Ugh. Deep Crimson is an ugly movie about ugly people
doing ugly things, shot prettily. The noted Mexican director Ripstein
delivers a couple-in-crime flick that emphasizes the desperation
and self-loathing of its protagonists rather than mythicizing
them a la Bonnie and Clyde or Badlands or The
Postman Always Rings Twice. That sounds promising, but the
result is much less interesting than any of these predecessors,
a dispiriting blend of Almodovar minus the comedy and libidinal
energy with the soul-sucking pointless cruelty and yuckiness of
Peter Greenaway's celluloid crimes. But first and foremost Deep
Crimson is a ripoff/remake/"homage" of Leonard Kastle's
The Honeymoon Killers, a scarier and more disturbing true
original that similarly tells the story of a sweet-talking scam
artist who seduces and steals from lonely single women and who
meets an obese nurse who figures out what's up, loves him anyway,
and joins him in crime. Add a star if Botero paintings turn you
on, but its hard to imagine even a fat-fetishist or any of this
film's cast and crew or their relatives sitting through Deep
Crimson twice.