Whenever people heard that I hadn’t seen “Seven,” they would look at me as if I had committed some sort of heinous film atrocity. I can’t really explain why it took me so long to watch this movie. It wasn’t a conscious effort, it just never really happened. I suppose due to circumstance and timing, I finally took a friend up on his offer and borrowed the DVD.
“Seven” is a modern Noir crime-thriller. The plot tracks a serial killer obsessed with murdering people guilty of the Seven Deadly Sins. Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman star as the two detectives assigned to the rather gruesome case. Fincher’s precise direction, Darius Khondji’s moody cinematography and the actors’ nuanced performances lift the movie above its sometimes less-than-stellar screenplay to deliver an unforgettable film.
The words ‘eerie, unnerving and disturbing’ best describe “Seven.” Fincher builds the tension of each scene with an equal sense of dread, creating an uneasy feeling that I felt in the pit my stomach. Its heartbreaking climax is only accented by the film’s chilling last lines.
Ernest Hemingway once wrote, “The world is a fine place and worth fighting for.” I agree with the second part.
In an earlier Film Journal entry, I wrote with some hesitation that David Fincher might be one of modern cinema’s most prolific directors. “Seven,” “Fight Club” and “Zodiac” are all works of a master filmmaker and after viewing his latest film, “The Social Network,” any trepidation felt towards Fincher’s utter cinematic genius has all but vanished. This film, which before its release was ridiculed and sarcastically dubbed the ‘Facebook movie,’ is absolutely incredible.
The film’s historical accuracy on the founding of the popular website is of a little concern to me. I don’t really understand why many critics and bloggers have devoted so much time to writing about the subject. Whether Jesse Eisenberg’s wonderful performance actually channels the real Zuckerberg doesn’t matter. What he coneys is the personality, attitude and philosophy of a generation raised in a world of media and technology.
The Zuckerberg crafted by Fincher and screenwriter Aaron Sorkin is a self-starter who is ultimately self-concerned. He has little time for old business models and societal niceties after decimating them with his own ideas and initative.
With a wonderfully haunting and hypnotic score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, the film praises and is cautious of Zuckerberg. He is both admirable and detestable for his arrogance, attitude and success. Like the hipsters of the 50s, hippies of the 60s and punks of the 70s, Zuckerberg’s success comes not from playing by the rules, but going against them as if they never applied in the first place. And like the iconic figures of the past decades, he is terrifying, enchanting and utterly fascinating to watch.
Several critics have written that the film defines a generation. What’s interesting and irritating is that these critics have never been a part of this generation nor fully understood it. “The Social Network” does not define a generation, rather, Fincher’s film constructs Mark Zuckerberg as media 2.0’s counterculture pop icon.
A fascinating failure. This movie’s got balls.
David Fincher knows how to construct an engaging thriller even when the script is lacking. Can someone smarter than me please write a paper on San Francisco in Fincher’s films? I’d love to read that.
This is David Fincher’s overlooked masterpiece. A procedural drama in which every element works together like clockwork and the film’s chilling realism is accentuated due to its pioneering digital cinematography.
I don’t care if this was a faithful adaptation to the Swedish best-selling novel. I don’t care if the film’s flow falters and it becomes obvious that this is an adaptation of that novel. The only thing that matters in this movie is Rooney fucking Mara. She gives the performance of a lifetime.
Fincher’s take on a B-movie thriller. The film has his trademark flourishes and some good performances, but alongside “The Game,” it’s probably my least favorite Fincher film.
