don’t know what he does. You just want to know when he’s caught” does it no justice whatsoever and, coupled with the poster, which depicts a little girl reflected in a butcher’s knife, suggests a slasher film — which ‘Citizen X’ most definitely is not.
There is no masked villain a la ‘Scream’ or ‘Halloween’ here. Chikatilo is a man, not a demon or a mad scientist. There’s no illicit sex; no witless, pithy commentary provided by a minor character; no running-screaming-burning scenes or bloody showdowns.
While there are a few scanty, graphic murder scenes, these focus more on the killer as object, not the victim. The sense is of tragedy, not of thrill. ‘Citizen X’ even focuses on Chikatilo as a man, painting an empathetic if brief portrait of a man driven to kill by severe psychological defect and a hellish life under the crueller elements of institutionalised Communism. He is by no means a pleasant character, but he inspires in the viewer more pity and revulsion than fear.
In fact, the least likeable and most sinister character in the film is not Chikatilo but Bondarchuk, played with icy precision by veteran Brit Joss Ackland. Bondarchuk is the very soul of corruption, a man who has elevated hypocrisy and self-interest to an art form, the type of person for whom a highly regulated and top-heavy system of power like Communism is the ideal environment in which to exploit the weak and plunder the less fortunate, turning every situation to his advantage.
The cast is completed by the inimitable Max von Sydow, better known as Father Lankester “The power of Christ compels you” Merrin in William Friedkin’s bone-chilling ‘The Exorcist’. Von Sydow plays psychiatrist Dr Buchanovsky, whom Burakov asks to draw up a profile of the elusive Citizen X, which ultimately leads to the capture of Chikatilo. If anything, the film’s greatest flaw lies in the brevity of this character’s screen-time. Von Sydow plays him with such tender gentility and benevolent humour that one wishes for another hour of his presence.
In all, ‘Citizen X’ is a superb film. It is beautiful, intelligent and deeply moving, informative, powerfully acted and perfectly paced. Never stooping to the bald-faced conventions of either Hollywood or B-grade horror, it is an elegant thriller featuring two lead characters with whom you will fall, unavoidably, in love.
