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The main come-on of Gone Girl for me is David Fincher. I had
never heard of the book before publicity for the movie brought it to my
attention, and when I found out it was Fincher’s next film, I counted the days until its local release. I’ve followed his career since Seven, and any film
that bears his name is like an invitation to a fancy dinner; I’ve no choice but
to show up. The director can do no wrong.
An adaptation of a novel by Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl is, at
its simplest, the story of a young woman’s disappearance, and how her husband becomes
the obvious suspect. Of course, calling it that would be like saying The
Godfather is a film about the mafia, or Star Wars is about spaceships. You can refer
to it as a domestic thriller about the deterioration of a marriage; a black
comedy about getting away with the perfect crime; or even a social commentary
on the business of media and the manipulative power the press wields on shaping
public opinion. It’s a whodunit that relies more on emotional resonance with the characters than the nitty gritty of forensics or the conventional dramatic depiction of crime-solving.
At one point, one of the characters invokes Occam's Razor. To which the lead detective says, "Actually, I've never found that to be true."
At one point, one of the characters invokes Occam's Razor. To which the lead detective says, "Actually, I've never found that to be true."
The most entertaining aspect about this movie is how the balance
of who to root for is constantly shifting. The audience is left
guessing not just on what actually transpired, but who to believe and side with
in a tug-of-war between two generally unsavory personalities. It’s refreshing
to see the traditional heroes-and-villains roles completely set aside. Instead we
get deeply flawed characters that are as larger-than-life as they are real. Ben
Affleck brings depth and gravitas to his role as the husband, Nick Dunne, but
the real scene-stealer is Rosamund Pike as his wife, Amy. I remember her from
Die Another Day, An Education, and Jack Reacher, but those were negligible blips
in her career, which will now be defined by her performance here, undoubtedly. Luminous,
almost Grace Kelly-ethereal, Pike should get some notices during awards season.
(Bonus sighting: Patrick Fugit, who played the lead in
Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous, plays a minor character here as a police officer).
Of course, the real star is behind the camera. Fincher
directs with a subtle but steady hand that I have yet to see in other
filmmakers not named Kubrick or Lynch. In all of his movies, there is a sense of foreboding that creeps up
on you like mist on a gloomy day. One might think it’s easy in obvious
thrillers like Seven, Panic Room or Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, but here, in a
film set mostly in a quiet suburban Missouri town about the troubles between a
seemingly ordinary married couple, the prickly uneasiness he builds is all the
more impressive.
The writing is also memorable and razor-sharp. I couldn’t
help but tear my eyes away from the screen so I could write down some choice
dialogue. Here are a few:
“I love having strangers pick at my scabs.”
“We’re so cute I want to punch us in the face”
“Everyone knows complicated is code for bitch.”
“I’m gonna go Benadryl myself to sleep.”
“I need to check my red panty inventory.”
“The hallmark of a sociopath is a lack of empathy.”
“Why should I die? I’m not the asshole.”
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The movie ends on an unexpected, WTF note. When the credits
roll, you may need a moment to blink away or try to make sense of the ambiguous final
frame. But that’s another director trademark; it wouldn’t be a Fincher movie
without a tiny bit of emotional scarring.
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