I first saw Servando González’s 1965 film The Fool Killer (aka El asesino de tontos) almost twenty years ago and it’s haunted me ever since. The film features Anthony Perkins in one of his best roles and I got the urge to watch it again last year while I was obsessing over Perkins’ music career. For some unknown reason The Fool Killer isn’t available on DVD yet so I had to purchase a used VHS copy of the film to see it.
I shouldn’t have been too surprised that The Fool Killer was unavailable on DVD because Mexican director Servando González is almost unheard of in the United States. I haven’t had the opportunity to see any of the director’s other films myself so my own appreciation of his work revolves around my deep affection for The Fool Killer, but I was disappointed to learn that the director had passed away in October of last year. Servando González’s death appears to have gone almost completely unnoticed by the film community except in Latin America. This is really unfortunate because The Fool Killer clearly shows that González was a talented filmmaker with the ability to create wonderfully atmospheric films that could remain with viewers long after they had ended. Trying to find any noteworthy information about The Fool Killer is nearly impossible, but I thought I’d share some of my own thoughts about Servando González’s exceptional film in an effort to broaden appreciation of his work.
The Fool Killer is an extremely dark and ominous film starring thirteen year-old actor Edward Albert as a deeply troubled young orphan named George. After a brief opening montage filled with idyllic images of the American countryside, the film begins with George receiving a nasty beating from his foster parents while they recite Bible verses in an effort to soften the blows. Poor George blames himself for the beatings he receives because he thinks that the “foolish things” he’s done shouldn’t go unpunished. But dropping a butter churn and playing with dandelions are clearly not acts worthy of the beatings he gets. After the physical pain wears off, the emotional scars become evident when young George decides that he’s had enough abuse and heads out into the world on his own. His odyssey will take him through the dusty back roads of rural Tennessee where he’ll encounter an unusual cast of characters who consciously and unconsciously guide him on his journey.
The film is based on a novel of the same name written by Helen Eustis, but the legend of the Fool Killer was first written down by author O. Henry (aka William Sydney Porter). I’m not sure how much of the legend is based on fact or if the whole concept is a work of fiction conjured up by the author’s absinthe fueled imagination, but according to O. Henry his tale of the Fool Killer was based on an old southern myth, “like Santa Claus and Jack Frost and General Prosperity and all those concrete conceptions that are supposed to represent an idea that Nature has failed to embody.”
In his short tale O. Henry’s also tells us that the Fool Killer was a “terrible old man, in gray clothes, with a long, ragged, gray beard, and reddish, fierce eyes” who “come stumping up the road in a cloud of dust, with a white oak staff in his hand” and would “kill anyone who perpetrates some particularly monumental piece of foolishness.”


It seems like everywhere I turn someone is talking or writing about the recent Comic Book Convention that is held in San Diego every year. It used to be an event only attended by comic book fans and various industry insiders, but it has exploded into some kind of massive media event attended by anyone and everyone. When did comic books become so acceptable? I suppose it was the onslaught of popular comic book films in recent years that has made the general public and every working film critic take notice. As someone who worked in a comic book shop throughout most of the 1990s for minimum wage, I find this sudden interest in the events at Comic-Con extremely amusing. It’s also great for the business, which has struggled to gain legitimacy for years. Comic books are now making a lot of people a lot of money. And money makes critics and cultural pundits take notice.
One of my favorite comic-to-film adaptations in the last 10 years is David Cronenberg’s 2005 film A History of Violence, which was based on a little known comic collection or “graphic novel” published by DC Comics under their Paradox Press banner. The comic book was written by John Wagner and illustrated by one of my favorite working comic book artists, Vince Locke (Deadworld, American Freak: A Tale of the Un-Men, etc). Although Cronenberg’s film received an Academy Award nomination for Best Adapted Screenplay, few people seem aware of the fact that this critically acclaimed film was based on a comic book.
Since I’m still running on limited free time I decided to share a few choice quotes from one of my favorite reviews of A History of Violence that was written by one of my favorite authors, the late great J. G. Ballard. Ballard is a brilliant writer and he worked with David Cronenberg on the film adaptation of his own novel Crash (1996). In Ballard’s excellent review of the film he sums up exactly why A History of Violence is such a great film and one of my favorite movies of the last decade. What follows are a few choice excerpts from Ballard’s review . . .
American independent cinema has had a long and fascinating history. One of the most critically acclaimed early independent films to come out of the US was undoubtedly Frank Perry’s David and Lisa (1962), which was finally released on DVD last year by Image Entertainment.
In David and Lisa we’re introduced to two young, attractive and deeply troubled patients living at a mental health clinic. David (Keir Dullea) suffers from an extreme phobia similar to what many would refer to as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) today, which makes him go berserk anytime another person touches him. Lisa (Janet Margolin) has been diagnosed with schizophrenia and insists on speaking only in rhymes. Somehow these two mentally damaged individuals manage to overcome their personal difficulties and form an uneasy friendship. As the film unfolds their relationship deepens and they’re finally able to help each other come to terms with their psychoses.
Keir Dullea and Janet Margolin are both very good in their roles as David and Lisa. Dullea does a terrific job of portraying an angry and emotionally damaged young man, but I was especially impressed with Janet Margolin. Margolin is really lovely, but also very talented and she imbues Lisa with the perfect combination of innocence and world-weariness. It’s a shame that the actress didn’t find more worthwhile starring roles throughout her rather brief career. She clearly shows great sensitivity as an actress here and her moving performance will stick with you long after David and Lisa has ended.
The film is beautifully shot by director Frank Perry and features some truly impressive black and white cinematography from Leonard Hirschfield. There’s a wonderfully surreal aspect to the film’s eye-catching dream sequences and the melancholy mood of the institution is underscored by the use of stark shadows and startling bursts of light. The film also manages to perfectly convey the isolation that both David and Lisa are clearly feeling with expressive close-ups and long takes. Unfortunately David and Lisa suffers from its melodramatic script (written by Frank Perry’s wife at the time, Eleanor Perry) and the overbearing score by composer Mark Lawrence seems totally out of place and distracting at times, which often diminishes the film’s more subtle moments. I’d personally like to see David and Lisa re-scored by a composer who is more cautious and creative.
When David and Lisa was originally released in 1962 it caused quite a stir. Film critics applauded the movie and audiences embraced it. The film was nominated for many awards, including an Oscar for Best Director. Now that some 45 year have passed since it’s original release, it might be hard for modern audiences to fully appreciate what all the fuss was about. But when David and Lisa is compared to other films about mental illness made prior to it, I think it’s easier to understand the film’s importance. Today many are embracing pharmaceuticals over psychotherapy, but David and Lisa offers an intelligent and sensitive study of mental illness that dares to look at several possible explanations and cures. Parental culpability, childhood trauma, as well as an individual’s sensitivity to their environment, are just a few of the factors that can exacerbate mental illness and I was impressed with the way the film subtly explored them. In the end David and Lisa encourages individuals to take charge of their own lives as well as their mental health and its message should still resonate with many viewers.
David and Lisa is currently selling at Amazon for $21.99 and it is also available for rent at Netflix and Greencine.
If you’d like to see more images from the film you can find them in my David and Lisa Flickr Gallery.
*Originally published at Cinedelica 05.24.2007



