mosquitodragon’s review published on Letterboxd:
Take my rating with a grain of salt because I have to admit to having become strangely fascinated by grindhouse exploitationers from the sleazier end of the swamp. Bill Grefe is probably most to blame for this, although Herschell Gordon Lewis has played his role too, I suppose.
The Zodiac Killer is not a well made film. The acting ranges from laughable to deplorable. The entire project is shamelessly exploitative and given the year in which it was made (at which point I believe the city of San Francisco still lived in fear of Zodiac striking again), it has to rank as being in pretty poor taste.
What can I say? I (very perversely) had a pretty good time with it. Granted, most of my enjoyment came from the combination of bad acting and sheer enthusiasm to be as sleazy and unpleasant as possible. The film's thesis seems to be that this Zodiac killer is probably a product of a generalised air of incel rage against women (a bit of a stretch, but clearly what the film makers were interested in illustrating). The following dialogue is a notable example:
"I don't know what's worse. Little old ladies or big old ladies."
"Well after a lifetime of experience, I can tell you - once they get over 20, they're all no damn good."
"What's so special about over 20?"
"Well you see when they get 20, that's the turning point. The turning point to disaster. The Chinese have got it put right - they call it The Year of the Dog. Or better explained in English, 'The Birth of the Bitch'!"
"Haha... yeah you got 'em pegged all right, Don."
"Damn right, I have. The only trouble is, us guys never learn. We learn too late, too late. I can remember all that romance and the sweet innocence turning to conniving and coldness and crabbing and competition. It's a shame! It's a dirty shame."
"That's why I'm still baching it Don."
"Good. Don't let them dames get their claws in you, ever. They don't let go very easy!"
"You don't mind if I get my claws on some of the young ones, do you, though?"
"Be my guest! And hey! If you get any leftovers, remember I like 'em plump and juicy!"
We are constantly presented with characters airing views like this. One central character ends up going nuts and getting himself killed by police because a woman in a bar removes his terrible wig and then his wife refuses to let him see her kids (the next day, this doesn't all happen in the same bar). I'm not sure why the film is so intent on showing men being assholes to women - it feels a bit like a general air of grindhouse sleazy unpleasantness. Maybe it's intended as a criticism of misogyny and its ultimate damaging consequences but I'm hesitant to give anyone that much credit (although I'm not willing to rule it out either).
For all its clumsiness, there are moments of very effective suspense and horror. The scene where the killer (oh, we find out who he is very early, and it's our main character, Jerry, played by Hal Reed - who manages to look both mundanely unremarkable and very weird from moment to moment) invites a couple to sit with him and toast hot dogs on the beach at night is extremely tense - he moves off into the dark, presumably to get his gun, and when the couple look into the badly film-scratched darkness to try and make out what he's doing and all you can see is his barrel-mounted torchlight, it's very nerve wracking. And the scene where the picnicking couple by the reservoir get tied up and stabbed to death - while nowhere near as virtuoso as the corresponding scene in David Fincher's film - manages to sustain a truly effective horror while also looking quite fake.
That's really the one thing that is genuinely interesting about this movie. That although it all looks so fake and is frequently very laughable, it still manages to push those buttons that it's trying to, and I find it fascinating when these zero budget roughies manage to function in that way. Definitely only recommended for people how have an interest in this world of film-making though - most folks will probably find this intolerable.
