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Zodiac (2007) Paramount
Pictures, 2 hrs. 37 mins.
Starring:
Jake Gyllenhaul, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey, Jr., Anthony Edwards, Brian
Cox, Chloe Sevigny, Elias Koteas
Directed by:
David Fincher |
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It’s not a very good indication if
your Zodiac sign reads: murder. However, this is an intriguing concept
when applying it to filmmaker David Fincher’s atmospherically intense
serial killer thriller. In the absorbingly sadistic psychological
whodunnit Zodiac, Fincher parlays this investigative insanity into a taut,
chilling slice of macabre entertainment that is all too familiar to the
masses that lived through this real-life terrorizing incident.
Understandably, the infamous Zodiac-style killings caused an irreparable
frenzy in the Bay Area during the transitional late 60’s to mid 70’s.
Eerily challenging, Fincher’s caustic curiosities are put into immediate
play to revisit the frustratingly frantic episode of ugly human behavior
that still persists in the fragile minds 30-plus years in its horrid
aftermath. Fixating in its gripping hold, Zodiac is convincingly haunting
in its head-scratching mode.
Although occasionally tedious in its near lengthy three-hour running time,
Zodiac doesn’t feel as exhaustive in its bloated, creepy-crawly skin.
Fincher (“Panic Room”) and screenwriter James Vanderbilt skillfully
capture the jittery sensations and are efficiently involving in the way
they soak up the bleak essence of the nostalgic times and usher in the
drab monotony of these paranoid-stricken proceedings. Zodiac manages to
resourcefully juggle its ball of confusion on two distinctive levels: a.)
daringly placing us into the personalized jeopardy of the slain victims
and b.) making us become amateur sleuths as we conduct the dubious
investigations along with the perplexed protagonists.
Armed with Fincher’s durable direction and Vanderbilt’s mood-enhancing
script, Zodiac delves into the demoralizing details with a perverse sense
of urgency. Laced with a smirking drollness and earthy symbolism of
despair where disillusioned law enforcers and reporters worked tirelessly
to unravel this menacing mystery, Fincher’s hypnotizing narrative
percolates with startling revelation. The handlers behind Zodiac work
profusely to ensure that the audience dabbles in the agonizing
cat-and-mouse display that constantly bewilder the apprehending
authorities and beleaguered community at large.
Zodiac is based on the Robert Graysmith eye-popping novels “Zodiac” and
“Zodiac Unmasked”. Unfortunately, the Zodiac murders were never solved and
the frightening folklore that paralyzed California in the better half of
the sixties and seventies still registers as a disturbing forethought.
Granted that the ending is a foregone conclusion but Fincher still
masterfully puts the viewer through the hectic paces as if this deadly
game could possibly have a resolution in the minds of wishful thinkers
concocting their own conspiracy theories. Although the scathing story of
the Zodiac killer has been told countless times before in documentaries
and miscellaneous fictional accounts, Fincher establishes a whole new
identity when applying his tantalizing touch.
It’s July 4, 1969 and the sick-minded Zodiac killer has struck courtesy of
his “morbid masterpieces” involving the recent slayings of a young Lover’s
Lane couple not to mention the retroactive demise of a lovey-dovey
lakeside tandem and a taxi driver. Oddly wanting to seek some twisted
notoriety on his hedonistic “handywork” the sicko calls the police to
notify them of his critical attacks. Things don’t get too showy for the
ghoulish gloryhound right away until he contacts the San Francisco
Chronicle and other area newspapers via a note. It is only then that the
killer starts to garner some public attention that he feeds off like a
hungry hyena ripping the flesh off a dead deer’s carcass.
Enter mild-mannered Chronicle editorial cartoonist Graysmith (Jake
Gyllenhaal), an avid puzzle player. Graysmith is enlisted to help try and
decode the deranged ranting of the Zodiac killer’s cryptic correspondences
that were sent to the paper’s offices. Chronicle crime reporter Paul Avery
(Robert Downey, Jr.) is called into the action as well. This case really
takes its toll on Avery to the point that it eats his battered psyche.
Hotshot San Francisco police inspector Dave Toschi (Mark Ruffalo) and his
partner Bill Armstrong (Anthony Edwards) are called into duty and must
prevent the reign of terror that the Zodiac killer is causing with
calculating conviction. The pressure is on for the cops to keep the region
safe and the homicidal instigator is applying a horrendous cramp in the
diminishing ego of the crusading Toschi. Incidentally, it should be noted
that Ruffalo’s Toschi is said to be the bad boy blueprint for macho movie
mavericks in Steve McQueen’s “Bullitt” and Clint Eastwood’s “Dirty Harry”
Callahan.
Will our intrepid panel of experts get the lowdown on this murderous
misfit before the panic overwhelms the worried citizens? Can Graysmith and
his printing page colleagues solve the corrosive coding of this petrifying
pest? Will the reputation of Toschi and his badge buddies be tarnished in
the eyes of public outrage? Better yet, will the baffled efforts of the
collective good guys continue to empower the Zodiac killer’s craving for
chaos?
Interestingly, Zodiac is an unflinching commentary about obsession and the
situational stress that overcomes a territory stifled by societal strife.
The performances are solid and steady with each participant leaving an
indelible imprint of disillusionment. Gyllenhaal’s Graysmith is sturdy as
an adventurous and impish soul motivated by the tabloid-filled turmoil
that breaks him away from his encompassing shell. He is besieged by the
pending dangers but nevertheless is drawn to the power of its hedonistic
vibes. Downey’s Avery is a self-destructive iconic chess player whose
vital moves professionally and personally (read: alcoholism and drugs)
renders him a reckless rogue in search of elusive answers. Ruffalo’s
Toschi is fabulously icy as the non-conformist cop concerned with his
career-oriented self-absorption.
Favorably, the serial killer genre had set a whole new bar when The
Silence of the Lambs arrived on the scene and made a profound impact on
the manner in which we perceive our direful dramas drenched in salacious
dressing. Zodiac may not completely be on the same level as Jonathan
Demme’s 1991 groundbreaking shocker but it definitely delivers its unique
adrenaline rush mired in procedural conflict and a crazed personality’s
insidious recreation for communal disenchantment. |
