“Suspect Zero” is directed in an odd way, both dreamy and claustrophobic, that feels annoying until you realize it’s on purpose. It’s the way the characters — two of them– are living their lives, and we’re supposed to feel the way they feel. OK.
This is a B-movie serial killer flick that, plotwise, is the daddy of all serial killer flicks –it’s about a serial killer whose victims are serial killers – but production-wise, falls way short of the greats. Maybe even plotwise – can there really be that many serial killers operating at once in America? But plausibility’s not the point here. Actually I’m not sure what is the point. Ben Kingsley as a weirdo creep? Effective. Eckhart and Carrie Moss in a complicated love-hate relationship? Definitely not effective. The itchy atmosphere? Maybe. “Suspect Zero” is the woolen Christmas sweater of serial killer flicks – uncomfortable, but probably on purpose, and, well, reliably there. It might have the moxy and oddness to become sort of a cult returner, but then again, maybe not.