Boston Strangler - Directed by Matt Ruskin
We live in a strange time when it comes to the population’s cinematic diet. Series like Law and Order have been on television for decades because people always love easily digestible police procedurals. When the podcast boom began in 2005 it didn’t take long for true crime series to become some of the most streamed content out there. Streaming services like Netflix cashed in with season long series like Making a Murderer and at the time you couldn’t swing a dead cat without running into someone who wanted to talk about that show. What’s ironic is that even as our interest in long running, exhaustively researched crime stories increased, our desire to see those stories told at feature film length completely waned. What’s important to know though is that there are still terrific 2-hour crime stories being told. Boston Strangler is one of them.
Giving a beautifully understated performance, Keira Knightley disappears into the role of the real-life Boston newspaper reporter Loretta McLaughlin, a doggedly determined journalist who teamed up with the more experienced, world-weary Jean Cole (the magnificent Carrie Coon) to break story after story as they investigated the case of the Boston Strangler, the killer who murdered at least 11 women in the Boston area in the early 1960s.
The story structure here is familiar territory but it works. Pairing a hungry rookie with a seasoned veteran is the backbone of All the President’s Men and it seems likely writer-director Matt Ruskin was influenced by Alan J. Pakula’s 1976 classic. But there is arguably more of a comparison to be drawn to David Fincher’s 2007 masterpiece Zodiac. As was the case with the Zodiac murders, questions still remain about the number of victims and the identity of the killer or killers in the Strangler case. And as was the case with Fincher’s film, Boston Strangler tells the story almost exclusively from the points of view of the investigators. (As opposed to the 1968 film The Boston Strangler, a very loose interpretation of events that focused on Henry Fonda’s chief detective and Tony Curtis’ Albert DeSalvo, who confessed to the murders but whose guilt remains in question to this day.)
Cinematographer Ben Kutchins (“Ozark,” “The White Lotus”) lenses the film in effectively unsettling, saturated and almost sickly tones of green and brown and gray. Coupled with a soundtrack with period-piece tunes like Martha Reeves & The Vandellas’ “Nowhere to Run,” 1960’s Boston comes alive right from the jump. Knightley’s Loretta is a reporter for the Boston Record American, working in the Lifestyle department and handling assignments such as reviewing the new Sunbeam toaster hitting the market. The only woman working the hard news beat is Coon’s Jean, who strides into the newsroom one day wearing a nurse’s uniform and starts cranking out a story about patient abuse. Jean’s the real deal; she’s doing the kind of work Loretta aspires to be doing.
Working on her own, Loretta discovers that three women have been strangled in the last two weeks. She brings the possible connection to her editor, Jack (Chris Cooper), who growls, “I don’t see the interest. These are nobodies.” Comes the response from Jean: “Who do you think our readers are?” Jack eventually relents and gives his blessing to Jean profiling the victims to see if there’s a bigger story here — with the caveat that she partner up with the veteran Loretta, who can show her the ropes. This is the beginning of a journalistic partnership, and of course a friendship.
On occasion, we see glimpses of a shadowy figure talking his way into a house or an apartment, and we hear the cries and muffled screams of the victim — and then we cut to the aftermath and the crime scene, with police and media swarming everywhere. Writer-director Ruskin and editor Anne McCabe do a superb job of keeping the story moving, even though much of Loretta’s work involves grinding it out by knocking on doors, researching news clippings, interviewing survivors and relatives, making calls from pay phones, etc., etc.
Every few scenes, we’re introduced to a key supporting player, with the first-rate cast including Alessandra Nivola as a detective who is sympathetic to Loretta; Bill Camp as the police commissioner, an obstinate, old-school type who tries to smother the press and deny there’s a serial killer(s) on the loose until it’s impossible to ignore the brutal reality of what’s transpiring in his city, and David Dastmalchian as Albert DeSalvo, the prime suspect.
Without ever getting too heavy-handed, Boston Strangler serves up constant reminders of the way the world worked in the early 1960s, with Loretta and Jean constantly battling sexism and stereotypes every step of the way. Plenty of that sexism is reminiscent of Silence of the Lambs, another definite influence on Ruskin. Loretta’s husband, James, played by Morgan Spector, is admirably supportive of her career at first, but becomes understandably frustrated when Loretta becomes obsessed with the case and is rarely there for James and the children.
There’s a poignant moment late in the film when Loretta returns home after pursuing an out-of-state angle to the story, sees the light of the television emanating from the living room, indicating James is waiting up for her — and she drives away, unable or unwilling to re-enter a life so far removed from her work. It’s one of the many, many instances when Boston Strangler hits home emotionally and truthfully.
Boston Strangler is streaming now on Hulu.
