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Lothar Schramm, the so-called Lipstick Killer , lies dying in a pool of blood and paint. As he expires, fragments of his life flash before his eyes his uneasy friendship with the prostitute that lives next door (Nekromantik 2 s Monika M); the brutal slaughter of a pair of doorstep evangelists whose bodies he poses in obscene fashion; his unhealthy pastime of hammering nails into his own manhood. Told in an entirely non-linear fashion, Jörg ButtgereitSchramm with its nightmarish hallucinatory sequences involving severed limbs and gaping, sharp-toothed female genitalia comes about as close as a film can get to transporting you directly into the world of a sick, disordered mind. (Arrow Films)

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kaylin 

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English I won't say that I was so impressed by Schramm: Into the Mind of a Serial Killer that it blew me away. It simply didn’t. But unlike other German authors of the early 1990s, Jörg Buttgereit has one big advantage. It's not just the disgust itself that he's after, but he's trying to convey something. These may be twisted thoughts, but honestly - and this is the worst part - I imagine that people like this do exist, that they can snap, and then we hear about them on the news. ()