The story of “Henry: Portrait Of A Serial Killer” is one of cinema lore. Originally filmed in 1985, the picture was shelved after being screened to underwhelmed producers who had asked director John McNaughton for a straight up horror flick. However, McNaughton and co. got the picture into a handful of festivals where the praise rang loud enough to prompt a small release, despite the X rating ‘Henry’ was slapped with (Roger Ebert notably loved it). The rest is cult-classic history (it even made our recent 25 best horror films of the 1980s). Now, ‘Henry’ is getting the 30th anniversary treatment, which begs the questions: how well has the once-shocking film aged? And what do we make of such a film now that Hollywood has embraced such aberrant, senseless carnage?
On the surface, ‘Henry’ is a simple film. The narrative is stripped down, at times lacking direction and overt tension, but managing to be boldly bare bones. ‘Henry’ opens in the footsteps of the titular killer (a career launching turn from Michael Rooker), juxtaposing his seemingly carefree travels with a string of dead bodies, each brutally murdered in a different way. Eventually Henry lands at the apartment of his drug-dealing friend Otis (Tom Towles), who he met in prison. Henry locks down some sporadic work and Otis sells pot to teenagers while working at a gas station, and for a moment their lives seem almost normal.
The peaceful balance of their situation is soon thrown by the arrival of Otis’ younger sister Becky (Tracy Arnold), who is fleeing an abusive husband. Becky quickly becomes the source of unvoiced tension in the house as she takes a liking to Henry, even after being told he murdered his mother with a baseball bat. Things fully go off the rails, though, when Henry and Otis hit the town and pick up a pair of prostitutes to blow off steam. When Henry, who can’t seem to help himself, kills one of the women, Otis panics and aids in the killing of the other.
The killings awaken something in Otis, and at Henry’s urging, Otis kills again, this time completely at random. From there they spiral, feeding off of each other, sometimes lashing out in anger, and sometimes spontaneously attacking. Things peak, though, when they film one another murdering a whole family — a scene that still holds its utter power to shock. Which is part of the allure of ‘Henry;’ it’s a film that manages to surprise at each turn, even when you think you know what’ll happen next. Henry, chillingly, has no modus operandi, he has no guiding principle, he doesn’t even seem to have much rage. He kills to kill, and kills so that he can kill again in the future. It’s what makes ‘Henry’ the cult classic that it is.
In other respects though, the film is far from perfect. The plot, as noted, leaves far too much sagging in the middle. Certain innocuous moments do a good job of contrasting the awful things Henry does with his capacity to be a normal, conversant person. But other scenes tip toward the dull. However, the true challenge for first time viewers will likely be with Robert McNaughton’s score, which modulates wildly against the subtle, deftly acted changes in Henry’s emotions. Long before we might otherwise know Henry is on the verge of killing, we’re telegraphed the tonal shift with a sharp musical whack over the head. It doesn’t deflate the movie or take away from the visual trauma, but it does undercut the tension at a few crucial moments.
But where the score is painfully obvious, the three central performances are wonderfully nuanced. Rooker skillfully handles the complex work of portraying a truly terrible man with traces of empathy and sincere emotion. It’s Towles, though, who more or less steals the show by believably morphing Otis into a vile monster, pushing so far that, near the end, the film almost asks Henry to be seen as the hero. Arnold, despite working with the walking cliche that is Becky, holds her own against the central duo, instilling her with a believable vulnerability and an earnest desire to be loved.
All in all, “Henry: Portrait Of A Serial Killer” still manages to pack a punch. It’s arguably still as shocking as it set out to be, and for all its dated ’80s aesthetic, it’s deeply disturbing and unnervingly complex. ‘Henry’ is certainly not a film for the faint of heart, but those seeking a truly upsetting Halloween scare will not be let down, if only, like Henry, they can cut through the fat. [B-]
