Hangman (2017)

Hangman is the kind of pulpy, late-night thriller that knows exactly what game it’s playing: a nasty, high-concept serial-killer mystery built around a childhood pastime turned sinister. The pleasure here isn’t realism so much as momentum—crime scenes with theatrical menace, a ticking-clock investigation, and the prickly chemistry of Al Pacino and Karl Urban as cops chasing a pattern that keeps slipping just out of reach. It’s undeniably cheesy in spots, but that’s part of the charm; the movie stays lively, keeps throwing new angles at the case, and manages to be genuinely watchable as a whodunit. If you’re sensitive to grim imagery or want a grounded procedural, this may be too lurid, but if you’re on the fence and craving an efficient, twisty thriller with a mean streak, it’s an easy pick.

Hangman wants to be a grim, high-stakes cat-and-mouse thriller with a clever “game” hook and a bruised detective duo racing a ticking clock. The problem is it plays out like a patchwork of serial-killer clichés, with sluggish pacing, thin character work, and leaps in logic that drain tension instead of building it. Al Pacino and Karl Urban bring some presence, and a few crime-scene images are memorably nasty, but the mystery rarely feels earned and the suspense doesn’t land. If you’re looking for a sharp, twisty procedural or a genuinely scary thriller, this will likely frustrate you; if you just want a dark, straightforward R-rated killer hunt to half-watch, it might do the job.