In David Fincher's nihilistic and oppressively dark police procedural, Morgan Freeman and Brad Pitt are two detectives - one a veteran, one a rookie - on the hunt for a serial killer who uses the seven deadly sins as his M.O.. Se7en, penned by Andrew Kevin Walker, is about as cynical a movie as it is possible to make; and yet it is so drenched in atmosphere, features great scene after great scene, and is peppered with memorable and witty dialogue cues, that it's never anything but a joy to watch. So there are great performances here from Freeman and Pitt, who make a great, unlikely duo free of the cliches inherent to the old and young or black and white dynamics often depicted in this genre, but Se7en's genius is in its construction; audiences never see the murders, but are invited to bathe in the aftermath instead, which - given that much is left to your imagination - is even worse. Then there's its controversial and harrowing ending, the cinematic equivalent of a slap in the face. It will never leave you.
Sam Hill is an ardent cinephile and has been writing about film professionally since 2008. He harbours a particular fondness for western and sci-fi movies.
