There's blood on your shirt...
Sonny Grimsley’s character, “The Narrator”, isn’t doing too well. He never gets the benefit of the doubt. There’s blood on his shirt. This is one of the few times The Tell-Tale Heart was ever told out of chronological order, taking into account that the audience has seen a movie or two. It’s also one of the few times this short story is adapted in color and in a modern setting.
The film looks like a thousand bucks. The narrator is unreliable because he’s a nutcase, and that’s the perfect excuse to numb us with mind-fucking eye-candy. This is, simply put, one of the best short-film adaptations of this age-old tale. This story has been around since 1843, and it’s still relevant. Take your pills and don’t kill people, y’all; that’s the message.
Most renditions of this adaptation leave the audience in a state of confusion, but there are no questions left unanswered with this one. No stone is left unturned and the ambiance is thicker than it ever was. Every edge is polished. Dialogue covers every plot hole possible. Unless you’re going to give this story the feature-length treatment, McClain Lindquist’s version is as good as it gets.