#21Driller Killer (Abel Ferrara, 1979)

Ha, wow. Awesome. Whatever happened after that title card I probably would’ve loved it, but what does happen is more strange and exhilerating than anyone probably could’ve expected - a definitive piece of punk rock film-making to rate up there with “Repo Man”, “Liquid Sky” or “Night of the Living Dead”. “Driller Killer” is the only serial killer movie on this list, and it is difficult to put into words why it appeals to me so much. By rights, this should be a disgustingly indulgent ego trip on the part of Abel Ferrara, and in many ways it is. But like all of his better subsequent films, “Driller Killer”s ostensibly depressing, obnoxious, maddening surface somehow opens up to reveal a film that is utterly inspired, magically transformed by that oblique, furious energy that Ferrara-on-form always brings to proceedings.

Oh, but what an incredibly STRANGE film this is, moreso than the relatively cut n’ dried likes of “Bad Lieutenant” or “Ms 45”. I always enjoy it, but I can never quite get an angle on it. The standard line here is to point out that “Driller Killer” is not really a horror movie as such, but a personal, quasi-documentary headfuck of a film about life on the fringes of the art world in New York in the late ‘70s, with all the slasher shit thrown in as a tongue-in-cheek bonus to help secure financing and to get the movie some notoriety/distribution.

But, necessary though that observation may be for any newbies renting this one expecting “The Toolbox Murders” or whatever, the logic of it never *quite* sits comfortably with me. As jarring and ridiculous as all the driller killin’ may initially seem, crowbarred into the mumblin’, slice-of-life un-drama of the film’s wider post-Warhol, post-CBGBs era whole, Ferrara definitely ain’t making no fucking cissy art film here – the whole thing is slathered in vicious, cheap imagery, fast edits, rock n’ roll and total sleaze, all parachuted in straight from the grindhouse. Which is great! Thematic/emotional commitment, beautiful, harrowing street-life footage AND manic trash craziness – that’s a combination I can live with. After a few viewings (I know, I know), I started to treat “Driller Killer” as a comedy, and that is the approach to the material I would definitely recommend for optimum enjoyment. You may have this pre-established idea that “Driller Killer” is some grim exploration of urban alienation and psychosis, but seriously: put it on, keep thinking “THIS IS A COMEDY”, and you’ll have a pretty good time.

Ferrara’s performance as Reno is so over-the-top with all his alienated New Yorker mannerisms, it’s just flat out hilarious, and I love the way that rather than suffering from any serious psychological dysfunctions that more traditionally tend to lead characters in movies to take up mass homicide, he’s basically just really grumpy. I mean, ok, so his relationship with his old lady’s not going too smoothly, his neighbours are making a godawful racket, his flatmate bugs him, and he doesn’t wanna pay the phonebill. That doesn’t exactly make for a perfect weekend, I’ll admit. But I daresay dear reader that you and I have probably dealt with similar issues at various points in our lives, and have probably managed to resolve them without even considering the possibility of running around the streets ventilating hobos with a powerdrill. Not our Reno though. No, he JUST CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE, MAN! He’s GONNA SNAP! I mean, what other choice does he have..? It’s like tuning into an episode of ‘Hancock’s Half Hour’ where Tony flips out and starts beating everyone to death with a hammer.

And, squalid and sickening as they may be, the killings themselves just crack me up – less real crimes, they’re more joyous acts of self-righteous catharsis – Billy Liar mind-machinegunnings on a bloody, mass scale. So much more random and beserk than the carefully mapped out, heavily fetishised murders we’ve become accustomed to in a million Giallo and slasher flicks, it’s hilarious to see Reno just running around the streets in an uncaring rage, plunging his drill in the general direction of whoever gets in his way before charging off to cause more mayhem. And I love the fact that at no point does he even *consider* that the police might be looking for him – the film presents New York as a city in the grip of such terminal despair that you can wander around murdering people for the hell of it in the middle of the street and no one will even bother clearing up the mess, let alone try to stop you.

So many great moment of bizarre, deadpan humour in this film – I love the scene where he eats all the pizza (no explanation needed), or the ‘foreshadowing’ bit where Reno helps Pamela drill a hole in the door, and they’re all like “so you wanna hole to go here, or here, or over dere?”, “uh, I think I wan one dere, NO – over there” and so on, without either of them raising the issue of why she’s just got up in the morning and suddenly wants to drill a hole in the front door.

“Tony Coca-Cola” makes for a wonderful big-mouthed rock star asshole, who oddly doesn’t get drilled despite being the character in the movie you immediately wanna strangle, and his band’s rehearsal / concert sequences and the power struggles in the strange cult of groupies that follow them are fucking beautiful punkoid footage, at times becoming so involving it almost takes over the whole movie.

Oh yeah, and what IS that whole sequence at the start where Reno goes to the church and encounters that strange old man all about? It has nothing to do with the rest of the movie whatsoever! But it’s a stunning scene, a great opening, a really unusual introduction to our central character, so I don’t much care. I’m guessing Ferrara just thought likewise after whatever reason he’d had for filming it fell out of the script, so he left it in. Good attitude!

Above all though, I love the caption card that closes the film –


You still wanna tell me it’s not a comedy?