Director Report Card: David Fincher (2020)

12. Mank

On the surface, a biographic film about beloved Hollywood screenwriter Herman J. Mankiewicz probably seems like blatant Oscar bait. There's nothing the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Science loves to celebrate more than the history of (American) film. And yet, quite unexpectedly, “Mank” is a personal project for David Fincher. His father, Jack Fincher, began writing the script thirty years ago. It was a passion project for David's dad, who died in 2003. The director previously almost made the movie in 1997, with Kevin Spacey and Jodie Foster set to star. That version stalled and it was for the better. Fincher would finally bring the long developing project to the theater screens – or Netflix menus anyway – last year.

In 1940, RKO wunderkind Orson Welles was given complete creative freedom to make whatever movie he wanted. And the movie he wanted to make was “Citizen Kane.” He recruited Herman J. Mankiewicz, a known Hollywood hellraiser, to write it. Recovering from a broken leg and writing via dictation, Mankiewicz has sixty days to complete the script. As he works on the story, he reflects on his past. On his time working on the M-G-M back lot, where he butted heads with studio executive Louis B. Mayer and newspaper magnet William Randolph Hearst... Who would provide direct inspiration for Mank's script. 

“Mank” is a film overflowing with love for the cinematic form. From the opening minutes, Fincher shows his love and fidelity to film history. Cigarette burns appear in the corner of the screen before scene transitions. As Mank remembers his past, words from a screenplay appears on-screen to establish the time and place. The story isn't just about the making of a movie but also indulges in the cinematic language of the forties. Fedoras, classy dames, and lightning-fast dialogue co-exist alongside slightly chunky montages, antiquated titles, and wonky rear projection car rides. “Mank” isn't just a homage to “Citizen Kane” but to all forms of classic cinema.

The film's greatest homage to the golden age of cinema is Erik Messerschmidt's utterly gorgeous cinematography. “Mank” is shot in crisp black-and-white. The lights filter through the shades or glow from fire places in all the perfect ways. It's notable that the scenes set in 1940, as Mank is composing “Kane,” are lit in a more naturalistic – though no less gorgeous – way. The flashbacks, meanwhile, are painted in this film noir-esque paintbrush. This is another way “Mank” speaks to the power of the silver screen. Films are like dreams and memories, projected straight from our subconscious into theaters. “Mank” perfectly understands this, putting together amazing images to subtly presents the divide in its story.

Another pitch perfect homage to “Mank's” era is the fantastic score. Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross' score is full of foreboding pounding piano notes, ominous strings, and mournful horns as intentional callbacks to “Kane's” widely famous score. Yet there are also more playful moments in the score, with almost mischievous sounding notes and melodies or boozy bass. When the time comes, Ross and Reznor also up the dreamier sounds, mostly during Mank's creative moments. Not only does the music bring “Kane” to mind, without directly quoting it, it also so perfectly sounds like the 1940s to me. Maybe not the real forties but at least the one that exists in the old movies. 

More than anything else, “Mank” is a beautiful homage to a real life hero. Herman J. Mankiewicz was a silver-tongued man that was always ready to speak truth to power. All throughout the film, he takes every opportunity he can to call people like Mayer and Hearst on their bullshit in his own sly manner, in such a way that sometimes people don't notice he's insulting them. In the final act, Mank becomes representative of every other unrepresented talent in Hollywood. As he demands to receive credit for writing “Kane,” he even stands up to his own director, the man writing his checks. Mank represents someone determined to stand up for what's right, even when it costs him.

Bringing Mankiewicz to life is Gary Oldman. Oldman is the perfect person to embody Mank's acerbic wit. Oldman has the ideal handle on the fast-paced dialogue. He cuts into every one of Mank's witty turns-of-phrase with the perfect amount of sardonic glee. Even in his most self-destructive moments, like the titanic drunken rant that provides the film's climax, Oldman retains that fantastic sense of humor that makes Mank so goddamn likable. Yet he has quiet moments too, self-deprecating moments, that expose the softer side of this man. Say what you will about Oldman as a man but he's a terrific actor. This may be his best performance yet, combining his gift for bombast with a more restrained abilities. 

Of course, like all great men on the silver screen, Mank has his demons too. He's an alcoholic, constantly struggling to stay dry. He's depicted as blind drunk multiple times throughout the story. Even while recovering from the broken leg, he convinces the house caretaker to slip him bottles of lodium. He's also a compulsive gambler, making bets on random coin tosses and leaves falling out of trees. Yet these flaws cover up insecurities, like the guilt he feels over falling to prevent a friend's suicide. Or a time his sarcasm backfires on his stenographer. This is not the only way he tries to make-up for past mistakes. He also personally paid to transports the same housekeeper's village out of Nazi Germany, an act he insists on keeping secret. He was, to put it simply, a complicated man.

While Oldman's Mank obviously dominates the film, he is backed up by an impressive supporting cast too. Amanda Seyfried has never been better utilized here, as Marion Davis. Hearst's girlfriend of the time, Seyfried is utterly delightful. She can wrestle with the stylized dialogue while being perfectly charming the entire time. Lily Collins is well-utilized as the stern but fragile counterpoint to the exaggerated figures of Mank's memories. Charles Dance's deeply intoning voice, used sparingly, makes Hearst a towering and intimidating figure. And Tom Burke does a damn good Orson Welles impersonation, who is smartly kept as this mythic off-screen icon for most of the movie.

A film about screenwriters in the thirties and forties probably doesn't seem like a very relevant story to our modern world. Yet “Mank” also reflects on our own times in interesting ways. A subplot in the film involves the upcoming election between socialist Upston Sinclair and conservative Frank Merriam. Merriam demands that M-G-M produce propaganda reels to discredit Sinclair. The testimonial in the news reel are actors, a black man and a German cast as the Sinclair supporters. This is, in other words, fake news. Fincher and his team make sure to target the real root behind these deceptions. Millionaires like Hearst put the pressure on people to enforce their worldview, to make sure who they approve of stay in power. This is made all the more apparent in a shared anecdote from a supporting character about being physically intimidated by Boss Tweed goons as a boy. The rich use force – intellectual or literal force – to get what they want.

From a particular angle, “Mank” probably seems like one great big reference to “Citizen Kane.” The film is actually pretty subtle about this. Obviously, the musical score and the visuals are heavily inspired by the Welles' classic. Yet Fincher makes sure to include several specific homages to the original movie. Such as a bottle falling from Mank's hand mimicking the infamous snow globe image from “Kane.” Motifs that were present in that film, like flashing light bulbs or mirrors, reappear here as well. The shadow drowned mansion that is the film's climatic location obviously owes a debt to Kane's Xanadu. Yet “Mank” is far more than the “Citizen Kane” fan-film it sounds like on paper.

That Fincher would make a feature length homage to “Citizen Kane” is, in retrospect, not too surprising. One can see shades of Welles' classic in the black-and-white images of so many of Fincher's early music videos. Finding where “Mank” fits into the thematic concerns of Fincher's career is a little trickier. There's no grand conspiracy or criminal masterminds at work here. Instead, “Mank” continues to show the director's interest in exploring the psychology behind difficult people. Mank isn't a mysterious killer, a plotting femme fatale, or a cold-hearted tech billionaire... But he is yet another Fincher protagonist that is uncompromising in his vision, that damn near destroys himself as he moves forward with a single-minded determination towards his goal.

Debuting among much hype, “Mank” had a somewhat lukewarm reception among a lot of critics and especially the Film Twitter/Letterboxd tastemakers crowd. I don't know if people were expecting more from Fincher or if a story about old white guys seemed especially irrelevant in 2020. (Though it's not) The movie still managed to grab the most of all Academy Award nominees this year, winning several in the technical categories. In ten years or so, I think “Mank” will be better received. It's a gorgeous and brilliant homage not just to “Citizen Kane,” not just to all of movie-making, but especially to the irrepressible spirits that make this business we call show possible. [Grade: A]

David Fincher has been attached to an almost countless number of unrealized projects over the years. I guess that's what happened when you're one of the most respected filmmakers in Hollywood. A few come to mind for me as especially interesting: Adaptations of comic books, like Frank Miller's “Hard Boiled” or a new version of “Heavy Metal,” or classic novels, like Arthur C. Clark's “Rendezvous with Rama.” Around the time he was working on “Zodiac,” he was attached to a comic-inspired film about another uncaught serial killer: The Cleveland Torso Murderer. 

Even though his movies aren't exactly known for mindless thrills, the director has still been attached to would-be blockbusters as well. Such as a big budget Disney movie based on “20,000 Leagues Under the Sea,” a new version of “Cleopatra” with Angelina Jolie, and even a sequel to “World War Z.” (One assumes Fincher got attached to that as a favor to his buddy Brad Pitt.)

None of these came to fruition, so whose to say what will actually be next for the director? Yet it's increasingly looking like his next project will re-team him with Andrew Kevin Walker. It's another off-beat comic adaptation called “The Killer,” inspired by a French comic, about the life story of a hitman. After backing the series “Mindhunters” and “Mank,” Netflix seems ready to back the bill for that long-simmering project as well. I'm looking forward to it, as this project renewed my interest in the filmmaker. Go figure, this David Fincher guy is actually pretty talented.

Director Report Card: David Fincher (2014)

11. Gone Girl

You know a work has achieved a major level of fame when it contributes to our larger cultural lexicon. Upon release in 2012, Gillian Flynn's novel “Gone Girl” immediately became a bestseller. It generated a countless number of thinkpieces and essays about what it said about gender, marriage, and the media. Moreover, it added the phrase “cool girl” to our pop culture vocabulary. The film rights to the book were scooped up before it was even published, with Reese Witherspoon's production company developing it as a project for her. Flynn herself wrote the first draft, which attracted David Fincher's attention. Fincher would ensure that the feature adaptation of “Gone Girl” would generate as much debate and interest as its literary predecessor.

Nick and Amy once had a great marriage, full of passion and spontaneous sex. That was a few years ago now, before they moved to Missouri, before Nick's mom died and before their careers dried up. On the day of their fifth anniversary, Nick returns home to see his wife has vanished. The police are immediately suspicious of him, with more incriminating evidence against Nick piling up. As Amy was a minor celebrity, the inspiration for a long-running series of children's books, her disappearance becomes a major news story. Despite all the clues pointing to it, Nick didn't kill his wife... And Amazing Amy is far from done with him.

It's easy to see why “Gone Girl” would appeal to David Fincher, as it's another story of a calculating psychopath with a convoluted master plan and the people caught up in the ensuing conspiracy. Yet even this is not what “Gone Girl” is really about. First and foremost, this is another entry in the proud American tradition of melodramas about decomposing marriages. We see Nick and Amy's first date, how they had immediate chemistry, how he quickly charmed her. How they used to have great sex all the time. How her games on their anniversaries used to charm and entrance Nick. Since then, resentment and complacency has sneaked into their home. She wants a baby, he's having an affair. Both quickly realize that neither person is who the thought they married. This is the discomforting place “Gone Girl” begins to tell its story.

Yet this is only where "Gone Girl" is beginning. The first half-hour of this movie gives you the impression that you are watching one kind of film. It appears to be a story about how a disappearing wife incriminates her husband, the question of whether he actually killed her, and the resulting media attention. This is before the reveal that Amy is alive. That she not only disappeared on her own but utilized an elaborate plan to frame Nick for her murder. It's the first of a series of brilliant twists, "Gone Girl" drawling you more and more into its story. Wherever you think the film is headed at the beginning, it ends in an entirely different place.

Gillian Flynn herself wrote the script, her debut screenplay, after Fincher insisted she continue to work on the film after the first draft. I've never read any of Flynn's novels but it's apparent that she has a very distinct voice. The dialogue in "Gone Girl" is often sharp, exaggerated, and hilarious. Amy's voiceover narration is so keenly observed. The back-and-forth Nick has with his twin sister, Margo, is immediately likable and funny. When a high-price, high-powered lawyer enters Nick's life to rehabilitate his image, more witty lines are fired at us. Flynn also knows when to drop profanity. Amy describing Nick's girlfriend as having "cum-on-me tits" is vividly descriptive. The use of the c-bomb in a later scene is also extremely effective. 

The most memorable of Flynn's words is the "Cool Girl" monologue that captured so much attention in 2014. In the span of about three minutes, Flynn vividly details the insane archetypal roles that men force women to conform to. That women sometimes conform to themselves, in order to please these men. You can't help but feel sorry for Amy, and so many women all over the world, for having to deal with such a ridiculous double-standard. She kills this "cool girl" version of herself when she pours a pint of blood on the kitchen floor. She scarfs snack food and drinks soda, finally free of the ludicrous standards of maintaining the cool girl's size 2 figure. As she details the ridiculous illusion she had to maintain to please Nick, you can't help but feel like maybe he deserves what she's doing to him. Maybe every dude deserves it. 

But "Gone Girl" is only beginning to pull rugs out from under you at this point. Because Amy isn't an avenging woman who strikes back at the sexist system that oppresses her. She's a stone-cold psychopath, who has engineered an elaborate scheme to ruin her husband's life. She hocks a loogie into a person's Mountain Dew after they indirectly insult her. She framed an ex-boyfriend for rape. When the wheels start to come off Amy's master plan, when it looks like Nick has won over the public that has condemn him, she devises another insane plan to frame another man, which plays out in the most brutal way possible. In "Gone Girl," we see a femme fatale's story from the inside out. Flynn uses this to attack another troubling role society forces women into. If "Gone Girl" decimates the "cool girl" archetype, it also burns down the idea of women being feminist avengers by extending the idea to its most terrifying extreme. Amy is neither cool girl nor an "empowered" woman, suggesting both roles are equally damaging. 

"Gone Girl" is also a brutal condemnation of the media, playing like an absurd and pitch-black satire of the tabloid news cycle we are constantly embroiled in. Why Amy Dunne's disappearance attracts so much attention, when people disappear every day, is obvious. She's white, blonde, attractive, rich and famous. The media attention is largely driven by Ellen Abbott, a barely exaggerated version of Nancy Grace. They attack Nick for not being sad enough, even though everyone reacts to stress differently. Abbott makes salacious implications on her talk show, saying that Nick's not just a murderer but in an incestuous relationship with his sister. Of course, the minute the narrative changes, and Nick's innocence is assured, the media leaps on that too. The tabloid journalists are only interested in the scandal and the happy endings. They have no desire to dig into the inconsistencies just below the surface in Amy's story. Few people are interested in the truth and more interested in the "story" being presented.

"Gone Girl" operates like a beautifully executed mystery, always pulling you deeper as more information is revealed or more clues are uncovered. Every big pay-off – from a shed full of expensive gifts to the detailed explanations of how Amy pulled off her scheme – is deployed perfectly, hitting the audience in the face in the best way. As we see Amy start to set-up her next evil scheme, “Gone Girl” spirals towards a shocking and disturbing climax. It's a sudden act of gruesome violence, catching the audience off-guard no matter how much it's foreshadowed. And then, interestingly, the movie continues further past this point then you'd expect. “Gone Girl's” ambiguous ending, Amy getting her revenge on Nick in a round-about way, re-enforces its central idea: Of people forced to pretend to be someone else while trapped in a bitter marriage, leaving the audience with a unsettled feeling.

Ben Affleck stars as Nick. Affleck brings a certain meta context to the role that is unavoidable. The star has certainly had his own run-ins with the tabloid media. Around the time he was filming “Gone Girl,” he got cast as Batman. A sharp-eyed viewer can spot his physique growing more muscular throughout the film. Not too long after that, Affleck's personal life was rocked by divorce, rumors of affairs, a stint in rehab for alcoholism, and a horrible back tattoo. In other words: Ben Affleck has big Mid-Life Crisis Energy and the film makes ideal use of it. In the beginning, we can never be too sure if we trust Nick. If what Amy says about him is true or if he's been framed. Affleck certainly can capture the image of a big dopey guy, who doesn't know not to smile when talking about his missing wife on TV. Yet you can see some of the charm that made Ben a movie star in the first place, during the interview when Nick takes control of the narrative. In other words, Ben Affleck is used perfectly in the film, the baggage around him as a performer actually enhancing the movie.

Considering her producer's credit on the film, one assumes Reese Witherspoon originally had eyes on playing Amy. It's pretty easy to imagine what the Reese version of Amy would look like. (Like an older, more fucked-up Tracy Flick probably.) Instead, Rosamund Pike would slot into the role after Reese disagreed with Fincher's ideas for the character. Unlike Affleck – or Witherspoon, for that matter – Pike brings no preconceived notions to her character. Pike disappears totally into Amy, a character whose alliances are hard to guess. Pike certainly brings the right venom and anger to Amy's monologues, slowly revealing the character's sociopathic tendencies with a terrifying deliberateness. 

“Gone Girl” also features a cast full of surprising faces. None more than Tyler Perry as Tanner Bolt, the lawyer Nick hires to turn the public opinion around on him. Perry is actually pretty good in the role, fittingly charismatic as a man very used to smoozing in the right way and playing to the right crowds. Neil Patrick Harris is also cast very against type as Desi, Amy's obsessive ex-boyfriend that she weaves back into her scheme. Harris brings the same slightly haughty quality, that we've seen in roles like Doogie Howser or Dr. Horrible, to a ridiculously overconfident and utterly clueless rich dork. Missi Pyle is hilarious as Ellen Abbott, simply by playing the Nancy Grace schtikc more-or-less straight, the ridiculousness of the inspiration becoming all the more obvious. I also really liked Carrie Coon as Margo, who is funny and sure-headed as Nick's more grounded sibling.

With typically sharp direction from Fincher, making use of washed-up lightning and shadowy angles, and a low-key but effectively spooky score from Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross, “Gone Girl” stands as one of the best films of the director's career. It generated rave reviews and controversary in 2014, some even accusing the film of being sexist. Despite being one of the best movies of the year, it only scored a single Oscar nomination, a Best Actress nod for Pike. But, then again, the Academy has always been slow to acknowledge Fincher's thrillers, no matter how brilliantly executed they may be. An Oscar is no guarantee a movie will endure, while the type of brilliance on display in “Gone Girl” almost certainly is. [Grade: A]

Director Report Card: David Fincher (2011)

10. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

Considering its status as a international best-seller which already launched a successful series of films overseas, it was only a matter of time before Hollywood studios made their own adaptation of Stieg Larsson's Millennium trilogy of novels. Pre-production on an American “Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” actually started as early as 2009, before the Swedish films were even released over here. Trying to get David Fincher to direct this movie seems like such a natural choice, you almost can't imagine the director going for it. Gritty, noir-ish murder-mysteries with extreme themes are so far within Fincher's wheelhouse, he's almost too obvious a choice. Obvious or not, Fincher would sign on quickly and the movie was fast-tracked for a 2011 awards season release date. 

Mikael Blomkvist, head writer and co-owner of Millennium Magazine, has recently been convicted for libel after publishing supposedly false accusations against millionaire Hans-Erik Wennerström. This is when elderly industrialist Henrik Vanger hires him to investigate the murder of his beloved niece, Harriet. She disappeared in 1966 while a car wreck blocked off the entire island. Blomkvist goes about investigating the sordid history of the family. Blomkvist soon teams up with Lisbeth Salander, the mysterious computer hacking prodigy who did a background check on him. Together, they dig into the past and discover that Harriet Vanger is not the only dead girl in the family. Among the businessmen and Nazis is a serial killer.

David Fincher continues to have the best trailer editor in Hollywood. On the footsteps of “The Social Network's” award-winning trailer, came “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo's” similarly stunning trailer. Beginning with a gate opening, the audience follows the snowy and desolate path towards the isolated Vanger estate. This journey is quickly intercut with a series of split-second moments from the movie. The entire thing is scored to the driving melody of Karen O.'s cover of “The Immigrant Song,” which suggests the Nordic setting and adds an intense burst of dreary power. The same song plays over the movie's expressionistic title sequence, where computer wires, faces, hands, flowers, and the titular tattoo form out of black tar, among images that suggest the themes of misogyny and fascism the film will explore. Both certainly make a hell of an impression. 

As an adaptation, Fincher's film sticks pretty closely to Larsson's source novel. The movie even chooses to keep the location as Sweden, even though everyone is speaking English. It keeps a lot of the material that was cut out of the Swedish film. (Or, at least, the shorter version I reviewed.) It includes the cat Mikael briefly adopts while on the island. He travels more, meeting an obscure cousin of Harriet's in London. The surveillance work Lisbeth does is maintained. The financial problems the magazine faces are covered, as is Henrik becoming its sponsor. Yet the film also simplifies the timeline of Larsson's story. Mikael doesn't have to serve jail time in the middle of the story. Only his credibility is destroyed by the lawsuit. There's fewer leads involved in the investigation, fewer names to remember. It's a faithful but pragmatic adaptation.

The biggest change Fincher's film makes to the source material is fixing Mikael Blomkvist. The literary Blomkvist, too often, came across as wish-fulfillment for Stieg Larsson. Here was a super-star journalist, who could bring down empires with just his words, whose magazine is so important that it often makes national news. He's also completely irresistible to women, embarking on at least two or three different affairs. (Aside from the regular hook-ups he has with his editor.) Also also, he has military training that saves his ass a few times. The Swedish films sought to fix this by making Blomkvist into a sad sack. The American movie goes the funnier route of making him kind of an idiot. Oh, he's a brilliant investigator but he survives the attempt on his life by blind luck. Later, he walks right into the killer's lair. He's still sleeping with some beautiful women but he's played by Daniel Craig, so that's pretty believable. 

Casting the role of Lisbeth Salander was a big deal. Every waif in Hollywood was up for the part but Fincher ultimately chose Rooney Mara, clearly impressed by her small role in “The Social Network.” Mara had big Dock Martins to fill, following Noomi Rapace's star-making take on the character. Mara's take on the character is less impulsive than Rapace's, whose vengeful furies are more premeditated than spontaneous. There's a colder quality to her, more alien-like in the way she regards the world. She doesn't let her vulnerability shine through nearly as much. Rapace was as if the character step right off the page. Rooney Mara's take is a different interpretation and a pretty good one. She's compelling and strong-willed.  

Inevitably, Mikael and Lisbeth fall into bed together in every version of the story. The novel and previous film had Salander do this as one of those decisions that nobody but her understood. Fincher's film has the two hook up right after he's nearly killed. The sex is seemingly a way for them to mutually unwind. From then on, every time they have sex, Lisbeth initiates it. She is in full control of her desires, of this relationship. Moreover, Mara and Craig have strong chemistry, his quirky humor bouncing off her ice cold exterior in a compelling way. It's the first time in any version of this story were you actually buy that these two are genuinely interested in each other. 

Sadly, if there's any way Fincher's “Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” is less compelling than its Swedish sibling, it is the mystery itself. Hewing closer to the book in this regard, much of the investigation is devoted to people re-reading old documents. Both Mikael and Lisbeth spend a lot of time sorting through the archives, looking at ancient photographs over. Digging through the details meticulously, they forge a history of violence via dedicated research. And it's only so interesting to watch play out. The Swedish film focused on interviewing leads and looking at crime scenes, which was a little more cinematic than Lisbeth sitting in a library and looking at piles of old photos. 

My biggest qualm with the previous versions of “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo,” on both the page and the screen, was how it used women being sexually assaulted and murdered to prop up what was ultimately a pulpy murder-mystery. The 2011 “Girl” doesn't change the story. Lisbeth is still brutally raped by her legal guardian. She still uncovers a history of women being molested and murdered by depraved men. Fincher insures these reveals are as disturbing as possible. As the incident with Nils Bjurman begins, Fincher keeps showing a closing door and panning back, as if he's going to cut away. He doesn't. The resulting scene is incredibly disturbing and intense. If Fincher's film is going to cover these topics, he's going to make sure it's as horrible as possible.

Lisbeth's revenge on her rapist is as glorious as ever, paying evil unto evil in the most ironic way possible. Yet the film is aspiring to be a little more than a rape/revenge story. The remake focuses more on the connection between fascism and misogyny. The Vanger family history is littered with Nazis. Harriet's father and the eventual killer are revealed as serial predators that use women, kill them, and dispose of their corpses. One of them is a religious fanatic. Blomkvist's archenemy Wennerström is a rich criminal working to undermine the credibility of the free press. There is a definite link between these evils, the abuse of women operating as a part of authoritarian ideology. I wish the film made more of a point of this but it does the work.

Fincher, of course, works hard to elevate the material in other ways too. He directs the hell out of this movie. The frozen isolation of the northern setting is emphasized, the audience feeling the chill in the air. The urban scenes have the gritty, sickly grime that you've come to expect from this director. Nobody does this kind of thing better than Fincher. The surveillance footage of Lisbeth glaring into cameras, or the sweaty and sickly scenery as she takes her revenge, is so perfectly disquieting. The lair of the killer is shot in a sickly white, sterile and unnervingly so. The Swedish “Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” had a hell of a climax, which the remake makes sure to maintain. The psycho killer's murder dungeon, the noose around the neck, the car chase and explosion are all shot and edited like gangbusters. Only an earlier fight scene on a subway is shakily shot and edited. I don't know what was up with that.

While this film is clearly a star vehicle for Craig and Mara, a very strong supporting cast is assembled as well. Robin Wright has a quiet sensuality and subtle intelligence as Blomkvist's business partner and regular girlfriend. Christopher Plummer could not be more perfectly cast as Henrik, an ancient patriarch. He approaches the long and controversial history of his family with a sardonic humor because it's the only way he can cope. Stellan Skarsgård is well cast as Martin Vanger, as he balances a charming side with a sinister undercurrent. Though the eventual reveal concerning that character is still a little too easy to guess.

Fincher's “Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” maintains a lot of the problems of the source material. It's also too long, running five minutes more than the Swedish film, including the extended denouncement that puts every single plot thread to bed. This version does not feature a lot of belabored set-up for a sequel. Which turned out to be a good thing. “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” came out around Christmas of 2011 – the story is book-ended by the holiday – and sold itself as the “feel bad movie” of the holiday. Unsurprisingly, family audiences on Christmas vacation did not flock to a grim thriller full of graphic sexual assault and murder. While there was initial hopes that adaptations of “The Girl Who Played with Fire” and “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest” would follow, it was not to be. Both better and weaker than the Swedish original, it's still an involving film with some fantastic sequences built around an unforgettable leading lady. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: David FIncher (2010)

9. The Social Network

It was probably around 2005 when a cousin of mine asked me if “my school had a Facebook yet.” I had no idea what he was talking about. Social media was not a new thing at the time, and I was already obsessed with the idea truthfully, but I had all my eggs in the MySpace basket. It would be years before I got onto Facebook. But get onto it I did and, just like everyone else, the site is now a daily part of my life. Yet the idea of turning the story behind Facebook into a movie, back in 2010, seemed a little desperate to me. Surely, the foundation of the site where we liked photos and poked people wouldn't be that cinematic. Not even David Fincher – who I had drifted away from a bit, by this point – directing piqued my interest too much.

That all changed the minute I saw the trailer for “The Social Network.” Functioning as much as a short film as an advertisement for the feature, those two minutes convinced me that, yeah, a movie about Facebook could be good. Within a few seconds, over a montage of photos and comments and status updates, the trailer convincingly portrays how Facebook has changed the ways we interact with each other. Set to a hauntingly beautiful choir cover of “Creep,” perfectly chosen clips from the film – along with that brilliant tagline – illustrate a story about longing to belong and a bitter entitlement to status. “The Social Network” is a very good film but its trailer is a masterpiece.

But let's talk about the actual movie now. In 2003, Harvard computer science major Mark Zuckerberg gets dumped by his girlfriend. As an act of revenge he creates FaceMash, a website where Harvard students can compare female students by “hotness.” The site is extremely popular and crashes several Harvard servers. This catches the attention of the Winklevoss twins, rowing athletes and the children of a rich lawyer. They hire Zuckerberg to make a social networking website but he decides to make his own instead. Hiring friend Eduardo Saverin as the site's business manager, Mark builds The Facebook. The site becomes a phenomenon and spreads across college campuses. Napster inventor Sean Parker becomes involved, encouraging Mark to take Facebook to even bigger places. Soon, the Winklevoss brothers sue Zuckerberg. Not long after that, Eduardo sues him too.

“The Social Network” makes a point that has been made many times before in history: Nothing motivates a man like sex. Or, rather, a bruised ego about sex. When Mark's girlfriend dumps him, because he was treating her like a robot, it wounds him. Facebook, essentially, is born from his masculine ego getting stabbed by her sharp, and honest, words. Mark feels entitled to a hot girlfriend. He feels entitled to entry into the exclusive clubs and frats he sees around him. He never suspects that his asshole demeanor is the reason he doesn't have these things already. When the success of Facebook gives him access to all the girls and money he could ever want, he's only convinced to double-down more on his bullish tactics. “The Social Network” is all about decidedly toxic, and distinctly masculine, nerd entitlement transforming a jerk into a monster.

“The Social Network” is also a story about an even older idea: Two close friends having a falling out. Eduardo and Mark are both nerdy Jewish kids. Saverin even writes out the coding formula that made that first website possible. They reap the initial success of Facebook together. Yet they are soon forced apart. Mark admires Sean Parker's rock star life style. Eduardo resents it, seeing Parker as an intrusion into the dynamic he has with Mark. As Mark pursues power over anything else, he betrays maybe the only real friend he's ever had. Watching the slow desolation of Mark and Eduardo's friendship feels tragic, men nearly as close as brothers forced apart by greed. Especially once you see Eduardo's growing cluelessness about how hard Mark is about to screw him. 

A number of factors distinguishes “The Social Network” as a David Fincher movie. However, one can make the argument that the movie really belongs to its screenwriter. Aaron Sorkin never lets you forget that he wrote the film. Every line of dialogue is super sharp and pointed. The characters speak in incredibly fast and frequently wordy burst. The scene where Mark describes, in voice-over, how he created FaceMash is a long stream of technobabble and witticisms. While Sorkin's work can be utterly smug and insufferable at times, it's kept in balance here. You can believe people would talk this way in the world of nerdy and rich college students and rising tech moguls. Fincher's instinct also sharpens Sorkin's dialogue, keeping the memorable sarcasm and ditching the self-righteousness.

In fact, “The Social Network” sometimes plays like a fantastically funny comedy about two dorks in way over their heads. Zuckerberg and his team of code monkeys are woefully unprepared for the fame and fortune that comes with Facebook's success. Mark tries to adopt to the wild frat boy lifestyle and ends up shattering a chimney and tossing a beer into the wall. The funniest scene in the film occurs when Mark is having a mini-breakdown on the phone while Eduardo's new girlfriend – a former groupie – sets his bed on fire. No wonder this story ends in betrayal. These two guys really stumbled into this, a point the movie makes repeatedly.

“The Social Network” would be a star-making turn for Jesse Eisenberg, who at the time was regarded as the poor man's Michael Cera but would quickly eclipse him. Eisenberg adapts an extremely precise and frequently curt way of speaking as Mark. He doesn't have much time for social niceties. Zuckerberg comes very close to being portrayed as a totally cold and calculating psychopath, especially as he focuses more on seizing power and control. Yet the humor Eisenberg – a perfect manifestation of Mark's ego – brings to the role makes him oddly charming. He also reveals enough of Zuckerberg's vulnerabilities to humanize him, even if he still comes off as a chilling villain protagonist.

If Zuckerberg is the cold center of “The Social Network,” the actors around him represent other extreme feelings. Andrew Garfield, as Eduardo, is almost playing a wide-eyed innocent. He is quickly overwhelmed by the pressure of Facebook's success and puts too much trust in his “friend.” It helps that Garfield is so boyish, like a puppy or something, that you really understand the guy when he eventually snaps at Zuckerberg. Justin Timberlake, as Sean Parker, functions as the devil on Mark's shoulder. He uses Mark to get revenge against old enemies, while tempting him with stories of more money and wild parties. The pop star is surprisingly good at making Parker seem somewhat unhinged and irresponsible but completely seductive at other times. 

Fincher, of course, directs the hell out of the movie. The dorms and meeting halls of Harvard are often overcast with a sickly green light and washed out visuals. This certainly makes the school seem a lot less hospitable than it could be, suggesting the sinister unease underneath. This also stands in contrast to the framing device, of Mark's various lawsuits, which are shot under almost sterile lighting. The movie is also incredibly tightly edited. The sequence where the Winklevoss twins row to a near-victory, set to “In the Hall of the Mountain King,” is thrillingly assembled. Fincher still knows how to put-together an action sequence like few other big Hollywood directors.

“The Social Network” would begin another important collaboration for Fincher. It's the first film of his to be scored by Atticus Ross and Trent Reznor. Considering Fincher's entire career sometimes feels like an audition to direct Nine Inch Nails music videos; he finally directed one in 2005; it's a fitting partnership. Reznor and Ross' score is surprisingly low-key. It's largely composed of quivering static, an unnerving layer of distortion floating under most of the movie's scenes. This adds an ominous quality to what is largely a drama composed of people talking, establishing the mood of betrayal and distrust that will soon follow. A immediately recognizable series of notes frequently rises above, which suggests the humble roots of the protagonist and how far they'll soon travel from them.

Watching “The Social Network” in 2021 is definitely a somewhat surreal experience. Kevin Spacey and Scott Rubin were both producers, their names in the credit leading to some “oofs” in a modern context. Of course, Arnie Hammer plays the Winklevoss twins, a rich sicko playing two rich conceited assholes. Moreover, the film was made before Mark Zuckerbery tried to make himself a presidential candidate. Before Facebook helped facilitate the undermining of the free press. Before it was used as a tool to distribute misinformation and discredit democracy. Before Zuckerberg had to stand before congress and admit all of this. Aaron Sorkin has expressed some interesting in writing a sequel, should David Fincher be interested in directing. Honestly, it's a pretty good idea. 

The real life people who inspired “The Social Network” insist it doesn't have much to do with reality. The sweaty, doe-eyed, milquetoast humanoid that testified in Washington certainly doesn't resemble the stone-cold master planner Jesse Eisenberg plays here. We can assume Zuck's real life media empire was less inspired by sexual frustration. Certainly none of this makes “The Social Network” any less of a compelling film. The way the movie examines the crossover between toxic masculinity and digital supremacy has only made it more relevant. The acting is great, the script is sharp, and the movie is compelling in its construction from beginning to end. [Grade: A-]

Director Report Card: David Fincher (2008)

8. The Curious Case of Benjamin Buttons

In 1986, producer Ray Stark bought the film rights to the F. Scott Fitzgerald short story, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.” Frank Oz was chosen to direct, with Martin Short as the designated star. Over the course of the next twenty years, different directors and leading men would be attached to the project: Spielberg and Tom Cruise, Ron Howard and John Travolta. Spike Jonze came close to filming the story, with Charlie Kaufman even doing a draft of the script. When Gary Ross exited the project in 2004, David Fincher would enter, with Brad Pitt quickly jumping on-board. This would be the combo that would finally get the movie made. “The Curious Case of Benjamin Buttons” remains one of the most hotly debated films in Fincher's career.

As Hurricane Katrina draws closer to New Orleans, Caroline sits in the hospital with her elderly and ailing mother, Daisy. She asks her to read from the journal of a man named Benjamin Button. On the day World War I ended, Benjamin was born as an old man. Abandoned by his father and raised by the black owners of a nursing home, Benjamin – seven-year-old but with an elderly, decrepit body – meets and falls in love with Daisy, the granddaughter of a patient. As he grows up, he becomes younger, seemingly aging in reverse. He finds work as a tugboat sailor, sees the world, fights in World War II, finds love and looses it, and crosses path with Daisy again. As Caroline continues to read, she realizes a secret about her own past.

“The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” is the warmest film David Fincher has ever made. In a career defined by dark conspiracy and serial killer thrillers, here's a movie about the enduring power of love and how much value one person's life can have. This is probably why a lot of fans of the director have dismissed this as his most naked example of Oscar bait. The unforeseen sentimental side of the filmmaker is also apparent in “The Curious Case's” visual palette. Gone are the sickly greens and slick shadows we associates with the Fincher style. In their place are glowing amber colorations, earthy and cordial and nostalgic.

Like any story that attempts to look back at the impact of an entire life, “Benjamin Button” has an at-times episodic quality. We see anecdotes from Benjamin's unusual life. Such as the first time he walked, on his arthritic legs, at a Baptist revival before the preacher dropped over dead. Or the black man, who used to work in a zoo as a living display, that he befriends in his youth. The film wanders from Button's various adventures, to the colorful characters and situations he found himself in. Such as the alcoholic tugboat captain, his body covered in tattoos, or the eccentric woman he begins an affair with in France. The tagline for “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” is “Life is not made up of minutes but of moments,” which seems to illustrate the film's philosophies. That, when you look back at it, the people you've known and adventures you've had are what you truly remember.

During his love affair with Elizabeth Abbott in Paris, she tells him about a time she attempted to swim the English channel. How she gave up half-way through and turned back, something she still regrets. Later in the film, once Benjamin has aged into the prime of his wife, he catches sight of a television report, of Elizabeth successfully completing a swim of the channel. This seems to illustrate another theme in the movie: That it's never too late to start. Or, in Benjamin's taste, too early. He begins his life with all the infirmity of old age but still moves forward, still seeks out his own life. From the beginning, he's told that he's near death, lucky to be alive, that he won't have much longer to live. Yet he keeps going, keeps striving, keeps defining himself. 

My favorite parts of “Benjamin Button” are the moments that are more like digressions. The film begins with a fable, of a blind clock-maker who looses his son in the first World War and builds a grand clock that runs backwards. This wistful, fantastic moment is brought to life with sepia tones and gentle visual effects. One of the men who live at the nursing home repeatedly mentions that he was struck by lightning seven times, which Fincher depicts as a series of silent movie-style inserts. The best such digression in the film is when Button illustrates how small events can have a big effect on a person's life. A domino effect of small incidents, little accidents, all lead up to Daisy suffering a devastating blow. It's a beautifully assembled, funny but also deeply sad depiction of how chance and fate all have their ways with us.

Considering its long development history, one assumes that the attachment of a mega-star like Brad Pitt is what finally got “Benjamin Button” made. Pitt's easy-going movie star charm is well-utilized in the titular role. Even after all he's seen overseas, Benjamin still maintains a child-like sense of wonder at the world. Pitt is excellent at summoning this sense of fresh-faced innocence. Cate Blanchett, naturally one of our greatest working actors, is also excellent as Daisy. Even when hassled with a not-entirely-convincing Southern accent, Blanchett projects charm and complexity, beauty and grace. 

Yet one does have to ask the question: Would the love story at the center of “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” be as charming if it starred less compelling actors? What Daisy and Benjamin see in each other is never quite elaborated upon. The two charm each other as children and seemingly carry that torch their entire lives. When they are both teenagers, and Daisy asks to make love, Benjamin insists they wait. Which is wholesome and shows he respects her. Beyond the relaxed chemistry the two actors share, this is the only real attraction we see between the characters. The greatness of their love, of their devotion to each other, is sometimes more informed than actually depicted.

Despite this central flaw, “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” still works for me. Part of that is because I found the framing device quite profound. Daisy, at the end of her life, asking her daughter to read from the journal sets up an easy-to-guess twist. There's still something captivating about the idea, of a mother revealing a secret history to her daughter on her death bed. That these events are happening right before Katrina blows into New Orleans, with nurses and weatherman in the background talking about how the hurricane may or may not miss the state, adds a quiet tension. The movie ends with the clock mentioned in the opening fable being destroyed in the hurricane, bringing the story full circles in a poetic way that can't help but appeal to me.

Some of the negative reviews of the film revolve around the script not doing more with the central gimmick. Would the story have been affected all that much if Benjamin had aged like a normal person, at least once he's out of his childhood? You can debate that but an interesting parallel emerges near the end. As Benjamin ages backwards into his youth, becoming a teenager and then a child, he starts to loose his memory and act erratically. He's developing dementia but is also acting more and more like a little kid. Basically, there's not that much of a difference between old age and early youth after all. Babies and the elderly are both frail and defenseless. Children and people loosing their memories see the world differently from the rest of us. It's an interesting idea.

Much of the press at the time of “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button's” release revolved around its visual effects. In the early scenes, where Benjamin is an old man/young child, Pitt's heavily made-up face was digitally pasted over a smaller actors body. The effect is not quite as seamless as the filmmakers' hoped, I imagine. The CGI baby Ben that appears early looks especially phony. Yet the illusion still works pretty well, mostly thanks to the practical make-up effects. These do a good job of making Brad Pitt look like an old man living at the turn-of-the-century. The make-up team would win an Oscar for their efforts. 

Fincher fills the film's supporting cast with familiar faces, as well as some performers who were on the verge of becoming bigger stars themselves. (As in “Zodiac.”) Taraji P. Henson and Mahershala Ali appear as Benjamin's adoptive parents, both of them bringing all their charm to the role of affectionate and compassionate people. Also watch out for a tiny Elle Fanning as the youngest version of Daisy. Otherwise, Fincher relies upon reliable character actors for many parts. Elias Koteas is memorably grave as the blind man in the opening. Jared Harris is amusingly colorful as the boozy tugboat captain. Tilda Swinton is lovably eccentric as Elizabeth, uniquely gorgeous and enchanting while believably flighty too.

I guess how much you enjoy “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” depends entirely on how sentimental you are. I, for one, am an ol' softie at heart. It's closing minutes, in which Benjamin's narration sums up everything he's learned over his life, admittedly made me a bit misty-eyed. I guess it's not surprising that most David Fincher fans, probably leaning on the more cynical side of things, wonder what the director saw in this story. Critics were a bit split on the movie, many loving it but a few vocal decenters voicing their displeasure. It's not a perfect film. It's too long and perhaps a little too whimsical for its own good. Yet, like everything the director touches, it's magnificently put together, beautifully photographed, and nicely acted. If this is what Fincher's stab at Oscar bait looks like, I say that's still pretty good. [Grade: B+]

Director Report Card: David Fincher (2007)

7. Zodiac

In the year of our lord 2021, true crime is a national obsession. Extremely popular podcast, high-profile Netflix documentaries, and hundreds of Youtube channels focus on real crimes, unsolved and otherwise. What was once the obsession of a small group of devoted fanatics is now water-cooler talk all over the country. This is part of the world that “Zodiac” helped birth. A film adaptation of Robert Graysmith's non-fiction books spent years in development hell. David Fincher was the screenwriters' first choice to direct. Fincher, it turned out, was a Zodiac obsessive himself, having been a kid during the killer's original reign of terror. The film, which finally hit theater screens in 2007, would spurn discussion, debate, and earn a hardcore fan-following of its own.

In summer of 1969, in Vallejo, California, an unknown assailant shoots a young man and his date in their parked car, killing the girl. A month afterwards, the San Francisco Chronicle receives letters from the killer, who demands his encrypted words be published or he'll kill again. He calls himself Zodiac and he does kill again. Several more murders, usually accompanied by taunting letters and codes, follow over the next few years. The city is gripped in fear by the mysterious murderer. San Francisco police inspector Dave Toschi is on the case, frustrated by the lack of leads and conflicting evidence. Chronicle writer Paul Avery writes extensively on Zodiac, eventually becoming a target himself. Chronicle cartoonist Robert Graysmith becomes obsessed with the case, working for decades on solving it himself. All the while, the Zodiac Killer remains elusive.

It's not surprising to find out that David Fincher, from a young age, was fascinated with the Zodiac Killer. You can see parallels in his films with the real-life murderer. A clever killer staying one step ahead of the police, taunting them and drawing them into a complex game, was clearly an influence on "Seven." You can see shades of Zodiac's cypher-making and some unseen master plan in the conspiracies of "The Game" and "Fight Club." Yet those are fictional characters and the Zodiac was real. Fincher's film never gives us any insight into the killer's mind beyond what the actual facts of the case present. If the Zodiac was a genius or just lucky, a master planner or just insane enough to be totally unpredictable, the movie doesn't know. Instead, the killer in "Zodiac" represents something much more frightening than fictional serial killers or conspirators with inescapable plans: The unpredictable, chaotic forces of the universe that can claim a life at any minute. 

“Zodiac” is a murder-mystery, ultimately, without an answer. This is a foregone conclusion because, if you know nothing else about the Zodiac Killer, you know that he was never caught. While the film does eventually come to a conclusion about who it thinks Zodiac probably was, it's more about why people are so driven to unmask this killer. Of the film's three main characters, each has their own reason for wanting to solve the mystery. Paul Avery is a journalist, yet he's also a self-promoter. When the Zodiac takes a specific interest in him, he sees it as a professional rivalry he's eager to resolve. When that doesn't happen, when no resolution comes, Avery falls into self-loathing and drug abuse.

Dave Toschi, meanwhile, is a cop. Whether he sees the world in terms of right or wrong, the film never really says. Nevertheless, he sees it as his job to make sense of why these things happen. To find answers, if not justice. When told to relax and go to the movies, he sees "Dirty Harry." Whose villain was, of course, inspired by Zodiac. He has to leave the theater because the movie simply reminds him that, in real life, they don't always catch the bad guy. It frustrates him because he knows too well that this is true. Yet he's still driven to catch the perp, to make sense of the violence he sees every day. 

This theme is most apparent in Robert Graysmith's story line. He's a humble cartoonist, a single dad trying to take care of his son. When he first sees the Zodiac cypher, he's transfixed. He immediately works to solve it, trying to find patterns in the seemingly meaningless symbols. He borrows books from the library on code-breaking and criminal psychology. As the case grows cold, he rehashes facts and evidence. It's all more cyphers Robert is searching through, desperately trying to find meaning in. Sometimes, he grasps at straws, believing there might be two killers or spending months on a dead-end lead. He's desperate to find meaning in the pile of clues and hints that all revolve around the senseless murders of innocent people. 

"Zodiac's" pitch-perfect tag line is "There's more than one way to lose your life to a killer." Robert becomes obsessed with the Zodiac. That obsession ruins his first date with the woman who somehow becomes his wife anyway. Eventually, their marriage falls apart because Robert's fixation is endangering her and the kids. Yet "Zodiac" draws you, the viewer, into this search too that you can't really fault Robert for being so obsessed. Fincher's film unfolds like an investigation itself. We are presented with every clue and new factoid as it's uncovered. We follow Robert down the dead-ends as he discovers them. "Zodiac" makes you obsessed with the Zodiac too, via a brilliant script that pulls you in completely. You are dragged along on this mystery, even though you know it has no answer. 

Something else "Zodiac" is really good at is showing the passage of time. Dates appear on-screen throughout, always establishing where and when we are. The period details are vivid, all the sideburns and high-waisted pants and ugly wallpaper you associate with the seventies right in the open. The case remains open for years, more time passing, which the film finds several clever ways to depict. A year subsiding is displayed by showing the famous TransAmerica Pyramid being assembled in the span of a single scene. Later, the passage of four years is depicted through a collage of historical sound bites and music over a black screen. "Zodiac" manages to condense the entire last fourth of the decade into two whole minutes. 

Yet this is not the most notable stylistic choice Fincher makes in "Zodiac." He does not shoot most of the attack scenes like they are in a David Fincher movie. Only the killing of Paul Lee Stine, shot in the head from the backseat of his taxi cab, is depicted with the shadowy visuals and slow-motion that you associate with the director. Instead, Fincher adapts a stark and realistic approach to the attacks. The opening shooting focuses on the raw panic the victims felt in the car. The stabbing by the lake, when the Zodiac donned his infamous disguise, is depicted entirely in sunlight, playing out with a documentary-like stillness. When a young mother is abducted by the man, the camera is fixed on her terrified face in the cramped interior of the car. Often, Fincher depicts the aftermaths of the murders in far-off, distant shots, the viewer given a cold and impersonal look at the crime scene. Like a detective trying to examine all the clues. Or a disinterested god, indifferent to people's suffering. The result is a tactful, "just the facts" approach to real life deaths that also happens to be terrifying, putting the audience right in the moment of fear and dread the actual victims felt. 

The starkness of the murder scenes stands in contrast to how much of the movie is shot. "Zodiac" opens with the seventies versions of the Paramount and Warner Brothers logos. With that in mind,  the film intentionally seeks to replicate the look of the crime thrillers of the time and place the story is set. (“Bullitt” and “Dirty Harry,” the two movies that Toschi inspired, were clearly references.) This means the film's visual palette is simultaneously lush and gritty. The colors are deep and warm. The blacks are extremely dark and the San Francisco summers are awash in sunlight. Yet the interiors are also packed with detail, filling lived-in. There's danger lurking within that twilight glow.

This attention to detail, in two scenes especially, seems to reflect the characters' minds. When the police investigate Arthur Leigh Allen's trailer, they find a place bathed in orange light with squirrel's wandering around everywhere. One can't help but feel this is meant to symbolize the killer's mind, chaos and rattling cages everywhere. Yet the moment where the film travels right into the heart of darkness is when Robert enters the basement of what he, at first, assumes to be a normal person. As the scene goes on, he grows increasingly suspicious. The viewer feels that sense of dread creeping in again, this sense that our hero has stumbled into great danger. Of course, the man turns out not to be a lead. This is Robert descending into the depths of his own paranoia, seeing the Zodiac Killer in anybody with a shifty face... Yet that doesn't make it any less tense.

If we've learned nothing else from the influx of true crime books, podcasts, and documentaries in the last decade, it's that a lot of case go unsolved because of incompetence on the police's behalf. In “Zodiac,” we see that the various police departments investigating the murder often couldn't agree on details. At one point, they thought the suspect was a black man before quickly deducing he was white. Some of the districts have information and evidence that others do not. Sometimes, the press would have information that wasn't shared with the cops and vice-versa. It almost seemed like petty rivalries between the different counties kept a more thorough investigation from being done. One suspects this is how a lot of killers and criminals slip through the cracks.

“Zodiac” happen to have the benefit of casting several actors right before they became huge stars, involved with mega-franchises. Robert Graysmith is more-or-less the de-facto protagonist for most of the film. Jake Gyllenhaal plays him like an everyman, an almost stiflingly normal guy who is drawn into this great obsession almost by chance, it seems. Gyllenhaal is excellent at finding a balance between a fundamentally decent seeming man and someone driven into a frenzy by his fixation. Robert Downey Jr., as part of his public image rehabilitation that led to “Iron Man,” appears as Paul Avery. It's an ideal use of Downey's skills for acerbic dialogue and a sense of smug superiority that hints at a greater self-loathing. Mark Ruffalo, five years ahead of becoming an Avenger himself, adds an appealing edginess to Dave Toschi, Even though he's a cop determined to get at the truth, there's an off-beat uncertainty to his attitude that distinguishes Ruffalo's take on the character from a hundred other movie cops.

Fincher dots the supporting cast with a number of recognizable character actors too. Brian Cox brings an amusingly deluded quality to Melvin Belli, a doctor who seems to overvalue his own importance to this case. Chloe Sevigny, dressed up in the nerdiest clothes possible, is convincingly down-to-Earth as Graysmith's long-suffering wife. John Carroll Lynch seems utterly mundane as Arthur Leigh Allen, which makes all the hints that he might've actually been the Zodiac Killer all the more frightening. Elias Koteas and Donal Logue have small roles as various cops, bringing their particular charms and affectations to parts that otherwise would've gone by without much notice. Clea DuVall and Philip Baker Hall similarly enliven small roles that are basically just plot devices in the wider investigation. Fincher even manages to make Charles Fleischer – Roger Rabbit himself – a source of sinister intent. 

One of my favorite things about “Zodiac” is its use of music. In contrast to the realism and restraint much of the film shows, David Shire's score often goes to lurid heights. This actually works really well, making the big emotions felt in these scenes even more impactful. The movie uses a number of songs that were then heard on the radio... But none make a bigger impression than Donovan's “Hurdy Gurdy Man,” which bookends the movie. The film takes Donovan's hippy classic about a musician bringing peace and enlightenment and subverts it into something much darker. The psychedelic distortion now feels ominous. Now, it can't help but feel like the Hurdy Gurdy Man doesn't arrive with songs of love but a sinister warning. The movie has completely changed what the song means to me forever.

Much like Robert Graysmith's book, Fincher's” “Zodiac” concludes that quite a lot of evidence suggests Arthur Leigh Allen was probably the Zodiac Killer. Yet the truth is ultimately unknowable. To true crime obsessives, “Zodiac” has emerged as a favored text. It's become a beloved movie among Fincher fanatics, movie critics, and film nerds everywhere. More than just a true crime thriller, “Zodiac' is an investigation into obsession and what mysteries mean to us, while also being incredibly assembled, completely engrossing, and occasionally deeply disquieting and frightening. [Grade: A]