Se7enTo describe David Fincher's Seven (stylized as Se7en) as dark is like saying Antarctica is cold. That's not to say that the film lacks depth beyond its grim story; no, Seven is a sharp and crisp blend of procedural crime and horror--the incense of religious fanaticism wafting through the grimy shadows that pollute this purgatory-like portrayal of New York City. Detectives David Mills (Brad Pitt) and William Somerset (Morgan Freeman) are on a race to stop the diabolically meticulous killings by the elusive John Doe (not telling). But as passionate as Mills is, and as methodical as Somerset is, we can't help but feel that they are still outclassed in the machinations of their sinister target.
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Mills and Somerset are both immediately recognizable tropes of cop movies. Mills is the hot-headed "rookie", looking to bag a big one; Somerset is the grizzled veteran, a by-the-books type who tries to educate Mills with reason. Plenty of small touches separate these two characters from being cliche--minutiae that may seem innocuous reflect deeper connotations for the characters, a great example by Fincher of "showing" not "telling"; my favorite of these would be Somerset's switchblade. It seems strange for a law enforcement officer to be in possession of--and utilize--a contraband weapon on a fairly regular basis. So what does it say about Somerset? Where he came from, a reminder of where he grew up? He is no stranger to the city, and there are enough crucial hints to indicate that he has lived here a long time. Perhaps he is simply experienced enough to know that a gun is not always the best defense. Similarly, he uses his knife on his dart board, a method of calming his mind, like his metronome. These details tell us more about Somerset as a person than even what his dialogue with Mills would indicate. Conversely, my favorite totem of Mills' would have to be his set of Cliff Notes on the works of Chaucer, Milton, etc. Mills may be a hotshot, and he's clearly committed to catching the bad guy. Unfortunately, his mind is one driven by emotion, not logic, and I'm willing to bet he just scraped by in English Lit class with a D+ and counted himself lucky. The important distinction here is that Mills is not stupid--he's no whiz kid, sure, but he's fought to become a NYPD detective, and is proud of his accomplishment. And Mills at least reads the Cliff Notes enough to be able to relate to and observe the underlying motivations and context of the "deadly sins" killings, and he uses this knowledge in an attempt to impress Somerset who had previously chastised him for his cocky attitude during their first meeting.
The "deadly sins" killings of Seven are just about as horrific as one can imagine--if not more so--each a tableau of viscera and condemnation, and accompanied by the roaring strings and horns by film composer Howard Shore, as wonderfully unsettling as a cold tombstone. We are introduced to each murder scene fresh, as with the gravity that comes with being a detective, observing the site, searching for clues, motive...the cryptic scrawls of each consecutive sin the only epitaph. Seven garnered a lot of attention with its opening title sequence, a montage of scrawled writings threaded into composition notebooks, mutilation of fingertips, and redaction of words and faces, all set to a remixed version of "Closer", a song about connecting with God via sin (too perfect a choice) by industrial rock legend Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails). Someone once told me that the title sequence was on display at MoMA--whether it's true or not, I cannot say, but the idea that it might be even a myth speaks of its impact. The vivid and creepy sequence has all the makings of a music video--which should come as no surprise, considering David Fincher directed music videos prior to directing feature films. The philosophy in a music video (at least the ambitious ones) is to tell a story by visuals, by evoking a tone that pairs with the music. That same kind of philosophy is present in Seven, a film with jarring content, with bold sound and imagery that practically scars your memory with unease.
Recommended for: Fans of an intense and shocking detective story that keeps you guessing; a story that isn't skittish about being cruel and leaving you with a sense of tragic catharsis.
The "deadly sins" killings of Seven are just about as horrific as one can imagine--if not more so--each a tableau of viscera and condemnation, and accompanied by the roaring strings and horns by film composer Howard Shore, as wonderfully unsettling as a cold tombstone. We are introduced to each murder scene fresh, as with the gravity that comes with being a detective, observing the site, searching for clues, motive...the cryptic scrawls of each consecutive sin the only epitaph. Seven garnered a lot of attention with its opening title sequence, a montage of scrawled writings threaded into composition notebooks, mutilation of fingertips, and redaction of words and faces, all set to a remixed version of "Closer", a song about connecting with God via sin (too perfect a choice) by industrial rock legend Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails). Someone once told me that the title sequence was on display at MoMA--whether it's true or not, I cannot say, but the idea that it might be even a myth speaks of its impact. The vivid and creepy sequence has all the makings of a music video--which should come as no surprise, considering David Fincher directed music videos prior to directing feature films. The philosophy in a music video (at least the ambitious ones) is to tell a story by visuals, by evoking a tone that pairs with the music. That same kind of philosophy is present in Seven, a film with jarring content, with bold sound and imagery that practically scars your memory with unease.
Recommended for: Fans of an intense and shocking detective story that keeps you guessing; a story that isn't skittish about being cruel and leaving you with a sense of tragic catharsis.