I admit it: I’m drawn to self-help books, especially the ones promising a dream life through new age philosophies and the law of attraction. Crystals, vision boards, future-self journaling – I’m all in. Perhaps a little too much, as my roommates started giving me concerned looks. But let’s not dwell on that.
This fascination made me eager to watch A Serial Killer’s Guide to Life. Directed by Staten Cousins-Roe, the film centers on Lou (Katie Brayburn), a woman stuck in a dead-end job and suffocated by her overbearing mother. Her escape? Endless self-help seminars and stacks of motivational books. That is, until she encounters Val (Poppy Roe), an enigmatic aspiring life coach with a deadly secret: she’s a serial killer.
Val invites Lou on a road trip through the self-help communities of Essex, culminating in a meeting with Lou’s guru idol, Chuck Knoah (Ben Lloyd-Hughes). It’s a darkly comic journey, somewhere between Submarine and Thelma and Louise, about two destructive women traversing the British countryside and eliminating those within the niche healing communities.
The film satirizes the often-ridiculous nature of these communities. It’s easy to mock tree-huggers, sound-healers, and laughter therapy enthusiasts. Moreover, the film hints at the privilege inherent in self-improvement: the ability to take time off and spend money on workshops. The character of Ben, smearing blood on himself and fellow campers in the name of connecting with “Nature,” perfectly embodies this parody.
However, the film falters when Val begins killing people simply out of contempt. While the heightened absurdity is classically funny in that uncomfortable, British way, the lack of deeper motive becomes a drawback.
When Lou discovers Val’s murderous tendencies, she joins in with surprising ease. The police are never a real threat, evidence is ignored, and plastic gloves are seemingly optional. The killings continue unimpeded until they reach Chuck Knoah, who predictably turns out to be a fraud. Val then frames Lou, leading to a confrontation. In the film’s climax, as a police helicopter circles overhead, Val reveals that, unlike the self-proclaimed gurus, they are not gods, and their mission must end. Lou, with no escape, stabs Val and then herself. When the police arrive, Val is gone.
This leads to the Fight Club question: Are Val and Lou the same person? The film seems to want it both ways, providing enough clues for viewers to catch on early. Val is rarely seen separate from Lou and never interacts independently with others. A particularly unsettling meditation scene shows Val’s face morphing into Lou’s as she relives traumatic memories, suggesting a deeper motivation for the murders: Lou’s retaliation against those who were meant to help but failed. However, the film doesn’t fully commit to this idea. The ambiguity weakens the narrative, especially if Val is meant to be a separate individual with no clear motivation. In a world of American Psycho and Killing Eve, viewers crave an understanding of why killers kill. Even Joker, despite its issues, achieved success by exploring this question.
Lou remains a passive character throughout the film. Her final act of stabbing Val is a desperate reaction, not a transformation. Her journey could have been more compelling if she had embraced her serial killer tendencies and evolved into a fusion of Lou and Val. Instead, she chooses self-destruction.
Ultimately, A Serial Killer’s Guide to Life is an entertaining, albeit flawed, addition to British independent cinema. It lacks the depth and spark to be truly memorable. In an era where serial killer narratives are common, the film doesn’t do enough to subvert expectations or offer fresh perspectives. It’s a darkly comic critique of the self-help industry, but one that ultimately leaves you wanting more. “A Serial Killer’s Guide to Life” offers a unique, albeit dark, perspective on self-help culture, making it a worthwhile watch for those who enjoy British black comedy with a twisted edge.
