I'm in a good mood, so I gave this a 5. If this gotten into the hands of a strong screenwriter, that score would have doubled.
We start with the standard teenagers in lovers' lane. Blood, guts, you've seen it all before.
The setting is a small town in Illinois, population between 500 and 500,000. Since we never get a sense of the town, we don't get a sense of what binds the characters together. It seems that pretty well everyone knows everyone else.
One of the victims was the brother of a Sheriff's Deputy. Charlie has Father Issues: dad was prouder of his younger son, now deceased, and Charlie feels that he's been a disappointment to his dad, Bill.
A detective begins investigating the crime. The detective is a young woman who looks to be about 19 years old. we don't know what law enforcement agency she's affiliated with. She shows up with a badge and a partner, introducing herself as Detective Rodgers. That doesn't help.
Eventually the script stumbles into William Inge territory. This is a Small Town with a Secret. Before he got married, Charlie's dad (now a widower) was involved with Mary Burns, a local tart (played in the third act by Scream Queen Linnea Quigley, now 52 years old). He got Mary pregnant. She had the baby and left town and hasn't been seen since. It turns out that Charlie is her son.
OK. Bill shows up with a baby boy. Mom goes ahead and marries Bill, raises Charlie as her own, gives birth to another boy, nobody in town questions where the bonus son came from. Uh, I'm from a small town. Ain't gonna happen.
But I digress. Bodies continue to pile up. Charlie is a suspect, but it can't be him. But there's such a shortage of other suspects that there's nobody else (the detective? the sheriff?) to suspect.
Then the cardinal rule of mystery writing is broken. Yea, shattered. A very major character is clumsily introduced in the third act.
We find that Mary Burns is out of the mental hospital, and she has a friend with her, B-movie veteran Robert Z'Dar (fondly remembered from MANIAC COP). Playing The Man (it's too much trouble to give a brand new character a name) he's been the killer all along.
The plot is whipped into some semblance of order at the end. Charlie's dad and the sheriff are killed by The Man, Charlie is wounded, the detective is unconscious but manages to kill The Man first, and Mary wanders into the night just before the police get to the house.
In a peculiar and very limp coda Charlie puts his dad's house up for sale, says goodbye to the detective, and drives away.
These are not bad actors. They're actors working with substandard material. Performances are primarily at a level I'd call pretty good for community theater, but this isn't the stage at the American Legion hall.
Film is a very unforgiving medium. Houses are houses. Cars are cars. Bars are bars. Motel rooms are motel rooms. This isn't an actor in ROMEO AND JULIET announcing "This is Verona," and our imaginations filling in the rest. Realistic settings call for realistic performances.
These very same actors might have delivered compelling performances if the material had been shaped by stronger hands. But as is, this is a interesting Amateur Night that should have been much better.
These are young actors. I wish them all the very best, and would urge them to do as much stage work as possible so as to have the experience of working with really strong material.
Better luck next time, guys.
THE ROCKVILLE SLAYER is definitely worth watching, but don't expect too much for it.
We start with the standard teenagers in lovers' lane. Blood, guts, you've seen it all before.
The setting is a small town in Illinois, population between 500 and 500,000. Since we never get a sense of the town, we don't get a sense of what binds the characters together. It seems that pretty well everyone knows everyone else.
One of the victims was the brother of a Sheriff's Deputy. Charlie has Father Issues: dad was prouder of his younger son, now deceased, and Charlie feels that he's been a disappointment to his dad, Bill.
A detective begins investigating the crime. The detective is a young woman who looks to be about 19 years old. we don't know what law enforcement agency she's affiliated with. She shows up with a badge and a partner, introducing herself as Detective Rodgers. That doesn't help.
Eventually the script stumbles into William Inge territory. This is a Small Town with a Secret. Before he got married, Charlie's dad (now a widower) was involved with Mary Burns, a local tart (played in the third act by Scream Queen Linnea Quigley, now 52 years old). He got Mary pregnant. She had the baby and left town and hasn't been seen since. It turns out that Charlie is her son.
OK. Bill shows up with a baby boy. Mom goes ahead and marries Bill, raises Charlie as her own, gives birth to another boy, nobody in town questions where the bonus son came from. Uh, I'm from a small town. Ain't gonna happen.
But I digress. Bodies continue to pile up. Charlie is a suspect, but it can't be him. But there's such a shortage of other suspects that there's nobody else (the detective? the sheriff?) to suspect.
Then the cardinal rule of mystery writing is broken. Yea, shattered. A very major character is clumsily introduced in the third act.
We find that Mary Burns is out of the mental hospital, and she has a friend with her, B-movie veteran Robert Z'Dar (fondly remembered from MANIAC COP). Playing The Man (it's too much trouble to give a brand new character a name) he's been the killer all along.
The plot is whipped into some semblance of order at the end. Charlie's dad and the sheriff are killed by The Man, Charlie is wounded, the detective is unconscious but manages to kill The Man first, and Mary wanders into the night just before the police get to the house.
In a peculiar and very limp coda Charlie puts his dad's house up for sale, says goodbye to the detective, and drives away.
These are not bad actors. They're actors working with substandard material. Performances are primarily at a level I'd call pretty good for community theater, but this isn't the stage at the American Legion hall.
Film is a very unforgiving medium. Houses are houses. Cars are cars. Bars are bars. Motel rooms are motel rooms. This isn't an actor in ROMEO AND JULIET announcing "This is Verona," and our imaginations filling in the rest. Realistic settings call for realistic performances.
These very same actors might have delivered compelling performances if the material had been shaped by stronger hands. But as is, this is a interesting Amateur Night that should have been much better.
These are young actors. I wish them all the very best, and would urge them to do as much stage work as possible so as to have the experience of working with really strong material.
Better luck next time, guys.
THE ROCKVILLE SLAYER is definitely worth watching, but don't expect too much for it.