"Seven Times Semiotic: A Metaphorical Explication of David Fincher's 'Seven'," by Christopher P. Dufour

Seven Times Semiotic: A Metaphorical Explication of David Fincher's Seven

In modern day times, no single theory of Medieval dogma holds more pertinence to our lives than the Seven Deadly Sins (and by contrast, the Seven Cardinal Virtues). As with most forms of expression today, this approach to meaning in a Marxist-critical art world is through cinema. Through the use of cinematic techniques in semiotics and metaphor, director David Fincher brings the socially-motivated subtext of the Seven Deadly Sins to the screen with his 1995 film Seven. Fincher's exquisite use of semiotics helps him to create a form in Seven that shows a socially-motivated metaphor through the film's setting and presentation, the backdrop of society through Fincher's own eyes, and the double-entendre of the film's antagonist, John Doe.
Before we examine Seven more closely, first we must have a cordial understanding of the techniques and theories in which Fincher uses in his direction. There is no question of Seven's inherent metaphorical potential, thus the explication of Fincher's direction must begin at the core "language" that he uses to convey his signs. Christian Metz, a noted film theorist, summarizes the potential of metaphorical cinema:

combined

oppositions

In the case of Seven, Fincher's twisted plotline and hidden subtext serves to further this apparent clash of combination and opposition. For instance, the climactic scene in Seven revolves around the emotional baggage of the three main characters (Detectives Mills and Sommerset, and John Doe) and the truths in which they are in the position to reveal. John Doe's coup de grace at the film's ending involves the amazing mesh of what Mills does not know and what Sommerset already knows (Seven). These complex interactions cause a catharsis where the viewer is uncertain of the characters' true intentions anymore. Doe appears as the proverbial Christ figure by "enlightening" Mills to his wife's pregnancy, and Sommerset is portrayed as the man at fault, because he had prior knowledge of Mrs. Mills' pregnancy and neglected to inform Detective Mills. In this scene, the confrontation of signage iconoclasts every prior judgement the viewer has made about the characters thus far and serves to project an air of uncertainty for the film's resolution.
     Metz also introduces us to another semiotic theory that poses a very important realm of thought for the Marxist-critical approach to Seven. In literary Marxism, the study of the text's language is based on the complexities of the setting's and the cast's social history. Metz argues, by utilizing film as a language for discourse, that the "facts studied about the film lead to an acute awareness of the film's pre-existence" and, therefore, its ability as a critical model to gain meaning from the "object studied's" background (Metz 168). Due to Fincher's heavy emphasis on setting in Seven, this facet of semiotic study is a necessity to its explication. The world we are introduced to in Seven is, for all intents and purposes, the world we live in today. However, Fincher uses many cinematic techniques to turn that world into a darker, more obscene place akin to Dante's Hell. While most of us have never witnessed a murder firsthand, we are still convinced of the reality of Seven's world. Fincher also makes an interesting point about the all-encompassing nature of Seven's world by neglecting to mention or even hint at the true name of the city that the story takes place in. This technique offers the viewer with a sort of "Hey-this-can-happen-in-my-town" mentality that adds substance to the film's overall meaning.
     Semiotically, Seven becomes a platform for a bevy of cinematic theory and critique. However, it is through Fincher's nimble and jaded eye that we finally reach a consensus where Marxism can take root. Continuing on Seven's "world" as discussed above, it is also possible to extract meaning from locale. This structuralized approach to the film's "constructive setting," introduced by David Bordwell, lays a springboard for us to look at Seven from a completely opposite point of view: Where we see and experience normally through the characters, Bordwell advocates a new type of perception through setting and location. Bordwell states that particular structures within a film may be construed as potentially interpretive, and by localizing the setting to city/state/town/country/etc., we are able infer a great deal of meaning from the director (Bordwell 105-6). Let us take for example the city in which Seven takes place in. Bordwell defines the locale as a semantic field and thus ripe for interpretation, and it is through no small effort to see the entire story of Seven exuded by the atmosphere that Fincher creates. The film's opening shots display a decaying, decadent society, careless in the abandonment of the architecture around them and mired in the lethargy of dreary rains (Seven). Indeed, one can already see the apparent "sloth" of society here, and Fincher provides his first clue to an apathetic theme. Later in the film, Sommerset even bluntly states that he "can't live in a town that nurtures apathy as if it were a virtue" (Seven). But up until that observation, Fincher manages to accurately convince the viewer that this place is drowned (quite literally) in sin. The Mills' apartment is situated very close to a subway line, and in a series of scenes, the entire complex is rocked on its foundations when the subway comes through (Seven). Here also, Fincher demonstrates his talent for using the setting as an indicator of the Marxist-approached world we examine. The rumblings of the railway can only be interpreted as a sign of things to come, the dread of a revelation that will completely shatter the status quo. And by the end of the film, things are definitely shaken loose from their moorings. Fincher also commands an interesting use of lighting for his settings. Tracy Mills, the wife of Detective Mills, appears as the first sign of normality and purity in the dark underbelly of the world in which the two detectives perform their grisly job: Her first appearance is a welcome respite for it is within a well-lighted apartment, the hues of which emphasize her predominantly white attire (Seven). And yet, when Tracy falls asleep and the two detectives stay awake to work on their homicide case, the lights are dimmed to express the severity of their demeanor, accompanied in no small fact by another rumbling of the train tracks. This is all indicative of the "Hell on Earth" image that Fincher wants us to believe. We see it every day on the news and in the papers, but through his technique, we are able to understand that perhaps the world we live in today is not all it is cracked up to be. Fincher's defining moment in regard to setting and locale occurs when Sommerset and Mills are taken by John Doe into the country to find his last victims. This sequence begins with the first rays of sunshine peeking out between the clouds. The rain stops, and by the time the group reaches the field, the sun dominates everything (Seven). Following Fincher's metaphor to the "lie" that our world is today, one can conclude that through John Doe's insight, we are finally convinced of the truth of his claims. Mills does become Wrath when he kills Doe. Doe is Envy for his crimes against Tracy Mills. Suddenly, the viewer's pre-existing beliefs are shattered in the face of Doe's "truth." There is even a powerful shot of Doe, his head enshrouded by blinding sunlight, just before he is shot by Mills, furthering the Christ analogy.
     So what can this mean? Obviously, Fincher enjoys "the game" he plays with the viewer. His subtle lighting cues and the metaphorical backdrop of the nameless city is never fully realized until the film's climactic moment. In review, we have already examined the importance of semiotical influence on setting, locale and language in Seven. From this we can determine that Fincher wants the viewer to be aware of the signs that the city, weather and locale exude to form the director's unspoken statement of how apathy has invaded our world as we know it. And yet, we don't know it. The next logical step then, is to take this inferred metaphor of apathy and analyze the Seven Deadly Sins themselves within the social context of the film and finally to confront the duality of John Doe's character.
     Fincher, as we have determined already, attempts to use the ages-old Seven Deadly Sins as signs of man's moral decay in modern times. This in itself is an interesting concept: How such a dated theology can have any bearing on the present is a feat of logic in the highest degree. But the social signs are evident in John Doe's murders. The Pride murder is one such example. Here, Doe horribly disfigures a young model's face and glues a telephone to one hand and a bottle of sleeping pills in the other. When the model comes o, she has the option of calling for help and being disfigured for the rest of her life, or ending it all by suicide (Seven). Of course, she kills herself, and we are presented with an interesting social dilemma. The model (aside from the purity image of Tracy Mills) is portrayed as a ray of sunshine in the dark world Fincher paints, and yet she cannot survive the adversity that the world has cursed her with. Pride poses an interesting question: "How can a man think about God when he is so filthy that he hates himself" (Olsson 16). Models traditionally hold social superiority in that their looks and grace seem to control the world that they live in. Yet, Fincher leads us to believe that beauty is a shallow concept when society is as hellish as he portrays it in the film. So Pride indicates in the film that society is but a shadow of what it really is. Fincher wants us to recognize that we hide the darkness of our souls beneath a rose-colored surface, and perhaps this is why the darkness festers and grows as it does.
     The Sloth murder also enjoins a rather interesting social statement. In the film, Doe binds a drug-dealing pederast for one year, starving him and pumping him full of heroin (Seven). This extreme perception of Sloth is quite telling when the drug factor is examined. Karl Olsson defines the slothful as "loving nothing and a no-care who waves away existence with a gesture of the hand" (Olsson 35). Fincher's analogy of Sloth points to society's struggle with drugs. At one time, drugs were outlawed and shunned by society, but as time has moved on, younger generations continually accept the occasional friend who smokes a joint every so often or shoots up heroin. The effects of drugs, of course, lead to a hallucinogenic state in which the subject is frozen by the "fix" of the drug in question, i.e. leaving existence. Fincher tells us through his cinematic language that our Sloth is yet another component of the darkness, a theme which links all seven murders. Indeed, is it not true that many of us procrastinate whenever possible? And through that procrastination, doesn't the quality of our work degrade?
     Possibly the most thought-provoking of Fincher's seven signs is the Greed murder. Traditionally in our capitalistic society, it is every man for himself. We are free to accumulate as much wealth as we can at the expense of others. Even Marx called attention to material roots of life in his socialist distribution theories, a fact that makes the interpretation of Seven very problematic (Olsson 41). The lawyer is forced to cut flesh from his body to equal one pound which eventually leads to his death (Seven). Fincher's use of the scale indicates his desire to see justice done to the society which has been so wronged by the Greed of people like the lawyer. In helping to free criminals from the court system, the lawyer also contributes to the decay of society, and furthers the darkness theme that permeates the film. And yet, Fincher delights in letting the viewer guess his true meaning here: Is it truly Greed that he symbolically condemns, or is it justice that he satirically portrays? Again, whatever the means, the message is clear in Fincher's social "satirization" of this particular murder.
     And, of course, the Gluttony and Lust murders are all too evident in their meaning, possibly Fincher's least-enthused lessons in Seven. But as is evident, Fincher's use of the Seven Deadly Sins points to a definite overtone of darkness and mirth in society. From the onset, he shows us an exaggerated view of his "Hell on Earth" theme, but he comes back to that theme with each murder, describing a different set of circumstances in which his analogy holds true. These social signs comprise the core of Fincher's overtonal thrust, and lead the viewer to make some very hard choices by the time the film's climax comes about. In the drive out to the prairie, John Doe runs down a list of his victims, explaining why they were obvious targets for his judgment, and by this time, the viewer still has some very precarious notions of what his/her ideal of the status quo must be (Corbett).
     But what Fincher does say is almost as important as what he does not say. Seven emphasizes the Seven Deadly Sins and their effects on modern society. There are also Seven Cardinal Virtues which are given only a vague reference in the film. Fincher uses the character of John Doe to deliver to us his interpretation of society as we know it and its faults and shortcomings. What he does not go into detail about is its virtues. And yet throughout the entire film, it is John Doe who is portrayed as the enlightening figure of good. This casts a very interesting shade on the multi-purpose social dialogue that Fincher proposes. So let us examine a few of the Seven Cardinal Virtues in their context to Seven.
     Wisdom. In every character in the film, Wisdom is something of a lost cause. Detective Mills certainly does not exemplify this virtue, and Detective Sommerset only hints at the possibility of a wise demeanor. It is John Doe who is the wiser though. Look at his entire scheme: He summoned the will to keep the pederast bound for a year, he forced a man to rape a whore to death, et cetera. And every time he did these things, he was never once caught by the police. And in the climactic scene when his entire plan is revealed, Doe knows and expects what is soon to happen, making Mills the instrument of Wrath. Sommerset can only guess at what is really going on, but it is Doe who is able to rationalize everything he does and is able to convince us (and Sommerset) of the message of his actions.
     Justice. Olsson defines Justice as "moral relativism and its appropriate response to adversity" (Olsson 78). Doe is the very pinnacle of Justice. The detectives are merely shadows of what Justice should be. They break regulations countless times in the film, the politicians they support even come out and say they don't care about the other victims Doe might have killed after Doe surrenders, and even the sage Sommerset has a hand in Mills' downfall by keeping the secret of his wife's pregnancy form him, a facet that ends up doing more harm than good (Seven). Doe, on the other hand, exacts judgment on the guilty perfunctorily, including himself. Who can honestly call any of his victims pillars of the community? And his inclusion of himself for the Sin of Envy is but the most fair and just action in the entire film.
     Courage. Fincher portrays Doe as the epitome of perseverance and stamina. He endures hounding from Mills and Sommerset and never deviates from his plan. Sommerset even says, "Imagine the will it must take to keep a man bound for an entire year" upon discovering the pederast (Seven). One could argue that Mills and Sommerset show Courage by not giving up in their investigation, but Mills succumbs to Wrath at the end of the film, and Sommerset's entire situation is dominated by his desire to get out of the city as fast as he can.
     Faith. Possibly the ultimate Virtue hinted at in Seven, Faith involves the staunch truth to one's convictions in a religious sense (Bloomfield 98). Fincher uses Doe as the "instrument of God's judgement," but Doe's actual performance is very convincing of his love for the Lord. His apartment is littered with Biblical passages all over the walls, a cross dominates one wall above his bed, and his personal writings are evidence of his sorrow for the lack of Faith that man exudes in the present day (Seven). Sommerset approaches the issue of faith from an almost clinical viewpoint, and his desire to leave the city is only testament to his loss of faith in mankind. Once again, Fincher uses Doe as the proverbial Christ figure.
     Hope. This Virtue is possibly likened to Faith and can be construed in a misleading way. However, Fincher draws upon his socially-oriented overtone to illustrate the complexity of Hope in Seven's world. Hope literally comes down at every avenue in the film: Tracy's hope for having a baby, Sommerset's hope to leave the police department posthaste, even Mills' hope that man is not as hellish as it seems (Seven). And again it is Doe who comes through with the Virtue. He has an absolute hope that his plan will be "remembered and studied and followed" forever (Seven). Doe's Hope might also be entwined with his Faith, making him the ultimate symbol of forward progress in a stagnating world.
     Based on the evidence above, it is safe to assume that Fincher attempts to totally dash away the status quo in Seven. On the surface, the viewer can identify the "bad guy" or the "good guy," but it is through his signification of what the Seven Deadly Sins and the Seven Cardinal Virtues are today that Fincher makes John Doe into the "harbinger of truth" (Renshaw). Fincher emphasizes a very downtrodden world where even the heroes have become jaded (i.e. Sommerset), and it takes the ambition of the outcast (i.e. John Doe) to set things right. Doe becomes the ultimate example of the Christ-figure, even going so far as to putting himself to death through Mills to make his point. And while Mills argues for the whole film that Doe is psychotic and insane, Sommerset fearfully admits that Doe may be right about the motivations for his work.
     Therefore, the final product of Fincher's direction becomes a question of its success. His meaning can be clearly proven by the above indicia. Demonstrating a mastery of semiotic influence in his direction, Fincher ably expresses his social message to the viewer through various techniques of mise-en-scene and cinematography. In addition, it is the complexity of his characters in their environment that make his meaning clear: Doe's methodology and persistence leads us to a saviour comparison, and the all-encompassing city that the story takes place in can be seen as a repository for all that is wrong with our society. Fincher's success in bringing awareness of our own Seven Deadly Sins is quite brilliant after explication while still being subtle. John Doe says it best: "We see a Deadly Sin every day: On every street corner of every town... and we don't care" (Seven).
     This apparent "awareness" ends up being Fincher's coup-de-grace in a delivery of mammoth proportions. While his cinematic language is problematic at best, it is ably discernible in a Marxist-critical approach. The social signs of Seven are all too apparent and yet never force-fed to the viewer with rapid zip editing. Instead, Fincher utilizes a series of long takes to potently enforce his message: That society is indeed the victim of its own Sins, and that quite often, the enlightened few who try to make us realize that are branded the insane. Works Cited Bloomfield, Morton W. The Seven Deadly Sins. Detroit: Michigan State University Press, 1967.

Bordwell, David. Making Meaning. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1989.

Corbett, Christopher. Seven Film Review . The Michigan Daily Online Website. 3/28/96.

Metz, Christian. Language and Cinema. Paris: Mouton, 1974.

Olsson, Karl. Seven Sins and Seven Virtues. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1959.

Seven. Directed by David Fincher. New Line Pictures, 1995.

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