Angry, deranged kid is paroled after serving two years in prison for taking part in a gang-rape; he returns home to his mother's boarding house in a cheaper section of Los Angeles but, with no plans (and no prodding from his gimme-a-little-kiss mommy), he goes after the women who did him wrong. Grimy, ineffectual Curtis Harrington-directed shocker, with a lame-duck screenplay credited to Tony Crechales and co-producer George Edwards. The plot cobbles together various ideas and scenes from a myriad of other thrillers (with a failed overlay of Hitchcock, besides), and the stray cruelty and general bad taste are often excruciating to wade through. Veteran actress Ann Sothern and the newcomers in the cast can possibly be forgiven, but what was Harrington's excuse? After jump-starting his career behind the camera with interesting curios, Harrington got stuck in a kind of post-"Baby Jane" rut, concentrating primarily on stories of delusional bottom-feeders operating on little money or brains; his sense of squalid atmospherics are far stronger than his talent in handling actors. A young John Savage is blobby and unformed in the leading role, while his character goes after female acquaintances without a provocative plan--he just seems restless and trapped by mama. Harrington must have known this script was a loser, injecting arty accouterments into the stew (slow-motion takes, flashback edits, and a really silly dream sequence). It doesn't work at all, and the movie failed to find the proper distribution after Universal passed. *1/2 from ****
Review of The Killing Kind
