In a world of struggling creatives, the next best thing is always what brings in the attention. But for artists, there must be a line drawn in the sand which should never be crossed to attain stardom. Not quite the case in Ryan Claffey’s deranged serial killer horror, Murderous Intentions.
Set in London, we follow a journalist named Jason (Ryan Claffey), whose obsession with infamy leads him to neighborhood serial killer Richard. What project does he have in mind? Following Richard (Nat Landells) and interviewing his victims before they are brutally murdered (the killings also being captured on camera). We take Jason’s POV for most of Murderous Intentions, as he documents how he and Richard worm their ways into the good graces of random local women and take their lives not long after. All this effort for film festival recognition can only get them so far, but how much is Jason willing to push his boundaries?
It’s probably not too far-fetched to say that the found-footage horror scene is extremely overstuffed, but even the most modest among them make a concerted effort to stand out. Yes, the camerawork and editing are meant to be spontaneous and uncoordinated, but there’s still an art to executing the genre. Murderous Intentions barely scrapes by with its shaky, inexplicably messy camerawork and audio as it tracks Jason and Richard on their quest for infamy.
Yet, not even the shoddy camerawork can cover for the fact that Claffey’s screenplay is a disastrously derivative dive into the world of exploitation filmmaking, one that’s not only completely unrealistic but also quite insensitive. Women are picked up and disposed of at the drop of a hat, with none of them showing even the slightest suspicion towards Jason and Ryan’s bogus charade. Police get involved with Detective Reynolds (Adam Forster) leading the charge, but the case goes nowhere interesting. Ultimately, Claffey makes it adamantly clear that the Cannes Film Festival is what’s at stake for them both, but the ends don’t justify the means.
It all falls apart, piece by piece, as we are left questioning the entire nature of the film. It’s certainly not original, but it ultimately lacks any narrative substance to back up its blatant sadism. It pushes the envelope just for the hell of it – which is never a good enough reason. In fact, the film not only has its distressing edge forced onto it, but it really stretches the boundaries of necessity and good taste.
Murderous Intentions could have avoided the pitfalls of the found-footage genre by tapping into its characters moral quandaries. What we get instead is an equal parts messy and unappealing serial killer exploitation fest.
