User Reviews

It's a long and complex movie. Complex not because there are too many subplots. (There are only two interwoven plots: the solution of the mystery and the mating of Andy Garcia and Uma Thurman.) It's just that we follow events in considerable detail. That's okay, in itself, but the climax itself -- the revelation and killing of a serial murderer -- isn't well adumbrated. The climax pivots on the finding of an antihistamine capsule and everything falls together in the last fifteen minutes without any previous hints.

The director follows most of the rules. Nothing fancy. He does give us two outstanding scenes. In the first, Uma Thurman, who has been blind since childhood and sequestered in a bleak institution is taken to a Christmas party by Garcia, the detective investigating serial murders, in one of which cases she is a witness. A friend dresses her up and covers her with makeup for her debut. (I liked her better as a lean lanky-looking Bohemian with a cello. Dressed up she looks a little whorish.) The party begins well. But later she finds herself standing alone in the middle of a dozen drunken guests who bump into her from unexpected directions. The record player is blaring "Louie Louie," and everyone ignores her. Her anxiety is manifest as she is slowly encircled by the camera, and we are as confused and frightened as she is. Thurman and the director do a polished job here.

Another memorable scene is the interrogation of Garcia by John Malkovich. Malkovich hams it up as usual. He seems to be constantly sniffing and speaks as if he had a cold. "You got mbarried but byew had a bad mbarriage, didn't byew?" But that's okay too. It must have been a hard scene to shoot. It's full of tight close ups of the two faces, sometimes only inches apart. Sometimes Malkovich even whispers into Garcia's ear. Garcia is tense, grief stricken, and angry. Malkovich is sly and insinuating. There is no music in the scene. Aside from the dialogue everything is perfectly quiet, except for the squeaking of wheeled office chairs or the harsh breathing of the actors. One wrong move, one errant jactitation, one delinquent vocal chord, and everything goes back to Square One. Whatever troubles the scene might have given the film makers, what we see on screen is about as good as it gets. Two real professionals at work in front of a camera.

I'll make the rest of the points kind of quickly. Conrad Hall is a great cinematographer, and he gets some of the scenic locations down neatly. But -- man, is this gloomy. Okay, we don't expect it to be otherwise when it's a howling blizzard and three in the morning. But the interiors are almost as dark. (Enough with the symbolism!) Why is a police laboratory so dark we can hardly make out the faces? There is no contrast between interiors and exteriors. Somebody turn on the lights!

The director should get no more than a gentleman's C for the introduction of the institute's janitor. An elevator door opens. We see a man's back. The man turns around. Jump to a close up of his bald head and gargoyle face with glasses like coke-bottle bottoms. It would have been fine in a movie with a title like "I Dismember Mamma." There us some gratuitous nudity too. I found it objectionable for two reasons. One is that there wasn't enough of it. Second is that a body double is used. Much better to have had a long long scene of gratuitous nudity using the lissome blond herself.

Maurice Jarre evidently had his score thrown out. The replacement is pretty good. This murky and rather solemn film is unimaginable with a loud action-y score full of electronic percussion and unceasing in its torture. It's nice that Thurman plays a music teacher at the institute but I kind of wish the instrument we had seen her with had been something other than a cello. It must be played in an undignified position and is the second most preposterous instrument in an orchestra, the first being the Glockenspiel.

Oh -- and by the way, Garcia tracks the murderer down by following a trail of clues to a house many hours' drive away, in Oakland. While he's riffing through the drawers, he's caught by the murderer and framed. How did the murderer know that Garcia would be there?

Eureka's not a bad little town, although it's rainy all winter and foggy all summer. It keeps the riff-raff out. My ship used to dock at Field's Landing. I wonder if the Ranchotel is still open? Very friendly patrons.

Atmospheric and moodily photographed, "Jennifer Eight" would be ideal viewing for a dark and rainy night. A pre-stardom Uma Thurman is lovely, and her "blind" performance is just as strong in its own quiet way as, say, Al Pacino's in the same year's "Scent Of A Woman", just less Oscar-baity. Lance Henriksen has a doubly rare co-starring / good-guy part. But it is the superb John Malkovich who steals every scene he's in - it's worth watching the film just to see him (he probably improvised some bits, which the director wisely left in). The killer's motivation is silly, but the climax is quite original in regards to who ultimately saves the day. One of the better thrillers of its kind. **1/2 out of 4.

"Jennifer Eight" is an absorbing crime thriller about a burned out homicide detective who, whilst trying to get his life back on track, uncovers information which suggests that there's a serial killer on the loose who specialises in killing and dismembering blind women.

Police Sergeant John Berlin (Andy Garcia) transfers from the LAPD to the small rural town of Eureka in the hope of finding a quieter and less stressful way of life. At the local police department, he meets up with his old friend Sergeant Freddy Ross (Lance Henriksen) and immediately gets embroiled in a case involving a severed hand which was found in a garbage dump. His investigations reveal that the hand belonged to a blind woman and further computer checks suggest that the nature of her murder was similar to a series of others in the same locality which were never solved.

Berlin's enquiries bring him into contact with a blind woman who could potentially be a useful witness. Matters become more complicated however, as he falls in love with Helena Robertson (Uma Thurman) and soon recognises that she could be the serial killer's next victim.

Berlin's senior officers aren't convinced by his findings and are also dubious about the value of a blind witness. His determination to continue with the investigation brings him into conflict with his colleagues and then things get even worse when he's accused of murdering a fellow cop. Berlin eventually discovers the identity of the serial killer before the culprit's activities are brought to an end in an unconventional way.

"Jennifer Eight" is a dark and moody film with a great deal of suspense, interesting characters and a number of unexpected plot developments. The cinematography by Conrad L Hall is absolutely magnificent and the strong performances by Garcia, Thurman and Henriksen are complemented by John Malkovich's memorable cameo (as a weird FBI agent) and consistently good contributions from the supporting cast. The pace of the movie is considered and thoughtful and this fits perfectly with the carefully created atmosphere of the piece.

Interesting but flawed entry in the Se7en and Silence of the Lambs-inspired serial killer cycle of the early to mid 90s, blending police procedural with uncatchable killer.

Recommended reading to anyone who wants an insight into the troubled history of this film, 'Smoking In Bed - Conversations with Bruce Robinson', edited by Alistair Owen (Bloomsbury, 2000).

In it, the writer/director candidly spills the beans about his experiences of pitching a mainstream project to several Hollywood studio bosses 'by mistake', and then battling to deliver a movie against all the odds, while secretly regretting all of it. The chapter '6 - Spewing at the speedometer' explains in detail Robinson's research with the LAPD, the back-story of the John Berlin character (a back-story not really developed once Andy Garcia was cast), working with actors Garcia, Thurman and Malkovich, the production difficulties faced by Robinson handling his US producers and crew, and why the film's climactic third act is as confusing and unsatisfying as it is.

According to Robinson, "I Remember Red" is Thurman's last line from the (now) end of the picture which he considered as an early title for the film, and the actual long-shot used of Thurman and Garcia together down a lane was just filmed on the fly by Conrad Hall during a quiet break between set-ups. Just goes to show how these 'accidents' can sometimes work!

The book also covers all the film and writing projects that Bruce Robinson has been involved with, including 'Withnail & I'.

Starts out great. Good cinematography, good music score and good performances.

But if you expect an exciting serial killer movie think again.

In a scene where one of the main characters is killed off, by the killer who he mistakes for his partner (it's never explained why he thinks it's him, they look nothing alike and the killer doesn't even speak before he shoots the partner) you expect the serial killer to be killed off soon after and the movie to end. This is after an hour where the main character chases a serial killer that only he thinks exists. We never See the serial killer kill anybody and the blind girl that the main chaser thinks is the next victim only seems to be in danger in one scene. In a scene where the killer threatens the blind girl, you would expect her to not recognize the voice. But nobody bother to take her statement after wards. After that we get another hour of boredom where the main character is framed for his partners murder. He is of course innocent and when the real killer finally emerges, it makes no sense what so ever that he is the killer, of all people. The obvious killer however is not the killer.

Avoid this incredibly boring movie and Watch Copy Cat instead.