I Am Not a Serial Killer

In the quiet, rain‑slick streets of a Midwestern town, the everyday rituals of life are punctuated by an unsettling undercurrent. John Wayne Cleaver is a teenage boy who works nights at his family’s funeral home, surrounded by the solemn routines of preparing bodies and the hushed conversations of grieving relatives. He lives under the watchful eye of his mother, April, and the stern but caring presence of his aunt, Margaret, who both try to steer him toward normalcy while coping with their own losses. Beneath his dry humor and outward composure, John battles a dark fascination with violence, constantly weighing his morbid curiosity against the desire to fit in at school and with friends.

At school, John navigates the awkward terrain of teenage social life, finding a fragile ally in his only real friend, Max, who offers a rare glimpse of acceptance. Teachers and counselors, including the measured Dr. Neblin, sense his inner turmoil and challenge him to confront the impulses that set him apart. The town’s seemingly placid surface begins to crack when rumors of a new, unseen killer surface, stirring something primal within John: a need to understand the monstrous and a fear that his own shadows might be more alike than he’d like to admit. The atmosphere is a blend of moody small‑town melancholy and low‑key dread, where every hallway whisper and funeral home hallway can feel like a clue waiting to be uncovered.

The film balances the stark realism of a teenage boy wrestling with sociopathic tendencies against the eerie, almost cinematic dread of an unknowable threat stalking the community. Its tone drifts between darkly comic self‑reflection and genuine suspense, inviting viewers to wonder whether John’s meticulous mind will become his salvation or his undoing. As the story unfolds, the audience is drawn into a world where the ordinary and the horrific coexist, and where a young man’s quest for identity may lead him down a path no one else dares to walk.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 03:46