The Seven Deadly Sins, reviewed
Seven, the seminal American crime film about a series of ritualistic murders inspired by the seven deadly sins – starring a short-tempered, wild-eyed William Bradley Pitt – made me crap my big girl pull-ups about, oh, seven times. I don’t recommend it for Granny, the kids next door, a member of your parish, people suffering from PTSD, or those with weak constitutions. I would also warn against it if you’re a pansy-ass, a female virgin, or somehow allergic to Brad Pitt – and if that’s the case, God have mercy on your soul or whatever someone said was your soul. This is a great movie to rent right now: violent films starring Kevin Spacey as a villain are meant for the dark of winter, when everything is bleak, and dying anyways.
The film is inventive and psychologically painful. It’s creative in its horrifying violence, and intense in ways that kept me buying underwear for weeks. It’s a movie and a film – the film being dark, depressing, intense, and that barf-in-your-mouth bullshit adjective that describes anything involving a police drama, gritty – the movie being a thriller starring People You Will Recognize that you might erroneously take a date to, because hey, the ladies love Brad Pitt, and you might get libidinous leftovers when your date remembers Pitt was dating Paltrow at the time. And Morgan Freeman, he just wears you down with his tolerance and apathy, his steady Shawshank-voice and wise Red words – then BLAM! Brad Pitt, totally shirtless. I’m naming my second-born after the director of this movie, especially since he directed Fight Club, my all-time favorite – and despite the fact he directed The Curious Case of Crappy Movies Like Benjamin Button.
The sins were small in number, but large upon impact. There was the hairy-shouldered whale who was force-fed spaghetti until he passed out from the endeavor (GLUTTONY) – and while I knew it would be a terrible way to go, I did appreciate the almost real-life death-by-carb scenario, because I’d eaten so much chocolate cake the night before. Right then, I felt like achieving my dreams was a real possibility.
The lawyer who died (GREED) was a total yawn – dead lawyers generally are – but the pedophile (SLOTH) was a keeper: chained to his bed for one year, he was totally revolting, surrounded by 365 hideous photos of himself. That image kept me up at night, mostly because the room I lived in looked almost identical – cleaning wasn’t my forté at the time.
The gruesomely-raped and creatively-killed prostitute (LUST) made me clench in places that don’t technically exist; I watched that one through my fingers, remembering a one-night stand gone wrong (though nothing quite as shocking or permanent). When I saw the prostitute and registered what happened, my ladyparts seceded and ran off in the night; I didn’t really blame them. That entire scene, I was like EWWWWW OHHH EWWWWW – but internally, because we were in a darkened movie theater and I had a non-existent, bad ass reputation to uphold. More proud moments.
Speaking of (PRIDE), a disfigured fashion model isn’t going to move this heart of stone that’s surrounded by bacon-clogged arteries, though I recognize how much pride gets in my way sometimes. And the truth shall set you free.
(ENVY) and (WRATH) are my absolute favorites – in life and in this movie – because the golden twisty end is delicious in its spot-on fuckeduppery. When I saw where the story was going, I thought, ‘This was the only way to end it.’ I felt the same about the last Harry Potter book and The Usual Suspects. And by the way, is Kevin Spacey the intergalactic chancellor of freaky mindfucks? Keyser Soze says ‘yes.’
In the end, I couldn’t say what I would have done had I been in Brad Pitt’s shoes. I guess if I’d been in his shoes, then I might have been in his pants, and that’s kind of the ballgame, folks. The truth is, I’m a lightning bolt of internal wrath, every single day, and I’m envious of people, too. Gluttony, greed, and sloth come easily to me, revealing themselves as unhappy warriors against my good (and hopeless) intentions. Lust, however – in moderation – is perfectly normal. I also define moderation as ‘an endless supply in a bottomless well.’
Being an atheist – and having strong views about the Catholic Church – the Seven Deadly Sins mean nothing to me. They’re all a part of Santa Claus-like scenarios I won’t subscribe to, though my main rule of thumb is ‘If it makes you happy, then what the Ben Affleck do I fucking care?’ Instead, I can put my faith in Brad Pitt movies, and hope that gets me through the next seven months of sin-filled winter.
About sn0tteh
Excellent! Thank you for that revealing review…
I liked your post much better. 🙂 Thanks!
sigh… Brad’s pants… sigh
“I guess if I’d been in his shoes, then I might have been in his pants, and that’s kind of the ballgame, folks.” HA! Love it. And “fuckeduppery”? Yeah, that’s my new favorite word.
@tee Correction: Brad’s pants, nowhere to be found. Double-w00t.
@Mr Poopoopachu Fuckeduppery (or fucked-uppery, if you prefer) is one of my faves, along with douchebaggery and skullduggery.
@snotteh – Should you find yourself in a position where Brad Pitt has lost his pants again – please keep me on speed dial!
@tee You distract Angelina, I’ll rip his pants off. Teamwork!
In the original script, Morgan Freeman realizes what Pitt is GOING to do and then Freeman shoots Spacey instead. Because it sometimes makes sense for an older person to sacrifice for a younger person, and prevents the villain from technically winning. I like the film version better.
This is the best, most hysterical review of anything that I’ve read in forever. I’m going to go find more by you. I’m still church-laughing about “whatever someone said was your soul” hahahaa
@DrKlown I didn’t know that! I would appreciate either ending. I’m all about fulfilling Spacey’s dreams.
@Stephy Thanks! …I don’t think anyone has ever “church-laughed” at me before.
@sn0tteh *High Five*
YOU ARE ON!
I REMEMBER WATCHING this with you at the Bay in 1995! I also remember the furious chain-smoking that followed, and the silent, freaked-out bus ride home. Didn’t we end up walking half the way up 15th because it was so damn late?
@LilRed YES! I couldn’t remember who I saw it with – of course it was you. Yeah, of all the times to be walking in the dark in a creepy neighborhood…. 1995 makes me feels so old.
I never saw this because I’m terrible at watching movies that have any level of suspense or gore. Luckily, I know ALL about the movie now and will be able to engage in polite cocktail chatter should the subject come up!
Random Partygoer: “Don’t you just love Brad Pitt? My favorite movie of his was Seven.”
Me: “Hells yeah! I had to keep buying new underwear for three weeks after I saw that.”
Snotty–I just had to leave a note to tell you that the movie Seven came up in the dinner conversation on Thanksgiving. I can’t remember the context, but I can remember that my mum-in-law wasn’t a fan. I whispered to McKnight, under my breath, “Hope she doesn’t read our blog, then…”
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