That… Was EVIL…

Holy. Fuck.

In my bid to finally catch up on movies that were borrowed which have thus far remained unwatched, I did the ol’ Canadian thing and fired up some Orville Redenbacher popcorn, plonked myself down in front of the TV with that, a pack of cigarettes and a cup of coffee, and proceeded to watch what I thought was going to be an interesting and beautiful diversion in the form of David Fincher’s Se7en.

Nope, I had never watched it before.

I’d somehow managed to steer clear of any knowledge of this film except for the fact that it had Brad Pitt, Morgan Freeman and Gwyneth Paltrow in it, and that it was based on a serial killer premise centered on the Seven Deadly Sins. Also that David Fincher directed it, which was my primary reason for watching it, ’cause I knew if nothing else, it was going to be a gorgeous looking movie.

Everything else was a complete, unpleasant, nauseating surprise that left me rather emotionally drained as the final credits rolled.

On the technical side, this film was everything I hoped it would be and more. Out of all the Fincher films I’ve seen (Haven’t yet watched The Game…) this is probably the one I will remember as his most beautiful film. I don’t know whether or not it was because he was still relatively early in his career and thus at the mercy of the producers and studio, or whether it was simply his aesthetic sensibility at the time, but there is a restraint to his visuals here that worked to create a breathtakingly effective atmosphere. Fincher’s later films like Fight Club and Panic Room show a self-indulgence with the crazy physically impossible long take camera moves and obession with grit and dirt that was refreshingly absent from Se7en. This was a much cleaner, much more subtle and more atmospheric Fincher, relying on graceful pans rather than shock MTV zooms, and letting the camera linger on nicely composed shots and more natural lighting rather than the harsh color treatments starker lighting of later efforts. It was dark and shadowy and nearly every shot in the film was one that could have been framed and hung in a living room. Marvelous work. Nothing to complain or criticize as far as I’m concerned.

The performances were solid. Brad Pitt’s bravado as Miller was suitably annoying and the nasty twist at the end actually made you regret his bravado rather than feel vindicated about it afterwards. Freeman had his usual dignity, poise and intelligence and every slow, measured bit of dialogue was a pleasure to hear, something I always like about his performances.

But it’s really that fucked up plot that stole the show. Yes, Fincher did the murders justice. Yes, Pitt and Freeman augmented this further with their appealing performances and fairly low key delivery. But all of that hinged on the fact that Andrew Walker (The writer) is a deranged lunatic who wrote a horribly effective story that still makes me slightly queasy just thinking about it. There’s a lot to think about, muse about and ultimately be disgusted about in this movie, but it sets out to provoke its audience on multiple levels and, to my chagrin, succeeds. Questions are posed. None are really answered, and in the end, what on level is a showcase for then emerging Fincher’s amazing visuals in 1995, is on another level a quality “serial killer” genre film worthy of Silence of the Lambs and again on another level is a commentary about the state of society in social sense of “Where the fuck have our ethics gone” to the more psychological sense of “What have we become that we can create people like John Doe?”

It was a really beautiful and yet at the same time unbelievably disgusting film. I can see why audiences of the time were buzzing about it, since it can be discussed on almost any level from visceral thrill to the more scholarly discussions in the Ivory Tower. Is it a Deep n’ Profound film? Beats me. It doesn’t quite feel that way. I don’t think it’s really a measured study or commentary so much as it is a response. There’s no agenda being consciously pushed, no message whacking people over the heads, but the implications of the film, whether intentional or just a side effect of the creative process at work, are there.

I’ll probably have to watch it again in a few years when I can stomach it again…