‘Se7en’ at 30: The Quintessential ’90s, Rain-Soaked Procedural

It’s hard to believe David Fincher’s “Se7en” turns 30 this year. The cop procedural was common for the decade; the film was released in 1995, but was not unique in its criminal exploration of dark minds. Perhaps “The Silence of the Lambs” started the trend four years prior,  as did “The Usual Suspects,” released only a month prior (also starring Kevin Spacey). The film would accomplish many things, such as paving the way for Morgan Freeman to play this kind of role again (Alex Cross in “Kiss the Girls” and “Along Came a Spider”). And Brad Pitt has often credited David Fincher and “Se7en” in helping make his career from leading man types to films of more serious and dramatic content. Irregardless, “Se7en”—despite a dearth of awards recognition—became a phenomenon and an example of the genre’s finest hour. 

What works most about “Se7en,” though, is not its status as a grimy, dismal police procedural, but the ways in which it subverts the genre. This is not a whodunit, like the aforementioned films, where solving the mystery of the killer becomes the climactic point of the film. Even the motive is thrown out the window. “John Doe” is purported to be a psychopath by Detective Mills (Pitt), and while Detective Somerset (Freeman) pays him more respect, he doesn’t wholly disagree. And when Spacey’s enigmatic killer gives himself up well before the end of the film, Fincher and writer Andrew Kevin Walker are asking us not to solve the crime, but to help John Doe finish it, a far more eery concept. 

A Seasoned Cynic vs. an Ambitious Rookie

What also works is the way Mills and Somerset play off each other, one, the seasoned, jaded veteran and the other a new detective looking to make a difference. Freeman embodies the type of man who takes his time, asks the hard questions, and peeks behind the curtain more than other men. Other cops in his precinct look down on him for his inability to just leave it alone, label the scenes a murder and their killers scumbags and just move on. Ironically, though Pitt’s Mills does want to label these killers insane and mentally ill, he also shows a disdain for the quick to sweep over the crime scene operations of the local cops, which Somerset calls him out for. “Se7en” is nothing if not a complicated film, made all the more so by the care Fincher, Freeman, and Pitt put into its takeaways. 

The film’s dismal, eternally raining atmosphere gives it an edge that matches its themes, particularly Somerset’s feeling that the world is corrupt and evil, causing a cynicism that is palpable. And while Fincher stated the rain served a cinematic purpose—they never had to worry about bad weather—it highlights a sense of dread and foreboding the film wouldn’t have worked without. As Mills argues with Somerset throughout about the folly of viewing life cynically, the rain almost works as a clencher on Somerset’s arguments. For how can you see hope or potential in a world where the sun doesn’t shin? Whether Somerset is simply jaded from being on the frontlines of evil for so long, or the world is as Mills wants to see it, is in the eye of the beholder. 

In this way, “Se7en” is a moral tale. And ironically, by its closing frame—as dark as they come—it may be Mills that has the winning argument. Or rather that both men’s arguments finally work on each other. It’s doubtful Mills feels there is any good in the world, and Somerset, due to his affection towards Mills by the end, feels that despite its ugliness, the world is worth fighting for. 

A Film that Envelopes You

“Se7en” is an immersive experience, bringing you into its dark, dank world. Fincher and Director of Photography Darius Khondji create an experience that envelopes you fully, all the more impressive as its reels were filmed in sunny Los Angeles. From Mills’ apartment with the rattling subway to Somerset’s dark, lonely apartment devoid of any sound but a metronome to lull him to sleep, you feel like you live here, cohabitating with its players and the city. 

Unsurprisingly, Mills’ wife Tracey (earning Gwyneth Paltrow a Saturn Award for ‘Best Supporting Actress’) is the brief spot of light in the entire film. Her relationship with Mills seems authentically cast, and a beacon that Somerset approaches cautiously yet realistically, like finding winter’s first snowflake on your hand and hoping not to melt it. Tracy never hovers during the detectives’ discussions of the murders; she’s the one unpolluted thing in Fincher’s thriller, which is evident as its climax rolls around, particularly in Somerset’s reaction, breaking his even keel, raising his voice for the first time and flinching: her demise is the something even the hardened cynic didn’t expect, and—subverting the genre again—he becomes almost paternal, trying to protect Mills from the truth like you would your own child. 

Where “Se7en” shines is in its discussions and quieter moments. Sure, it has the action and horror that makes a film like this. Its crime scenes are elaborate and dark. Darius Khondji bathes many of them in utter darkness, Mills and Somerset’s flashlights the only illumination. Others—such as the Gould murder—are bright and fully shown. The gore is here, of course, but isn’t the point of the movie. Mills and Somerset travail despite it. Meanwhile the rain endlessly pours outside, bathing the proceedings in perpetual gloom. 

The Smaller Moments Make ‘Se7en’

However, it’s the relationship between Mills and Somerset—and their conversations—that make this movie. It’s something often missing from films of this type. Sure, there’s the usual killer sizing up the quarry scenes, and sometimes even respect for his or her adversary. But nothing of this caliber, where two lawmen on opposites sides of thinking learn and feel each other out. 

To me, a scene between Mills and Somserset in a bar was the most stark. Somerset lectures on the futility of humanity, exposing his cynicism, while Mills advocates not giving up on the world and fighting for it. One thing Somerset says stuck with me, though:“If we catch John Doe and he turns out to be Satan himself, that might live up to our expectations, but he’s not the devil. He’s just a man.” It reminded me of a similar scene in Joel Schumacher’s “8MM” when Nicholas Cage unmasks a killer and he utters, “what did you expect, the devil?” I also like that along the way you can see Mills learning from Somerset; he’s impulsive and hot-headed at the onset, but towards the end he starts to embody his chosen profession. Somerset clearly respects him, and it’s a shame he succumbs to John Doe the way he does.

Re-writing the Police Procedural

Of course, to talk about “Se7en” is to talk about Kevin Spacey. And though the actor has fallen from grace, he here embodies the essence of insanity and evil thoroughly. His character works due to the way he is written—transparently—and the fact that while he outsmarts the police numerous times, Somerset and Mills—incessantly hammering him with objectivity—gets to him, causing an angry reaction you don’t usually see in serial killer masterminds. He’s insane, and truly believes the things he espouses. But he’s not perfect. His sloppiness in speech towards the end betrays a deeply jaded and cynical man—like Somerset—but one who simply went too far. 

I also like that you can pick something up in Spacey’s performance the more you watch the film. Years ago, seeing it for the first time, as John Doe walks into the police station to give himself up, covered in blood, I assumed he had just come from the ‘Pride’ murder. But it becomes infinitely more insidious when you realize he has just come from murdering Mills’ wife. Incidentally, I think this scene is perhaps the first time in the movie when it’s not pouring outside, seen through the police precinct doors. The calm before the storm, I suppose. 

A Film Worthy of Analysis

Films that you can analyze after watching make for the greats. Sure, I like films like “Along Came a Spider,” “88 Minutes,” and the like. But they are thrillers to the fullest extent. “Se7en”—with Freeman, Pitt, and Fincher—becomes something more. It’s a cautionary tale. It’s a wish fulfilled (for Somerset, anyways). Life is cynical, painful, and evil.

Yet within its confines, in Mills, his wife, and even the precinct Captain (a subdued and paternal R. Lee Ermey), the film becomes almost kind. While we know Mills’ life is over for all intents and purposes, and he’ll never be the same, Somerset’s reaction in the film’s finale shows the utter tragedy in this. It’s easy for many to say this is Freeman’s film—he was at the time the more prolific and veteran actor—but that’s a disservice. This is as much Pitt’s movie—and Fincher’s—as it is Freeman’s. That it still has relevance 30 years after its release is a testament to that fact.