I’m on board for any kind of atmospheric Gothic guignol, so The Limehouse Golem is right in my wheelhouse. Everyone knows that Jack the Ripper was the most prolific serial killer of his day; what this film presupposes is, what if he wasn’t? That’s a campy enough premise to work off of, and if I’m being totally upfront I had a good time with the thing. I just wish there was more to it than what there is. That’s all! Is that a crime? Is it so wrong for a guy to want a movie to add up to something greater than the experience? Over a week later, the film has mostly sifted from my brain like so much sand; I remember Olivia Cooke and Bill Nighy, and not much else.
Still, I regret nothing, and I suspect you won’t either, as you might so gather from reading the review I did up at ye olde Paste Magazine.
A Constant Visual Feast 
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