In this blog post, starting from my personal interest in movies where detectives chase down criminals, I’ll examine the characteristics of film noir and the significance of its endings, focusing on David Fincher’s ‘Seven’. I’ll also analyze why the culprit isn’t caught by comparing it to ‘Memories of Murder’.
I don’t remember exactly when I started liking them, but I really love movies where detectives catch the culprit. Whenever I watch these kinds of movies—where a serial murder case occurs, detectives hunt down the culprit, a breathless chase ensues, and the culprit is eventually caught—I always sit there with my mouth agape for hours, thoroughly enjoying the film. However, I didn’t have any specialized knowledge about this genre. I’d never really given much thought to what these kinds of movies I love are actually called, why they’re made, why people like them, or what significance they hold. Through this class, I’ve come to realize that some of my favorite movies have noir characteristics and that noir possesses genre-specific traits that distinguish it from general thrillers—this has been a major revelation for me. (In the past, I had a somewhat vague understanding of the differences between noir and thrillers.) Therefore, the subject of this analysis is naturally “noir,” and I will focus on David Fincher’s 1995 film ‘Seven’, widely regarded as a representative noir film of the 1990s, while also conducting a brief comparison with ‘Memories of Murder’.
Before proceeding, let me briefly clarify some terminology: ‘Seven’, the film I intend to analyze, is often cited as one of the representative works of neo-noir. So, what is “neo-noir”? Generally speaking, noir films refer to a genre of crime films that were popular in Hollywood during the 1940s and 1950s. They are characterized by dark, atmospheric visuals, as well as disillusionment with American values, deepening alienation, and pessimism. After the heyday of classic noir passed, various forms of noir films emerged in response to changes in the times and society, and neo-noir can be viewed as one of them. However, I did not feel a strong need to use the term “neo-noir” as if it were the name of a separate genre. This is because it is difficult to clearly distinguish neo-noir as a separate, independent genre; rather, it can be viewed as a transformed and expanded form of traditional noir in response to changing times. I believe that within the broader framework of noir cinema, films that have evolved to reflect the changing times are categorized as neo-noir. For this reason, I will use the term “noir” consistently throughout this paper.
As I mentioned earlier, I chose ‘Seven’ as my research topic not only because it is widely regarded as a masterpiece but also because it is a film that left a deep impression on me personally. I first saw this movie when I was in middle school, and just as I do now, I didn’t have a discerning eye for films back then, so I was left wondering why the culprit wasn’t caught by the end—which left me feeling disappointed. Yet, despite that, I couldn’t take my eyes off the screen. Now, I’d like to attempt to answer the question I had about this film during my childhood: “Why, exactly, isn’t the culprit caught in this movie?” After all, since the culprit essentially turned himself in, can we really say the detectives “caught” him? This question will serve as the central theme guiding this analysis. Furthermore, it will also be the decisive clue that allows us to view this film as a film noir.
The quest for truth is likely a goal that has plagued humanity from its very origins to the present day. As such, various attempts have been made to analyze this concept. Plato and Descartes emphasized that the reality in which we currently live might not be the truth. Plato suggested that we might be slaves trapped within an illusion inside a cave, while Descartes, through his “dream argument,” asked how we could prove that what we are doing is not happening within a dream. He further posited the possibility that an all-powerful demon could deceive us perfectly, meaning that even what we consider absolutely certain might be an illusion created by that demon. This is consistent with the “Butterfly Dream” described by Zhuangzi in Eastern philosophy. The question is: How do we know whether we are a person dreaming of being a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming of being a person? However, contrary to these skeptical questions, Plato and Descartes ultimately argue that we can escape such situations through reason. This is the philosophy known as “rationalism.” In opposition to their claims, there are other schools of thought, such as “empiricism,” which holds that experience is more important than reason, and Kant’s critical philosophy, which considers both experience and reason but argues that truth cannot be reached through experience alone and that the role of reason is also necessary. Regardless of the specific philosophies involved, what matters is that various methods for reaching the truth are being proposed.
These differences in approach are also depicted in the film ‘Se7en’. In a movie about the pursuit of a criminal, the ultimate “truth” would likely be the arrest of the culprit. From this perspective, the two detectives, “Somerset” and “Mills,” adopt entirely different methods. As the film progresses, their situations are constantly presented in contrast; first, let’s examine their daily routines. When observing how they prepare for work, Somerset’s routine gives the impression of being very calm and orderly. His clothes and belongings are neatly arranged, and he puts them on one by one. In contrast, Mills’s morning routine is simple: he just slips a crumpled tie—already tied—around his neck and says goodbye to his wife. This difference is also evident in their investigative approaches. Unlike Somerset, who quietly surveys the crime scene, Mills, drawing on his past experience, hastily rummages through the area. It is Somerset who recognizes that this case is a series of murders based on the seven deadly sins described in the Bible. Even as they investigate these seven deadly sins, Somerset quietly browses books in the library—a temple of knowledge—while Mills spends that time merely poring over photographs of the crime scene and pondering. As scenes of these two men are intercut against a backdrop of quiet classical music, their differences are further highlighted. Furthermore, after becoming frustrated while trying to read Dante’s ‘Divine Comedy’ or Chaucer’s ‘Canterbury Tales’ on Somerset’s advice, Mills directly vents his frustration by exclaiming, “Fucking Dante!!!” This line serves as a direct illustration of his attitude toward knowledge. On the other hand, however, their dynamic reverses during the scene where they confront the suspect face-to-face and engage in a chase. Mills takes the lead, while Somerset appears passive during the physical pursuit—though he did nearly get killed by the suspect after running headlong into the chase.
This dynamic of conflict between the two detectives is similarly depicted in the South Korean film ‘Memories of Murder’.
In ‘Memories of Murder’ as well, the film is driven by the conflict between “Seo Tae-yoon,” who advocates for intellectual, scientific investigation, and “Park Doo-man,” who relies solely on his instincts. Seo Tae-yoon is a brilliant graduate of Seoul National University who volunteered to travel to Hwaseong to solve the serial murder cases there. He is always saying, “Documents never lie.” Park Doo-man is a long-time veteran in Hwaseong; together with his right-hand man, Detective Jo Yong-gu, he is, in a sense, a corrupt detective who extracts false confessions by torturing suspects in the dark interrogation room in the basement of the police station. Viewed this way, one could draw the correlation [Seo Tae-yoon ≒ Somerset, Park Doo-man ≒ Mills]. However, regardless of how each film approaches the truth, they share the commonality that the detectives ultimately fail to uncover it. In ‘Memories of Murder’, right from the start, the footprints—a crucial clue—are smeared by a tiller, and Baek Gwang-ho, the most reliable eyewitness, is framed as the culprit, tortured, and eventually commits suicide by throwing himself in front of a train. Park Hyun-kyu, who was believed to be the prime suspect, is also exonerated through DNA testing, and he vanishes into the dark labyrinth of the tunnel. In ‘Seventh Heaven’, it goes a step further: the killer manipulates the detectives from the very beginning. The two detectives confront this in different ways, but ultimately, both are driven into a dead end and left frustrated.
Furthermore, the killer’s superior position relative to the detectives is revealed through the camera angles. The scene where the two detectives, having failed to uncover anything after interrogating witnesses at the scene of Rust’s murder, sit in separate interrogation rooms feeling frustrated, emphasizes their sense of powerlessness. Subsequently, the criminal’s superiority is visually underscored as the camera cuts between a shot where the criminal appears to be looking down at Mills and a shot where Mills looks up at the criminal through a blurred field of vision. In particular, the criminal is depicted from a low angle, looking down from above, while Mills looks up at him from a relatively unstable and restricted vantage point. This filming technique serves to highlight not only the criminal’s physical superiority in the actual situation but also his psychological dominance.
The scene that most decisively illustrates the criminal’s position is the fact that he is shown from a low angle even while clearly kneeling with his hands tied. Furthermore, even though the events unfolded almost entirely in “darkness” and have now moved to an open space bathed in sunlight, the criminal’s dominant position remains unchanged. Furthermore, his decision to reveal his presence in this way stemmed from his own will, not external pressure. Throughout the entire film, he remains in a position of advantage over the detectives.
In this way, the criminal’s victory is a conclusion that frequently appears in film noir. The movie ending that shocked me the most was Roman Polanski’s ‘Chinatown’; in that film, Gitnis’s efforts to relentlessly pursue the criminal and protect the woman are thwarted by an ending in which the woman dies and her daughter falls into the hands of the villain. All he could do was walk desolately into the darkness of Chinatown. When we watch a movie where the heroes are chasing a criminal, we usually hope they’ll catch him. Without even realizing it, I find myself rooting for the detectives and empathizing with them as I watch, but when I see them fail to catch the criminal and end up frustrated, I, too, end up feeling that same frustration and fear. The first reason we might consider for this is that it reflects the bleak social climate of the time. As briefly mentioned earlier, the noir genre reflected the era’s atmosphere—the gloom of the immediate post-war period and the sense of alienation stemming from economic development. Half a century later, regardless of whatever subgenre noir is categorized under, social realities have by no means improved compared to the past; rather, they have become even more desolate, so this dark social reality is inevitably reflected in the genre. In ‘Seven’, the city—whose exact name is never revealed—is always gloomy and dark, with rain falling almost every day, and Somerset, the city’s veteran detective, hates it. In fact, the reason he gave up on having children was that he simply didn’t feel confident he could raise a child in such a city. In such a dark society, it actually seems more realistic for criminals to emerge victorious.
Another possible reason is that the film expresses disillusionment with conventional Hollywood movies. Typical thrillers produced in Hollywood portray the world in a very simplistic manner. The villains who appear in this peaceful world are portrayed as eccentric psychopaths, and the implication is that all problems are solved simply by catching them and throwing them in jail. However, as mentioned earlier, in this social context, such solutions are merely stopgap measures and may simply be planting false hopes to draw people into movie theaters. In fact, the culprit might be less crazy than we think—someone who, on the surface, appears no different from us. That is why the detectives fail to suspect a thing even when faced with a criminal disguised as a photojournalist. Furthermore, we live under the belief that an absolute truth exists. Like Plato or Descartes, whom I mentioned earlier, we believe there must be an “absolute truth” that will resolve this predicament—whether it be “religion” or the norm that “people should live virtuously.” It’s also comforting to believe that. Couldn’t we say that this genre attempts to question why we believe such a truth must necessarily exist?
However, unlike other film noir works, ‘Seven’ does not lead to a complete catastrophe in its conclusion. Although the criminal’s will was fully realized and Mills lost everything, Somerset changes his mind and decides to stay in the city rather than leave. Whether this is because he gained some insight from his relationship with Mills, or because of guilt over his failure in the final confrontation with the killer, I cannot say; but as he declares he will stay in the city, he quotes Hemingway, saying that the world is beautiful and worth fighting for. This is a moment reminiscent of the protagonists in Greek tragedy. The protagonists of Greek tragedies always suffer agonies beyond what any human can bear due to the wrongs they are fated to commit, yet they reveal the sublime beauty of humanity by fighting against the gods. If we view the culprit in the film as occupying the position of such a god, Somerset—having suffered a crushing defeat while fighting against him and seeing no hope of overcoming this in the city where he lives—nevertheless declares that he will stay in this city and try to fight against such evils. And this line from an elderly detective—a quiet, unpretentious declaration of resolve—offers a very realistic comfort. This is because, compared to the typical, self-deceptive endings where the culprit is caught and the world returns to peace, the statement that he will fight—while fully acknowledging the harsh reality of society—feels much more authentic.
I didn’t quite articulate my thoughts on film noir earlier, but to me, film noir is “a genre that lays bare the darker side of reality.” While I do enjoy watching the beautifully packaged reality produced by Hollywood—the “dream factory”—I also believe that films like noir are necessary to realign our thinking when it has become too one-sided. However, in my case, I actually tend to watch noir films more often, so it would have been even better if I could have also explored what aspects of this genre appeal to me. But since I don’t fully understand the reason myself yet, I decided to focus my analysis on why noir films tend to have dark endings.
It’s a shame that, in analyzing this film from a genre perspective, I focused too much on narrative characteristics and overlooked technical aspects—especially in a film with such outstanding cinematography. Yet, compared to early film noir, this film seems to have either failed or simply neglected to create the kind of depth in its visuals achieved through lighting. (Compared to films like ‘Citizen Kane’ or ‘Chinatown’.) Compared to older films, the expression of the characters’ inner worlds through deep, layered lighting was weak. However, I believe the film effectively captured the characteristics of film noir by deliberately using dark visuals, having rain fall during every pivotal scene, and maintaining a constant flow of suspenseful music throughout. That said, there’s no rule that all film noir movies must share the exact same style.
Overall, I really enjoyed ‘Seven’, but if I had to point out one disappointment, it’s that Tracy—the only female character among the central figures—was portrayed too one-dimensionally. The characterization of a beautiful blonde wife who is so concerned about being a burden to her husband that she doesn’t even tell him she’s pregnant actually ran counter to the spirit of the 1990s. Although they were portrayed as villains, the “femme fatale” characters that emerged during the golden age of film noir were, in a positive sense, proactive in pursuing what they wanted. I suspect that in ‘Seven’, this either accurately reflected the reality of women’s lives and their social status at the time, or it was the result of the male director overlooking the complexities of female perspectives. It might be that I was just nitpicking because I’m a woman, but I hope to see more female characters in future film noir works who display more complex and nuanced psychological states.
