Avis des critiques

While there is blood and gore, The Driller Killer doesn't stay in it. This isn't a splatter film, but something more akin to Maniac or Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, where it's the characters' descent that matters most and not the kill count.

By pure confidence I found myself on the same day watching maybe the only other film in existence apart from The Square that trucks in both high art and homelessness. Both films are very much contemporary satires that are rooted in particular urban capitals: Stockholm in the mid ‘10s and New York in the late ‘70s . . . , and must be two of the most violent and sensational films to deal with artists and the art world.

What makes the film so remarkable is the extent to which Ferrara, even at the outset of his career, exploits sex and violence for their popular appeal even as he reflects on the effect of such subjects on both his own art and the culture at large.

[The Driller Killer is] an early work that displays, in rudimentary form, all the groundbreaking innovation of [Ferrara's] mature works... Ferrara himself has spoken of the film not as an exploitative horror flick but as a comedy, and there is certainly a playful attitude towards horror movie cliches.

Driller Killer is rambling and fantastically uneven. The sound quality is awful, the killings are ridiculous, and the gratuitous lesbian shower scenes risk making Blue Is The Warmest Colour look realistic. Interspersed with all this are moments of genius when Ferrara's visual flair shines through.

Take out the killings, and you're left with an anguished (even somewhat boring) stab at urban ennui, heavily influenced by Repulsion and Taxi Driver.

From its opening admonition that "this film should be played loud," it's a heady, kinetic experience that seldom allows breathing space.