Ever wonder about those people who get upset about movie trailers, claiming to be misled by them? Ever scratch your head at the woman who sued over “Drive” not being more like a “Fast & Furious” flick?
I did. I don’t like trailers and do my best to avoid them. But I am a fan of when the ads get it right, such as in 2011 when the trailer for David Fincher’s “The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo” cleverly dubbed it “the feel-bad movie of Christmas.” Just a clever tagline? I’d like to think it was a brilliant marriage of marketing and the wry, dark humor that pervades most of Fincher’s films.
Those uneasy laughs pervade Fincher’s latest attempt to mine America’s book clubs for the big screen, Gillian Flynn’s “Gone Girl.”
As the story weaves through the cat-and-mouse struggle of a marriage gone wrong in an America gone wrong, there’s an expertly sardonic tone from the director’s blunt-force humor to mellow out the high-drama questions of whether Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck) killed his beautiful, blonde wife Amy (Rosamund Pike).
“Me and my ex just swapped cards,” intones detective Rhonda Boney (Kim Dickens) as she explores a perverse scavenger hunt Amy laid out for Nick on their anniversary — as it turns out, it was the last thing she did before disappearing into thin air, with Nick left as the prime suspect, an unavoidable target for a pride of TV hosts, all too eager to pounce on the prey.
Beneath the polished photography and expert editing of “Gone Girl” is a savage undercurrent of black comedy that revels in Nick’s travails in being exposed as a less-than-perfect husband, an aloof son-in-law to Amy’s camera-ready parents (played by David Clennon and Lisa Banes), a source of emotional torment for twin sister Margo (Carrie Coon), and an amusing payday for high-profile defense attorney Tanner Bolt (Tyler Perry).
Flynn, who penned the screenplay for her own bestseller, never shies away from punchlines to better underscore the themes, namely the toll the recession takes on Nick and Amy’s marriage. Job losses and financial uncertainties force the seemingly happy couple’s move from the Big Apple to Nick’s Missouri hometown and serve as a familiar motive for those looking to paint Nick as the undisputed killer in the made-for-TV narrative that unfolds.
Fincher and editor Kirk Baxter do a solid job of presenting the surface-level drama found in Flynn’s book, weaving the he-said, she-said dueling points of view Nick and Amy have on their marital woes, building up to the revelation of Amy’s fate. It also presents one of my favorite film edits this year, as the sight of the couple kissing on their engagement night cuts straight to latter-day Nick, his mouth swabbed for DNA inside PD headquarters.
That’s how thick the thematic material is laid out — there’s little room in the film’s 2-hour-and-29-minute running time for subtlety, especially regarding crime-centric media outlets. The intended indictments of our scandal-obsessed society are splattered throughout like blood at a murder scene. This heavy-handed approach is perfect to amping up the farce of it all, such as watching the investigators become as glued to the lurid drama on TV — delivered via the sneers and invectives from crude, Nancy Grace-style talking heads — as your average couch potato would be. Short of someone uttering, “evidence, schmevidence,” it’s hard to miss what the filmmakers are trying to say about our modern times, even as Nick and Amy’s turns as unreliable narrators provide plenty of misdirection along the way.
Affleck is more than capable of showcasing Nick’s mild unraveling amid the media scrutiny and the cautious ease he he has in learning to play for the cameras and the court of public opinion. But what truly stands out is Pike’s precision in delivering the many sides to Amy, who’s dead set on writing a new future for herself after being overshadowed by her literary-star parents in her childhood.
So if the marketing gurus behind “Gone Girl” have been a little misleading in playing up the murder mystery angle, it’s forgivable given how well the film highlights another gap — the one between how we legislate criminal justice and how we infantilize it with bickering pundits and primetime sit-down interviews, putting the ratings game first and making an afterthought of the actual police work.
That commentary, served with Fincher’s well-honed, almost-surgical skill with this style of tragicomedy, elicits the much-needed laughs amid all the blood, sex and lies.
“Gone Girl” is rated R for violence, nudity and language. Two hours and 29 minutes. Four stars out of five.