Or Dickie: Portrait Of A Serial Killer. Through directing earnest epics and blabbing about British film, Richard Attenborough has all but obscured his early career as an esteemed character actor. So it's all the more shocking to uncover this corpse-cold exploration of real-life horror, with the luvvie Lord fearless and frightening as '50s throttler John Reginald Christie. Dome-headed and piggy-eyed, he preys upon his naïve neighbour (Judy Geeson) then fits up her husband (the brilliant John Hurt). A merciless, grim, docu-style account, with dialogue drawn from court records, Rillington remains bone-chilling 33 years since release.
Verdict:
"I felt almost unclean," remembers Attenborough of incarnating understated evil, in an articulate interview. Unfortunately, he doesn't join Hurt on the yak-track, although ol' craggy chops is avuncular enough, offering up anecdotes and apologising, "I don't want to distract you."
