The only path in life is the one behind you

Fincher recap: Early includes Se7en (1995), The Game (1997), Fight Club (1999) and Panic Room (2002). Zodiac (2007) is pivotal. The Social Network (2010), The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011) and Gone Girl (2014) is mid. The Killer (2023) is late. The films I’ve left out are irrelevant. 

 

Oh my god yes. The Killer is a return to greatness. It’s a revenge-o-matic pretty much standard assassin genre entry with an existential loner. Or think of it as an arthouse John Wick. 

     Its narrative takes a slightly askew take in that the conflicts its protagonist encounters are mostly, how can I say this, minor (or what I'm really trying to say is not conventional Hollywood familiar). But just when you think it starts to become predictable, it ducks you. Its tone is very quiet and takes its time. But it never drags. And its center is its protagonist's vo.

     There’s more handheld camera in the first half of this than every other Fincher film combined. Its customary Fincher palette often is an array of murky yellow, cyan, and green hues. And have you ever wondered what the difference is between a subjective camera shot and an objective one? I have struggled to understand this. Like is a pov the only example of subjective and everything else is objective? Anyway. In the Paris portion of the movie, when THE KILLER listens to The Smiths the music is clearly mixed upfront when we see what he’s seeing (subjective) and intercuts with shots where we’re with him and then the music is muffled and distant (objective), a great learning tool.

     The Killer sees Fincher having matured. As if it’s an entirely unrecognizable departure from the person who made Fight Club. Fassbender as The Killer dressing like a typical nondescript mannequin from an upscale mall, at various times seen eating McDonald’s, clutching a paper Starbucks cup, and ordering an Amazon order from his wireless device is the epitome of what Jack’s inner voice loathes. But he’s cool. Even him only listening to The Smiths says a lot. Who doesn’t love Morrissey, but they wouldn't exactly indicate anything other than mainstream at this point. Yet most enjoyably The Killer’s that Fincher brand of smug, efficient, and knows how to deliver black comedy one-liners. He’s what you want if you want Fincher.

     I love The Killer. It’s simple although immensely rewarding. And it’s the first time I’ve seen a Fincher film that didn’t seem to be striving for the grandiose operatic heights he’s heretofore constantly aimed for. 

 

10/27/2023 Midtown Arts Cinema

Atlanta, GA

DCP

The Parable of the Organ Grinder's Monkey

 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

Too Perfect

The cult of David Fincher as auteur probably share diverse notions as to what his draw is. Perhaps foremost among them is his reputation for being a methodical, calculating perfectionist and demanding exorbitant amounts of takes in much of the same manner Kubrick is known for. Additionally, his work is often characterized by scenes showing a surgical precision exacted in getting deep into the viscera of the audience. But, on a more subtle level, the guy is uncanny when it comes to the focus he preserves throughout his vision, considering how large the scale of his work often is and how varied his source material has been.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011, Fincher) is only disappointing because the franchise it's based on is a series of international best selling novels. I get apprehensive about any movie that is poised to open across the world; you know, the big ones. Because in the end, mass market entertainment kind of has to be diluted, once it is served in such a large quantity.

Why does The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo work in Fincher's hands? Because he exceeds when it comes to this antiseptic, dark, cold Scandinavian milieu. The design of this film comes across as almost high tech in a sense. It just feels so modern. The barren landscape is complimented by desolate production design. I still feel the cold from that house--someone let that cat in!

In addition to the production design and art direction, Atticus Ross and Trent Reznor again contribute to the soundtrack with post industrial electronic ambient soundscape type percussion that further advances on the styles they'd experimented with for The Social Network (2010, Fincher). These elements are also crucial to the Fincher touch.

The plot is banal and bores me.

The timeless, exquisite beauty of Rooney Mara is supported by her talent to deliver a convincing performance as Lisbeth Salander--the emotional core of this movie and the primary reason Fincher has captured my adoration here. This girl is modern in the sense that she epitomizes the counter culture of her generation. In the 50s, JDs wore leather jackets, white tee shirts, greased back hair, smoked cigarettes and rode motorcycles--this is Lisbeth's lineage--and in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, the self-imposed Hollywood cigarette boycott is clearly flouted. So in a sense, Lisbeth seems like a return to the sure footing of the 50s, as opposed to the chaos and divergent cultural identities that marked, say, the late 60s. Or, should I say, she's a classic rebel, lacking political pretense. And who's she pine over? Who does any upwardly mobile Greaser go for? A Soc!

The denouement is more sugary than it was undoubtedly intended. She's supposed to be scarred, but it just feels like a small bruise. Nevertheless, I identify with, empathize with and root with her for the whole two and a half hours she's up there.

This is too black and white, good guy vs. bad guy for me. But, I'll admit, seeing a rapist get his comeuppance still generates that special brand of catharsis that hits me on the most rudimentary level. The bloodlust that comes with the urge for revenge against anyone who has harmed innocent women or children is one of the instances I'm most vulnerable to being manipulated when I watch films: and that in itself is an entirely different matter to delve into--I just know I try to keep an eye on that. For me though, it's almost a little like Fincher's talent is wasted on this kind of thing--he can usually find plot points that appear more unexpected.

I think his insight into the minutia of historical tabloid operas is his greatest strength. Don't get me wrong though: since Zodiac (2007, Fincher), I find all of David Fincher's movies endlessly rewarding. For me, he's the best working director in the business (uh-oh, superlative praise? I think it's warranted here).

--Dregs