Hollywood loves to make movies about obsession so
much they made a movie about the Zodiac killings that happened in California
about obsession, and not really about murder.
Don’t get me wrong. They have murder, but what they
really have is obsession. Robert Greysmith was a young(ish) reporter sitting in
the boardroom of the San Francisco Chronicle when a letter containing a
fragment of a bloody shirt falls out of an envelope.
This event touches off an obsession that ends up
unfurling over decades, as well as a somewhat incidental series of murder investigations.
But we came to watch the train wreck looming as both Robert Downey, Jr.’s and
Jake Gyllenhaal’s characters crash and burn their lives.
It’s always a treat to watch Robert Downey, Jr. play
himself. Hollywood loves to let us do that, and we should be grateful.
Americans love to ogle self-destructive behavior.
Why not pay to watch a movie
that’s the better part of three hours to do it?
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