Late one Friday night, when I was around eleven years old, I was flipping through TV channels when I came upon a show about serial killers. One of the only images I can remember from that show was a man wearing all black, with the sign of the Zodiac emblazoned upon his chest. I only remember hearing that this man had never been caught. From then on I was always petrified of Zodiac, a cold-blooded murderer who terrorized the San Francisco area in the late 1960s. Even to this day, when I think of serial killers, he’s the first that comes to my mind.
So fast forward to 2007, and imagine my surprise when I hear that Zodiac is being turned into a film, starring none other than Jake Gyllenhaal. Right from the start I wanted to see the film, if only so I could at least put a story and face to my subconscious fear of the Zodiac Killer.
The movie begins July 4, 1969 in a small California town. Two teenagers are driving down a deserted road in order to “get closer.” Throughout the scene, “Hurdy Gurdy Man” by Donovan plays on the radio. At first the song merely adds to the ambience of the era, reminding the viewer that he is indeed in the late 1960s, but it soon becomes a stark contrast to the visuals as the two young people are shot to death by a faceless man. The murder scenes in Zodiac are graphic; director David Fincher leaves nothing to the imagination as far as blood and gore go. Every gunshot is heard and every splatter of blood is seen as the murders are reenacted from start to finish.
The most disturbing scene of the movie was the second murder. A man wearing all black with a white zodiac sign emblem emblazoned upon his chest approaches two young adults in a state park; he robs them at gunpoint, forces them to tie each others’ hands and then repeatedly stabs the two. The movie was so gruesome at this point (along with the many other murder scenes) that I had to close my eyes.
Despite the graphic murder scenes described above, however, Zodiac is not just blood, guts and gore. Much of the movie follows the story of the detectives and reporters hunting down the Zodiac killer. Through the use of music, set decoration and period clothing (bell bottoms and cowboy shirts), Zodiac recreates the world of ’60s and ’70s California in brilliant fashion.
After each of his crimes, Zodiac sends letters to the San Francisco Chronicle detailing what he has done. His descriptions are dramatized in the form of voiceovers in which Zodiac’s words, calm and remorseless, are juxtaposed over shots of police inspectors at the murder scenes. It gives an eerie sensation; Zodiac sounds proud of what he had done. Robert Downey Jr. plays the reporter assigned to the Zodiac case; haunted by continuous threats from the killer, he eventually retires his post. Perhaps a typecast role, Downey’s character falls into trouble with hard drugs and alcohol.
Jake Gyllenhaal, meanwhile, plays a cartoonist who begins work on a book after the case has gone cold to see if he can turn up any missing clues. As his life is consumed by the search for Zodiac, Gyllenhall’s character begins receiving anonymous late night phone calls from a person whose only characteristic is portrayed by deep, spine-chilling breathing: Zodiac. Finally, Mark Ruffalo plays one of the lead detectives on the Zodiac case. He too is consumed by the hunt for the killer. Every time he tries to put it behind him, the Zodiac case always seems to come back to haunt him.
As you might have already guessed, even after two and a half hours and countless segues of “two days/months/years later,” no justice comes about for Zodiac’s victims. No one is ever arrested, no one is tried; however, the detectives have reason to believe that certain suspects may have been responsible. It’s infuriating to watch so many innocent people murdered and not see anyone punished for it. But in an age when so many crime dramas (this means you, CSI!) have happy endings, Zodiac reminds us that in real life crimes aren’t always solved, and they don’t always end justly. The viewer leaves the film with a stronger grip on reality, and a bit of a haunting sensation to watch his or her back.
- Cole Merkel
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