The numbing effect of contemporary violence, bombarded so indolently for so long—not only in cinema but also in sensationalist journalism—may be the reason for such an unfair assessment of this work, which is meticulous in its minimalist execution and respectful of the police and criminal context in which the disturbing events of Viktor Kalivoda’s triple homicide took place. A former police officer with an IQ of 130 who doesn’t speak, barely gestures, and manages to win 320,000 crowns in a contest just to travel to the forests of Moravia and shoot his 9mm Gluck at people he doesn’t know.

The director forces the audience, as a reflex, to wait for something that never comes: explicit violence, not even when he first murders the Jozvýk couple and then Jaroslav Laurent, who was enjoying the peaceful landscape with his little dog. It is clear that there is an existential and moral degradation in the character because it transpired that the authorities also had this enigma: why did he kill them? The absence of psychologising in the character is a cornerstone of director Špaček’s work here. In other words, he remained faithful to the police gibberish, infecting the viewer with the same dose, even at the cost – as can be seen – of making the film about Kalivoda less commercial and entertaining.

There are no longer any maternal or paternal reminiscences of abuse or nightmarish childhood transgressions or bad memories. There is no apparent or visible disorder. What there is is an empty gaze, amorality, and grave motives. ‘It’s none of your business,’ he replies to the interrogating police officer after being arrested. It must be said that if a film turns real events into action and adventure just for its audience, it should be pointed out. Here, the opposite is true, and I will not be the one to fail to mention it. It’s an excellent piece of work, but from the outset, the subject matter and the killer never promised to add more fuel to the fire that was already burning in real life.