Gone girl
Can someone vanish if, in the first place, they were never truly there? A missing-person thriller might not seem like a likely forum for this kind of metaphysical grappling, but David Fincher, the director of The Social Network, Fight Club and Zodiac, is not a filmmaker prone to swaddling his audience in the consolations of the likely.
Fincher’s 10th film, Gone Girl, is based closely on Gillian Flynn’s best-selling 2012 novel which used a page-turning plot line – the sudden disappearance of a smart, pretty, married woman called Amy Elliott-Dunne (Rosamund Pike) – to unpick the modern mania for presenting a perfected version of ourselves to others, even as the truth roils and bubbles underneath.
"Gone Girl" is art and entertainment, a thriller and an issue, and an eerily assured audience picture. It is also a film that shifts emphasis and perspective so many times that you may feel as though you're watching five short movies strung together, each morphing into the next.
I'm not saying the film is genuinely clever throughout (though it is always fiendishly manipulative) or that every twist is defensible (a few are stupid). I'm saying that "Gone Girl" is what it is, that it knows what it is, and that it works. You know how well it's working when you hear how audiences laugh at it, and with it. Their laughter evolves as the film does. They laugh tentatively at first, then with an enthusiasm that gives way to a full-throated, "I endorse this madness!" gusto during the final half-hour, when the story spirals into DePalma-style expressionism and the picture becomes a maelstrom of blood, tears and other bodily fluids. There are allusions to the O.J. Simpson case, "Macbeth" and "Medea," and the ending is less an ending than a punchline that's all the more amusing for feeling so deflated.
That it's hard to tell whether Fincher has an opinion on anything he's showing us or is just sadistically bemused, like an evil child tormenting insects, somehow adds to the movie's dark vibrancy. This director is a misanthrope, no question. But misanthropes can be entertaining, and "Gone Girl" is that—not just in the scenes where women see through men and other women with furious contempt, but in throwaway moments, such as when an unseen man yells "Louder!" at the beleaguered Nick during a press conference, and when the film shows tourists gathered in front of Nick's bar, taking selfies.
This is a sick film, and often brilliant.
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