The little things, steeped in history, are caught in a box and never find a way out.
The little things chug well enough in their first act, setting all the necessary portrayals, getting a feel for the characters, and setting the general mood, but where they break down is when they pin their focus on Jared Leto’s Albert Sparma. rob the film of its compelling secrecy. To use one of the examples given earlier, it’s like Se7en Kevin Spacey had most of the story floating around. As soon as Sparma shows up, the whole plot narrows down to “Is this oily creep the killer or not?” and that idea proves too fundamental to maintain any kind of dynamic. Either he’s the murderer in question, which is the automatic assumption given the stunt casting; or he is not the killer, which is the more inventive direction, but also completely hindered by the fact that the film does not offer any alternative possibilities for a proper ending.