Seven (1995)

Metacritic has Seven at a 65, which means a lot of critics in 1995 walked out needing a long shower and a nap. The audience vote came in later: 2.07 million IMDb ratings averaging an 8.6. David Fincher builds a city where it never stops raining and every apartment looks like nobody has opened a window in years. Morgan Freeman’s Somerset is a tired man who reads too much, Brad Pitt’s Mills is a guy who has never finished a book, and the movie lives in the gap between them. Pitt overplays the hothead a few times, and Gwyneth Paltrow is wasted in a role that mostly exists to raise the stakes. It’s also bleak in a way that wears you down, on purpose. But the last act is one of the quietest, most devastating endings ever put on film, and nobody forgets it. A 9.0 because every serial killer thriller since is still copying its homework. $114 says you look at your library card and feel nervous for the first time in your life.

What works: Freeman and Pitt as total opposites, Fincher’s soggy, airless city, and a final act that commits completely.

What doesn’t: Brad Pitt pushes the hothead routine too far at times, and Gwyneth Paltrow gets one good scene in a role that is mostly a plot device.

Who it’s for: Grown-up crime fans who can handle a very dark story and want one that actually means it.