The Angriest Critic sums up Kill List, the hyped up, critically acclaimed half gritty crime tale half occult horror movie, in one word.
by Adam Rosina
Meh. That’s what I have to offer on Bill Wheatley’s Kill List. One long, sad, apathetic “meh”. The internet’s partly to blame on this. Every horror and indie movie outlet performed the written form of fellatio on this flick, and I ate it up (snowballing?). Promotional materials portrayed it as a gritty crime tale of blue collar hit men, and the media, unusually secretive on the details in reviews, pointed only to a hard right turn into the occult in the film’s third act as evidence of its horror cred. I had to know what all the damn fuss was about. But now, as the final credits have rolled and the house lights come on, I feel I understand the hype about as much as I did when I started, maybe less. Promised something genre defying, grueling, and brutal, what I got was a somewhat-edgy crime film (mostly sans the post-Tarantino humor), saddled with a domestic drama prologue that strains the viewer’s patience to the breaking point. When the film finally drops pretense and gets to the horror late into its third act, it does indeed shift dramatically… by turning into The Wicker Man. There’s some strong character work from the two leads that come dangerously close to saving this film from mediocrity, but yeah… fucking Wicker Man.
read the full review in the April/May 2012 Issue