Step into the mind of a deranged stalker…Listen to the tortured, obsessive, thoughts as he rambles on and on.

That's the premise of this strange but well-done film about the man who killed John Lennon. If you're looking for a good date movie, forget it—unless your date is a forensic psychologist or a CSI fan. This film is not "entertainment." The director's intent was to explore the internal state of Mark David Chapman in the three days leading up to his murder of Lennon.

For those who are upset that this film was ever made, be assured that it in no way glorifies Chapman. Though the director wants us to empathize, i.e., understand the mind of the killer, he does not try for sympathy. Chapman is presented as the pathetic loser he actually was. Jared Leto, who gained 60 pounds for the role (the resemblance is eerie) gives us a portrayal of a weird, annoying pest. So annoying in fact that it's hard to believe that Jude, the Lindsay Lohan character (who may nor may not have existed), would want to pal around with him. I guess she is supposed to feel sorry for him.

The other Chapman—Mark Lindsay Chapman (no comment on the name, that's been done to death, pardon the expression, elsewhere) is equally good in his all too brief role as John Lennon. As the director, J.P. Shaefer, has said elsewhere, he wanted someone to play Lennon as a real person, not an icon. Mark Lindsay Chapman's portrayal is down-to-earth and matter of fact—just like the real Lennon. He sounds eerily like the real Lennon too. MLC is a brilliant choice and cosmically appropriate. He was chosen from a field of 200 to play Lennon in a TV movie back in 1988 (when he was calling himself Mark Lindsay). When Yoko Ono found out his real name, she fired him—bad karma. Now it has come full circle and MLC finally gets to play the role--almost as if it was his destiny.

The film is somewhat artsy (which is both good and bad) but it is fairly good at capturing the essence the obsessive stalker mentality. Leto is excellent in the role, making you believe that you are actually seeing Mark David Chapman. But if you want to know why he did it, you'll have to look elsewhere. It does not explore Chapman's background—his religious fanaticism, his teenage obsession with Lennon, or the crushing disappointment when Lennon announced jokingly that the Beatles were more popular than Jesus.

Chapter 27 won't be everyone's cup of mocha latte. It's disturbing and weird—just like Mark David Chapman. It's not a film you will "like," but it is a film that you may find interesting. It may not give insight in to the "why" but it does paint a striking picture of the "how." Arcania

Chapter 27 was conceived by its first-time writer/director as a way of showing the final two days of Mark David Chapman's existence before he plugged six bullets into John Lennon. Perhaps he thought going in to it that he would get a stirring and harrowing chronicle of this man's madness, but what he didn't figure on, apparently at any point in writing the script, was giving us a story or any kind of real sense of who Chapman was aside from a mumbling nut-case obsessed with Catcher in the Rye. According to reports, yes, he was attached to that Salinger book a lot, and yes he loomed around the hotel Lennon was staying at.

But Scahefer misses any real chances to make the character compelling by sidestepping what is actually interesting about him- his past, only hinted at, with his wife and his time spent teaching Vietnamese children, being raised in a strict Christian upbringing apparently- for 84 minutes of the same muddled, pretentious beat over and over again. Since when was assassination this boring? And the blame on how bad this movie is can be spread out. Some of it is truly the Schaefer's fault just on the design of the narration. Sometimes narration can be really effective (I kept thinking back to the Informant, another movie about a mentally unbalanced individual with an inner-monologue as a prime example), but here it's nothing except dull diatribes and complaining and waxing and waning on how he feels or thinks that has nothing to say about Chapman himself or anything interesting about his situation.

And some of the blame falls on Jared Leto. Packing on the pounds simply is not enough, not when the character is the same lump of a presence in the entire running time and we're left with absolutely nothing to feel for him except hate - not even so much for his impending crime but for his construction as a character- and while his voice isn't terribly annoying when acting in scenes, it's somehow unbearable in the narration. It's a colossal waste of listening space.

Some of the other actors do try, but are also left slim pickings. Lindsay Lohan doesn't do too terrible, but that's considering what little of her character, another Lennon fan hanging out at the hotel, is revealed as. There's also a question, barely answered, as to why she wants to be around this loose cannon, who never once gives the impression of stability even in casual conversation (i.e. "I hate movies" dialog). Judah Freidlander fares a little better, but he too is only on screen so long as to just play a one note character the best way he can. And yet it says a lot that an actor like Leto, who can be talented and show range as in Requiem for a Dream or Panic Room, is reduced to being upstaged by his fellow performers who seemingly have less to do than him.

The movie made me angry at how it unfolded, because there was no progression of anything. I kept thinking about how much of a better, or just more fascinating, story it could be showing how Chapman developed into this deranged and lonely persona, or even just giving us more to chew on about his life before his notorious act. It's telling a situation before a story, and one that, surprisingly, is dull and meandering and, often, laughably ill-conceived in every facet of production. I almost weeped at the end not because of a sense of loss for Lennon, or for the soul brought down forever due to his own madness as Chapman, but because I had to endure a filmmaker's lack of having anything to really say, and saying it poorly, pretentiously, and with a lack of respect for the audience.

A rather contemptible recreation of events in the disturbing life of John Lennon's killer, Mark David Chapman. As portrayed by Jared Leto (a disciplined, dedicated actor who gained some 60 pounds for the role), Chapman is a suicidal, overweight ex-student from Georgia by way of Texas who believed himself to be the embodiment of Holden Caulfield, the anti-hero celebrated by J. D. Salinger in his book "The Catcher in the Rye". By killing a celebrity, Chapman felt he would finally gain all the attention he'd been deprived of in life. Leto plays him as a schizophrenic drifter with a short fuse, a man so alienated from the real world that he puts down the rich and famous for being phony without ever realizing his own deluded behavior. Without a doubt, extremely queasy and disturbing material, yet the film isn't particularly enlightening or incisive on any level. Writer-director J.P. Schaefer stages the entire picture as a build-up to Chapman's final release of fury, sort of like 'the ultimate event'. We get nothing in the wake of the senseless killing except actual news footage from December 1980 (with pictures of the real John Lennon held up by the crowds). Schaefer exploits the grief in these archival clips simply to cap his own movie off, while the actor playing Lennon (briefly glimpsed) is named Mark Lindsay Chapman... Is nothing sacred for filmmakers anymore? The melodrama on display here is meant to squeeze and prod us, and to keep us in suspense, but the sensationalistic tactics come through loudly and cheaply. *1/2 from ****