I watched David Fincher's Zodiac this week, and was pleased to find that it lived up to its reputation as a subtle, intelligent film. This is not really what I would have expected from a film about a serial killer, but that was my misconception. It isn't about the killer, or even the killings. It is an meticulous examination of the effects wrought on the lives of the people investigating the crime, both police and journalists.

The script provides the most accurate depiction of the tedium of real investigation of anything I've seen. The film resists the Hollywood temptation to over-dramatize police work; there are no car chases, nothing blows up, no breathless entrances to courtrooms with last minute evidence — even the few killings shown are handled in a rather detached, emotionless fashion. But this isn't a dull film — far from it. For two and a half hours I was enthralled by the evolution (and dissolution) of the characters, a testament to the acting of Robert Downey, Jr., Mark Ruffalo, and Jake Gyllenhaal. The gradual changes wrought on their lives by their investigation and involvement in the case is painful to watch, but nonetheless gripping and sad. Even the wrap-up to the story, handled through text epilogues, seems weary and worn down by the weight of the decades of seemingly fruitless research.

For those of you unfamiliar with the actual Zodiac killings, let me point out that this is not at all a feel-good film. Nothing is wrapped up neatly, and just as with most of life, it ends essentially unresolved. But if you are looking for a fascinating look at the investigation into a part of America's psychic landscape, this is a great place to start.