Movie Review: The Clovehitch Killer (2018)

A suspense drama, The Clovehitch Killer brings the horrors of a serial killer mystery into a tight-knit family environment. The story tantalizes with provocative possibilities, but the resolution is compromised by a jumble of short-cuts.

In suburban Kentucky, 16 year old Tyler Burnside (Charlie Plummer) is growing up in a devout Christian household headed by his dad Don (Dylan McDermott), the local scout troop leader, and mom Cindy (Samantha Mathis). The family also cares for Don's brother Rudy, who is confined to a wheelchair. Years prior, a serial killer known as Clovehitch (for the distinctive knot used to tie up the victims) murdered 10 women in the community and was never caught. The killings stopped suddenly. 

Now Tyler stumbles upon bondage magazines stashed away by his dad, and a Polaroid photo linked to a Clovehitch victim. With no one to turn to, he eventually confides in schoolmate Kassi (Madisen Beaty), a non-religious misfit known for writing school reports about Clovehitch. Kassi initially does not believe Don could be the killer, but with Tyler making new discoveries pointing to his family's involvement, the tension mounts.

A teenager's gnawing doubt about the true identity of his father is turned into a simmering conundrum by director Duncan Skiles, working from a Christopher Ford script. Family secrets, religious fervour, community identity and the travails of adolescence merge into a dangerous puzzle, Skiles capturing small-town dynamics while demonstrating assured pacing and avoiding gimmickry, at least for the first two thirds.

The plot draws strength from a young man forced to start thinking independently. Evil may lurk anywhere, including behind the walls of church-going, Christ-loving, community-leading families raising their children according to strict moral codes. And precisely because Tyler is brought up in the tight confines of absolute rights-and-wrongs, finding the courage to question the identity of his father is a monumental emotional mountain.

In domestic terms, all hell breaks loose in an incongruous if still intriguing final act. Ford deploys one late-in-the-day not-bad narrative trick to innovatively fill in some of the blanks, but the ending stumbles and falls on too many ideas competing for attention, resulting in an unworthy, logic-riddled stalemate.

The performances are proficient, young Charlie Plummer navigating the ups and downs of creeping mistrust, Dylan McDermott a sturdy, potentially two-faced presence. The two actors complement each other well as the father-son bond starts to buckle, the veneer of normalcy suddenly brittle.



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Movie Review: Where Sleeping Dogs Lie (1991)

A bungled suspense thriller about a writer drawing inspiration from a spooky house, Where Sleeping Dogs Lie never finds the right tone and fades into dreary insignificance.

In Los Angeles, Bruce Simmons (Dylan McDermott) is a struggling and broke writer. His agent Serena Black (Sharon Stone) prods him to come up with something original to publish, but Bruce is drawing a blank. As a side job he is asked to help sell a long abandoned Hollywood mansion. But the recently evicted Bruce has a better idea: he takes up residence in the mansion to try and gain some inspiration.

He soon learns that an entire family was murdered in the house, and the crime was never solved. Bruce starts to write his book as the diary of the murderer. This excites Serena, who sees a potential best-seller, as long as the diary can be passed off as the true confession of the killer. To help pay the bills, Bruce welcomes the mysterious and tentative Eddie Hale (Tom Sizemore) as a roommate at the mansion. Gradually Eddie and Bruce become friends, and Eddie starts to contribute ideas for Bruce's book.

Directed by Charles Finch and co-written by Finch and Yolande Turner, Where Sleeping Dogs Lie is filled with derivative and incomplete ideas. The story is weak and very little ever actually happens. Bruce and Eddie are underdeveloped and consequently shallow characters, while Sharon Stone provides plenty of sizzle in her few scenes but her over-sexed, high-fashion book agent defies belief. Serena slumming with Bruce is an incongruous relationship that shines an unfortunate spotlight on a destitute script.

The attempts at moments of suspense are of the childish bumps-in-the-night, blood-on-the-wall variety, and the injection of a layer of religious-driven violence is never adequately explored. Even the supposed big reveal, which occurs way past the point of anyone caring, is yawn-inducing in its predictability. Dylan McDermott and Tom Sizemore struggle manfully against the limp material, but are crushed by the dominating ineptitude.

Where Sleeping Dogs Lie is no mystery: the answer is a dull, fetid corner.

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