No insight, no irony and no echoes of Peckinpah, De Palma or Tarantino whistle across these Texas plains; "No Country for Old Men" brutal artistry either.
I found it hard not to think of No Country for Old Men - and surely that film's success helped to goose the Thompson adaptation out of its decade-long stay in Development Hell - where the Coen brothers found a way to visually depict the particularly apocalyptic, almost mythological quality of Cormac McCarthy's writing; Winterbottom literalises Thompson, but does not capture his essence, does not make the film as grueling and intense an experience as the man's writing was.
In The Killer Inside Me, Casey Affleck secures himself a place in the annals of menacing, memorable celluloid bad guys, giving Hannibal Lecter and No Country for Old Men’s cattle stun gun toting Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem) a run for their money.
It is best described as a ‘country noir,’ resembling films like Lone Star and especially No Country For Old Men for its brutal existentialism.
As a determined attempt to make a psychopath the least bit interesting, it's in a league with "No Country for Old Men," which for all its popularity and Oscar glory, was still monotonously cruel and shallow.
You might argue that he’s a fan of chaos, like The Dark Knight’s Joker or No Country for Old Men’s Anton Chigurh, but even that theory is iffy.