Depressing gross out without even the redeeming feature of conveying a moral message.

Rating: 1/10 (2 July 2001)

A film designed to appeal to those who have a fascination with graphic cruelty and sadism. The film telegraphs it's ending from the moment in the middle of the film when Pitt, the detective, shouts after the killer: "My name is Mills. That's spelled, M-I-L-L-S !" It's a wonder he didn't add: "And I live with my much loved wife at 18 Ceder Street, Apartment 3b". (In how many of these films does the killer eventually wind up going after the hero's beloved wife or child as part of the movie's climax? It's so much of a cliche of the genre that it's become a standard closing plot element.) The most depressing part of this film experience is not that the good guys' lose and that the Jeffrey Dahlmer wannabe triumphs, it is that Hollywood will do anything for a buck - and that has to be another catagory of deadly sin not originally contemplated by Dante. I don't care how good the special effects are. If the movie sets out to use them to deliberately sicken the viewer; then it is an unimaginative misuse of the technology. A 1 out of 10, with 9 points lost for depravity and the cynical exploitation of the viewing public.