I was first exposed to the cinematic brilliance of Natural Born Killers at the ripe age of 12. As you can imagine, I immediately adored it for every reason you’d expect a budding preteen to. It was violent, aesthetically pleasing, and a tale unlike anything I’d previously witnessed. Though I still champion this film whenever the opportunity arises, it is due to a far more serpentine reason; It serves as a reflection of American culture’s obsession with murder and mayhem in a fantastically entertaining, tongue-in-cheek way.

For the few select readers that may be unfamiliar, Natural Born Killers is about the crimes of Mickey (Woody Harrelson) and Mallory Knox (Juliette Lewis), a homicidal couple traipsing through the desert, leaving a trail of slain cops and civilians in their wake. The murderous duo crossed paths by what they considered to be “fate” – Mallory being a young teen living in a severely broken home, and Mickey being a meat delivery boy with a similarly traumatic background. Whereas Mallory’s abuse bestowed upon her by her parents was largely neglectful and sexual, Mickey was bred into violence and witnessed the suicide of his father as a young child.

Given the character’s respective backgrounds, it plays upon the notion of ‘nature vs nurture’ when it comes to criminality. Much of the picture brings into question how their romantic path would’ve been altered had they been given a fair shot at life, and though that answer is never know, this just goes to show the reality behind the entire concept. It is nearly impossible to conclude what makes a person kill with such ferocity because that timeline simply doesn’t exist.

As aforementioned, Natural Born Killers dives headfirst into the abhorrent idolatrous worship and obsession to be found in American culture, often making celebrity out of notoriety. Charles Manson was on the cover of magazines, and you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone in the entire world unfamiliar with the twisted imprint he left on society. It brings morality into question – how responsible are we, the consumers of media, in giving such heinous acts a prominent role in popular culture? In the film, we’re graced with interviewees adorning Mickey and Mallory shirts, spewing what can only be described as blissful mania when it comes to the mass-murderers. I believe this to be intentionally caricature-like – both Ted Bundy and Richard Ramirez had copious amounts of groupies, for example.

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If we cast the leading characters aside, there are still several caricatures to be found within the confines the film. Namely the ‘true-crime-media-scumbag’, Wayne Gale (Robert Downey Jr.), a man who uses the pain and suffering of the victims affected to hoist himself up into the public eye. We, too, lay witness to the closeted perverse detective, Jack Scagnetti (Tom Sizemore), whose motives in pursuit of the Knox’s are sexually driven. These characters may seem to be largely exaggerated, but if one were to truly evaluate the content they’ve been built upon, you’d find these twisted deviations not only plausible, but plentiful in reality.

Consuming violent media and how it affects behaviour is also frequently brought into question. The entire film is pieced together with violent cutscenes from films and news broadcasts, with several movie references in between. It goes without saying that I do not agree that violent media breeds violence, and I don’t believe that is the stance here, either. If anything, I believe this to be a jab at those that hold this belief – it is a dimwitted response to a question that is impossibly difficult to answer.

Now that I’ve waxed on the messages I’ve picked up on in this beautifully violent motion picture, I want to revert back to my initial reaction as a child. It has been over a decade since I first consumed Natural Born Killers, yet I’m still taken aback by its aesthetics. The southern United States have served as the stomping ground for both serial killers and mass murderers alike, so I can’t help but feel satiated by the desert setting herein. Furthermore, the attentiveness and stylishness ascribed to the works of Oliver Stone give this film an elevated feeling despite the seedy content.

I’ve seen several films about murderous couples in the time since I first devoured Natural Born Killers, yet it remains my favourite regardless. Over the years I’ve heard comments about the initial script penned by Quentin Tarantino; How it was apparently bastardized by the time the finished product rolled out. I cannot provide valuable input on this critique given I’ve yet to read it, but I will firmly state that I believe this film to be perfect as is. Maybe it is simply a case of rose tinted glasses given that I viewed NBK at such a young age, but I’d be quick to argue that I’ve attempted to dissect this with the “cinephile goggles” I’ve acquired over time. This isn’t an underground film by any stretch of the imagination, and it doesn’t deserve to be – however, I believe the integral messages disguised behind the violent imagery are not only worth mentioning, but heralding.