Remember the first time someone told you there was a documentary about Apocalypse Now (1979, Francis Coppola) that was even better than the movie itself? How Martin Sheen had a heart attack while filming WILLARD’S breakdown? How Brando was so fat that KURTZ could only be filmed from the neck down, and hidden in deep shadows?
And what about Heaven’s Gate (1980, Michael Cimino)? Which did you hear about first: the movie or Steven Bach’s Final Cut: Art, Money, and Ego in the Making of Heaven’s Gate, the Film that Sank United Artists?
What is Citizen Kane (1941, Orson Welles) about? That’s a fun topic for conversation. Or a really boring one in an intro film theory context. In the latter it’s supposed to illustrate the point that there is no one definitive answer.
What is Mank (2020, David Fincher) about? How the screenplay to Citizen Kane came about. And herein lies its weakness. Whereas Welles was a showman, Fincher is a craftsman. In her essay “Raising Kane,” Pauline Kael long ago fired shots at Welles usurping the credit owed to Herman Mankiewicz and Gregg Toland. So, we already have a detailed look at the intriguing making of Citizen Kane. When I say weakness, I mean the heart of the damn thing. Mank is hollow.
For instance, take the protagonist of Citizen Kane, and for that matter, Fincher’s Citizen Kane: The Social Network (2010, Fincher). Kane and Zuck are mostly depicted as powerful rich men with fragile egos who build an empire but are fated to lose grasp of attaining the love of a woman they desire. What makes those films compelling are the tragic glimpses into their character; it’s the stuff we don’t like about them that makes us, if we’re lucky, identify with their humanity. Mank is in every way their opposite: weak (politically and professionally), far from Rockefeller (though by no means a pauper), with an invincible ego, and a loyal, perfect wife depicted as nothing more than an unquestioning longsuffering servant to him.
Don’t mistake Mank for the cinnamon roll narratives of Citizen Kane or The Social Network either. Another way The Social Network is such a brilliant story in terms of point of view is that it’s not entirely focused on the making of Facebook. I mean it starts that way sure, but for me the moment it becomes sublime is when we begin jumping between the two litigation scenes, resulting in what we thought was the chronological order of the film being altered on the spot to become flashbacks. Or not only that, but take the Henley Regatta and its amazing opening with tilt shift lenses and Reznor-Ross electronic “In the Hall of the Mountain King” montage; what does any of it have to do with inventing Facebook in the sense of linear narrative? It comes out of nowhere. On the other hand, every scene in Mank is about the screenplay; its motivation; its obstacles; its method.
But once the form of Mank becomes identifiable, the fun begins. It’s an historical comedy. (Fincher’s first comedy?) And finely crafted within the guise of resembling a creation of its period. Mank isn’t compelling as a character because he doesn’t need to be. He’s witty, wry, and hilarious.
And the imaginative pitch meeting at Paramount between Selznick, Von Sternberg and the writers takes routine exposition and springboards into an example of fine comedy timing, execution, and delivery. Especially Von Sternberg’s punchline. When before has Fincher been this steeped in classic comedy? I wasn’t sure if I was making a trite observation about the hubris symbolism in the scene where Mank tries to light his cigar in the inferno blasting from W.H.’s fireplace or if in fact Fincher intended it to be indicative of the type of rubbish one would find in the pretentious artiness of the period?
Technically Mank is a marvel of Fincher’s powers of opulence. The framing and lighting of the black and white images is pristine. He throws in a nifty montage. I remain a subscriber to the cult of Fincher. There’s so much to be found in his choices. What about at the first Hearst dinner the way Thalberg sits next to Mayer sharing a settee, while Norma Shearer is in her own chair next to him? In every aspect it’s a movie about the love of movies for people who love movies made by one who love movies. And it is exhilarating to be transported during the third act into the completion of the screenplay. At 327 pages, crashing with a thud upon delivery to Houseman, with its original title framed upside down: American (maybe a little redundant that the effect is repeated again later), Mankiewicz’s first draft is a worthy subject of legend.
12/20/2020 Landmark Midtown Art Cinema
Atlanta, GA
DCP
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