Modern American society is both appalled and fascinated by serial killers, from Henry Lee Lucas to Ted Bundy. However, the first known example of this breed so classified in United States history has been largely ignored. H.H. Holmes murdered at least nine - and perhaps more than ninety - men, women and children, but his name is almost completely unknown today. The reasons for this are many, but the main one is likely because Holmes lived and killed in the late 19^th century. Perhaps news of this type was suppressed in the years following the international sensation of the Jack the Ripper murders, or it might be because Holmes, unlike Saucy Jack, did not seek out publicity for his crimes and they were only discovered after the fact. Horrifying news of Holmes' crimes may have been hushed up after his trial after all, even in the 1950s, after the initial press exposure details of Wisconsin cannibal Ed Gein's crimes were little known for some years. Or it may be because Holmes doesn't quite fit what we've come to accept as the profile of a serial killer. Most such monsters are sociopaths who hunt down their victims merely to feed their own twisted psychoses, but Holmes was an educated and successful man who seduced and destroyed his victims for profit as much as for sport.

In his brilliant best seller DEVIL IN THE WHITE CITY (in the works at Paramount for a theatrical film adaptation), Erik Larson divides and contrasts his narrative between master architect Daniel Burnham's planning and construction of the glorious 1893 Columbian Exposition and Holmes, the predator that preyed on those drawn to the fair. But in this documentary, writer/director John Borowski concentrates on the horror story. Serial killer specialist Harold Schechter stayed closer to the bone with his true crime book DEPRAVED, and it's Schechter and various forensic experts that serve as interview subjects for the film. Of necessity, the documentary relies heavily on these interviews and archival photographs, along with a few minimal reenactments, but the lurid subject is enough that's required to hold viewer interest.

Dr. Herman Mudgett spent a few years after attending medical school in Michigan in a drifting existence, moving around the country from one job to another. His lone secret fixation was to carry out an insurance fraud scheme involving faking deaths using acquired cadavers. Attracted to the vitality of Chicago, Mudgett changed his name to that of a popular fictional detective and took a job with an elderly south side pharmacist. Soon after, the druggist died under mysterious circumstances, and when the druggist's wife disappeared under even more mysterious circumstances, Holmes inherited the business. Meanwhile, the handsome young doctor built up another business selling phony patent medicines through the mail.

But Holmes had bigger plans while gazing across the intersection of 63^rd Street and Wallace Avenue at a large vacant lot. He purchased the land with his ill-gotten gains, and over the course of a year erected a large building on the lot from his own designs. He made sure not to tell any of his contractors much about anything beyond the part of the building they were hired to work on, and he made sure that there was frequent turnover among the workmen (many of who were swindled out of labor and material costs). Though Holmes put stores and apartments in for rental income, the real purpose of his "castle" to be a murder factory. Rooms were built as air tight death traps equipped with remotely controlled gas jets and peep holes for Holmes' viewing pleasure. Bodies would be disposed of through secret passages and a hidden disposal chute. The building's basement would become a chamber of horrors, complete with torture devices, medical equipment, and a huge custom built crematorium. Many new arrivals seeking their fortune in Chicago checked into Holmes' creepy castle, and many never checked out. With the World's Fair drawing millions of visitors to Chicago, Holmes converted a floor of apartments into a hotel, and had his pick of victims.

One can't help thinking that if they'd made a movie about Holmes in the 1950s, Vincent Price or John Carradine would be perfect for the lead.

Eventually, Holmes sensed that his activities would draw suspicion, and he and his stooge Benjamin Pitezel made their way back and forth across the country, working various scams. He was finally tripped up after double-crossing Pitezel, killing him in what was supposed to be another faked death insurance scheme. Another crook snitched on Holmes, leading to an investigation into the doctor's background which unearthed his shocking crimes. Holmes ended up on the gallows after writing several contradictory confessions in jail.

Borowski talks about his filmmaking techniques and researches on a solo commentrak, but he spends most of his time providing more detailed information on his subject. This is just as well, since much more behind-the-scenes stuff is already in a 22-minute Making-Of featurette. An outtakes section gives us a few more Holmes anecdotes and forensic details, and a small text feature tells us a bit about what happened to various locations in the tale.

With at least two competing feature films about Holmes in the works, it seems like we'll be hearing a lot more from this fiend in the next few years, and for those interested in the subject this documentary is an excellent place to start.