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Man Bites Dog Poster

Title: Man Bites Dog

Year: 1992

Director: Benoît Poelvoorde

Writer: André Bonzel

Cast: Benoît Poelvoorde (Ben), Rémy Belvaux (Rémy), André Bonzel (André), Jacqueline Poelvoorde-Pappaert (Ben's Mother), Valérie Parent (Valerie),

Runtime: 96 min.

Synopsis: The activities of rampaging, indiscriminate serial killer Ben are recorded by a willingly complicit documentary team, who eventually become his accomplices and active participants. Ben provides casual commentary on the nature of his work and arbitrary musings on topics of interest to him, such as music or the conditions of low-income housing, and even goes so far as to introduce the documentary crew to his family. But their reckless indulgences soon get the better of them.

Rating: 7.219/10

Shadows of Satire: The Unflinching Mirror of *Man Bites Dog*

/10 Posted on July 19, 2025
*Man Bites Dog* (1992), directed by Rémy Belvaux, André Bonzel, and Benoît Poelvoorde, is a Belgian mockumentary that wields its faux-documentary style like a scalpel, slicing into the ethics of voyeurism and media complicity. The film follows Ben, a charismatic serial killer played with chilling nonchalance by Poelvoorde, as a documentary crew shadows his daily life murders included. What sets this film apart is its audacious premise: by making the audience complicit in Ben’s atrocities, it forces a confrontation with our own fascination with violence. The screenplay, co-written by the directors, is a masterclass in tonal tightrope-walking, blending pitch-black humor with moments of stark horror. Its improvisational feel amplifies the realism, making each kill feel spontaneous yet meticulously framed.

Poelvoorde’s performance is the film’s heartbeat. His Ben is neither a cartoonish villain nor a tortured antihero but a disturbingly ordinary man chatty, philosophical, even charming. This ordinariness is what unsettles, as he muses about art or family between murders. The cinematography, handled by Bonzel, mirrors this paradox. Shot in grainy black-and-white, the handheld camera work creates an intimate, almost claustrophobic connection to Ben’s world, while long takes linger on the aftermath of violence, denying viewers the relief of a cutaway. The stark visuals amplify the moral ambiguity, making the act of watching feel like an ethical violation.

Yet, the film stumbles in its pacing. The midsection occasionally drags, as repetitive sequences of Ben’s “routine” risk numbing the viewer before the gut-punch of the crew’s growing complicity. The music, sparse and mostly diegetic, serves the realism but misses opportunities to deepen the emotional texture. Still, these flaws pale against the film’s bold interrogation of media ethics. By blurring the line between observer and participant, *Man Bites Dog* anticipates reality TV’s voyeuristic excess and challenges us to question our own gaze. It’s a film that doesn’t just provoke it indicts.
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