Monster

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Charlize Theron and Christina Ricci excel in their respective roles as serial killer Aileen Wuornos and her lover in director/writer Patty Jenkins’ imagining of the circumstances that would drive Wuornos to commit the murders of seven Florida men (most of them thinking they were picking up a streetwalker). Jenkins’ theories are all over the map and include pretty much the garden variety of possibilities (Wuornos’ abuse as a child, her lack of education precluding her getting reasonable employment, her brutal rape at the hands of her first victim, etc.) but, fortunately, she’s less interested in dwelling on her sociological positions than in letting her performers dissolve into their characters. Theron, in particular, is stunning: she seems to connect with Wuornos in a primal, subconscious manner and you get the feeling Theron is living the part, not merely acting it. Always an intriguing performer (she was quite good in “The Devil’s Advocate”), here she refuses to hide behind her sun-scarred makeup and weight gain and succeeds in letting emerge Wuornos’ entire personality rather than simply her barbaric need for revenge. Ricci is also excellent, as usual, smoothly underplaying a role that could have easily evolved into a histrionic attempt to capture the picture; like Theron, she seems attracted to the darker side of her nature but is able to use her complex powers of suggestion for definition rather than signal her conflicts. Together, the performances lift “Monster” above its overall routine disposition (though there is some nice late-afternoon cinematography by Steven Bernstein and the font used by Elton Garcia in the title, the same one used for Marlboro cigarettes, is a nice touch). With Bruce Dern as Wuornos’ homeless ally and Pruitt Taylor Vince as the pathetic stuttering john intended by Jenkins to emblemize Wuornos’ misguided compassion.