Between Mark Harmon and Zac Efron, what is it about playing Ted Bundy that causes pretty-boy actors to up their game? Whatever the answer, we’ll not be adding Chad Michael Murray (2005’s House of Wax remake) to that short list based upon his portrayal of the infamous serial killer in Ted Bundy: American Boogeyman, yet through no fault of his own.
Written and directed by Daniel Farrands (The Amityville Murders), American Boogeyman follows Bundy and his trusty VW Beetle through a four-year interstate murder spree, starting in 1974. Also following his exploits before they know his identity are FBI agent Robert Ressler and Seattle police detective Kathleen McChesney, respectively played by newcomer Jake Hays (son of Airplane!’s Robert) and Holland Roden (Escape Room: Tournament of Champions). The movie doesn’t do justice to either real-life authority figure, but especially McChesney, reduced to a cop-show cliché: “I’m going to get him … if it’s the last thing I do.”
The last third preps for a climactic sorority-house slaughter viewers know is forthcoming, even if they’re unfamiliar with the actual event at Florida State University, due to the multiple establishing shots of the Chi Omega house sign. Indicative of American Boogeyman’s production level, every scene is sparsely populated, no matter the location; even the Chi O home appears to have only half a dozen residents.
Farrands’ film is serviceable to a point: the point it’s clear the project is pure exploitation — somewhere around the pretentious, Dexter-stretching narration kicks in. American Boogeyman is interested only in depicting Bundy being Bundy, in essence becoming a greatest-kills reel of extraordinarily poor taste. It errs in not exploring its subject beyond a surface-level celebrity, perhaps wrongly assuming you have prior knowledge of his story.
Ironically, in failing to show a shred of Ted’s supposed charisma or give him a speck of humanity, it feels icky enough to be on his side, like how a Halloween sequel of the Dimension era fetishized its boogeyman as something of a fanboy hero; not coincidentally, Farrands penned 1995’s problem-plagued Halloween: The Curse of Michael Myers. (Let the record show Farrands excels at documentaries on hallowed horror franchises, including Never Sleep Again: The Elm Street Legacy and His Name Was Jason: 30 Years of Friday the 13th.)
With so many scenes that provoke titters instead of terror, it’s hard to believe the movie isn’t at least half a put-on. Fliers posted across the FSU campus read “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?” but instead of a police sketch of Bundy, the illustration is a pair of eyes behind your garden-variety ski mask. A feverish, seemingly meth-edited montage cuts between Bundy furiously masturbating and Bundy berating mannequins, ending with him awaking the next morning in a bed full of mannequin parts. Subtle! Creative choices such as those ensure Ted Bundy: American Boogeyman isn’t going to be — as a police sergeant shouts — just “another Zodiac hippie devil-worshipping Charles fucking Manson on our hands!” —Rod Lott