An in depth look into the mind of Henry Lee Lucas, as he sits on death row, just weeks before his death, reflecting back on his life and the reasons for his crimes. Henry is, indeed, almost an anomaly in a genre full of faceless, cardboard killers. Henry is no Jason, Michael, or Freddy. He’s real. That’s the most frightening aspect of the film; Henry could be the guy next door, at times wearing an almost pleasant, trusting expression, with the guileless face of a well scrubbed angel, clean shaven and inherently honorable, betraying the well-hidden face of pure, unadulterated evil and menace. Henry is a brutal killer with a conscience, and the book, indeed, is a real killer; a drop dead frontal assault that provokes, rather than patronizes its reader until the last sentence.
