Zodiac: The Poll
I'm tempted to give it four stars. 'Zodiac' is so fucking amazing that it's a shame it's not perfect. When I see the Director's Cut, I'll be more equipped to attest to its brilliance. Right now? It's a little sloppy. It's a two act film each with three little perfect acts that the studios divvied into a three act film. As it is, it's one of the most technically revolutionary film of the year.
"How's the despair?"
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Big Magilla
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I finally caught up with this on DVD.
I have to say that I agree completely with Mister Tee's review, having thought those same things as I watched the film.
It was a little extra creepy for me as I live within walking distance of the first murder depicted in the film. They're now building a community college on the site. In fact today PG&E is shutting gown the power in the neighborhodd to put in new lines for this and other projects under construction in the area.
I'm familiar with most of the locations in the film and even though the murders occurred 30-40 years ago, they're still talked about in this area as though they happened yesterday.
I have to say that I agree completely with Mister Tee's review, having thought those same things as I watched the film.
It was a little extra creepy for me as I live within walking distance of the first murder depicted in the film. They're now building a community college on the site. In fact today PG&E is shutting gown the power in the neighborhodd to put in new lines for this and other projects under construction in the area.
I'm familiar with most of the locations in the film and even though the murders occurred 30-40 years ago, they're still talked about in this area as though they happened yesterday.
Another thing about Gyllenhaal is that he never seemed believable as the father of a school-age son; Not at the beginning of the movie and definitely not in the later parts of the movie when his oldest son is supposed to be around 13 or 14. Plenty of people had children at 18 or 19 back then (and nowdays too--one of my best friends has a 9 year-old son, and he's only 27), but Gyllenhaal just didn't convince.
Liked the movie though, especially in the way it lead us down dead end roads, like in a real investigation--and not just single-secne dead ends, but long sequences that would last ten or fifteen minutes at a time.
Liked the movie though, especially in the way it lead us down dead end roads, like in a real investigation--and not just single-secne dead ends, but long sequences that would last ten or fifteen minutes at a time.
Here's why Jake Gyllenhaal is such a pallid actor. We've seen this flustered performance before. Exactly. There is zero variation in his frustration. He could just as well be flustered about a rocket going off, mourning his wife, longing for his gay cowboy lover, or staring off into a cosmic flux. It's all the same. He's competent enough, but in order for 'Zodiac' to really take off in the admittedly lackadaisical final third, you needed an actor who could make the paranoia really palpable and Gyllenhaal is not that actor. He's a very limited performer.
"How's the despair?"
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Mister Tee
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Add me as another fan. I was pretty much a soft touch for the film -- I'm a long-time devourer of true crime, the famous (In Cold Blood, Fatal Vision) and the obscure. Yet I only knew the vague outlines of the Zodiac story, so I was completely absorbed watching the narrative unfold.
I agree with Sonic that the film's box-office failure stems from its avoidance of genre staples -- most specifically, the final reel sequence where our intrepid detective is himself targeted by the killer, and becomes the one who finally does him in. (seven also steered clear of this cliche, but it substituted a creepy finale that was just as cathartic) I'm puzzled, though, by many I've read elsewhere claiming the film offers "no solution". It's true the case remains technically unsolved, but weren't we pretty much pushed to deem one party the clear perpetrator? I actually thought the film's ending had a faint echo of Citizen Kane (where the audience is first lectured that pursuing Rosebud is pointless because one word can't define a man's life, and then given the answer to the mystery a moment later).
Anyway, it didn't matter to me, because Fincher's film is about alot more than police procedure. The most interesting stuff in it sits below the surface. For one thing, it's a terrific evocation of a specific time and place -- a time (the late 60s/early 70s) that gave unique rise to a celebrity slayer like the Zodiac. For me, one of the most emblematic moments came when people on that radio call-in show started blaming hippies, or Satanists...and shortly after, when the cops let the assailant slip past because they were looking for a black suspect. This era was defined by massive social upheavals, with all sorts of assorted ethnicities and lifestyles pushing into the mainstream. At the same time, there was a sudden uptick in crime, with both the rate and horrific quality seeming to soar; it was at this time the first serial killers began to hit radar (of course they'd been around long before, just unnoticed because lack of mass exposure had kept crimes unconnected). The coincidence of these two developments were viewed by many in America -- especially the reactionary right -- as proof that monsters were abroad in the land, and soon came cries that they had to be vanquished by any means necessary.
Just look at the Mark Ruffalo character: in the mid-60s, he was considered such an exemplary cop that he was the model for McQueen's Bullitt. Now, just a few years later, he was failing on such a grand scale that Hollywood had to invent Dirty Harry -- a cop who got results by doing things cops weren't supposed to do -- as the only means of foiling the unprecedentedly-evil villain (who wore a peace symbol belt, for those who didn't get the point). If you want to understand the Coulter-esque right -- both their unending rage in search of enemies, and their willingness to jettison any and all civil rights in the name of fighting them -- you could do worse than look at this film.
The other element, which is only slightly highlighted but seems essential, is the staggeringly low level of technology available to the investigators. The "it'll take days" file sharing between police departments gets the most attention, but for me the most startling moment was when Ruffalo pulled over to use the Police Phone. I'd forgotten such things existed; how did they do their jobs prior to cell phones? And, of course, DNA wasn't even a faint notion. There's almost a sick joke at the root of this movie: that this most infamous of serial killers only thrived because of the antedeluvial age in which he worked. You can imagine the whole case today being wrapped up by the half-hour mark on a standard CSI.
I agree Gyllenhaal is the weak acting link, though I'm not sure why; it may be just that he takes over at the moment the film goes into soft mode. On the other hand, I don't think I've ever liked Ruffalo as much...and I think Downey gives one of the best performances of his career.
It's true Fincher seems to tamp down his usual visual flair -- though there's one breathtaking overhead shot of a Bay bridge, and I also liked the way the camera, even while cutting back and forth, got gradually closer during the interrogation of the main suspect.
This movie may not be the total wow seven was, but it's another strong entry in the filmography of a major talent.
I agree with Sonic that the film's box-office failure stems from its avoidance of genre staples -- most specifically, the final reel sequence where our intrepid detective is himself targeted by the killer, and becomes the one who finally does him in. (seven also steered clear of this cliche, but it substituted a creepy finale that was just as cathartic) I'm puzzled, though, by many I've read elsewhere claiming the film offers "no solution". It's true the case remains technically unsolved, but weren't we pretty much pushed to deem one party the clear perpetrator? I actually thought the film's ending had a faint echo of Citizen Kane (where the audience is first lectured that pursuing Rosebud is pointless because one word can't define a man's life, and then given the answer to the mystery a moment later).
Anyway, it didn't matter to me, because Fincher's film is about alot more than police procedure. The most interesting stuff in it sits below the surface. For one thing, it's a terrific evocation of a specific time and place -- a time (the late 60s/early 70s) that gave unique rise to a celebrity slayer like the Zodiac. For me, one of the most emblematic moments came when people on that radio call-in show started blaming hippies, or Satanists...and shortly after, when the cops let the assailant slip past because they were looking for a black suspect. This era was defined by massive social upheavals, with all sorts of assorted ethnicities and lifestyles pushing into the mainstream. At the same time, there was a sudden uptick in crime, with both the rate and horrific quality seeming to soar; it was at this time the first serial killers began to hit radar (of course they'd been around long before, just unnoticed because lack of mass exposure had kept crimes unconnected). The coincidence of these two developments were viewed by many in America -- especially the reactionary right -- as proof that monsters were abroad in the land, and soon came cries that they had to be vanquished by any means necessary.
Just look at the Mark Ruffalo character: in the mid-60s, he was considered such an exemplary cop that he was the model for McQueen's Bullitt. Now, just a few years later, he was failing on such a grand scale that Hollywood had to invent Dirty Harry -- a cop who got results by doing things cops weren't supposed to do -- as the only means of foiling the unprecedentedly-evil villain (who wore a peace symbol belt, for those who didn't get the point). If you want to understand the Coulter-esque right -- both their unending rage in search of enemies, and their willingness to jettison any and all civil rights in the name of fighting them -- you could do worse than look at this film.
The other element, which is only slightly highlighted but seems essential, is the staggeringly low level of technology available to the investigators. The "it'll take days" file sharing between police departments gets the most attention, but for me the most startling moment was when Ruffalo pulled over to use the Police Phone. I'd forgotten such things existed; how did they do their jobs prior to cell phones? And, of course, DNA wasn't even a faint notion. There's almost a sick joke at the root of this movie: that this most infamous of serial killers only thrived because of the antedeluvial age in which he worked. You can imagine the whole case today being wrapped up by the half-hour mark on a standard CSI.
I agree Gyllenhaal is the weak acting link, though I'm not sure why; it may be just that he takes over at the moment the film goes into soft mode. On the other hand, I don't think I've ever liked Ruffalo as much...and I think Downey gives one of the best performances of his career.
It's true Fincher seems to tamp down his usual visual flair -- though there's one breathtaking overhead shot of a Bay bridge, and I also liked the way the camera, even while cutting back and forth, got gradually closer during the interrogation of the main suspect.
This movie may not be the total wow seven was, but it's another strong entry in the filmography of a major talent.
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Sonic Youth
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I liked this, too. I like how Fincher toned down his elaborate style and used a bleak, barren, minimalist approach - sort of like an authentic 70s film. And I liked how the film confounds our expectations of how crime films are supposed to contain the standard resolution. What it is, is a long police procedural, one that keeps folding and unfolding unceaselessly until someone finally decides "enough". Which is why Zodiac bombed at the box office. We don't like mysteries that leave us frustrated at the end, do we? Gyllenhaal is even more pallid than usual. (There's a very striking young actor near the beginning of the film named Patrick Scott Lewis who is one of the Zodiacs victims; I'd have preferred to see him in the role.) But pallid or not, the Gyllenhaal, Ruffalo and Downey, Jr. roles as written are an engrossing trio.
"What the hell?"
Win Butler
Win Butler
I loved this film. While I can't rank it Fincher's best, it may very well be his most controlled and auteuristic. It starts out with gripping hysteria and by the end it leaves paranoid claw marks in your brain as the movie lumbers to a conclusion. In many ways, the film 'Zodiac' is as much about the search for the film as the killer. It's flawed, especially in the passivity of Jake Gyllenhaal's performance (he may just as well be late for class as obsessed with murders) that would have easily compensated for the drag near the end, but this is a major piece of filmmaking that I dug indulgently and will cite heavily on my below-the-line nominations next year. At least.
"How's the despair?"
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Mister Tee
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Hollywood Reporter
Zodiac
Bottom Line: The stars align in David Fincher's chillingly effective hybrid thriller.
By Michael Rechtshaffen
Feb 23, 2007
If the Zodiac killer got away with murder, then Robert Downey Jr. ought to be charged with grand theft larceny given how often steals his scenes
The notorious San Francisco Bay Area serial killer might have eluded law enforcement agencies for decades, but the compelling cat-and-mouse story that is "Zodiac" never escapes the virtuoso grip of director David Fincher.
Firing on all cylinders as a creepy thriller, police procedural and "All the President's Men"-style investigative newsroom drama, the smart, extremely vivid production oozes period authenticity.
Factor in a highly capable cast led by Jake Gyllenhaal, Mark Ruffalo and a never better Robert Downey Jr., and you've got yourself a picture -- one that should handily nab audiences hungering for something a little more substantial than broad comedies or campy escapism.
Time and place are effectively established the first time we see the man known as Zodiac strike, during 1969 Fourth of July celebrations on a secluded lover's lane in Vallejo, Calif., where he walks up to a car and matter-of-factly fires at its occupants, fatally killing the driver and seriously injuring her male passenger.
Cut to the newsroom of the San Francisco Chronicle, where, a month later, a crudely written letter to the editor arrives in the mail from the man claiming responsibility for that shooting and an additional two murders.
His knowledge of certain details that only the police would know captures the attention of the paper's star crime reporter Paul Avery (Downey Jr.), while an enclosed portion of a cipher that purportedly offered clues to the killer's identity triggers what would become a lifelong obsession for Robert Graysmith (Gyllenhaal), a shy but intrepid editorial cartoonist who isn't content to live life on the sidelines.
Graysmith uses his not-so-spare time to work on cracking the code, when not hovering over the colorful Avery's desk trying to pick up additional shreds of information about the case.
Meanwhile, despite the dogged efforts of the San Francisco Police Department's high-profile homicide inspector, Dave Toschi (Ruffalo) and his partner, Inspector William Armstrong (Anthony Edwards), the murders mount and the letters keep coming as the years continue to pass without an arrest.
Fincher, who, as a child growing up in the Bay Area in the early '70s was well aware of the bogey man known as the Zodiac killer, has transformed those primal childhood fears into his most accomplished film to date, and his most fully contained effort since 1995's "Seven."
While those murders are staged for maximum chill, the story's newsroom and police department settings are equally effective. Working from a screenplay by James Vanderbilt (who is working on a screen adaptation of "Against All Enemies," the memoir by former terrorism czar Richard Clarke), based on Graysmith's book, Fincher keeps all the components neatly integrated.
He also uses clever visual touches to mark the passing years, particularly a time-lapse sequence replicating the erection of San Francisco's iconic Transamerica Pyramid.
His cast is uniformly splendid, but if the Zodiac killer got away with murder, then Downey ought to be charged with grand theft larceny given how often steals his scenes away from his competent co-stars. It's a performance, along with Chris Cooper's in "Breach," that should be remembered when awards season comes around again.
While there are a few instances where the energy dips a bit in the 2 1/2-hour film (especially when Downey isn't around), things always manage to kick back into gear.
Behind the scenes, Harris Savides' digital photography really brings back the visual textures and color palettes of that late '60s-to-early '70s period, as does Donald Graham Burt's evocative production design and Casey Storm's costuming.
On the aural end, veteran composer David Shire takes on his first film assignment in several years with an appropriately moody score, while music supervisor Randall Poster deserves a special shout-out for a song selection that digs deeper than the usual top 10 offerings, incorporating psychedelic pop from the Animals, Big Brother & the Holding Company, Santana and Donovan to transporting effect.
Zodiac
Bottom Line: The stars align in David Fincher's chillingly effective hybrid thriller.
By Michael Rechtshaffen
Feb 23, 2007
If the Zodiac killer got away with murder, then Robert Downey Jr. ought to be charged with grand theft larceny given how often steals his scenes
The notorious San Francisco Bay Area serial killer might have eluded law enforcement agencies for decades, but the compelling cat-and-mouse story that is "Zodiac" never escapes the virtuoso grip of director David Fincher.
Firing on all cylinders as a creepy thriller, police procedural and "All the President's Men"-style investigative newsroom drama, the smart, extremely vivid production oozes period authenticity.
Factor in a highly capable cast led by Jake Gyllenhaal, Mark Ruffalo and a never better Robert Downey Jr., and you've got yourself a picture -- one that should handily nab audiences hungering for something a little more substantial than broad comedies or campy escapism.
Time and place are effectively established the first time we see the man known as Zodiac strike, during 1969 Fourth of July celebrations on a secluded lover's lane in Vallejo, Calif., where he walks up to a car and matter-of-factly fires at its occupants, fatally killing the driver and seriously injuring her male passenger.
Cut to the newsroom of the San Francisco Chronicle, where, a month later, a crudely written letter to the editor arrives in the mail from the man claiming responsibility for that shooting and an additional two murders.
His knowledge of certain details that only the police would know captures the attention of the paper's star crime reporter Paul Avery (Downey Jr.), while an enclosed portion of a cipher that purportedly offered clues to the killer's identity triggers what would become a lifelong obsession for Robert Graysmith (Gyllenhaal), a shy but intrepid editorial cartoonist who isn't content to live life on the sidelines.
Graysmith uses his not-so-spare time to work on cracking the code, when not hovering over the colorful Avery's desk trying to pick up additional shreds of information about the case.
Meanwhile, despite the dogged efforts of the San Francisco Police Department's high-profile homicide inspector, Dave Toschi (Ruffalo) and his partner, Inspector William Armstrong (Anthony Edwards), the murders mount and the letters keep coming as the years continue to pass without an arrest.
Fincher, who, as a child growing up in the Bay Area in the early '70s was well aware of the bogey man known as the Zodiac killer, has transformed those primal childhood fears into his most accomplished film to date, and his most fully contained effort since 1995's "Seven."
While those murders are staged for maximum chill, the story's newsroom and police department settings are equally effective. Working from a screenplay by James Vanderbilt (who is working on a screen adaptation of "Against All Enemies," the memoir by former terrorism czar Richard Clarke), based on Graysmith's book, Fincher keeps all the components neatly integrated.
He also uses clever visual touches to mark the passing years, particularly a time-lapse sequence replicating the erection of San Francisco's iconic Transamerica Pyramid.
His cast is uniformly splendid, but if the Zodiac killer got away with murder, then Downey ought to be charged with grand theft larceny given how often steals his scenes away from his competent co-stars. It's a performance, along with Chris Cooper's in "Breach," that should be remembered when awards season comes around again.
While there are a few instances where the energy dips a bit in the 2 1/2-hour film (especially when Downey isn't around), things always manage to kick back into gear.
Behind the scenes, Harris Savides' digital photography really brings back the visual textures and color palettes of that late '60s-to-early '70s period, as does Donald Graham Burt's evocative production design and Casey Storm's costuming.
On the aural end, veteran composer David Shire takes on his first film assignment in several years with an appropriately moody score, while music supervisor Randall Poster deserves a special shout-out for a song selection that digs deeper than the usual top 10 offerings, incorporating psychedelic pop from the Animals, Big Brother & the Holding Company, Santana and Donovan to transporting effect.
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Mister Tee
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Were we so caught up in the Oscars we missed this? More reviews to follow.
Zodiac
By TODD MCCARTHY
A Paramount (in N. America), Warner Bros. (international) release and presentation of a Phoenix Pictures production. Produced by Mike Medavoy, Arnold W. Messer, Bradley J. Fischer, James Vanderbilt, Cean Chaffin. Executive producer, Louis Phillips. Directed by David Fincher. Screenplay, James Vanderbilt, based on the book by Robert Graysmith.
Inspector David Toschi - Mark Ruffalo
Robert Graysmith - Jake Gyllenhaal
Paul Avery - Robert Downey Jr.
Inspector William
Armstrong - Anthony Edwards
Melvin Belli - Brian Cox
Bob Vaughn - Charles Fleischer
Mel Nicolai - Zack Grenier
Sherwood Morrill - Philip Baker Hall
Sgt. Jack Mulanax - Elias Koteas
Zodiac 4 - John Lacy
Ken Narlow - Donal Logue
Arthur Leigh Allen - John Carroll Lynch
Captain Marty Lee - Dermot Mulroney
Melanie - Chloe Sevigny
Al Hyman - Ed Setrakian
Templeton Peck - John Getz
Charles Thieriot - John Terry
Carol Fisher - Candy Clark
Duffy Jennings - Adam Goldberg
Officer George Bawart - James Le Gros
An obsession that cannot be satisfied erodes the souls of the central characters in "Zodiac," a mesmerizing account of the infamous, never-solved Bay Area serial killings as seen from the perspectives of several men who spent years trying to crack the case. Conveying an astonishing array of information across a long narrative arc while still maintaining dramatic rhythm and tension, this adaptation of Robert Graysmith's bestseller reps by far director David Fincher's most mature and accomplished work. It is decidedly not sensationalistic along the lines of "Seven," hardcore fans of which may be disappointed by new pic's methodical nature and unavoidable inconclusiveness. But discerning auds worldwide will find deep satisfaction, pointing to moderate but sustained B.O. given proper distrib nurturing.
From the exceptional coherence with which James Vanderbilt's script grapples with complex events and dozens of characters to the journalistic setting, procedural format, era in question and the very presence of David Shire as composer, the cinematic touchstone for "Zodiac" is clearly "All the President's Men."
And yet the feel of the new film is very different. Due to the extended timeframe, West Coast setting, working-class characters, preponderance of rock songs and, most decisively, Harris Savides' precise yet fluid HD camerawork, the pic possesses a kind of seedy dreaminess that most strongly recalls another indelible epic of '70s California, "Boogie Nights." Both films occupy that rarified high ground where audacious artistry and nervy commercial filmmaking occasionally converge.
Beginning with the startling July 4, 1969, shooting of two teenagers in a makeout parking lot, the pic jumps ahead to the moment a month later when the culprit sent portions of a cipher to three Bay Area newspapers and threatened to continue killing unless they were immediately published.
Of course, he went ahead anyway, attacking another amorous couple by a lake in Napa. Unblinkingly filmed, the daylight slashing is agonizing and bloody but is the last explicit sequence of its kind in the picture, which then almost entirely assumes the points of view of those who struggled in vain to nail the taunting, bedeviling psychopath.
Just as the locus of "President's Men" was the Washington Post, so the home base of "Zodiac" is a newsroom -- this time the San Francisco Chronicle's, a space where funkiness has won the battle with respectability and there's not a female reporter in sight.
Goateed crime reporter Paul Avery (Robert Downey Jr.), with the air of a dissolute dandy, takes on the case. Unofficially, so does the paper's bashful new cartoonist, Graysmith (Jake Gyllenhaal), who manages to deduce the meaning of the cipher and its reference to "The Most Dangerous Game," the short story and film about the hunting of mankind.
Once the the self-named Zodiac strikes in San Francisco proper, the city cops join the hunt, led by homicide Inspector Dave Toschi (Mark Ruffalo) and his partner, Inspector William Armstrong (Anthony Edwards).
Despite the fact the Zodiac provides hidden clues in his texts and leaves behind partial evidence at crime scenes, the cops make little headway. Much of the early going is devoted to Toschi, Avery and the self-appointed Graysmith trying to connect the dots while the public remains on edge.
As the investigation fans out, the cops' attention is drawn to an uncouth, hulking loner, Arthur Leigh Allen (John Carroll Lynch), who has a history of "touching" youngsters. Despite uncanny "coincidences" (Allen wears a Zodiac watch and is a "Most Dangerous Game" fan), no conclusive proof ties him to the crimes, so the search goes on.
And on. After several years, the trail has gone cold and those who have followed it are old before their time. Worst off is Avery, who's a physical wreck -- a victim of his addictions and obsessions. By the late '70s, Toschi's star has fallen; he's been moved out of homicide, his old partner Armstrong's earlier decision to quit having been proven prescient. Still, Toschi is intermittently willing to help the ever-enthusiastic Graysmith, who is now industriously retracing everyone's steps with the intention of writing a book about the case.
Graysmith's search leads him back to Allen, and one encounter the earnest fellow has with a former Allen associate is breathtakingly suspenseful. Graysmith's eventual conclusions may possess an element of wish fulfillment, but are about as convincing as circumstantial evidence will allow.
Throughout the film's 2½ hours, Fincher maintains the sort of locked-in, ultra-focused hold on his material he's displayed before, but with a touch that, if not exactly gentle, is less ferocious and overbearing. Due in part to the times at which certain scenes were shot, as well as to the limpid quality of the HD images ("Zodiac" is the latest big production shot with the Thomson Viper Filmstream Camera), a certain twilight, afternoon-into-darkest-night atmosphere dominates, appropriately enough given the characters' slow descent into the murky abyss.
There's no showing off with technique this time, no pandering to the public's baser instincts, just extremely disciplined filmmaking in which the camera is always in exactly the right place. Notably imaginative are the transitions and means of conveying the passage of time, marked at one point by the stop-frame construction of the landmark Transamerica Building.
Playing the author of the book on which the film is based, Gyllenhaal carries the burden of the large structure capably and lightly. Starting as an almost naive foil for Avery's urbane cynicism, Graysmith ultimately sustains his obsession longer than anyone, and with endurance comes reward, even if his complete immersion costs him his second wife (Chloe Sevigny).
Downey richly amplifies Avery's booze-and-drug-fueled glibness and, later, his descent into disease and disenchanted seclusion. Most resembling a young Columbo, Ruffalo has a number of choice moments, but the role seems oddly truncated; one doesn't really get the sense of a legendary cop who served as the inspiration for Steve McQueen's character in "Bullitt," Clint Eastwood's "Dirty Harry" (itself based on the Zodiac murders and referenced herein) and Michael Douglas' character in "The Streets of San Francisco."
Performances and casting are impeccable down to the smallest role. Brian Cox socks over his extended cameo as San Francisco's showboating celebrity lawyer Melvin Belli. Also making striking impressions are Charles Fleischer as a strange film buff acquaintance of the possible killer, Philip Baker Hall as an ostensibly reliable handwriting expert and, above all, Lynch as the unsettling prime suspect.
On top of everything else, "Zodiac" manages an almost unerringly accurate evocation of the workaday San Francisco of 35-40 years ago. Forget the distorted emphasis on hippies and flower-power that many such films indulge in; this is the city as it was experienced by most people who lived and worked there. For this, hats off to production designer Donald Graham Burt, costume designer Casey Storm and the hairstylists, among many others. The only inaccuracy catchable on one viewing: the too-early presence on the streets of diamond lanes, which were not introduced until the '70s.
Shire's subtle score, which comes increasingly into play as the action accelerates, effectively complements the double-soundtrack's worth of pop tunes headlined by Donovan's "Hurdy Gurdy Man," which hauntingly frames the picture.
Zodiac
By TODD MCCARTHY
A Paramount (in N. America), Warner Bros. (international) release and presentation of a Phoenix Pictures production. Produced by Mike Medavoy, Arnold W. Messer, Bradley J. Fischer, James Vanderbilt, Cean Chaffin. Executive producer, Louis Phillips. Directed by David Fincher. Screenplay, James Vanderbilt, based on the book by Robert Graysmith.
Inspector David Toschi - Mark Ruffalo
Robert Graysmith - Jake Gyllenhaal
Paul Avery - Robert Downey Jr.
Inspector William
Armstrong - Anthony Edwards
Melvin Belli - Brian Cox
Bob Vaughn - Charles Fleischer
Mel Nicolai - Zack Grenier
Sherwood Morrill - Philip Baker Hall
Sgt. Jack Mulanax - Elias Koteas
Zodiac 4 - John Lacy
Ken Narlow - Donal Logue
Arthur Leigh Allen - John Carroll Lynch
Captain Marty Lee - Dermot Mulroney
Melanie - Chloe Sevigny
Al Hyman - Ed Setrakian
Templeton Peck - John Getz
Charles Thieriot - John Terry
Carol Fisher - Candy Clark
Duffy Jennings - Adam Goldberg
Officer George Bawart - James Le Gros
An obsession that cannot be satisfied erodes the souls of the central characters in "Zodiac," a mesmerizing account of the infamous, never-solved Bay Area serial killings as seen from the perspectives of several men who spent years trying to crack the case. Conveying an astonishing array of information across a long narrative arc while still maintaining dramatic rhythm and tension, this adaptation of Robert Graysmith's bestseller reps by far director David Fincher's most mature and accomplished work. It is decidedly not sensationalistic along the lines of "Seven," hardcore fans of which may be disappointed by new pic's methodical nature and unavoidable inconclusiveness. But discerning auds worldwide will find deep satisfaction, pointing to moderate but sustained B.O. given proper distrib nurturing.
From the exceptional coherence with which James Vanderbilt's script grapples with complex events and dozens of characters to the journalistic setting, procedural format, era in question and the very presence of David Shire as composer, the cinematic touchstone for "Zodiac" is clearly "All the President's Men."
And yet the feel of the new film is very different. Due to the extended timeframe, West Coast setting, working-class characters, preponderance of rock songs and, most decisively, Harris Savides' precise yet fluid HD camerawork, the pic possesses a kind of seedy dreaminess that most strongly recalls another indelible epic of '70s California, "Boogie Nights." Both films occupy that rarified high ground where audacious artistry and nervy commercial filmmaking occasionally converge.
Beginning with the startling July 4, 1969, shooting of two teenagers in a makeout parking lot, the pic jumps ahead to the moment a month later when the culprit sent portions of a cipher to three Bay Area newspapers and threatened to continue killing unless they were immediately published.
Of course, he went ahead anyway, attacking another amorous couple by a lake in Napa. Unblinkingly filmed, the daylight slashing is agonizing and bloody but is the last explicit sequence of its kind in the picture, which then almost entirely assumes the points of view of those who struggled in vain to nail the taunting, bedeviling psychopath.
Just as the locus of "President's Men" was the Washington Post, so the home base of "Zodiac" is a newsroom -- this time the San Francisco Chronicle's, a space where funkiness has won the battle with respectability and there's not a female reporter in sight.
Goateed crime reporter Paul Avery (Robert Downey Jr.), with the air of a dissolute dandy, takes on the case. Unofficially, so does the paper's bashful new cartoonist, Graysmith (Jake Gyllenhaal), who manages to deduce the meaning of the cipher and its reference to "The Most Dangerous Game," the short story and film about the hunting of mankind.
Once the the self-named Zodiac strikes in San Francisco proper, the city cops join the hunt, led by homicide Inspector Dave Toschi (Mark Ruffalo) and his partner, Inspector William Armstrong (Anthony Edwards).
Despite the fact the Zodiac provides hidden clues in his texts and leaves behind partial evidence at crime scenes, the cops make little headway. Much of the early going is devoted to Toschi, Avery and the self-appointed Graysmith trying to connect the dots while the public remains on edge.
As the investigation fans out, the cops' attention is drawn to an uncouth, hulking loner, Arthur Leigh Allen (John Carroll Lynch), who has a history of "touching" youngsters. Despite uncanny "coincidences" (Allen wears a Zodiac watch and is a "Most Dangerous Game" fan), no conclusive proof ties him to the crimes, so the search goes on.
And on. After several years, the trail has gone cold and those who have followed it are old before their time. Worst off is Avery, who's a physical wreck -- a victim of his addictions and obsessions. By the late '70s, Toschi's star has fallen; he's been moved out of homicide, his old partner Armstrong's earlier decision to quit having been proven prescient. Still, Toschi is intermittently willing to help the ever-enthusiastic Graysmith, who is now industriously retracing everyone's steps with the intention of writing a book about the case.
Graysmith's search leads him back to Allen, and one encounter the earnest fellow has with a former Allen associate is breathtakingly suspenseful. Graysmith's eventual conclusions may possess an element of wish fulfillment, but are about as convincing as circumstantial evidence will allow.
Throughout the film's 2½ hours, Fincher maintains the sort of locked-in, ultra-focused hold on his material he's displayed before, but with a touch that, if not exactly gentle, is less ferocious and overbearing. Due in part to the times at which certain scenes were shot, as well as to the limpid quality of the HD images ("Zodiac" is the latest big production shot with the Thomson Viper Filmstream Camera), a certain twilight, afternoon-into-darkest-night atmosphere dominates, appropriately enough given the characters' slow descent into the murky abyss.
There's no showing off with technique this time, no pandering to the public's baser instincts, just extremely disciplined filmmaking in which the camera is always in exactly the right place. Notably imaginative are the transitions and means of conveying the passage of time, marked at one point by the stop-frame construction of the landmark Transamerica Building.
Playing the author of the book on which the film is based, Gyllenhaal carries the burden of the large structure capably and lightly. Starting as an almost naive foil for Avery's urbane cynicism, Graysmith ultimately sustains his obsession longer than anyone, and with endurance comes reward, even if his complete immersion costs him his second wife (Chloe Sevigny).
Downey richly amplifies Avery's booze-and-drug-fueled glibness and, later, his descent into disease and disenchanted seclusion. Most resembling a young Columbo, Ruffalo has a number of choice moments, but the role seems oddly truncated; one doesn't really get the sense of a legendary cop who served as the inspiration for Steve McQueen's character in "Bullitt," Clint Eastwood's "Dirty Harry" (itself based on the Zodiac murders and referenced herein) and Michael Douglas' character in "The Streets of San Francisco."
Performances and casting are impeccable down to the smallest role. Brian Cox socks over his extended cameo as San Francisco's showboating celebrity lawyer Melvin Belli. Also making striking impressions are Charles Fleischer as a strange film buff acquaintance of the possible killer, Philip Baker Hall as an ostensibly reliable handwriting expert and, above all, Lynch as the unsettling prime suspect.
On top of everything else, "Zodiac" manages an almost unerringly accurate evocation of the workaday San Francisco of 35-40 years ago. Forget the distorted emphasis on hippies and flower-power that many such films indulge in; this is the city as it was experienced by most people who lived and worked there. For this, hats off to production designer Donald Graham Burt, costume designer Casey Storm and the hairstylists, among many others. The only inaccuracy catchable on one viewing: the too-early presence on the streets of diamond lanes, which were not introduced until the '70s.
Shire's subtle score, which comes increasingly into play as the action accelerates, effectively complements the double-soundtrack's worth of pop tunes headlined by Donovan's "Hurdy Gurdy Man," which hauntingly frames the picture.