Review: Gone Girl (2014)

* * * 1/2
Director: David Fincher
Starring: Ben Affleck, Rosamund Pike

Because professional film critics seem to be taking great pains to avoid talking about spoilers in Gone Girl, I'm going to state right off the top that this is going to be a fairly spoilery review. If you've managed to remain unspoiled about this story, then don't read any further - although the fact that I'm not even sure how that's possible is one of the reasons I decided to go full-spoiler. I didn't even read the novel but went into the film aware of the plot twist because the book was so ubiquitous. The other reason I have no hesitation in discussing the plot in some detail is because the twist is, frankly, the least interesting thing about this story. That's not a knock on Gone Girl, which is a first rate thriller that unfolds with the sort of ferocious precision we've all come to expect from David Fincher; it's just an acknowledgment of the fact that there's so much going on here that the inner workings of the plot are really a secondary concern.

Ebert's Greats #14: Seven (1995)

* * * *
Director: David Fincher
Starring: Brad Pitt, Morgan Freeman

Seven wasn't David Fincher's first feature film (that would be Alien 3), but it was the film that announced him as one of the defining directors of his generation. In lesser hands, Seven could have been just another gimicky thriller, a dark police procedural not unlike hundreds of other films of the genre. Instead, it's one of the greatest thrillers of the 90s, perhaps even of all time. Suffice it to say, going from Alien 3 to Seven is pretty much the exact opposite of a sophomore slump.

Review: The Social Network (2010)

* * * 1/2
Director: David Fincher
Starring: Jesse Eisenberg, Andrew Garfield, Justin Timberlake

I have to admit, for a while there I wasn't too keen on the idea of seeing The Social Network. When the trailer was released, my first thought was, "Great, two hours of rich white guys acting like assholes." It was only in the last couple of weeks, which saw the release of review after review, each seemingly more rapturous than the last, that I actually started to look forward to this one. Luckily, it lives up to the hype.

The Social Network recalls a time long ago, a simpler age when if your friends, family, or that person you remember vaguely from high school wanted to know what you were thinking or what you did over the weekend, they had to, like, call you or something. How did we ever live like that? The film begins with Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) getting dumped, getting drunk, and then getting revenge by simultaneously blogging about his now ex-girlfriend and creating Facemash, a site which ranks the attractiveness of the women at Harvard. His late night stunt gets him both bad attention, in the form of a disciplinary hearing (he had to hack into various databases to get the photos for Facemash), and good attention in the form of Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss (Armie Hammer) and Divya Narendra (Max Minghella), who want to bring Zuckerberg aboard their plans for a social network to help Harvard students connect to each other.

Zuckerberg signs up for the project (originally called HarvardConnection then renamed ConnectU) but quickly abandons it to start a social networking site of his own, teaming up with his friend Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield), who doesn't know much about computer programing but has the cash to provide the project with the necessary start up money. Things are going well until The Facebook catches the attention of Napster co-founder Sean Parker (Justin Timberlake), who helps launch the site into the stratosphere but causes an irreparable rift between Zuckerberg and Saverin that eventually leads to one of two lawsuits against Zuckerberg (the other being launched by the Wilkevoss twins and Narendra).

Much of the film is told in flashbacks with the present day scenes taking place in the two mediations. The screenplay, by Aaron Sorkin, unfolds at a fast clip (the first scene is about as close to perfect as it gets) and is very engaging and surprisingly funny. The only thing about the screenplay that didn't really work for me was the scene which introductes Parker. The scene felt kind of clunky (and is so glaring because the rest of the film is so smooth) and while Timberlake does really well in his role, he's not quite a good enough actor to make that scene work.

Throughout the film, the characters are extremely well drawn. Zuckerberg is depicted here as a man utterly lacking in social skills, who has no idea how to forge or maintain connections to other human beings. There's a sharpness to the character and while the film never tries to soften the edges, he's not exactly the "villain" of the story either (though he's certainly no innocent). If there is a villain to this story it's Parker, who waltzes in, seduces Zuckerberg with visions of glory, orchestrates Saverin's ouster, and then proves to be something of a PR liability. There is a scene where Zuckerberg and Parker are in a club and Parker is framed and lit in such a sinister way that the character may as well have been renamed Mephistopheles. It's a brilliant bit of work from director David Fincher (and cinematographer Jeff Cronenweth), just one of several little touches that helps make The Social Network such a strong film.

The film is also immeasurably strengthened by its performances. Hammer plays the Winklevoss twins as a pair of golden boys so accustomed to having everything work out for them that they are offended to their very core that not only have their plans been disrupted but that they have to go to such great lengths in their attempt to restore order to their lives (at one point Cameron refuses to sue Zuckerberg, insisting that he and Tyler are "gentlemen of Harvard" and, as such, they can fall back on the social rules of their class to resolve the situation in their favour). Garfield's Saverin - played with wounded intensity - is easier to feel sorry for, perhaps because the story unfolds in such a way that he's like the faithful first wife dumped at the cusp of success in favour of the trophy wife epitomized by Timberlake's Parker. At the center of it all, of course, is Eisenberg who never hits a false note in his portrayal of Zuckerberg. He's been giving solid performances for years now and hopefully he won't go unrecognized for this performance come Oscar time.

Review: Zodiac (2007)

* * * *
Director: David Fincher
Starring: Jake Gyllenhaal, Mark Ruffalo, Robert Downey Jr.

Zodiac is David Fincher’s most mature and focused film to date. Mixing elements of police procedural, newspaper story, and thriller together while sidestepping most clichés inherent in those genres, the film is utterly engrossing and effective. I know some dislike the film’s non-resolution, but given the real-life circumstances the ending really can’t be helped and, besides, having an ending that provides more questions than answers fits well with the overall tone of the rest of the film.

The film begins on July 4, 1969 with the murder of Darlene Ferrin and the attempted murder of Mike Mageau. After shooting both multiple times the killer leaves and calls the police to claim credit for this crime and for a double murder six months earlier. A month later he writes letters to various San Francisco newspapers along with coded messages that he claims hold clues to his identity. The cipher is eventually solved – not by any of the government agencies working on it, but by a history teacher and his wife – but the killer’s identity remains a mystery. Meanwhile, more letters arrive, more people are killed, and as the decades pass the case gets colder and colder.

The story is structured in such a way that different characters take the lead at different times. Paul Avery (Robert Downey Jr.) is the San Francisco Chronicle’s crime reporter and becomes an expert on the case. He is eventually sent evidence from one of the crime scenes – in the form of a bloody piece of a victim’s shirt – as a thinly-veiled threat and as the case continues to drag on, his life begins to unravel thanks to alcohol and drugs. Dave Toschi (Mark Ruffalo) is one of the detectives assigned to the case whose job is made doubly difficult by the fact that the crimes took place in different jurisdictions and the sharing of information is sometimes done grudgingly. He and his partner Bill (Anthony Edwards) follow various leads and even find a likely suspect in the form of Arthur Leigh Allen (John Carroll Lynch), but just can’t conclusively prove his guilt. After several years Bill excuses himself from the case, exhausted by it, but Dave keeps on until eventually being suspended from the force after being accused of writing a forged Zodiac letter. The third and final lead is Robert Graysmith (Jake Gyllenhaal), a cartoonist for the Chronicle who will eventually write a book about the Zodiac killings.

The way that the film moves Graysmith into the story’s centre is very well done. He hangs on the periphery at the beginning, not particularly welcomed into any investigative aspect because, after all, he’s just a cartoonist. He forms a friendship with Avery, who in one scene admonishes him for “hovering” at Avery’s desk, and through him absorbs all the information that Avery discovers while reporting on the case. When Avery is out of the picture and it begins to look like the police have given up on solving the case, Graysmith decides to put all the evidence together himself in the hopes of illuminating something. Toschi, frustrated by the department’s inability to make a solid case against Allen, decides to quietly help Graysmith by giving him tips and Graysmith eventually comes to the same conclusion as the police that Allen is the Zodiac.

Though the film itself makes a fairly persuasive case against Allen, it isn’t really about discovering the identity of the Zodiac killer. It is more a film about obsession. Graysmith needs to know the identity of the killer, just as the Zodiac needs to flaunt himself to the police and the general public. During the course of his quest Graysmith puts himself directly into danger (one sequence involves him doing something so spectacularly stupid that it has to be seen to be believed) and effectively destroys his marriage in the process, and although he believes that he solves the puzzle in the end, the film itself isn’t so sure. Throughout the film, doubts are cast not only as to the identity of the killer but as to how much the Zodiac is actually responsible for. He claims more victims than the police are willing to give him credit for, some of the letters may be forgeries, a phone call to a local morning show may not be from him at all – in short it’s about the mythology of the killer rather than solidly proving his identity.

Though the film runs at over 2 and a half hours, it is well-paced and constructed in a way that suspense can be maintained throughout. The characters – save for Graysmith’s wife who gets a thankless part in the story and is a waste of Chloe Sevigny’s talent – are well developed and expertly played. Downey provides the film with flair, Ruffalo is solid as the increasingly weary Toschi, and as Graysmith Gyllenhaal is like a Hardy boy in over his head. Of particular note in technical aspect is the cinematography by Harris Savides, which gives the film a very old school look and feel. Zodiac is the whole package, a period film that doesn't simply wear the mask of time and place, but captures the spirit of it in every aspect.

Review: The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008)

* * * *
Director: David Fincher
Starring: Brad Pitt, Cate Blanchett

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is a beautiful, glossy epic about enduring love, the inevitability of loss, and the futility of fighting against the current of time. I can see from other reviews that this is proving to be a divisive film, one you either love or hate. Well, I loved it and let me tell you why:

The film traces two lives, one going backward and one going forward. First we meet Daisy (Cate Blanchett), on her deathbed in a New Orleans hospital as hurricane Katrina bears down, and then, in flashback, we meet Benjamin (Brad Pitt), whom doctors give up for dead as soon as he’s born. Benjamin suffers from a strange affliction which makes it appear that he’s an old man when he’s just a baby and as time carries on it becomes clear that he’s getting physically younger with each year. He’s raised by Queenie (Taraji Henson) in a home for the elderly where he seems to fit right in and where he meets Daisy, who appears to be decades younger than him, though in actuality they were born only a few years apart. Benjamin grows down and Daisy grows up and they drift away from and back towards each other until the time finally comes when they’re about the same age.

The success of the film rests largely on the ability of Pitt and Blanchett to play the span of decades, which both accomplish with admirable skill. Obviously makeup and computer graphics have been used to aid in their physical transformations, but these are performances that add up to a lot more than visual trickery. Pitt’s role is especially difficult because the younger he looks, the older he must seem and he imbues Benjamin with the quiet wisdom of a man who has seen and experienced much and solemnly accepts that things change and that sometimes holding on to the past does more damage than good. Blanchett is luminous, particularly as Daisy attempts to negotiate the shifting balance in her relationship with Benjamin as he becomes more youthful and “perfect” while she grows older as less perfect.

The film is based on the short story of the same name by F. Scott Fitzgerald but departs from it pretty significantly. In fact, the only things the two works really have in common are the premise, the name of the protagonist and the title, which isn’t a bad thing because while Fitzgerald’s piece is well-written, it’s ultimately quite frivolous and lacking in resonance. The film, on the other hand, is very moving once you get past the fact that it’s been built on a template borrowed from Forrest Gump (both screenplays were written by Eric Roth). There were moments when I felt that Button was a bit derivative, but it ultimately won me over, which is no mean feat given that it reminded me of a movie that I loathe. But while Gump is hung on a maudlin string of too clever by half pop culture references, Button doesn’t spend half its running time winking at you.

I doubt that even the greatest champion of this film would argue that it’s without its flaws. With a running time of nearly 3 hours it’s long and there is a lot of fat that could have been trimmed from it. You could also argue that the longest section of the story concerns Benjamin and Daisy when they’re at their least interesting – during that sweet spot where they’re level with each other in terms of age. I would certainly agree that both Pitt and Blanchett are at their best as the elderly versions of their characters, and I would also agree that it occasionally wanders too far into the realm of sentimentality. All that being said, however, it struck a chord with me and I enjoyed it immensely.

100 Days, 100 Movies: Fight Club (1999)

Director: David Fincher
Starring: Edward Norton, Brad Pitt, Helena Bonham-Carter

Fight Club is not a movie about men who fight. Rather, it is about the feminization of men through consumer culture and the subsequent alienation of men from their own bodies. The idea here is that the only way to reclaim the essential masculinity that has been lost is by beating the ever loving Jesus out of another man, and by getting your own ass kicked in turn. These are men boiled down to their primitive essence which, as the protagonist discovers, only leads to a different form of chaos.

Short version: An unnamed Narrator (Edward Norton) who can’t sleep, whose possession have all come from an Ikea catalogue, who spends his free time crashing various support groups, meets Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt) on a plane. They get into a fight. They get into more fights. They start a club. The club becomes a cult. The cult deals a blow to the Capitalist infrastructure. The end.

Long version: The Narrator can’t sleep because he can’t reconcile his conception of masculinity to the way that he and the men around him live their lives. He goes to support groups, including one for men suffering from testicular cancer, where all the men cry and one has developed breasts. “This is Bob,” the Narrator says. “Bob has bitch tits.” We then see Bob hug the disgusted Narrator to his chest. Bob is no longer a “man” in the traditional sense because of what he now has (the aforementioned “bitch tits”) and because of what he’s lost (his testicles). Instead, he’s a grotesque mutation representing what the Narrator fears that he himself is becoming mentally, if not physically. In contrast to Bob, the group also includes Marla Singer (Helena Bonham-Carter) who, like the Narrator, is a support group crasher. “I have more of a right to be there than you. You still have your balls,” she tells him. When the Narrator asks if she’s kidding, she replies, “I don’t know… am I?” When the women are “men” and the men are “women,” how can anyone develop a stable sense of identity?

But the Narrator’s problem isn’t just the support groups, it’s also the way that he’s surrounded himself with catalogue merchandise. He informs us that everything in his apartment has been ordered from Ikea, that each item only fed his desire for the next. This is problematic because men are not meant to be consumers. Women are supposed to be the consumers, women like Marla Singer (as in the sewing machine). Being a consumer invariably leads to being image conscious (when the Narrator asks Tyler, “Is that what a man is supposed to look like?” he’s asking the central question of the film), they become brand loyal, they become feminized through their heightened awareness of how they look. “Do you know what a duvet is?” Tyler asks. “It’s a blanket. Why do guys like you and me know what a duvet is? Is it essential to our survival in the hunter-gatherer sense of the word? No. What are we then? We are consumers. We’re the bi-products of a lifestyle obsession.” This is why Tyler, the soap salesman’s (the creator of product, not the buyer) first task is to cleanse the Narrator’s life by ridding him of all his possessions. Once free of his “things,” the Narrator is free to embrace his true, primal self. He gets in fights, he doesn’t care if he shows up to work with a swollen face and bloodstained clothes. He’s a real man, the way that he’s supposed to be.

Or is he? The fact that the Narrator and Tyler are the same person becomes apparent fairly early to anyone who is paying attention. The fact that the Narrator kills Tyler, or, rather, the Tyler part of himself, suggests that the lifestyle Tyler is promoting is just as wrong as that which he rejects. When Tyler turns the Narrator away from the dominant culture, he isn’t encouraging him to embrace his individuality, but a different version of conformity, where the male body is fetishised not according to the aesthetics of advertising, but in correlation to its ability to give and take punishment (it might as well have been called Fight Porn for the way the camera lingers lustily on Pitt’s bloodied torso). There are no individuals in Fight Club, just uniform creatures seeking to attain a kind of ultra-masculinity that is no more real or true than the feminized masculinity they were embracing at the beginning. Both are just images, poses that have been adopted to suit a lifestyle they’ve decided to live. What the Narrator discovers in the end is that his identity (both his gender identity and his identity as a person) depends not on how he looks or what he does or the items that fill his life, but instead on what and how he thinks about those things. It’s individuality that he attains at the end, which is freedom from neither the feminine nor the masculine, but rather from the Image Cult that both sides attempt to impose. While this message can sometimes be lost in the blood and gore of the story, it remains that this film has more to say about the way the we relate to – and are defined by – culture than any other film to come out in the last decade.