The horror-comedy Jeffrey Dollmer is sure to offend a lot of people … and rightly so
As I was watching Jeffrey Dollmer, a horror comedy helmed by director Mark Savage that made the streaming rounds last month, I was reminded of an interview Clive Barker gave on a U.K. talk show decades ago. The host asked Barker, at the time courting controversy with the first Hellraiser movie, what he considered “too far” to be in the realm of horror filmmaking. Barker’s response was something to the effect of “well, I would never make a movie about something that actually happened” — in essence, marking a clear line between fantastical cinematic violence and cinematic violence that exploits real world tragedy.
I’m sure the people who made Jeffrey Dollmer had a fun time making it. I’m guessing the families of any of the dozens of victims raped, mutilated, tortured, murdered and desecrated by Jeffrey Dahmer wouldn’t find the material all that funny. And that’s the issue with Jeffrey Dollmer — Chucky’s fantasy, Dahmer is reality. Maybe the people who made the film didn’t set out to mock the grieving families who had their lives ruined by the infamous Milwaukee serial killer, but the effect is the same. What’s next, a movie where a puppet version of Jeffrey Epstein chases teenagers around a water park? Or how about a movie about the ghost of Adam Lanza possessing a Cabbage Patch Doll and attacking another elementary school? Hey, Savage and company have already spit on the corpses of 16-plus rape and murder victims and trivialized their horrific suffering for the LOLZ — why stop while they’re ahead?
If you can look past the utterly tasteless premise of Jeffrey Dollmer — no small task, obviously — the movie you’re left with is rather dull and pedestrian. The film begins with a thoroughly callous recreation of Dahmer’s murder spree, which dovetails into the notorious killer finding a ventriloquist dummy that inexplicably looks a lot like him and trying to cast his soul into it, Charles Lee Ray style. From there, we get a ton of subplots emerging about a photo shoot/softcore movie production, where our cast of inevitable cannon fodder rear their heads … right before they get cleaved off in exuberantly gory fashion.
It’s a movie that tries to make a positive LGBTQI statement, with the hero/final boy of the film being a small town gay kid who was tossed out onto the streets by his homophobic family. Of course, that same message is diluted by its stereotypical depictions of other gay characters, including an abrasive Black character who leans this close into being a crypto-racist caricature straight out of a terrible ‘80s sex comedy. It’s a film that trips over its own feet every time it attempts to show its inner conscience. The reality is, Jeffrey Dollmer is just another thoughtless exploitative cash grab made by people riding the coattails of a REAL psycho murderer. That the same people who produced this movie also had a hand in all of those god-awful Popeye themed slasher movies really shouldn’t be surprising in the slightest.
Technically, Jeffrey Dollmer is an adequate genre offering. The gore effects are MUCH better than its budget may suggest and the cinematography is usually quite good, too. The acting is moderately better than average for a film of its type and the music is, if nothing else, passable. Granted, the actual puppet work in the movie leaves a bit to be desired — not that we were expecting Child’s Play level animatronics work here in the first place.
I’m afraid Jeffrey Dollmer is one of those movies that can only tread on its cruel gimmick for so long. Even with the Dahmer angle factored into the equation it’s still a very by the numbers shlock-comedy that seems to always tend towards the lowest common denominator. That’s evident by the scene where a gay bar visitor uncovers a “glory hole,” where he proceeds to have his organ chomped off in extraordinarily bloody fashion. And if you think that’s tasteless, just wait until the Dahmer puppet self-pleasures while watching a would-be victim shower. Yeah, some high art we’re working with, huh?
I’m no prude and I feel like the people who made this movie have every right in the world to be as stupid and offensive as they want to. The problem is, they forgot to make a good movie in the process — what we’re left with is a painfully generic killer doll movie that might as well be any of the more recent Puppet Master sequels with the serial numbers filed off. Even as a parody/homage to the the Child’s Play franchise it’s a disappointing outing — for one thing, the Dahmer puppet doesn’t talk, thus negating all of its potential charisma.
Ultimately, I just have a hard time imagining anyone saying to themselves “gee, I’m really glad somebody made an insensitive slasher spoof based on the real life dude who ate and maimed racial minorities for a couple of years.” Pretty early on there’s a scene where the still-human Dahmer drills a hole into the skull of a victim — a gruesome sight made even less savory by the fact that it’s something Dahmer did IN REAL LIFE to his actual victims. I can only imagine what the filmmakers would’ve given us with a doll version of Ted Bundy instead — or hell, why not John Wayne Gacy? You already know the M.O. is to create an expanded universe of puppet slashers modeled on real life sex criminals and pedophiles. How quirky, right?
On an objective level Jeffrey Dollmer is merely a substandard horror comedy that doesn’t offer much in terms of scares OR laughs. And on a subjective level, it’s an immensely infuriating movie that makes light of something that probably shouldn’t be turned into a dumbass straight to streaming genre movie. But it’s a gimmick that gets your attention, and the mere fact that I’m even reviewing it at all let’s you know that, begrudgingly, the stunt worked.
Alas, I doubt Jeffrey Dollmer will delight most people who encounter it. It’s gross, it’s crude, it aims low even by modern day no-budget killer doll slasher standards. Not that it’s going to stop them from making another movie with a similar hook, of course — the Green River Killer as a marionette, maybe? There’s no accounting for taste, after all.
