Less Is More
It's a mantra that is all but cliché for those with an interest in the genres of horror and the psychological thriller: Less is more. The less blood, the less gore, the less naked flesh, the more the mind has room to conjure its own illusions and dark fantasies. That's why a shadow will always be scarier than a vampire or a madman wielding a hatchet.
It's a shame Lucky McKee forgot that. His May has its chilling moments. But between the unnecessary butchery and predictable and at times unbelievable plot, May collapses under its own weight.
We first meet May as a girl. There she's normal enough, except for the pirate patch she wears to cover a lazy eye. That eyesore proves too difficult a barrier for May. Unable to make friends, May's mother gives her a doll, which becomes her only companion.
Years later, May is a socially backward veterinary assistant. She is still friendless and spends her time sewing clothes and stitching wounded animals back together.
Then May meets Adam and is smitten by his charm, good looks and kindness. Unfortunately, May's apparent hand fetish and interest in bloodletting drive Adam away. After a failed lesbian relationship with a veterinary colleague and an incident where some children break her favorite doll, May snaps in Lizzie Borden meets Carrie fashion.
May has some originality to it. So much so that it could have been spectacular. But May's transformation from stuttering shyness to bloodthirsty psychosis isn't earned. And if you can't predict this film's conclusion an hour early, you're comatose.
For a creepy film that succeeds on all levels, instead pick up The Minus Man. Starring Owen Wilson as a drifting serial killer, this movie keeps you shuddering with what it doesn't tell.
Vann Siegert is a genuinely nice guy. He's not violent (with one exception), he's not a pervert, and he seems concerned with the welfare of complete strangers. He also poisons people at random, for no reason. Unlike May, here it's what's left out that will keep you awake long after the credits have rolled.
Lloyd Babbit

September 11, 2003 * Vol. 13, No. 37
© 2000 Metro Pulse
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