Keira Knightley and Carrie Coon Shine in the Sturdy Murder Mystery ...
One of the many losses suffered as the medium of film has ceded ground to streaming television is the elegant procedural—the kind of movie that deals with something grim and sensational (usually one or more murders) but does so in sophisticated, relatively un-sensational fashion. Think of David Fincher’s Zodiac, a dense and daringly murky film that would almost certainly be an overlong series were it made today. But some hope remains for the genre. Look to Boston Strangler, a new film debuting on Hulu on March 17, which borrows from (or gives a nod of respect to) Zodiac’s playbook to investigate, in fictional form, its titular ghoul.
Written and directed by Matt Ruskin (Crown Heights), Boston Strangler approaches its vexing and terrible case through the eyes of journalist Loretta McLaughlin (Keira Knightley), who notices a pattern in a string of murder cases in early 1960s Boston and becomes the first reporter to identify them as the work of a serial killer.
Because Loretta is a woman in a heavily male-dominated industry (and, really, a male-dominated time), she has previously had her ambition sidelined into lighter fare, far from the kind of vital breaking news she wants to cover. Thus there is a ceiling to break through while she attempts to crack the case, an added element of stakes and tension that gives Boston Strangler a more poignant depth than had it simply been a grimy murder mystery. Ruskin is careful to add layers of texture to his handsomely mounted film, trying to locate the actual people at the center of a storm of headlines and gruesome happenings. Knightley, enjoying her most interesting film role since 2018’s Colette, tucks into the project with intelligent vigor. (Her accent work is also strong.) It’s a calm and confident performance that matches Ruskin’s solemn tone.
She’s joined by Carrie Coon as McLaughlin’s co-reporter, Jean Cole. Jean is a more seasoned reporter, flintier and sharper of elbow as she maneuvers through a sea of men. Coon is, as ever, a beguiling screen presence, at once expressive and intriguingly withholding, a perfect foil for Knightley’s fledgling eagerness. Loretta and Jean’s relationship is complexly realized; both are grateful for an ally but are also wary of their suddenly very public partnership.
For much of its run, Boston Strangler is straightforward, tracking an escalating citywide panic about these unsolved (and ongoing) murders toward the capturing of a prime suspect. But an unnerving doubt gradually descends over the process, as Ruskin’s script pushes past accepted narratives and asks questions with vast and troubling implications. Albert DeSalvo was long thought (by some) to be the sole perpetrator of these 13 crimes, and yet Boston Stranger, and its central characters, aren’t quite satisfied with that conclusion.
It’s here where the film could probe a bit further. A finger of suspicion is pointed at various Greater Boston police departments (most notably at the BPD) for hurrying things toward a resolution that would quiet the fervor of the city. But Ruskin might have delved more into that political morass, really stewing in the ambiguity of the case’s many dimensions. I’m not proposing a limited series, certainly, but another 20 or so minutes may have given the film the expansive, brain-itching quality that made Zodiac so resonant.
Still, what a welcome rarity Boston Strangler is, even in its limits: a sturdy, thoughtfully constructed movie featuring a compelling story and host of great actors (Alessandro Nivola, a native son, does a pretty flawless Boston accent as a sly detective). Boston Strangler does not dwell at any pole; it’s not toss-off streaming chum, nor is it steeply angled toward awards success. It stands comfortably in the middle, perhaps reminding the studio gods how things were once done, and can be again.
Of course, the film is not getting a theatrical release, because a movie like Boston Strangler would likely have a hard time finding purchase at the box office these days. (Look to the failure of She Said last fall.) Which isn’t the rosiest reflection of where things are now. But in most other ways, Ruskin’s film represents a heartening, if small, step in the right direction for a business struggling to reclaim, or reimagine, its identity. And it does so without exploiting the real loss and horror at the center of its story. It’s too serious and, yes, too grownup a film to do that.
