Review: The Shallow Tale of a Writer Who Decided to Write About a Serial Killer (2024)
Any writer would jump at the chance.
The Shallow Tale of a Writer Who Decided to Write About a Serial Killer is one of the longest titles you'll have the displeasure of trying to remember, but it still doesn't capture most of what happens in the first English-language film from Turkish director Tolga Karaçelik. John Magaro (the secret weapon in Celine Song's brilliant film Past Lives) does play a writer and he does write about Steve Buscemi's serial killer character (and yes, the film is purposefully shallow), but there's so much more at play in this pitch-black comedy.
Magaro plays Keane, a writer with one hell of a block. It's so bad that he has produced no output over the last few years. The one thing that does interest him, neanderthals in 40,000 B.C., interests approximately zero other people, especially his wife Suzie, played by Britt Lower. Their marriage is falling apart, but Keane is oblivious, as he seems to be about most things, and totally caught off-guard when she says she wants a divorce.
Conveniently, it's just then that he runs into Kollmick, a big fan of his work. He's pleasant, polite, and well-dressed, so Keane doesn't think much of it when Kollmick suggests writing a book about “the life of a serial killer.” It's only later, upon a second and much less chance encounter, that he learns Kollmick is the serial killer. He offers to mentor him on everything from zip-ties and weapons to stalking and kidnapping. Keane hems and haws because that's how he approaches everything in his going-nowhere life, but Kollmick assures him it'll be a "sexy story."
"Any writer would jump at the chance," he says.
It's a great premise for a movie and the logline "John Magaro shadows and writes about serial killer Steve Buscemi" is the perfect ten words in the perfect order. (The movie was actually one of my most anticipated of this year's Tribeca Festival, but as with any film festival, after you do this, this, and this, there's always something you just can't make it to.) However, the movie spends a surprisingly little amount of time on that premise.
Most of the runtime is spent on the dissolution of Keane's marriage. When he surprises Suzie by bringing Kollmick to their home in the middle of the night, he pretends that Kollmick is their new marriage therapist. Not long after, Suzie discovers his brand new collection of books covering murder of all types and she's sure that he plans on killing her. She recruits a cab driver to follow Keane and Kollmick around, while chloroform, Albanian gangsters, and hungry Peruvian llamas follow. It's one misunderstanding after another, which is often more exhausting than actually funny. In fact, the title itself seems to be a misunderstanding. Keane does almost no writing and learns little about serial killing. His biggest lesson involves...a kidnapping.
It's nice to see Magaro in a leading role after his supporting breakout in Past Lives and he's definitely got the charm for it. Keane is a different shade of that same writer character and it seems like comfortable territory for him. Unfortunately, his character is so purposefully frustrating that Magaro's charm has to do all the heavy lifting. It's one thing for a character to be indecisive, it's another for a lead character to take no agency whatsoever. It's a movie about other people telling him what to do, from his wife's romantic disinterest to Kollmick's tutelage.
Meanwhile, Buscemi is the perfect choice for this role. His tendencies that made him a natural for Tarantino and Coen characters are on full display here. He's weird, but still charming. Dapper, but, as they put it in Fargo, just "kinda funny lookin'." Sporting a nice sweater and a thin mustache, he plays like a straight John Waters (I know that's a contradiction, but it makes sense when you watch the movie.)
Despite finding herself in more of the movie than you'd expect, Lower still isn't given a lot to do. She huffs and puffs, delivering plenty of deserving eye rolls to Magaro's character. I would've liked to have seen more from her, and really from all of them.
The film's iconography, particularly the image used in most marketing materials of Buscemi tying Magaro to a chair, is haunting. Do not expect that. Simply finding out it was a comedy was a personal letdown. Learning that it wasn't particularly funny was even worse. Karaçelik's humor is dry and his comedy is black and his particular flavor feels niche. The Shallow Tale of a Writer Who Decided to Write About a Serial Killer is decidedly bizarre, whether you like it or not.