Most serial-killer movies are content to throw around some moody lighting, a few grisly clues, and maybe a trench-coated detective muttering about “patterns.” Copycat looks at that formula and says, “That’s cute,” then proceeds to deliver a thriller in which the killer is not only horrifying, but alarmingly studious. It’s a film where doing the reading actually matters—something most high school students never learn, but every murderer apparently does.
Directed by Jon Amiel, Copycat is a sleek, adrenaline-laced thriller that serves psychological horror with a side of police procedural and a garnish of pure 1990s angst. It doesn’t just pull you into the case—it kicks down your apartment door, trusses you up, and politely invites you to admire Sigourney Weaver’s towering performance while you’re there.
Helen Hudson: Agoraphobic Icon, Serial-Killer Scholar, Professional Badass
Sigourney Weaver plays Dr. Helen Hudson, who is, without exaggeration, the Beyoncé of criminal psychology. After being nearly murdered in a university bathroom by one of her own subjects (Harry Connick Jr. playing a serial killer with the charm of a used car salesman and the hygiene of a raccoon in a dumpster), she becomes a hardcore agoraphobe.
She holes up in her palatial San Francisco apartment with:
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industrial-grade security systems
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a helpful assistant
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enough computer equipment to start her own intelligence agency
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and the determination of someone who never wants to see a public toilet again
Weaver plays Helen with a jittery brilliance—she is simultaneously a genius, a prisoner, and a woman who understands that people who smile too much are probably murderers.
Her trauma is palpable, but so is her wit. Even when she’s terrified, she still manages to drag the police for their sloppy assumptions. If sarcasm killed, Helen would solve the case in 15 minutes.
M.J. Monahan: The Tough Detective Who Carries a Gun, a Badge, and Zero Patience
Holly Hunter plays Inspector Mary Jane “M.J.” Monahan, a detective who seems like she was raised on coffee grounds and spite. She’s tiny, sharp, and walks like she has somewhere important to be and someone important to punch.
She pairs beautifully with Weaver’s terrified academic:
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Helen brings analysis
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M.J. brings action
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Helen brings anxiety
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M.J. brings a vest that says “shoot me, I dare you”
Their chemistry is impeccable—half reluctant respect, half “dear God, how have you survived this long?”
Dermot Mulroney plays Ruben Goetz, M.J.’s sweet, capable partner, who tragically gets sent to the Great Cop Show in the Sky because he was too competent to live. In classic 90s thriller fashion, the second he says or does anything human, the movie snatches him away for dramatic effect.
The Killer: A Dedicated Fanboy With the World’s Worst Hobby
Peter Foley (William McNamara) is the murderer terrorizing San Francisco. He is young, good-looking in that “high school yearbook photographer” kind of way, and deeply, profoundly committed to replicating famous serial murders.
He copies:
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Albert DeSalvo
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The Hillside Stranglers
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David Berkowitz
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Jeffrey Dahmer
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Ted Bundy
If you’ve ever wanted to see the world’s worst book club brought to life, Copycat has you covered.
Foley isn’t just killing—he’s doing a semester-long project. He’s the valedictorian of violent crime. He’s the overachiever no one asked for, but who still turns in extra credit. And worst of all? He starts contacting Helen directly, like the world’s creepiest Patreon subscriber.
Daryll Lee Cullum: Serial Killer, Pen Pal, Amateur Life Coach
Harry Connick Jr. delivers one of his best early performances as Cullum, the imprisoned killer who nearly ended Helen’s life. He plays Cullum with a smarmy charm that makes your skin crawl—he smiles like he thinks he’s the smartest guy in the room, and to be fair, sometimes he is.
Cullum claims to know Foley’s moves and helps guide the investigation. He’s essentially the Hannibal Lecter you ordered from the discount aisle:
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less refined
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more humid
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smells vaguely of cigarettes and poor decision-making
His scenes with Helen crackle—they hate each other, they need each other, and every word exchanged is dipped in venom.
The Murders: Horrifying, Clever, and Uncomfortably Plausible
The killings in Copycat aren’t just gruesome—they’re intellectually disturbing. The movie weaponizes our cultural fascination with serial killers and asks:
“What if someone treated murder like a research project?”
Some victims are strangled.
Some are stabbed.
One is killed Dahmer-style, which the film handles with chilling efficiency.
The pacing never stalls—the murders escalate, the police grow desperate, and Helen’s home fortress starts to feel like a tomb. Even the quieter scenes feel dangerous, like someone is breathing down your neck.
Andy’s Fate: The Movie’s Cruelest Punch to the Gut
Helen’s sweet assistant Andy (John Rothman) is the heart of the movie—loyal, kind, and unfailingly gentle. Which is exactly why he is doomed. Foley finds him at a club and murders him in the style of Jeffrey Dahmer.
When Helen sees his body, it’s the emotional equivalent of being hit by a truck full of anvils. It hurts so much because it feels real. The film earns this moment, and Weaver plays it with devastating grief.
The Final Showdown: Psychology vs. Psychopathy vs. Gravity
The climax takes place in the same bathroom where Helen was originally attacked—a psychologically brilliant touch that is also De Palma-level dramatic. Foley strings Helen up in a replica of Cullum’s original murder attempt. M.J. bursts in, gets shot, and collapses like she just remembered she’s tiny.
What follows is:
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Helen tricking Foley
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Foley panicking
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a rooftop showdown
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M.J. resurrecting like a vengeful cryptid
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and several bullets finding a new home in Foley’s body
It’s tense, smart, and surprisingly cathartic.
The Ending: Serial Killers Never Retire
The film ends with Cullum writing a letter to another violent admirer, all but whispering:
“Tag—you’re it.”
It’s a perfect, chilling final note. Evil doesn’t end. It just forwards your mail.
**Final Verdict:
A Sharp, Stylish, Underrated Thriller That Deserves Its Cult Status**
Copycat is that rare 90s thriller that’s both smart and entertaining. It balances crime drama with psychological horror, features two powerhouse leads, and treats serial murder with the seriousness it deserves—while also making room for dark, biting humor.
It’s scary without being exploitative.
It’s clever without being pretentious.
It’s funny in the pitch-black way trauma sometimes is.
And it holds up astonishingly well nearly 30 years later.
In the end, Copycat is a polished, gripping thriller that rewards rewatching—and reminds you never to give serial killers the satisfaction of becoming fans.
Consider this a ringing endorsement from someone who has, thankfully, never given a guest lecture on the subject.
