DAHMER: THE MIND IS A PLACE OF ITS OWN
Rating out of 4 stars: 3 Reviewed by Harvey Karten Peninsula Films Director: David Jacobson Writer: David Jacobson Cast: Jeremy Renner, Artel Kayaru, Matt Newton, Dion Basco, Bruce Davison Screened at: Review 2, NYC, 4/22/02
One day a team of detectives could come to your door and ask for your cooperation. "We're surveilling your neighbor," they'll say, "Because we suspect that he's a serial killer." "I never heard anything so nutty," you'll reply. "The guy is a perfect gentleman. Talks respectfully, even calls his father 'sir.' Borrows his mom's station wagon; never drives fast. Makes no noise except when he's building shelves for his bookcase, and I'll bet he has plenty of good volumes in his library."
"Serial killers match that description," the head detective will say. "After all, they're not drug-crazed mugger-types, stupid and so desperate for money that they'll make mistakes and rip off retired policemen."
I'm afraid the detective is right. Not you. Serial killers are likely to be respected in their communities, clean cut, as charming as, well, Ted Bundy. "Dahmer: The Mind is a Place of its Own," probes the thinking of one of the 20th century's most notorious murderers, a young man who lived a middle-class life (his parents were divorced: big deal), respected his folks pretty much, had a job in a chocolate factory. But oh yes, there are some holes in the clean-cut argument; for example, he was discharged from the army for alcoholism, but that seems to be under control. And, so, he chain smokes. Maybe that relaxes him. But would he kill seventeen people, dismember them, have sex with a few of their corpses? He did, but then again in a country of 260 million people we should be thankful that people like Dahmer are not a dime a dozen; their deeds are still uncommon enough to make sensational headlines as was the case with that Yates woman who drowned all five of her children.
In illustrating just a relatively brief segment of the life of Jeffrey Dahmer with flashbacks and flash-forwards, writer-director David Jacobson does not really try to probe the man's psyche or run through all of his victims as though knocking out a murder- by-numbers thriller. Though the film is chilling, Jacobson thoughtfully avoids a Hollywood-style soundtrack to tell us when we should move to the edge of our seats. He does not show Dahmer partaking of any of his victim's brains with chopsticks like Hannibal nor does he go into vivid, bloody details of the dismemberments as did Mary Harron in tackling "American Psycho."
This uncommercial treatment of a sensational series of killings is both the movie's greatest strength and a potential weakness, the latter because at times "Dahmer" looks as though it would fit better on cable TV or in an off-Broadway location. Much of the action takes place inside his apartment, so that the tension of the tale could easily be presented live on the legitimate stage.
At the very least, "Dahmer" presents a terrific showcase for the talent of an actor not well known, Jeremy Renner who in the title role looks like the nice young man next door. When he dons those aviator glasses, he looks like a research pharmacist. Or when he wears that plastic cap, training in a new worker how to make chocolate Santa Clauses, he could play the part of a clown at a five-year-old's birthday party. No wonder he was able to charm his victims into coming over to his apartment! In the first case we see, he chats up an Asian man who is looking covetously at a pair of athletic shoes. He offers to buy them for the guy if he would come over to his place to take some pictures. Or the slim, energetic black man, (Artel Kayanu), who sells knives in a sporting goods store and takes a fancy to Dahmer but who escapes with his life because the latter is running low on sleeping pills. That Dahmer even picks up a muscular, white college man who made the state finals in wrestling is a gutsy move, one which shows that the killer does not discriminate racially or pick on only weak targets. Gender- wise, though, he goes for the males.
Bruce Davison provides his usual exceptional services in the supporting role of Dahmer's dad, not a bad guy at all, even sending his son to a psychotherapist to straighten him out.
As the press notes say, Jacobson is trying to show the audience that Jeffrey Dahmer who received a sentence of 937 years for his crimes after one guy escapes and leads police to his quarters (we don't see that in this movie) had a simultaneous need for communion and isolation. He appears to be seriously conflicted about people, even as he is occasionally charmed by their antics. He hates when they want to leave, though. He needs to possess them always, and what better way than to make love to their corpses and, like a compulsive shopper, dismember them, toss them out, and looking for more goods?
Just as Francis Ford Coppola took on the reins of the "Godfather" series not to show what the mafia is like but to indicate something about the nature of capitalism, so does Jacobson make a point that serial killing is much like the American brand of economics. Go to the store, get a toy, use it up, throw it out, get another. Just as Lizzie Bordon was told that "you can't chop your poppa up in Massachusetts, and then blame all the damage on the mice," so does Dahmer get his comeuppance when killed by a fellow inmate at the age of 34.
Not Yet Rated. Running time: 103 minutes. (C) 2002 by Harvey Karten, film_critic@compuserve.com
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