Martin's black comedy about a serial killer feels like an attempt to recreate Arsenic and Old Lace, or maybe Little Shop of Horrors. Instead, it's just an off-putting mix of surprisingly gruesome violence (the murderer is nicknamed the 'Brooklyn Headhunter') and tired comic relief. The performances are a bit lacking, too, from the Runyonesque cops and prostitutes to the Norman Bates villain (it IS a pretty good Perkins, to be fair). 