Seven has always been one of my favorite movies. I hadn't seen it in about ten years, and always nodded approvingly when I saw it pop up on Netflix, but never even so much as added it to my list, let alone watch it again.
I just felt like my history with it was complete. It was a great movie that I saw a long time ago, and that was that. But when I saw that it was due to be taken off Netflix on March 1, I decided to give it a watch, because it would probably never be easier to watch it than it was on Netflix right then.
My first thought was just why is this movie so rare and singular? Has there been a movie that's even remotely comparable? It doesn't seem like that much to ask to have psychological thriller/crime drama/horror movies of this quality and pedigree every few years, does it? Shouldn't this be the kind of thing that Hollywood can produce with some regularity?
I had thought this came out in the later 90s, '97 or '98, but it was actually '95. So this was Brad Pitt right on the verge of becoming the huge star he is today. He was only three films removed from being Floyd, and those films were Legends of the Fall and Interview with the Vampire. Big productions both, sure, but neither of them were real beloved films. Seven was the start of a monster streak that hasn't really ended. Morgan Freeman was one year removed from The Shawshank Redemption, right at the start of his belated prime.
This was David Fincher before he became one of the most famed and admired directors of the era. It was his first film after the harrowing experience of making Alien 3, a production so negative he foreswore filmmaking for a few years after. So Seven had a lot going for it, and was a unique product of a lot of different factors. But it still doesn't seem like it should've been so hard to if not duplicate, at least approach. I can't think of a single film in the crime/horror genre that has approached it since. It was much appreciated in its time, but it wasn't really regarded as the unicorn it turns out it was, since those sorts of movies (think The Silence of the Lambs) came along every so often in the nineties.
So Seven was a great confluence of star acting and directing talent being caught right at the best moment, and a great script, and a combination of genres (psychological thriller/crime drama/horror) that are related, but not usually meshed together so intensely. What's stopping this from happening today?
Modestly budgeted (Seven was made for a tiny $30 million, ending up making over $300 million worldwide box office), deeply impactful and memorable genre mashups with top quality talent. Why aren't these movies being made? As has been commented often, this is the sort of mid-level production that doesn't get funding anymore, as everything has to either be an enormous multi-hundreds of millions of dollars production with a surefire intellectual property backing it, or a tiny little indie.
The problem is tiny little indies, the province of original, compelling, potentially dark ideas, can't maximize their potential without the world-building assistance of a mid-range budget. And huge $100 million and beyond productions can't take the same kinds of risks that make films truly memorable.
Everyone knows that this sort of mid-level, adult production has shifted over to prestige serialized TV dramas. Breaking Bad, True Detective, Fargo, on and on. But the mere fact that it takes dozens of hours for these shows to pack the same punch that works like Seven and The Silence of the Lambs did in two shows how diluted the effect is. The ultimate quantitative effect of watching Breaking Bad may be the same as watching Seven, but if I want to experience it again, I can just set aside two hours to watch Seven and get it all again. I can't re-watch all of Breaking Bad.
Friday, February 27, 2015
Friday, February 13, 2015
The Oddly Good "The Frozen Ground"
I'd had the Nicolas Cage and John Cusack crime drama The Frozen Ground in my Netflix queue for quite a while, but only recently was I bored and bereft enough of things to watch on my iPad in bed as I fell asleep to start it. Of course, most Netflix movies you start and lose interest in after ten minutes, because most of them are things that you really very much almost want to see. But to my surprise I watched this one the whole way through.
Everyone knows that Cage will do just about any project that offers him a paycheck, so it's no surprise that he brings his usual workmanlike presence to this movie. Outside of a few odd rejuvenated bits of inspired mania every few years, that's all he has left in him. But with this movie, it weirdly kind of works.
It's about real life serial killer Robert Hansen, who killed 17 women in Alaska in the 1970s. Cusack plays Hansen as a workmanlike serial killer, carrying out his compulsions like mandatory tasks, and not really enjoying any of it. We get no idea of why he does what he does. Cusack just seems glad to be playing a bad guy, and so doesn't really make an effort to understand who Hansen is, beyond a guy who mechanically goes about his grim duty of killing young women.
Beyond the two (former) A-list leads, the rest of the cast is far stronger than it has any right to be. Breaking Bad's Dean Norris and classic That Guy Kevin Dunn play cops who help Cage track down the killer; Radha Mitchell plays his wife; and Vanessa Hudgens plays the young prostitute who got away from Hansen and eventually helps to bring him down.
In her desire to jumpstart professional adulthood and seriousness, leaving behind the Disney stain, she's taken on a slew of prostitute, party girl, stripper and uglied up roles. What do you do when playing these extreme roles runs its course? What's the next step?
The plot is mainly about Cage's quest to get enough evidence to convince the District Attorney, played by yet another classic That Guy Kurt Fuller, to give him a search warrant for Hansen's house, since Cage is convinced he is the killer. It's all about paperwork, navigating bureaucratic processes, and keeping your own suspicions and agendas concealed in favor of going by the book.
Which is all to say that The Frozen Ground is among the most boring serial killer movies ever made. But there's something that just clicks about how the workmanlike attitude of the actors in the movie toward the project, the plot of navigating the labyrinths of bureaucracy, and the oddly begrudgingly committed nature of the killings themselves all sync up. Rarely do you find such a synchronicity between the motivations of the hero and the villain, not to mention the actual actors playing them, and the real life story itself. I sort of loved it.
Everyone knows that Cage will do just about any project that offers him a paycheck, so it's no surprise that he brings his usual workmanlike presence to this movie. Outside of a few odd rejuvenated bits of inspired mania every few years, that's all he has left in him. But with this movie, it weirdly kind of works.
It's about real life serial killer Robert Hansen, who killed 17 women in Alaska in the 1970s. Cusack plays Hansen as a workmanlike serial killer, carrying out his compulsions like mandatory tasks, and not really enjoying any of it. We get no idea of why he does what he does. Cusack just seems glad to be playing a bad guy, and so doesn't really make an effort to understand who Hansen is, beyond a guy who mechanically goes about his grim duty of killing young women.
Beyond the two (former) A-list leads, the rest of the cast is far stronger than it has any right to be. Breaking Bad's Dean Norris and classic That Guy Kevin Dunn play cops who help Cage track down the killer; Radha Mitchell plays his wife; and Vanessa Hudgens plays the young prostitute who got away from Hansen and eventually helps to bring him down.
In her desire to jumpstart professional adulthood and seriousness, leaving behind the Disney stain, she's taken on a slew of prostitute, party girl, stripper and uglied up roles. What do you do when playing these extreme roles runs its course? What's the next step?
The plot is mainly about Cage's quest to get enough evidence to convince the District Attorney, played by yet another classic That Guy Kurt Fuller, to give him a search warrant for Hansen's house, since Cage is convinced he is the killer. It's all about paperwork, navigating bureaucratic processes, and keeping your own suspicions and agendas concealed in favor of going by the book.
Which is all to say that The Frozen Ground is among the most boring serial killer movies ever made. But there's something that just clicks about how the workmanlike attitude of the actors in the movie toward the project, the plot of navigating the labyrinths of bureaucracy, and the oddly begrudgingly committed nature of the killings themselves all sync up. Rarely do you find such a synchronicity between the motivations of the hero and the villain, not to mention the actual actors playing them, and the real life story itself. I sort of loved it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)