I was recently having quite a spirited discussion with a colleague of mine on the subject of serial killers, and we were both questioning precisely what is it that makes true crime stories so captivating? What is it about recountings of the grisly, gruesome crimes of other people that manages to be so alluring? From the days of the Penny Dreadfuls to the rise of tabloids, to the era of Netflix docu-series, the public has always been morbidly fascinated with the trials and tribulations of criminals. It is certainly the reason why I am so curious when it comes to learning about these men and women of the past who found the motivation to kill others, because while I’m sure the vast majority of us would never even consider harming another person in such a way, it allows us the cathartic satisfaction that quenches that very dark inquisitiveness that we have when it comes to these kinds of things. One of the most distinctive serials killers I remember reading about in my earlier days was John Reginald “Reg” Christie, who just so happens to be the subject of the film being reviewed here, 10 Rillington Place, a riveting but incredibly disturbing account of Christie’s string of murders, and his relationship with a certain individual who may just be the perfect scapegoat.

Christie (Richard Attenborough) is a mild-mannered man living in the titular home in working-class London. Wounded in the war, he is unable to work and spends most of his time at home. What no one is aware of is that Christie moonlights as a serial killer, luring unsuspecting women into his home while his wife is away, rendering them unconscious under the guise of giving them medical assistance, sexually abusing them before brutally murdering them and disposing of their bodies. His most challenging attempt comes with the arrival of 10 Rillington Place’s newest tenants, Tim Evans (John Hurt) and his wife, Beryl (Judy Geeson), a young couple with one child, and (as they soon learn), another possibly on the way. Their financial situation means they can’t afford to have another child – but abortion is still illegal in the United Kingdom, which puts the couple in a quandary, until the seemingly well-meaning Christie offers to assist them, clearly with ulterior motives that are undeniably sinister. What follows is a terrifying demonstration of this infamous psychopath as he undergoes a journey of moral damnation, on a lustful crusade against his innocent tenants.

I first learned of Christie in a cheap book about infamous serial killers, but only discovered a film was made about the events more recently. Reg Christie was a true travesty of a human being, lacking any sympathetic qualities with the exception of his frequent offers of tea. Unlike your more charismatic killers, such as Ted Bundy or John Wayne Gacy, Christie was a reserved and anti-social man, one that could almost be described as slimily unlikable, as evident in this film – interacting with as few people as possible, he carries out his impulsive murders with a sense of misanthropic ambivalence to what he is doing. Obviously, there is very little need to even justify hatred towards any serial killer, but there has always been something so unsettling about Christie and his crimes, something that has always shaken me more than the actions of other notorious killers. Therefore, it goes without saying that the actor given the task of playing this role would need to be someone who was capable of the genial reservedness of this individual,  someone who appeared as nothing more than an excessively-private milquetoast to the outside world, but a vicious, heartless killer behind closed doors. Whoever earned the role certainly had their work cut out for them, and the task was bestowed upon Richard Attenborough – perhaps not the most likely of choices, but someone who proved himself admirably capable of what this role required.

Christie was a true eccentric, and that’s putting it lightly – he was a reclusive and mentally unstable man who derived pleasure from killing other people. He had absolutely no redeeming qualities (not that they’re necessary when looking at a serial killer), and his life was, beyond his actions, quite dull – this is precisely where 10 Rillington Place finds its strength. Attenborough is incredible in the role of Christie, and his performance is one of the most terrifying interpretations of a serial killer ever put on film – unsettling, unlikable and truly despicable from beginning to end, Attenborough’s performance is truly astonishing, and his performance rightfully doesn’t attempt to humanize Christie in any way, opting to show him as the malicious, murderous psychopath that he actually was, rather than being a misguided individual with cause and motive for his actions. Attenborough’s terrifying performance is contrasted by that of John Hurt, who is also quite extraordinary in a very different kind of role – an innocent, simple everyman who witnesses his life falling apart through no fault of his own, other than his trusting nature and simpleton ways, always assuming the best in people and putting his confidence in those he perceives as being wiser than him. 10 Rillington Place is not a film strictly about Christie committing his crimes, but also the ramifications his crimes had on the lives of others, most obviously Evans, who was one of the most infamous cases of miscarriage of justice, losing his life to something he did not do. The interactions between Attenborough and Hurt are chilling, and 10 Rillington Place may not be the definitive films of either of their careers, but it is certainly amongst their best work. Judy Geeson also deserves a special mention, because despite playing one of the victims, she is exceptional in her limited time on screen, and works well in the role as the fearful young woman who, just like her husband, is far too trusting, which proves to be a fatal flaw.

10 Rillington Place is not a pleasant film – it is awfully unsettling and is quite certainly one of the most disturbing crime films ever made. This is executed through the gritty, unfurnished filmmaking – there is a complete lack of flair or finesse throughout the entirety of 10 Rillington Place, which thrives on being a very simple and straightforward recounting of the events that took place between 1943 and 1953, never faltering in delivering the truth in a way that is not embellished, but rather deeply truthful. 10 Rillington Place finds its merits in its relative lack of violence – the actual murders are not shown explicitly, and Richard Fleischer effectively avoids the cheap shocks of showing these grisly events in detail. Rather, it is the implication of what is transpiring that proves to be most horrifying – the grasping of a rope, the sound of a crying baby while Christie walks up the stairs in the dead of night, holding a necktie – make for a truly harrowing experience. 10 Rillington Place is certainly not an easy film to watch, and it is not in any way mindless fare – it is extremely serious and horrifyingly brutal, perhaps not visually, but the bleak nature of the film makes it far more haunting than one would normally imagine.

One particular criticism that I have seen levelled against 10 Rillington Place is that it doesn’t delve into the psychology of Christie, showing how he came to become the murderous psychopath he was. There is a lack of background to him, other than what he tells other characters (and the truthfulness of these statements remains to be seen, because as a climactic moment in the film shows, Christie had a history of dire dishonesty), and considering one of the reasons I am so interested in works on the subject of serial killers is because they often attempt to look beneath the surface and uncover the motivations behind the killings. However, while I am sure there was some reason for Christie’s murders, the film demonstrates them as merely being the impulsive actions of a deranged bastard who derived pleasure from murdering innocent women at random and then taking advantage of their lifeless bodies. 10 Rillington Place doesn’t ever promise to be a character study of Christie, nor does it attempt to find any motivation for his actions – and in many ways, it works better this way. The final act of this film is probably its strongest – powerful, heartbreaking and frustrating. There is a certain theme pulsating throughout 10 Rillington Place – that justice doesn’t always take its course (contradictory to what one of the characters note), and that injustice runs rampant. The case of Timothy Evans is a heart-wrenching example of how one’s life can be entirely annihilated through even the most innocuous of actions, such as trusting a neighbour who appears to be well-meaning. Like one of my mother’s favourite adages goes, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

10 Rillington Place is a daunting experience – it is a terrifying film, and as someone who has become somewhat desensitized to these kinds of true-crime biopics, even I found myself quaking throughout the entirety of this film. Richard Attenborough and John Hurt are firing on all cylinders throughout the entirety of the film, and embody their contrasting characters with such exceptional precision and meaningful sincerity. 10 Rillington Place will leave you extremely shaken, and I am still feeling the uncomfortable dread this film instils in the viewer, forcing us to attend the tale of this murderous maniac, witnessing his criminal rampage in a way that doesn’t conjure any emotion other than unrestrained fear. 10 Rillington Place is an exceptional film, and it deserves a wider viewership, as it is one of the most harrowing true crime films ever made, and a masterful exercise in gritty realism and horrifying storytelling, which works in tandem to construct an experience that you just cannot forget, regardless of how hard you try.