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Seven is permeated with darkness,
but both its aesthetic and characterization are essentially respectful
throwbacks to grainy precedents like The French Connection, Serpico
or Hill Street Blues
more than earlier genre efforts. Brown and blue hues wash over the frames
and complement the lulling sense of depression generated by the constant
rain, the
baroque Bach strings pumping through the library, and Freeman's ticking metronome.
Kyle Cooper's credit sequence alone would become the model for countless
cut-rate Hollywood thrillers and postmodern teen slasher pics.
The film's use of distressed typography and text-as-setpiece betrayed
its (somewhat forced) literary obsessions. Somerset's immediate familiarity
with ecclesiastical minutiae and dirgeful medieval prose finds a more
realistic counterpart in the
scholarly ignorance of his partner, who resorts to Cliff's notes to
aid in deciphering the killer's cryptic messages. The end result was
almost like a cinematic collage, which elevated the film to a standard
appreciable to the trendy art-school-malaise-crowd.
Most importantly though, Arthur Max's production design was distinctive
enough to make it easily reproduced in lesser films.
Certain elements of Se7en's M.O. -- the inexplicable use of 25-watt bulbs in
all of the crime scenes, for example - are troubling, but the logistical sacrifice
was worth it. The overall effect was one of relentless dread. One thing can be
said about Fincher - he knew when to give you the payoff and when to hold back.
The film's visceral excesses further acclimatized the mainstream to unsanitized
gore, while the less graphic scenes unbolted the imagination to a whole new realm
of violent possibility.
The film is simultaneously antiquated and apocalyptic
in its sense of hermetic doom. Most reviewers place the film in New
York City, although positive identification is deliberately avoided
in favor of spacial
alienation. Spacey's disturbed antagonist too seeks anonymity - in addition to
his self-ascribed nomenclature, he routinely slices of his fingertips to erase
the one thing that makes him physically unique - but simultaneously challenges
this anonymity with his high-profile 'missionary work'. He is methodical and
calculated but operates according to a faulty logic. In the end, perhaps Mills
is correct in the assertion that his enigmatic quarry is "a movie of
the week, at best."
The unnamed metropolis' exhausted long-time resident (Somerset) expresses
his regret over living in "a place that nurtures apathy as a solution". And therein
lies the film's moral stance; it is not to John Doe's fundamentalist megalomania
that Fincher subscribes, but to Somerset's quiet resignation, which is punctuated
by brief flashes of disgust over a rampant nihilism. But when taken side by side,
it's difficult to tell how Somerset and John Doe really differ in their opinions,
and perhaps it's this paradox that is Se7en's greatest triumph.
Kier-La Janisse
(This article was written for Fangoria
Magazine's 25th Anniversay
issue.)