TITLE: Review: Zodiac (2007) AUTHOR: Joe Johnson DATE: 8:30:00 AM ----- BODY:
Dir: David Fincher

In the late 1960's and early 70's a string of murders gripped much of the Bay area. The crimes were apparently random, violent and played out publicly through print and television news. The unknown force behind the crimes, who called himself the "Zodiac," inspired copycat savagery while ultimately remaining uncaptured. Later, a San Francisco Chronicle cartoonist - named Robert Graysmith - wrote a book about the events of that time. These are the facts that David Fincher works with, and Zodiac is a film that intends to be as precise in following those facts as it is in producing a cinematic experience.

By following this structure Fincher operates with a handicap. He can't end the film with the capture of the criminal. He can't show the successful resolution of a long, terrifying period in Californian history. Zodiac is a film that is constantly trying to find its center, trying to figure out a story that can have an ending. When is it time to roll credits? Unfortunately, the center doesn't truly emerge until deep into the movie.

Instead of a sequence that was cut for time, we see only a piece of text: "Four years later." Here, in 1977, Gyllenhaal's Zodiac-obsessed Robert Graysmith gives the film grounding. Long after the public has moved on, after the reporters and detectives have been reassigned to other cases, Graysmith is stuck with an obsession to continue the case. He becomes a collateral victim of the Zodiac, unable to focus on a normal life. And he ignites the hopes and perspectives of several involved in the original investigations.

Fincher remains a masterful director. With Zodiac, he creates one of the most complete technical films since Casino. Donavon's "Hurdy Gurdy Man" rings through with all the style and atmosphere of The Rolling Stone's "Gimme Shelter". The soundtrack generates a bed of ambience, creating mood without obviousness. Each song is chosen with the rhythm and perfection of a Scorsese soundtrack: an endless cycle of songs that compliment the story without ever taking it over.

Even deeper, the use of light and framing are genius - unpretentious but exciting and compelling. Every sound effect rings through with great placement and precision. Quirks and visual details make each frame substantial. The dialogue is fluid, literate and sometimes humorous. Zodiac is a film with unsurpassed texture and craftsmanship. (The shot of the Golden Gate bridge buried in fog - the image used for the poster - is iconic and stunning.)

Surprisingly, Fincher forgoes the technical wizardry of his earlier opening credits. It's almost as if he's forcing himself to create an accessible film. Rather than Fight Club's travel through the brain, he uses a standard combination of imagery, music and overlaid text. But if you watch, you can see that the first ten minutes of the film introduces the vocabulary of Zodiac. It will be both human and terrifying, linear and straightforward. Both explicitly and suggestively violent. It will consist of perfect pans of the camera, tobacco coloring with surprising amounts of light. It will create momentum through the introduction of new characters, the atmosphere of music and sound, the overlaying of audio and text. In short, those first minutes serve as a primer - a code key - to everything that follows. It is also a clinic to every aspiring filmmaker - and perhaps a reminder to current directors about what can be done in a movie.

But Zodiac is 158 minutes long and needs more than a great beginning or even a provocative middle.

It sets up like a combination of Se7en, Quiz Show and All the Presidents Men - a promising parentage. But those are three distinct movies; their greatness comes in precision: knowing exactly what they want to do and how to get there. Woodward and Bernstein make cameos through Gyllenhaal and Downey, but they don't stay. If there's something that doesn't quite develop - at least until much farther into the movie - it's a center. Zodiac is a film of texture, not topography.

It is the most eloquent dramatized re-enactment we've ever seen, eventually, giving way to another film. That second story - about obsession and the personal impact of a public crime - was the right one to chase. It should have been pursued much earlier, even though it would probably have meant dropping a half-hour from the best crafted parts of the movie. Unfortunately, Gyllenhaal's Graysmith is less compelling than the characters that become peripheral: Mark Ruffalo's Inspector Toschi and Robert Downey's Paul Avery.

Chloe Sevigny, who plays Graysmith's wife Melanie, is basically a literary device.
She lacks depth and emotion - a placeholder that rarely changes expression and seems unthinking, perhaps stylistically ornamental. It's almost as if Fincher needs to use the pre-1977 story to create the momentum for the final section. Gyllenhaal's descent is solid, but it lacks the depth of Brad Pitt's in Se7en, or even Michael Douglas's in The Game. But Gyllenhaal experiences moments of deep horror and enthusiasm, eventually redeeming Fincher's choice. He also gives us one of the most atmospherically and psychologically terrifying sequences since Silence of the Lambs.

Fincher's failures would qualify as the successes of lesser directors. Though a bit bloated and unfocused, Zodiac is an impressive marathon of generally great performances and compelling atmospheres. Fans of Fincher will be treated to another satisfying - though somewhat inconcise - reminder that he is a new master. The average moviegoer will be treated to a somewhat long, but captivating expose of the power of cinema. But there are at least two or three scenes in his movies that no other director could create. Like all Fincher films, even if the sum of its parts don't add up to a masterpiece, Zodiac's parts are honed and crafted with greatness you can't find in many other places.

**** of *****

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