Tribeca Film Festival 2024 ‘The Shallow Tale Of A Writer Who Decided To Write About A Serial Killer’ Review – A Sometimes Clever, Always Underwhelming Dark Comedy

The Shallow Tale of a Writer Who Decided to Write About a Serial Killer introduces audiences to Keane (John Magaro, Past Lives) — a writer who’s been working on his latest book for four years with no signs of ever finishing it. His wife, Suzie (Britt Lower, Severance), has supported him financially and mentally throughout their relationship.

After a dinner party where Keane relishes the opportunity to talk about himself and doesn’t see that his friends are laughing at him, Suzie decides that it’s finally time for a divorce.

Keane meets with his agent David (Ward Horton, Ford v Ferrari), who informs him that the book he’s writing will never find an audience (according to the publisher).

Before panic sets in, a man named Kollmick (Steve Buscemi) approaches Keane as a fan of his writing and asks him to write a book about him — a retired serial killer.

As Keane drowns his sorrows in alcohol over a potential divorce, he brings Kollmick home to discuss the book. Suzie then mistakes Kollmick for a marriage counselor, and suddenly, a last-ditch effort to save their marriage is the most initiative Keane has ever shown toward their relationship.

From Turkish director Tolga Karaçelik, The Shallow Tale of a Writer Who Decided to Write About a Serial Killer is his English language debut. John Magaro embodies the self-absorbed nature of a writer and is entirely blindsided by the fact that his marriage has been dead for a long time.

The funniest sequence in the film is when Keane chloroforms a gun dealer named Cesna (Lee Sellars, Tar) with his crotch in a bar bathroom. John Magaro’s high-pitched squeals only make the scene more ridiculous.

Steve Buscemi is the straight man of the film. As a retired serial killer, he takes everything seriously and can’t resist discussing death, even when he’s pretending to be a counselor. Buscemi’s strange counseling method is a highlight, particularly the session involving Ada — a dead cat with a baby arm.

Britt Lower spends most of the film as Suzie, either hating her husband or thinking he will kill her. The real art of the film is making the events of The Shallow Tale seem like Keane is trying to kill Suzie when, in reality, he’s listening to Kollmick’s advice.

Between reading books that would make Keane understand the art of killing and planning to kidnap his agent, Suzie’s side plot of figuring out what Keane is up to is a clever and entertaining aspect of the film.

Claiming to be a dark comedy, the issue with The Shallow Tale is that it’s not very humorous — failing to make you audibly laugh at any instance over its 100-minute duration. It feels like Kollmick should have stalked Keane about the book longer.

Kollmick’s introduction starts off unsettling, and you don’t know where his intentions lie. Karaçelik should have leaned into that a bit more, as the tension could have given the film a more foreboding ambiance.

John Magaro is primarily as annoying as Keane. You feel for Suzie watching the film because he’s a stereotypical writer with his head so far up his ass that he doesn’t see the rest of the world or that he’s an unbearable turd.

Keane speaks as if he gets off talking about himself and his work more than anything else. Magaro’s performance is acceptable, but the character is written like an immature baby who has tantrums when things don’t go his way.

The Shallow Tale bizarrely crescendos with a non-ending, as it builds and builds to its finale and, right when the film gets interesting, it stops — fully embracing the fact that it doesn’t end. The struggle to get there and what that frenzy stands for are more important than an actual resolution.

The Shallow Tale of a Writer Who Decided to Write About a Serial Killer is an unusual dark comedy. The performances are fine (Buscemi’s voiceover at the beginning of the film is fantastic), and the story has moments of brilliance. Still, its lack of laughs, stumbling narrative, and inability to resolve anything keeps the film from being wholly worthwhile.

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