F*** Marry Kill is the kind of high-concept genre blender that promises more than it delivers, but is buoyed, quite considerably, by the charm offensive that is Lucy Hale. Directed by Laura Murphy and written by Ivan Diaz, Dan Scheinkman and Meghan Brown, it takes the whodunit framework and laces it with romcom fluff, true crime commentary, and just a whiff of horror.
Hale plays Eva, a newly single 30-year-old re-entering the world of dating after ditching her philandering cop boyfriend. Encouraged by her friends and wary sister, she dives into the dating app pool, just as a serial killer known as the Swipe Right Killer begins targeting women in her area. It’s a tantalising setup: one woman, three potential suitors, and the gnawing suspicion that one of them may not be who he claims to be. Cue the eponymous game as a narrative device – though here, of course, “Kill” isn’t just theoretical.
The film’s greatest strength is Hale herself. She’s a seasoned hand at this sort of material – sharp, watchable, and completely at ease playing someone juggling humour, paranoia, and the prickly politics of modern romance. There’s a self-awareness to her performance that rescues the film whenever it begins to sink into sitcom territory. Think The Kid Detective with more lip gloss and fewer existential spirals.
“…a dating app serial killer known as the Swipe Right Killer begins targeting women…”
Around her is a cast that does solid work. Virginia Gardner and Brooke Nevin stand out as polar opposites in the friendship group, while Samer Salem, Brendan Morgan, and Jedidiah Goodacre manage to imbue Eva’s romantic options with enough ambiguity to keep things ticking along. Still, despite the central mystery, there’s little actual tension. The film flirts with darker territory – there’s even a brief scene involving attempted assault – but it always pulls back, favouring tone over stakes.
Director Laura Murphy brings a briskness to the pace that’s both a blessing and a curse. The film never drags, but it rarely lingers long enough for tension to take hold. Moments of darkness, both literal and thematic, are quickly ushered out in favour of a quip or a montage.
Tonally, the film can’t quite make up its mind. It wants to satirise true crime obsession and swipe-era dating, but it never digs deep enough to say anything new. There are nods to the performative paranoia encouraged by podcasts and tabloid narratives, yet it simultaneously indulges in the same voyeuristic thrills it tries to critique.
Visually, F*** Marry Kill looks more like a glossy TV pilot than a cinematic event, and perhaps that’s where it truly belongs. It’s the kind of thing you stumble across on streaming and think, “Why not?” And truthfully, it’s a pleasant enough watch if you don’t ask too much from it. Hale’s central performance is magnetic, the supporting cast are game, and the script, while uneven, has a few zingers that genuinely land. It’s not a film that will change the game, but it might just liven up a quiet Friday night.
"…indulges in the same voyeuristic thrills it tries to critique"
