It stayed on a shelf for years. Not because it was bad, but because it was so relentlessly bleak that nobody knew what to do with it. When people talk about Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, they usually mention how "gritty" or "realistic" it is, but those words honestly don't do it justice. It’s a movie that feels like you’re watching something you shouldn’t be allowed to see. It’s not a fun slasher. There are no quips. No moral lessons. Just a cold, flat look at a man who kills because it’s basically the only thing he’s good at.
The film was shot in 1985 on a shoestring budget of about $110,000. That’s nothing. For context, big Hollywood movies spend more than that on the catering budget for a single week. Director John McNaughton used 16mm film, which gives the whole thing this grainy, dirty look that makes 1980s Chicago look like the bleakest place on Earth. If you’ve ever wondered why modern horror movies feel "too clean," this is the antidote.
The True Story Behind Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer
People often ask if the movie is a true story. The answer is: sort of, but mostly no. It is very loosely based on the confessions of Henry Lee Lucas and Ottis Toole. In real life, Lucas was one of the most prolific "confessors" in American history. He claimed to have killed hundreds of people across dozens of states. The Texas Rangers even set up a special task force just to deal with his claims.
Here’s the thing though—most of what Lucas said was total nonsense.
Journalists like Hugh Aynesworth eventually proved that Lucas couldn't have committed many of the murders he took credit for. He was a pathological liar who enjoyed the attention and the better prison food he got for cooperating. But the movie doesn't care about the legal drama or the validity of the confessions. It cares about the vibe of the man. Michael Rooker, in his first-ever film role, plays Henry with this terrifying, dead-eyed stillness. You’ve seen Rooker in Guardians of the Galaxy or The Walking Dead, but this is different. He isn't charming here. He’s a void.
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Why This Specific Serial Killer Movie Broke the MPAA
When the film was finally finished, it ran into a brick wall called the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA). They gave it an X rating. Not for sex—there isn't really any—but for "moral depravity." Basically, the censors felt the movie was too nihilistic. It didn't punish the killer. It didn't give the audience a hero to root for. It just presented the violence as a mundane, everyday occurrence.
Eventually, the film became a landmark case in the creation of the NC-17 rating, alongside movies like Henry & June. It sat in limbo until 1989/1990 when it finally got a limited release. By then, it had already gained a massive reputation in the underground tape-trading circuit. It was the "forbidden" movie. If you had a copy of Henry on VHS in the late 80s, you were the cool (or slightly concerning) person in your friend group.
The Home Video Sequence
If there is one scene everyone remembers, it's the "home video" scene. Henry and Otis (played by Tom Towles) buy a video camera and start filming their crimes. They sit on a couch later, drinking beer and watching the footage back on a TV screen.
It’s meta. It forces you, the viewer, to realize you are doing the exact same thing Henry and Otis are doing: watching. You’re a voyeur. It’s an incredibly uncomfortable moment because it strips away the "movie-ness" of the experience. You aren't watching a choreographed stunt; you’re watching a low-res recording of a simulated atrocity. It’s arguably the most influential scene in the history of the "found footage" genre, even though the whole movie isn't found footage.
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Michael Rooker’s Chilling Performance
Rooker stayed in character for the entire shoot. He didn't hang out with the crew. He didn't crack jokes. He stayed distant and cold. Tom Towles, who played Otis, was similarly immersed. The dynamic between them is fascinating because Otis is a slobbering, impulsive creep, while Henry is a "professional."
Henry has rules. He tells Otis that if you use different weapons and never stay in the same place, you won't get caught. He treats murder like a trade, like plumbing or carpentry. That’s what makes the movie so much scarier than a movie about Ted Bundy or Jeffrey Dahmer. It’s not about the "celebrity" of the killer. It’s about the banality of it.
The Controversy of the Ending
Without spoiling the specifics for those who haven't seen it, the ending is a gut punch. Most horror movies have a "final girl" or some sort of catharsis. Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer doesn't give you that. It ends on a note that is so cynical it makes you want to take a shower.
The character of Becky (Tracy Arnold) represents the only bit of light in the movie. She’s Otis’s sister and she sees something in Henry—a shared trauma, maybe. She thinks he’s someone who can be saved, or at least someone she can run away with. The tragedy of the film is her belief that Henry is a human being with a soul.
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Technical Brilliance on a Budget
The lighting in this movie is incredible. It’s all greens, sickly yellows, and deep shadows. It feels damp. You can almost smell the stale cigarettes and cheap beer through the screen. McNaughton and his cinematographer, Charlie Lieberman, used the limitations of their budget to create an aesthetic that high-budget films try to replicate today but usually fail. They didn't have the money for "pretty" lighting, so they used the fluorescent hum of laundromats and the harsh glare of streetlights. It works perfectly.
Is It Still Worth Watching?
Yes. But with a caveat.
If you like "elevated horror" or slashers, this might be a shock to the system. It’s slow. It’s a character study first and a horror movie second. However, in an era where we are saturated with "True Crime" podcasts and Netflix documentaries that often glamorize killers, Henry is a necessary reality check. It shows the reality of that lifestyle: it’s lonely, it’s pathetic, and it’s ugly.
The film was eventually restored for its 30th anniversary, and it looks better than ever, though "better" just means the grit is higher resolution. It’s still one of the most important films in the genre because it refused to play by the rules. It didn't want to entertain you. It wanted to bother you. And forty years later, it still does.
How to Approach This Film Today
If you are planning to watch this for the first time, don't go in expecting a typical 80s horror vibe. There are no synth-heavy soundtracks or teenagers in summer camp.
- Watch the 4K restoration: If possible, find the Arrow Video or Grey Matter versions. The colors are much more accurate to McNaughton’s original vision.
- Research the real Henry Lee Lucas: Understanding the "Lucas Hoax" makes the movie even more interesting. It’s a study of a man who could have been the monster the real Lucas only pretended to be.
- Pay attention to the sound design: The movie is surprisingly quiet. The lack of a constant musical score makes the bursts of violence feel much more jarring.
- Look for Michael Rooker’s nuances: Notice how he barely blinks. It’s a masterclass in minimalist acting.
Instead of looking for a plot with a beginning, middle, and end, look at it as a "portrait," just like the title says. It’s a snapshot of a person who has completely disconnected from humanity. Once you finish it, check out the documentaries on the real Lucas to see how the myth was built compared to the bleak reality shown in the film. It's a fascinating rabbit hole that shows just how much the media—and the police—can be manipulated by a "portrait" that someone else paints for them.