Se7en

Warner Home Video

Starring Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman

Written by Andrew Kevin Walker
Directed by David Fincher

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Seven is hard to see. So hard that it's easy to miss the film, even when you are in the midst of watching it.

The myopia I describe is actually twofold. First, I can't remember a film in recent memory that has sparked as much debate as Seven for nothing more than the art direction. As this film has been viewed and reviewed in the few short years since its release, a litany of complaints have emerged, mostly resonating around a singular perceived defect: "It's too dark! I can't see anything."

I am one of these people — or at least, I was. The above quote was my own one evening some time ago. I didn't catch Seven in theatrical release, and first saw it on VHS before the DVD was released (before any DVDs were released, in fact). I wanted to like the film, and enjoyed many things about it. But, because of the VHS transfer (and perhaps because I didn't have a very good TV at the time) I wondered why it was so dark. The entire film seemed to take place at night, and some scenes were so dark that I had trouble following the action.

At the time I held the art direction responsible. Now I hold VHS responsible. Make no mistake — The DVD edition of Seven cannot be watched with any ambient light in the room whatsoever. None. Turn off the lights, because it was meant to be seen in a darkened theater, not in a comfortably lit living room. If you turn off the lights, and if you watch the DVD and not a tape, Seven will leap from the screen in its proper form. Scenes that might seem to take place in twilight reveal themselves as overcast midday. Details on the walls of darkened rooms are brought from the gloom into focus. Expressions on actors' faces take their full, voiceless form.

Seven is unique because of its unusual print process. Unlike most films, the director-approved theatrical print of Seven employed what is called "silver nitrate retention," a complicated method of film development that retains the silver of the print rather than discarding it, and giving the bright parts of the picture a surreal luminescence. Due to the large initial theatrical run of Seven in 1995, only a handful of silver-nitrate prints were produced and sent to the very best theaters. Amazingly, most smaller theaters in America were denied these prints, doubtless leaving audiences wondering just what the director was thinking.

There is some debate as to if the Warner DVD of Seven has been sourced from a silver-nitrate print, but in any case, I can say that, compared to the VHS, the DVD provides an excellent rendition of a rainy, dim, soulless Baltimore. Moreover, I will go to the mat for Fincher's choices with this movie, because in terms of art direction, Seven makes a wonderful contribution to the language of cinema. This is the only movie I know of that was shot in color, yet which I consider (to a degree) black-and white. The first half of the film is so devoid of color that when colors eventually appear the audience learns, in visual terms, that something is happening, and that we should be more afraid than our protagonists seem to be.

The second form of myopia in regards to Seven — this one even more severe — has to do with the actual film itself. I have heard more than one person sum up Seven with a laconic, one-word assessment, the most common one being "gross." Others I have talked too see the film as pointless, as if it were there to simply excite nervous teenagers into frightened ecstasy, a bloodier Scream without the in-jokes. This, of all things, is the largest misinterpretation of Seven currently in circulation. Seven is such an intelligent — and I would argue, literary film — that some people can't see it. It's thematic depth is so profound that many who watch simply stick their big toe in the story and say "Oooh."

David Mills (Brad Pitt) is a young homicide detective, but he's not a novice. When he's paired with veteran William Somerset (Morgan Freeman), we see him as Somerset sees him — abrupt, defensive, emotional. Because Somerset is due to retire in seven days, he gives Mills, his replacement, little regard. After all, if you were quitting a job that you had held for a few decades, would you care about the co-worker you had been assigned for a mere week? The tension between the two detectives — one eager, the other world-weary — is palpable from the outset. Somerset even dismisses Mills from their first murder scene, an unusual killing where a pathetically obese man appears to have been fed to death.

A second murder a day later — this one of a prominent government official — causes Somerset to determine that the two seemingly separate deaths are, in, fact related. "There'll be five more of these," he tells his captain. And while he wants nothing to do with the case, he knows that he will have to pursue it. And that means pursuing it with his new upstart partner.

Seven is about seven days, seven deaths, and seven deadly sins. But Seven is about a lot more than just that. Seven is about a moral dichotomy, embodied in its two leads, that forces the viewer to examine his own moral exegesis. This dichotomy is revealed in many moments: Mills's optimism constantly clashes with Somerset's cynicism; Mills declares himself to be a man of possibilities, while Somerset exudes an effete futility; in an important scene late in the film, Somerset declares his surrender to the world, while Mills reaffirms his commitment to his job.

And yet, in many situations, these roles exchange, as Mills declares the futility of their investigation while Somerset, the reluctant veteran, continues to examine possibilities. In these scenes, the disinclined Somerset is the one who is proved right, while Mills is dead wrong. It's not hard to see that both of these characters are not merely struggling with an extrinsic murder case as much as they are battling hidden aspects of self. Each makes declarations of his own identity as a means of escape or denial. The key line in the film is Mills's: "I don't think you want to quit because you believe these things. I think you want to believe these things because you're quitting." In fact, these men are more disturbed by their struggles of self-identity than they are with the identity of the murderer, who, when revealed, is the most committed individual of the three; ironically, it is his personality that is the most "stable."

I have already discussed the picture quality of Seven, which I regard as excellent, but I also would like to note that, according to the bit-rate meter on The DVD Journal 's Sony 300, even in the most static scenes, the meter tends to range above 5 Mb/s, which is somewhat above the normal bit-rate of other movies. Many have complained about the fact that this disc is a "flipper," and I do agree that RSDL formatting would have been better, but in order for Seven to achieve the proper presentation, a high bit-rate was required. Whoever mastered this disc should be commended. It appears free of artifacts, and while the source material may have some intentional grain, it is free from flecking or damage.

The audio of Seven is a perfect compliment to the video. The score mostly consists of a pulsing orchestra, all crescendo and ebb as the story progresses, and it's extremely effective. Ambient sounds are enveloping, and directional effects are superb, all creating a heightened suspension of disbelief.

Seven is a "flipper," meaning that you will have to get up and change sides of the disc in the middle of the movie. However, a new "Double Platinum Edition" DVD from New Line, with many supplements and RSDL-formatting, is expected in late 2000. Pre-order the upcoming release and rent this one in the meantime.

— RW

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