31 Days of Halloween: Too many to watch

The Poughkeepsie Tapes (2007)
****** (6 out of 10 stars)
Director: John Erick Dowdle
Producer: Drew Dowdle
Starring: Stacy Chbosky, Ben Messmer, Samantha Robson, Ivar Brogger

“I wanted to be the last thing she ever saw.” – Edward Carver (The Water Street Butcher)

Ah, dear reader… or should I say, fellow seeker of the macabre. Tonight, I bring you not a tale of ghosts or ghouls, but something far more insidious. A film that does not howl in the night, but rather whispers—coldly, clinically—into your ear. The Poughkeepsie Tapes is not a scream, but a slow, suffocating breath in the dark.

In a year where nihilistic murder flicks roam the cinematic landscape like wolves in the dead of night, this film stands apart, in it quality and approach. It does not wink. It does not jest. There is no ironic detachment, no comedic reprieve. It is a relentless review of realism, a merciless mockumentary that dares to ask: What if the monster was not a myth, but a man?

Styled like an episode of Forensic Files dragged through the abyss, it presents the fictional case of a serial killer whose crimes are captured on hundreds of videotapes. The horror here is not in the gore—though it is present—but in the banality of evil, the cold repetition of torment, the unflinching gaze of the camera.

And yet… for all its grim effectiveness, I must confess my reservations.

The film lingers—perhaps too long—on the suffering. Not in a way that enlightens, but in a way that numbs. The cruelty becomes cyclical, the torment repetitive. One begins to wonder: is this horror, or is it punishment?

Moreover, in its pursuit of realism, it stumbles. The investigators, the experts, the procedural elements—they lack the depth and rigor of true crime. The killer’s sudden shifts in method feel less like evolution and more like a director’s indulgence. A patchwork of horror vignettes stitched together with sinew and silence.

Still, I cannot deny its power. It is a film that crawls under the skin, that haunts the mind long after the credits fade. It is not enjoyable—but it is effective. And in horror, that distinction matters.

I give it six out of ten stars—a mark of respect, not affection. And now, I must away… to cleanse the palate with something less cruel, less cold. Perhaps a ghost story. Or a witch’s tale. Something with a soul.