When David Fincher’s Seven was released in 1995, it was an instant pop-culture sensation. Never before had the world seemed so bleak and yet so cool. When it came out we had no idea that Kevin Spacey was in it, much less playing the villain John Doe. Now, while I firmly believe that John Doe is a severely repressed homosexual, that is not because he is being played by Kevin Spacey. Not every character Kevin Spacey plays is gay – they just seem like they are. Which brings us to John Doe, the swishiest serial killer this side of Norman Bates.

John Doe feels that he was commanded by God to punish people who have committed one of the seven deadly sins. So like most repressed religious sorts, he’s lashing out. Also, who else but an anal-retentive gay man would go to the trouble of having thematic killings? Can’t just kill people, there have to be rules! This is like how gay men can’t just have parties, they have to be 80s parties! FYI, these parties are awful and none of your friends want to dress up for them.

Can we talk about his meticulously decorated apartment? Is he an art director for W Magazine or a messianic maniac? (Honestly, what’s the difference?). Between the neon red crucifix above his bed and the smaller crucifix next to his bed, the man has clearly found an aesthetic that works for him. It pretty much looks like a 90s S&M dance club, where no doubt John Doe in his deepest desires grinds his ass off to Skinny Puppy, but alas, his God won’t let him. It takes a lot of work to decorate your apartment to look so bleak and yet tastefully appointed. He must have spent countless hours scouring flea markets and thrift stores for just the right kind of religious artifact and antique medical equipment. Honestly, if he wasn’t homicidal he’d be a great creative director for Hot Topic. He might be a psychopath, but give him this, the man has an eye!

In the third act of the movie, he turns himself in to detectives Mills and Somerset, played by Brad Pitt and Morgan Freeman respectively. From there, they throw him into the backseat of a car while Doe leads them out of the city for the final reveal of his grand scheme. In other words, John Doe is a huge drama queen! Can’t just walk in and confess to everything, he has to orchestrate a production! This backseat confession is basically John Doe’s one-man show. And let’s be clear: You could have sex in a gay pride parade float and that still wouldn’t be as gay as putting on your own one-man show. (Potential titles for John Doe’s one-man show: Seven Deadly Songs, and John Doe-Re-Mi!, One-Man Doe).

They finally arrive at their destination, and it turns out to not be a cute little B&B on the coast but a field in the middle of nowhere. We finally find out that John Doe’s masterplan involved feeling envious of Mills’s marriage to his wife, played by Gwyneth Paltrow. But it obviously doesn’t work out, so John Doe beheads her, thus infuriating Mills enough to kill John Doe and become “wrath”. Talk about a long walk for a short drink of water. Alright, there’s a lot to unpack there, so let’s go step by step.

First of all, wanting Gwyneth Paltrow to pose as your beard is like having People magazine give you an “I’m Gay” cover. So of course John Doe ends up killing her – that’s the impulse of every gay man. We both love and hate Gwyneth Paltrow! She’s an infuriating snob but we still want her life! 

Second, there’s nothing gayer than wanting Mills’s life! Now follow me on this: John Doe can’t bring himself to say he wants to be Mills’ wife – that would be admitting too much. But he can say he wants to be Mills. Remember, Mills is played by Brad Pitt in his premium 90s hotness. Yes, he’s got a wonky haircut, but he always looks his best a little ruffled. So John Doe wants to be Brad Pitt’s power bottom. And boy would John Doe be a fussy bottom! He does everything so meticulously, it would probably take him hours to douche and by the time he’s ready you’re boner’s long gone.

Finally, wanting to be killed by Mills. Killed, obliterated, destroyed. The ultimate bottom. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve bottomed for a guy and told him, “Make me disappear!” It’s just natural. In the end, John Doe has brought only misery and apocalypse to everyone he’s touched. He’s proof that the closet breeds only death.