DVD Artwork
We horror fans are forced to live with strange dichotomies, a certain duality that most “normals” don’t have to face. For instance, we all have our favorite fictional serial killers. I’m a big Michael Myers fan. Some of us have favorite real-life serial killers. I wouldn’t say I have a favorite, but I’ve always been amazed at how some grizzled old fucker like Henry Lee Lewis was able to pick up chicks. Kinda gives a guy like me hope, you know? However, I don’t know anyone who wants to be on the receiving end of any serial killer’s particular gift. Do you want to be shot, stabbed, slashed, ass-raped and possibly eaten? I don’t. I still haven’t beaten the first Silent Hill game. I’ve got shit to do.
In the meantime, we have a whole sub-genre of horror movies that deal with real-life serial killers. These flicks are vicariously thrilling, usually subvert the truth about the actual cases and dwell on the methods used by these individuals to bring about bloodshed and destruction. You’ll find a completely different kind of serial killer film in The Zodiac, which focuses on the effect the Zodiac Killer, who dispatched of couples in California, had on the family of the policeman chasing him.
Boring? You bet.
Sgt. Matt Parish (Justin Chambers, the sleazy Dr. Alex from Grey’s Anatomy) is called to the scene of a double murder. It is 1968, just before Christmas. A young man lies dead in his car. A teenage girl, shot in the back five times, is a few yards away. The police are officially calling it a robbery. With all the cops around, it’s amazing that Parish’s twelve year old son, Johnny (Rory Culkin) is able just to bicycle up and examine the crime scene, but he does. After sending Johnny home, Parish’s boss, Chief Perkins, assigns him Parish the unhappy task of solving this crime.
Parish goes home to his wife, Laura (Robin Tunney, who looked better bald in Empire Records). He drinks, he smokes, they talk. Parish promises her that he’s going to find the guy who killed those kids!
Seven months later, he’s got nothing. And when the killer strikes again the night of July 4, 1969, Parish finally catches a break. Another double shooting, but this time one of the kids has lived. The cops are able to get a composite drawing of their suspect, which Parish shows on television.
Parish’s obsession with the case bleeds over to Johnny, who has a habit of sneaking into his dad’s office and examining the evidence. Johnny also keeps a box of clippings under his bed and is making his own deductions about who the killer could be and where he might strike next. Laura is frightened not only for her own life, but for the life of her child and the sanity of her husband.
When the killer begins sending letters to the police and local news outlets, stating his intentions and listing details of the crimes that were never released publicly, Parish sinks into his work completely. His wife is alienated from him, but Johnny is becoming just like him, desperate in his own tweenager way to solve the case for his dad.
Go over to the right side of the page now and take a good look at the cover art for The Zodiac. The astrological chart, the Hannibal-like eye staring out at you and the words, “Based on true events,” all are prevalent and eye-catching. It sure looks scary, just going by the case. Wrong!
The Zodiac is not a horror movie. It is a drama with some murders in it, just like any good episode of Kojak. You will not be frightened by this movie. You will not be grossed out by this movie. You will not be enlightened by this movie. Hell, you may not even stay awake for this movie.
The acting is good, with high marks going to Justin Chambers, who has the whole “good guy with an edge” thing down pat. Robin Tunney does well with what she’s given. Rory Culkin, though, is hard to look at as he mopes his way around this flick. Well beyond sleepwalking in his part, Culkin fails to elicit any sympathy or empathy. He just makes you drowsy.
I also thought the filmmakers did a great job placing the film in the late sixties. The props, the cars, the beer bottles are period perfect. Even the big clunky kitchen faucets were chronologically correct. That’s a hard thing to accomplish, but the set design and decoration research shows through. In fact, that sense of time was my favorite thing about The Zodiac. However, this is supposed to be a serial killer movie. I shouldn’t be watching the picnic scene, saying to myself, “My parents had a mustard dispenser just like that when I was a kid!” I should be dreading something besides Rory Culkin’s next line.
There is no nudity. There is not much blood. There’s not even much of that speedy/slow camera work horror directors love so much these days. Nope, this is a drama, and not even a good one at that. We see the characters react, but we never understand why the characters are the ways they are. The story isn’t just thin, its ribs poke out and jab you in the eye. If this had been a pilot for the CW Network, I’d be a little more impressed, but this is supposed to be a grown-up movie. The Zodiac desperately wants to be taken seriously, in an art-house kind of way, but it fails to bring the viewer in enough. I didn’t care about the characters. I wouldn’t have minded if they had all gotten shot.
The Zodiac can’t provide its audience with any real closure because, in real life, the police never caught the Zodiac Killer. Sitting all the way through this movie, thinking the end is going to justify the journey, will only make you sad and blue. It does make one wonder why the movie was made, knowing the open-ended pointlessness of it. The ending is definitely unsatisfying, even leaving the fate of the main characters undecided. It’s like trying to masturbate after you’ve been castrated.
This is the second movie I’ve reviewed about the Zodiac Killer in the last year, because God has turned his back on me. He may have turned his back on you, too, because people keep making movies about the Zodiac Killer. David Fincher (Se7en) is making one now, due out in 2007. I feel betrayed, somehow…
Avoid The Zodiac. Insert lots of puns involving astrological signs here. Bitch about the cover and false marketing again. Talk about the mustard dispenser one more time. Final slag (something about Sundance faux-horror drama documentaries and giving head to a rabid jackal) … and on to the ratings.
