There’s really no clear cut way to review a film with such high intrigue like the brand Gone Girl puts on display without ruining its magic for those looking for an uncontaminated viewing experience. That's to say, without having read the source material from novelist Gillian Flynn – who also penned the film’s screenplay – or coming across a spoiler or two online. This is essentially why I’ve held off putting together a proper write-up for the film; analyzing this one in detail is a tricky undertaking.
Directed by the always meticulous David Fincher, Gone Girl could almost serve as a companion piece to one of the director’s most – arguably – respected films Zodiac. Both exemplify how to get under an audience’s skin in such an unsettling way without bulldozing cheap thrills at you through the screen. In Gone Girl, the thrills have substance and are built up to – not added in arbitrarily – in a painstaking manner.
We find the stove set to low upon meeting Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck) a magazine writer married to trust fund princess Amy Elliot (Rosamund Pike) who happens to be the inspiration behind her parents’ popular children’s book series titled “Amazing Amy.” The heat’s notched up a few degrees when Nick returns home one day to find his living room in complete disarray and his wife missing. After local authorities get involved, damning evidence against Nick – from financial woes to marital disputes – is revealed and suggests that he might be a prime suspect in his wife’s disappearance, bringing us to the film’s boiling point.
Gone Girl’s narrative style is hinged on diary entries written by Amy that catalog the many rough patches endured throughout her marriage with Nick. These entries are recounted in the form of flashbacks and are really all the audience is handed to go on in terms of piecing together “what really happened.” The novel apparently doles out an equal share of individual accounts – both Nick and Amy offer conflicting versions of their story – which likely renders the events that unfold a bit blurrier and gives the reader a harder time taking sides.
Flynn’s cinematic take is less balanced, however, and sculpts Nick as nothing short of an awkward scapegoat crashing his way into blunder after blunder. His responses to criminal accusations are flimsy, his history of infidelity is milked by a Nancy Grace-patterned doppelganger on television daily, and his brash behavior around Amy’s parents and “friends” does him zero favors in the "charm" department. Nick is in a bind and given little room to breathe – or properly defend himself from an unwanted media circus – whilst Amy’s version of their marriage is being held as scripture by detectives on the case. But as in most failed marriages, neither party is fully innocent, and it’s this nugget of truth that one must ponder before pointing fingers.
Having majored in journalism, I know firsthand how relentless the press can be and the wrath they can incite and the damage they can cause when covering stories similar to Nick and Amy’s. It can oftentimes be a traumatic scenario for the scrutinized victims targeted, but Gone Girl manages to almost make light of the proceedings. The area of biting satire this film falls in – noticeably so – by its halfway mark is that of pure, unadulterated social criticism. What’s depressing – or perhaps humorous depending on who you ask – is how Fincher nor Flynn really hold their magnifying glass devilishly close over the press or exaggerate the press’ motives and conduct with blatant malice. This is American media in its truest, nastiest form and as silly as the film becomes past a considerably wicked reveal, it remains a genuine portrait of how much influence the press has over a news-reliant society’s naiveté and how vital it is to take most headlines with a grain of salt. Given the pervasiveness of mass media in this day and age and how easy it is to access breaking stories riddled with fuzzy, unfounded details – and be consumed and swayed by them – simply by swiping your finger across an iPhone screen, the degree of influence is more than evident, and Fincher and Flynn have a real blast bucking the "news" machine in a most entertaining way.
But more entertaining than the character of “modern media” itself is none other than the Amazing Amy. While I normally stray away from commenting on performances, Rosamund Pike’s work here is worth mentioning. Without giving much away, I feel comfortable enough saying that she brilliantly embodies the idiom “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Her haunting voice work over the flashbacks greatly complements Fincher’s direction and her deliveries elsewhere are deliciously dreamy with just the smallest pinch of menace that really demonstrate the makings of a sociopathic film character bound to be lauded as “iconic” years down the road. Kathy Bates in Misery-iconic. She knocks it clean out the park. Also deserving of a mention is Nine Inch Nails frontman Trent Reznor’s anxiety-inducing industrial soundtrack. Gone Girl marks Reznor’s third consecutive collaboration with Fincher – The Social Network and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo being their first two joint efforts – and it by far stands alone as his most gripping outing with the director to date, which is only appropriate, seeing as how Gone Girl is high on the list of Fincher’s most gripping feature films.
8.5/10
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