Slasher-movie fans, however, need not be put off by the stylized camera work and arty patina: this is down and dirty genre filmmaking, and the various slaughters, excruciatingly detailed scalpings and other atrocities are no less gruesome because of the highfalutin approach.
What are people saying?
What are critics saying?
If it’s possible to be both impressed and appalled by a movie’s pull-no-punches savagery, Maniac earns that dubious distinction.
Village Voice by Chris Packham
Khalfoun makes the audience privy to Frank's memories, migraines, and jarring hallucinations of his mother's recalled abuses.
It'll get your blood pumping, before it starts spilling down your forehead.
Its audio-visual overload testifies to a group of filmmakers' belief that some films are made to be remade.
The scuzz-chic visuals, sleaze-synth score and deep-cutting gore are effective, and shooting from the killer’s POV proves a valid USP. But Wood, despite giving his all, cannot match Joe Spinell’s unhinged turn in the original: nightmares in a damaged brain indeed.
New York Daily News by Joe Neumaier
This poor man’s Norman Bates, though, doesn’t make us wonder what makes him tick; he makes us want to shut our eyes.
It still works its way under your skin and, by the time the highly disturbed Frank’s casualties come back to haunt him en masse, cuts sanguinely to the heart.
Unfortunately, with only the bare outline of a script, no acting is required. The structure of the film is 89 minutes of brutality with a college degree. This is a warning, not a recommendation.
This merciless work of anti-entertainment is arguably admirable for being as disturbingly disgusting as it wants to be.