Ed Kemper (2025) Review — A Serial Killer with Mom Issues

TL;DR

A film so bleak you’ll want to call your mum… then maybe block her.

A disturbing story buried beneath acting so wooden it could start a forest fire. Ed Kemper (2025) could’ve been a haunting deep dive into the mind of a monster. Instead, it’s a bleak reminder that some crimes should stay in the police file.

The movie about a man obsessed with his mother — made by people who clearly never called theirs.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hz6e8zYs6tg

Criminal Fantasy Fulfilment

Let’s get one thing straight — CRIMENET doesn’t flinch at serial killers. We cheer for antiheroes who rob banks, burn cars, or at least have panache. Ed Kemper, however, is the kind of criminal you’d hesitate to invite to poker night. The man’s idea of foreplay involved decapitation, not deception.

And yet, someone said: “Let’s make a movie about him!” — as if the world needed another awkward family drama, but with body parts.

Watching Ed Kemper (2025) feels like sitting in a confession booth with Satan while he explains his mother issues. There’s no heist, no chase, no thrill — just one long therapy session filmed in the world’s cheapest basement. Deliciously wrong? Maybe. But if evil had style, this film left it at the bus stop.

Plot & Pacing

The film follows Kemper from “bullied kid” to “walking red flag,” to “call the FBI.” It’s supposed to chart a psychological descent, but what you actually get is 90 minutes of a bloke glaring at women while the camera forgets to blink.

It’s a crime story without tension — like watching a bank robbery where everyone politely queues. Every time you expect a plot twist, you get another close-up of Kemper thinking about his mum. By the third act, you’ll be praying for a car chase, or at least a door that slams dramatically.

Characters & Performances

The actors try. God bless them. But playing Ed Kemper requires a mix of charm and menace — not “local theatre group just found out about serial killers.”

Kemper himself comes across less like a calculating genius and more like a man arguing with his own toast. His mother, meanwhile, could win an Oscar for “Most Slappable Human.” Their scenes together are like watching two thunderstorms try to out-grumble each other.

By the end, you don’t root for either — you just want the camera to file for divorce.

Dialogue & Writing

The dialogue swings between wannabe Shakespeare and a true-crime podcast transcript read by Siri. Lines are delivered with the dramatic weight of a parking ticket.

You can tell the writer tried for “psychological insight,” but ended up with “Facebook post from someone who just discovered Freud.” Every sentence screams, ‘Look, it’s trauma!’ — as if that justifies everything. Spoiler: it doesn’t.

If Tarantino writes poetry in blood, this script doodles with ketchup.

World & Atmosphere

Set in 1970s California — allegedly. In practice, it looks like modern-day Ohio filmed through a jar of mustard. The lighting screams “documentary reenactment,” not “cinematic descent into madness.”

Still, credit where due: there’s enough grime, cigarette smoke, and bad wallpaper to make you feel ill, which, given the subject, might actually count as success.

Direction & Style

Chad Ferrin directs like a man who borrowed a camera, two friends, and a weekend. Some shots genuinely work — moments where you glimpse the horror beneath the man. Then the next scene feels like your neighbour’s true-crime TikTok.

You can see what they wanted: a chilling character study. What they delivered: a film that looks like it escaped from a film school Dropbox.

Still, the commitment to discomfort is real. It’s just not the kind of discomfort that wins awards — more the kind that makes your popcorn taste like regret.

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Soundtrack & Mood

The soundtrack drones like a fridge dying of guilt. It’s moody, sure, but you’ll miss it once you realise silence might have been better.

The overall mood is thick enough to chew on — oppressive, sweaty, and hopeless. Which, ironically, is also how you’ll feel by the credits.

Morality & Madness

Here’s the thing: true-crime films often wrestle with morality. This one just duct-tapes it to a chair. There’s no message, no exploration — just murder montages sandwiched between sad piano and bad therapy flashbacks.

And yet… there’s something fascinating about how utterly unapologetic it is. The film doesn’t care what you think. It just stares, drooling, daring you to keep watching.

That’s almost admirable. Like a man confidently showing you his taxidermy collection at dinner.

Rewatchability

Would I watch it again? Only if tied up in a basement — which, come to think of it, fits the theme nicely.

FAQ

Is Ed Kemper (2025) worth watching? Only if you’ve run out of documentaries, hobbies, and will to live.

Does it glorify the killer? Not really. It’s too busy tripping over its own lighting cables.

How’s the acting? Imagine a wax museum that occasionally blinks.

Is it scary? If “awkward pauses” count as horror, then yes — it’s terrifying.

Would Ed Kemper himself like this film? Possibly. It’s self-absorbed, overlong, and obsessed with his mother.

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