Zodiac

There is little that can be said that hasn’t been said about Zodiac already, but I absolutely love everything about this film, so I’ll muster up the courage to just try, as it most definitely holds up fifteen years later. Fincher is an absolute master at his craft, at constructing timeless and rewarding portrayals of what appears as purely dark, depressive and dreary at first glance. James Vanderbilt writes his most engaging and tight screenplay to date, with punchy dialogue that rarely ever feels inauthentic but rather historically accurate and well-researched. Everything from the sets, to the cinematography, the sound design, and the casting is fantastic and gripping and builds tension that keeps the viewer engaged throughout the film’s perfectly brisk-feeling runtime (I may be alone in thinking this). Fincher crafts an absolutely chilling atmosphere that’s almost dream like, primarily through digital cinematography. An interesting choice that only makes the grisly murder sequences shot on film (which are less grounded in reality than it’s more investigative and semi-biographical counterparts) stand out with their unimaginable brutality. The change in Fincher’s use of colour and lighting further change as we progress to the latter half of the film, focusing on our budding investigator, Graysmith, solitary, manic and neurotic, all that’s left to continue what the San Francisco Chronicle and the police departments started. This shift in narrative perspective is emphasized as we see many abandon him on his quest to find the identity of the Zodiac killer, and no longer are we left with the crowded, bright confines of a newspaper office to seek comfort and shelter in. Darker and tighter spaces as well as an even more muted colour palette characterized the last few acts of the film, as we fear for the safety of Graysmith and his family’s future. Zodiac cemented Fincher as a capable filmmaker that adapted both the fictional and the factual with outstanding consistency. Zodiac also successfully proved that Fight Club was not simply fluke, establishing Fincher as the iconic and in-demand filmmaker he is today. Fincher’s decisions to craft a minimalist and simplistic score invigorates the material as opposed to manipulates the viewer, instead adding to the faithfulness and accuracy displayed in the atmosphere, in conjunction to the rhythmic pacing. The subtle trumpet in the background appears to introduce us to Toschi, the lone piano keys present us Graysmith, and the haunting dissonance of the strings signal the arrival of the titular Zodiac killer to commit what he wishes to get the attention of society, a society that would otherwise leave him ignored. Fincher reiterates his clear intentions to create a quiet, and understated thriller by focusing on painting a moody 70s era west coast complete with complex, nuanced, and multidimensional characters. Fincher accomplishes this infatuation with realism while simultaneously illustrating a notoriously crime-ridden grey-green world, emphasized by his calculated and precise sets and lighting. * Zodiac is every bit a character-driven slow-burn as it is one that examines its own setting’s character. Yes, Zodiac is a film concerning an elusive serial killer, however it subverts traditional genre conventions by focusing on the people that chase the killer rather than the killer alone. The film documents Graysmith’s obsessive and life-consuming quest to look the possible Zodiac killer himself in the eyes, only satisfying his insatiable desire to confront them by doing so. We witness Graysmith’s marriage and reputation crumble in front of him in his seemingly endless pursuit of an answer, even when the entire world has moved on. Fincher examines the process, the procedure behind the search for a serial killer and why not every case of ends successfully, exposing the flaws and the inadequacy of those who enforce the law. From early on, the protagonists are faced with the dilemma of whether to entertain a criminal and submit to them, or gamble the lives of countless civilians that the Zodiac* may get their hands on. Perhaps the most unique aspect of Fincher’s masterpiece is it’s conclusion. It’s satisfying as it provides some solace in the hopeless world of Zodiac that hooks you from the first killing. It does not promise any answers, or a clear triumph for justice (quite the contrary in fact), but we see Robert Graysmith (played wonderfully by Jake Gyllenhaal) accomplish what he intended to when he was consumed by the case over all those years, which is, enough of a pay off, given it is an authentic one. Through Vanderbilt’s investing dialogue and Fincher’s suspenseful and non-distracting pacing and camerawork, Zodiac dissects the impact of a dramatic performance involving the lives of the innocent on an individual, while also exploring and deconstructing the failures of an overworked and incompetent police department. This results in an ultimately poetic and beautiful ending to an outstanding exercise in crime cinema, a case study that acted as a sort of cautionary tale, one that marked the end of a more trusting, civil, and optimistic era. As by the end of the 70s, the naïvety and promiscuity of the 50s was long gone. Fincher throws away sensationalism in exchange for the cold, hard truth, in turn producing what may be one of the most influential crime films of all time.