British director James Marsh made his name with the documentary Wisconsin Death Trip, which calmly reconstructed a series of gruesome murders in small-town America during the 19th century.
His first proper feature, The King, presents the same skilfully deadpan traversal of death and mayhem.
Gael Garcia Bernal stars as Elvis, the son of a Mexican prostitute who comes out of the navy to track down his preacher father, David (William Hurt).
Now highly respected in his community, and settled with a respectable family, the preacher wants nothing to do with his long-lost son.
But Elvis won't give up, meanwhile impregnating his half sister, Malerie (Pell James).
When half-brother Paul finds out, Elvis stabs him and dumps the body in the river.
The preacher, who thinks Paul has deserted home, finally decides to admit his former liaison and take in the murderer. But that way disaster lies.
The King is both skilfully made and well acted, even though Bernal isn't quite as convincing as the cold-eyed killer as Hurt is as the guilty preacher.
What is, in effect, a horror story about conservative and religious America that attempts to chill without resource to splatter only partly succeeds.
It has a deficiency of basic logic which in the end proves its undoing, but there's a lot going for it on the way.
The King
Cert: 15
