Tag Archives: Ted Bundy

Ted, Just Admit It

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The risk of making “based on true events” films is that sometimes the real events are more interesting than the fictional ones — and make for more entertaining moviegoing.

Take Man on Wire, an Oscar-winning documentary about a tight rope walker who crossed New York’s Twin Towers on a cable. The film was naturally followed by a big-budget feature starring Joseph Gordon Levitt. Alas, Levitt and co-stars could not match the mischievous humor of real-life walker Phillippe Petit and his cast of harmless hooligans, and the feature film plummeted to a flop that made only $10 million. Image result for man on wire

Netflix’s new film, Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile, isn’t an equal disaster, but it comes up similarly short on the heels of the terrific Netflix documentary Conversation with a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes. A serviceable-if-unspectacular thriller, Vile captures neither the horror of Bundy’s reign of terror, nor the charm Bundy used to lure victims, which numbered in the dozens.

It’s a strange shortcoming, given that both Bundy films shared the same director, Joe Berlinger (Paradise Lost, Brother’s Keeper). Documentary filmmaking is clearly his forte, and Vile ultimately feels detached enough from its characters to be a non-fiction flick, though there are some nice personal touches from the big-name cast, namely Zac Effron as the killer.

Still, Vile requires that you already know the story of America’s most notorious serial killer, because the movie does little to educate the viewer, let alone bring you into Bundy’s mind. Even the title is a bit misleading: Bundy may have been vile and wicked, but the movie is a largely bloodless examination of his cross-country killing spree, which left at least 30 women dead.

If anything, Vile glosses over the murders so briskly that it’s not until the final minutes of the nearly two-hour film that the savagery of Bundy’s acts become evident. And even then, you’re left with the sense you just watched an apt, if detached, Lifetime movie about a man’s hidden, murderous demons.

Instead, Vile concentrates on Liz Kendall (Lily Collins), Bundy’s ex-girlfriend and single mom who struggles to reconcile the man she knows with the headlines she’s reading. It’s a compelling portrait of falling in love with a monster, but Vile does a lackluster job of portraying just what a monster Bundy was. Despite Bundy strangling and raping his victims (and beheading at least one), Vile jettisons most of the violence for the headlines that followed.Image result for liz kendall lily collins

If you don’t already know Bundy’s story, Berlinger’s carefully paced drama won’t spell it out for you; Bundy’s true nature stays largely below the surface. The deliberate pace of the narrative partly mirrors Liz’s own path from faith in her fiancé to creeping doubt. And Collins walks that line gracefully despite not being given much to work with, considering the movie is based on Kendall’s own memoir.

But it’s Efron’s movie. Alternately charming, belligerent, and incalculably shrewd, he captures both the shark-like charisma of Bundy and the deeply damaged man beneath. Problem is, news clips — some from Beringer’s previous documentary — suggest Bundy was more charming, more media savvy, even more handsome than the man playing him.

Vile‘s real strength is in its examination of a sociopath. Effron’s Bundy is a smooth talker whose lies are so effortless and convincing you think Bundy may believe them himself. And his rapport with  Tallahassee judge Edward Cowart (John Malkovich), who finally renders judgement, is not only engaging, but nearly word-for-word accurate in its re-enactment of the nation’s first televised trial.Image result for judge Edward Cowart (John Malkovich)

“You are skating on thin ice,” he tells Bundy at one point, “and ice does not last long in Florida.” He’s right, of course. But Vile leaves you wondering what made it crack.

 

Preying on the Grieving

 

I spent half my career as a police reporter. After watching Ronald Gene Simmons executed for killing 16 people over the Christmas holiday, I realized I wanted out of the death business.

So I took a beat as far-flung from crime as I could imagine: movie critic. In writing this review for a website, I was reminded why I left:

 

‘Ted Bundy was not your typical serial killer. Educated, telegenic and media-savvy, Bundy redefined how authorities hunted and captured murderers. He also forged a macabre template for Hollywood that persists to this day.

Fittingly, Netflix’s new film, Conversations with a Killer: The Ted Bundy Tapes, is not your typical crime documentary. Unlike the recent spate of real-life whodunnits, including Making a Murderer, The Innocent Man and The StaircaseTapes is more concerned with documenting murder rather than questioning it.

While the murders are more than four decades old (the film marks the 30th anniversary of Bundy’s 1989 execution), it remains etched on America’s consciousness: Zac Efron will play Bundy in the film Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile, which debuted at this year’s Sundance and will be released commercially later this year. And the documentary set Twitter so ablaze with panicked posts after its release the streaming service tweeted that audiences “not watch the movie alone,” though that may have simply been slick marketing.

Still, the documentary included several revelations about the case and demonstrated how Bundy’s killing spree forever heightened the nation’s fascination — and paranoia — surrounding random violence.

Directed by Oscar-winning filmmaker Joe Berlinger (Brother’s Keeper, the Paradise Lost trilogy), he begins the four-part series with a troubling, unexplained truth about the country: Serial killings became en vogue in the 1970’s. From Charles Manson to the Zodiac Killer to Son of Sam to John Wayne Gacy, the decade was essentially blood-stained with a series of random slayings that transfixed the country.

But none captured public attention like Bundy. Unlike the other murderers, whose homicides were contained in relatively small geographic regions, Bundy’s murders spanned seven states, beginning in Washington and ending in Florida. And none neared his body count; while Bundy confessed to 30 murders of women, police speculate he may have claimed more than 100 lives.

Even the story of how investigators and reporters obtained more than 80 hours of audiotape was something out of a movie. Until two days before he was sent to the electric chair, Bundy refused to admit to any killings. So frustrated questioners tried a different tack, asking him to explain how a killer might have committed such atrocities yet remain uncaught. Speaking in the third-person, Bundy obliged, apparently relishing reliving his elusive methods and two prison escapes.

Among the shows revelations:

Bundy road-tripped after his first escape. Bundy, who had a college degree in psychology, knew that local police jurisdictions communicated poorly. So after jumping out of a second-floor window during his kidnapping trial, he stole a car and began a 3,000-mile road trip, killing women in seven states. It took months for authorities to link the slayings.

Bite marks sealed his fate. Because police had no fingerprints and DNA analysis had not yet been invented, Bundy was convicted on meager evidence:  bite marks on one victim — evidence now considered junk science. One of Bundy’s victims was bitten twice during her slaying. The marks matched Bundy’s crooked teeth, forensic experts testified.

Bundy was tried for murder while on death row. Florida prosecutors were so concerned Bundy might overturn his conviction on appeal, they prosecuted him on death row for the murder of 12-year-old Lynette Dawn Culver. He was found guilty based on a witness who saw Bundy force the girl into a van from her middle school.

Bundy started a family on death row. Bundy, who acted as his own defense lawyer, proposed to girlfriend Carol Ann Boone as she sat on the witness stand (prosecutors believe he thought it would make him appear sympathetic). She accepted and the couple, who surreptitiously copulated behind bars,  conceived a daughter on death row.

Bundy inspired FBI profiling. Following Bundy’s arrest — along with the high-profile surge in serial killings — the FBI began collecting details of the slayings into a single database, and began training agents to look for similar traits. Bundy himself became a profiler, collecting news stories and sharing theories with agents who would visit him for counsel.

Berlinger sprinkles the show with other sensationalist details, including that Bundy later confessed to necrophilia and beheading some victims. The confessions, often recorded in whispers through prison Plexiglas, were an attempt by Bundy to “cleanse his soul,” the film explains.

But the true revelation of the series is how Bundy remains imprinted on our culture. He had groupies at his trials, young women who attempted to deliver love notes to him through his attorneys (all rejected). And the pop culture image we have of serial killers remains Bundy-esque: brilliant, cunning and eloquent, sometimes dashing. Think Hannibal Lecter, DexterAmerican Psycho‘s Patrick Bateman, You‘s Joe Goldberg.

The most telling depiction, though, comes from Bundy himself, in the last words captured in Tapes:

“We want to be able to say we can identify these dangerous people. And the really scary thing is you can’t identify them. People don’t realize that there are potential killers among them. How could anyone live in a society where people they liked, loved, lived with, worked with, and admired could the next day turn out to be the most demonic people imaginable?” ‘