Less Than Seven

When the movie Seven starring Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman came out in 1995, it was a hit. More than that, really. It changed the genre. Seven was so dark, literally and figuratively. A deranged, methodical madman, played to ominous perfection by Kevin Spacy, murdered his victims to the theme of the Seven Deadly Sins. Each victim was gruesomely tortured in a unique and unthinkable manner. The camera spared the audience no details.

Every scene in Seven was dirty. As in dirt. A patina of perpetual grime clung to the walls and windows in the backgrounds. Street scenes featured old and battered cars. It was always rainy. But that mood matched the theme. Depressing. Deranged. Hopeless. I remember when I saw it in the theater, the ending shocked me. I didn't see it coming. Neither did the detective, played by Brad Pitt. The killer set him up to receive a special delivery while they were together. His lovely wife's head in a box. I left the theater with an empty feeling. A pit in my stomach. All of the violence and the unimaginable ending was too much for me to feel like I'd simply watched an entertaining movie. It bummed me out. And that's what makes it a great film. To make the viewer feel as empty as the heart of its killer is an artistic achievement.

Over Thanksgiving weekend, my wife rented several movies to show to our daughter for the first time. We thought it would be fun to watch films with her that came out of our generation. Seven was in the mix. One quarter way through the movie our sixteen-year old became restless. I assured her that the film picks up the pace in a few scenes. The pressure was on. Could Seven pull it off? Will we make it to the scene where Brad Pitt desperately screams "What's in the box?!!" Eventually, our daughter lost interest. She knew this was our pick. So she politely informed us that there was nothing in the movie that she hasn't seen on CSI. We sheepishly agreed and turned off the TV.

So there you have it. What was once the edgiest psycho-thriller of its time is now a yawnway ticket snoozeville, according to the lmao text-set. With entertainment on-demand that includes blood thirsty shows like Dexter, CSI and True Blood, a classic taught thriller from the '90s like Seven is simply analog. I can't help but wonder what will bore our grandchildren.