Some cinephiles give praise at the altar of Hitchock; others worship Kubrick or Scorsese. Personally, I'm a David Fincher fan, and see him picking up where they left off. Easily one of the most distinctive and talented young directors to come out of the 1990s, he still remains something of a 'cult' filmmaker, in spite of the $100-million box office take of "Seven," possibly the best, most intelligent serial-killer thriller ever unleashed on unassuming film patrons.<br /><br />What Fincher pulls off--and pulls off brilliantly--is a straight-faced, serious approach to a concept that could have easily devolved into camp or slasher-flick excess. On initial glance, the notion of a serial killer who picks his victims according to the Seven Deadly Sins seems like the type of tongue-in-cheek fodder for a low-budget '70s or '80s exploitation item; even the tag line ("Seven Deadly Sins--Seven Ways to Die") sets the tone for a straightforward, mainstream thriller.<br /><br />What a surprise, then, that "Seven" is the type of smart, suspenseful, brilliantly-designed and -acted thriller that is nearly one-of-a-kind ("The Silence of the Lambs" follows close behind). Even more surprising is how the film stormed into the public imagination after "Alien3" (1992), Fincher's sour--and quickly forgotten--directorial debut. I hadn't seen a former music-video director operate with such authority in the realm of mainstream cinema (and, come to think of it, I haven't seen one since). Nor have I seen a director take as many commercially-averse risks within such a short career--"Fight Club" (1999), despite a short theatrical run and polarized reviews, has become to young-adults of today what "Easy Rider" was to the Flower Children in '69.<br /><br />Granted, the amount of respect I've given "Seven" has fluctuated over the years, and it seems that only now do I see it as being a near-flawless masterpiece. At 15 years of age, it was just a cool-looking 'horror' film--I couldn't latch on to Morgan Freeman's dialog, and found Brad Pitt's cocky go-getter to be more easily relatable; at 25 years, the deeply-entrenched realism of the script, mixed with Fincher's grimy, urban-life-as-Hell visuals and the jaw-dropping performances (not just from the principals--when was the last time you saw notorious scenery chewer R. Lee Ermey in a small yet serious role?). While Brad Pitt's performance might inspire hoots of derision from some, he is actually pitch-perfect as the young, idealistic Detective Mills--this isn't Brad mugging the camera with his good looks for 2 hours; on the contrary, his counterpoint to Morgan Freeman's worldly, jaded, and cynical Somerset makes the movie. And once the killer is captured, these 3 characters share an entrancing conversation within the confines of an unmarked police car; sure, we get to hear the killer's explanation for his crimes, but it is in the tones and reactions to what is said that the sequence conveys a disturbingly chilling power. (It may seem moot at this juncture, but I will say nothing of the killer's identity, save that it was a choice casting decision that paid off wonderfully.) Even Gwyneth Paltrow, then a fresh-faced, relatively unknown starlet, delivers a small yet poignant performance as Mills' long-suffering wife; her scene in the diner with Morgan Freeman is painful, culminating in advice that seems especially dismal, considering what we've come to expect in the way of Hollywood Happy Endings.<br /><br />Which brings me to one of the most surprising--and refreshing--aspects of "Seven": the way in which it relentlessly plays against audience expectation. Like the murderer's motive, this is not a film of happy endings but lessons learned (in the harshest way possible). To those who have seen the film--love it or hate it, that incredibly subtle yet wholly grisly final scene is unforgettable, and truly shows that, contrary to current horror trends, "less is more" (notice that all but one murder happens off-screen).<br /><br />While I could gush at even further length about "Seven," I think I've made my fanfare more than clear. It's an introspective, compelling film that manages to mine terror and pathos from those daily transgressions we all view as "common." And it established David Fincher as a director of great (and continued) promise. Kudos.