I, Madman (1989)

I, Madman is a love letter to lurid pulp paperbacks that somehow slips their nightmare logic into the fluorescent, everyday world of late-’80s Los Angeles, and the contrast makes it sing. Tibor Takács stages the terror with real style—moody lighting, crafty visuals, and a creeping, page-turner suspense that makes you feel like the story is reading you back. Jenny Wright anchors the film with a grounded, sympathetic performance, so even when the premise turns wonderfully surreal, the dread stays personal and immediate. Fair warning: the gore is not coy and the violence gets graphic, but if you’re on the fence and want an imaginative horror-thriller with atmosphere to spare and a genuinely fun, macabre vibe, this one is an under-sung treat.

I, Madman is clearly aiming for a love letter to pulpy ’50s horror—where fiction bleeds into reality—and it does have a fun, lurid hook with some memorable practical makeup work. The problem is the movie often treats that premise like a gimmick: the middle stretches out, the direction can feel oddly static, and the script leans on familiar slasher beats instead of building real dread. If you’re hoping for a tight, clever meta-thriller, you may find it derivative and surprisingly dull between the gore set pieces. But if you can tolerate uneven acting and slow pacing in exchange for old-school splatter, monster imagery, and a few genuinely nasty moments, it’s a serviceable late-’80s curiosity.