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Killer’s Delight

Killerā€™s Delight

This product of the 70s low-budget exploitation craze, about a serial killer murdering young female hitchhikers, has got to be considered one of the worst of the lot. For starters, you have James Luisi (best known as James Garnerā€™s partner on the Rockford Files) achieving some kind of milestone for playing probably the DUMBEST cop in the history of cinema. Itā€™s amazing watching him investigating the case while the whole time, the killer is pretty much right under his nose, usually walking or driving right past him as he investigates his turf, even allowing one girl to get nabbed by the psycho about 30 seconds after he was checking to see if she was okay. Unfortunately, we donā€™t get to see most of the killings (except for one sorta gruesome instance), but it seems as if girls from the same general area are being killed on a nightly basis, which usually would result in an arrest about five minutes into the story. But the real kicker is that about 2/3rds of the way into the film, the cops actually FIND OUT THE KILLERā€™S NAME AND ADDRESS. What do they do? Bring the guy in for questioning and get some fingerprints and forensic evidence?? Uh no, they merely stake out his house and follow him around. But, it gets better than that. THEY ACTUALLY GET THE COPā€™S PSYCHIATRIST GIRLFRIEND TO GO ā€œUNDERCOVERā€ AND POSE AS A SINGER AT THE KILLERā€™S FAVORITE BAR SO THAT HE MAY TRY TO PICK HER UP. Credibility goes out the window at that point, and it doesnā€™t help that the killerā€™s motive is a mishmash of Norman Bates and Jame Gumb or that the moronic police captain looks like he just walked in off the set of Hee-Haw. On the (barely) positive side you have Martin Speer (best remembered as the son-in-law from Cravenā€™s Hills Have Eyes), seemingly channeling Al Pacino in Serpico, getting a few good subtle bits as Luisiā€™s laid-back partner, plus a downbeat ending thatā€™s a bit better than the usual ā€œrun in and catch the killer in the act and shoot himā€ routine that weā€™ve all grown accustomed to. As for the killer himself, John Karlen is little more than a pudgy fool, a sick psychotic slasher in a 70s leisure suit, with an array of laughable wigs and disguises that should fool nobody, even though it seems to keep Luisi on his toes. Add to that a lethargic pace even at 85 minutes, and you have a textbook example of how NOT to do a low-budget slasher flickā€¦

3/10

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