Your Monday-morning movie endorsement.
It’s been a long time since I left a movie theater believing I had seen a great American film, but that’s exactly what was buzzing around my head as I walked out of Zodiac, David Fincher’s brilliant, obsessive recreation of the hunt for the serial killer who terrorized northern California in the late 1960s. Those familiar with Fincher’s work (Alien 3, Seven, The Game, Fight Club, Panic Room) may be surprised by the restraint shown in this film, easily his best. No flamboyant camera work. No non-linear narrative to cope with. It’s not even a conventional thriller. Two-thirds of the picture are taken up with puzzling out the identity of the Zodiac. Making that sort of story compelling without leaning on visual trickery or telegraphic musical cues (a la Oliver Stone’s JFK) is a major cinematic accomplishment. All the movie relies on is its smart writing, superior performances (by the entire sprawling cast), and–it must be said–costume and set design (the film spans nearly a decade). The next time you have a few free hours, check it out.
I heard it was terrifying. and that the violence was pretty bad. What do you think, Grant?
The first forty-five minutes or so contain three scenes of brutal violence, one much harder to watch than the others. The portrayals of the killings are unflinching–but never gratuitous. But, as has been pointed out by several critics, while most serial-killer flicks are largely taken up with depicting the killings, Zodiac isn’t. The film contains no “scare moments,” though. You know when a killing is coming, so you have plenty of time to cover your eyes.
I moved to the Bay Area in 1970 and, while the main thrust of Zodiac moments was over, nonetheless many people were still quite nervous at being out on their own, day or night.
Terror has a way of weaving itself into all of life’s aspects. I know of a couple of women who were around for the full time of the Zodiac killings and who, to this day, are still very nervouse about being out and about on their own.