Aileen Wuornos grew up in a financially, and emotionally, deprived family. She later killed seven men in cold blood (she may have been defending herself from attack in some cases, but that remains unclear). She showed little remorse thereafter. She was intelligent, articulate, and although towards the end of her spell on death row appeared wildly deluded, was arguably not insane: her view of the world may have been wrong, but it did make sense. The story of her final year, told in this film by Nick Broomfield (who had made another film earlier during her journey through the U.S. legal system), makes highly disturbing viewing. Wuornos does not come across as a "monster" (the name of a subsequent fictionalised account of her case) but as very human; and yet she seems incapable of comprehending the significance of death, even her own at the hands of the state. The system treated her badly, and I personally oppose the death penalty in all cases; and yet it's hard to imagine how anyone in her position could generate less sympathy than Wuornos does. In some respects, 'Aileen' is a ghoulish film, peeping through the window of a house of pure horror.
Broomfield's earlier film centred on the grotesque way almost everyone involved in the case tried to sell their story to the media. But Broomfield himself is part of that media, and notwithstanding the fact that he gained Wuornos' trust, this film seems almost out of it's depth. Broomfield's style, first practised on South African white supremacist Eugene Terreblanche, is based on turning up, turning on the camera and letting people damn themselves. In his film of Terreblanche, the tactic worked, brilliantly deflating alarmist rumours of an Afrikaaner coup in it's portrait of it's pathetic subject. But in 'Aileen', it's unclear who Broomfield is trying to damn, or whether anyone is well served by the putting of the story on camera. In one of the most chilling moments, we see the awful television coverage of Wuornos' execution (sample sound-bite: "Date with Death"), but at one remove, through Broomfield's own lens. Does this make the film an expose, or merely an exploitation of (and contributor to) our collective and irrational fear of that tiny proportion of humanity who kill for apparently no reason? It might do us more value to look at the (socially licensed) serial killers on both sides of the war in Iraq. Instead we play "watch the monster". At least 'Aileen' makes you think. But don't expect to understand.
Broomfield's earlier film centred on the grotesque way almost everyone involved in the case tried to sell their story to the media. But Broomfield himself is part of that media, and notwithstanding the fact that he gained Wuornos' trust, this film seems almost out of it's depth. Broomfield's style, first practised on South African white supremacist Eugene Terreblanche, is based on turning up, turning on the camera and letting people damn themselves. In his film of Terreblanche, the tactic worked, brilliantly deflating alarmist rumours of an Afrikaaner coup in it's portrait of it's pathetic subject. But in 'Aileen', it's unclear who Broomfield is trying to damn, or whether anyone is well served by the putting of the story on camera. In one of the most chilling moments, we see the awful television coverage of Wuornos' execution (sample sound-bite: "Date with Death"), but at one remove, through Broomfield's own lens. Does this make the film an expose, or merely an exploitation of (and contributor to) our collective and irrational fear of that tiny proportion of humanity who kill for apparently no reason? It might do us more value to look at the (socially licensed) serial killers on both sides of the war in Iraq. Instead we play "watch the monster". At least 'Aileen' makes you think. But don't expect to understand.