Review: "Gone Girl"

Director: David Fincher
Runtime: 149 minutes

When I first heard that director David Fincher was attached to direct Gone Girl, I have to admit that my reaction was an elitist wrinkling of the nose. Why, after already directing the US version of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, was the master behind The Social Network and Zodiac adapting another flavor-of-the-month page turner? Isn't it time he started setting his sights a little higher? But then I remembered that I had been none too keen about Fincher's decision to direct "that Facebook movie," and I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. I even gave Gillian Flynn's novel a chance, and despite some resistance on my part, I ended up going along for the twisted little ride that it was. And now that I've seen Mr. Fincher's adaptation - written by Ms. Flynn herself - I can once again rest easy. Gone Girl is not quite an instant classic or a masterpiece, but it's a damn good piece of filmmaking that represents a perfect pairing of material and artist. 

For those not familiar with or rusty on the plot, the basics are the sort of thing you could find in the average TV movie about spousal abuse. Nick and Amy Dunne (the brilliantly cast duo of Ben Affleck and Rosamund Pike) have been married for five years, yet both have fallen on financial hardships in the recession. Somewhat against her will, Amy lets Nick drag her back to his home town in Missouri to care for his sick mother and rebuild his life. Yet Amy is very much a Manhattan kind of gal, and the move to Missouri is the equivalent of being fired from Vogue and being forced to take a job at People Magazine. Regardless, there's an anniversary to celebrate, so it's time to get ready.

And then, as the title indicates, she's gone. Has she been killed? Kidnapped? What does Nick know, and where was he the morning of her disappearance? With the details that surface, the situation increasingly points toward one person: Nick. At one point, investigating office Gilpin (Patrick Fugit) sardonically remarks to lead investigator Rhonda Boney (Kim Dickens), "The simplest answer is often the correct one." Yet Boney counters with, "Actually, I've never found that to be true." This brief exchange is the perfect encapsulation of Gone Girl as a novel and film, where events and people are rarely quite what they seem to be, regardless of actual innocence or guilt.

What's most impressive about Flynn's screenplay is her sharp ability to condense her own work. Novels and screenplays are drastically different forms, yet Flynn has adapted to the new medium rather effortlessly. Unlike Mr. Fincher's Dragon Tattoo, which occasionally suffered from laborious slavishness to the source material, Gone Girl feels as complete as the novel, even with the handful of abbreviated or missing passages. Every scene is crucial, and every minute is earned, and the finale - far too good to spoil - leaves one demanding more. Emotional depravity, which seeps into the film's very soul, can grow tiring if stretched out for a long period of time (the film is nearly 2 and a half hours), but Flynn and Fincher have concocted a potent and addictive mix. 

Fincher has always been an immaculate visual storyteller, and his perfectionism serves the material well. Working with a band of recent collaborators behind the camera, he as given the story a polish that elevates the material and demands that it been brought out of the imaginations of readers, and definitively imagined on screen. Cinematographer Jeff Cronenweth keeps the lighting and color palette firmly in Fincher's wheelhouse of sleek greens, whites, and browns, lushly accentuating even the grimiest of locations with cinematic flair. Editor Kirk Baxter (working solo after doing Fincher's last two films with Angus Wall) keeps the story clipping along with sharp, unobtrusive cuts that add another layer of crisp precision to the plotting. And returning composers Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross have, against the odds, contributed another icy, ambient electronnic score to add momentum or dramatic heft when needed. Rather than strain to create memorable themes, Gone Girl's score provides a near-constant sonic backdrop that adds a creeping sense of urgent malice to this increasingly warped story of abuse and deceit.

And while Fincher has long been regarded as a extremely confident visual storyteller, his skill with actors has often been overlooked, even after the Oscar nominations for Jesse Eisenberg and Rooney Mara. Fincher's directing remains the biggest star of Gone Girl - the man is hardly one to his actors own the screen entirely by themselves - but to dismiss Affleck and Pike's performances as merely following their leader does them (and the rest of the ensemble) a huge disservice.

Even without his experience under ridiculous amounts of media hassling, Affleck is a strong choice for Nick. The slightly glazed over look of his eyes and lack of tension in his jaw subtly and immediately gives life to a man in an insane predicament. His relationship with Amy may have soured a bit, but there's still the need to pretend for the cameras (and, to a lesser extent, the audience) that he adores his wife and wants nothing more than to see her again. Lending Mr. Affleck able support is Carrie Coon as his twin sister Margo, a character I often found unconvincing on the page, yet totally at ease with here. With her acerbic, no-bullshit attitude and her genuine fear about what Nick may or may not have done, Coon is an invaluable asset in the film's first act, which traces the early days of the investigation. Fellow supporting players Tyler Perry (yes, that Tyler Perry) and Neil Patrick Harris play against type with effective results, while Fugit and Dickens are similarly effective as the key investigators. 

As in Dragon Tattoo, there's quite a bit of set up before the the full narrative truly gets going, but thanks to Flynn's self edits, the film's first act is efficient at setting the stage without dragging on and on with exposition for those who know what's in store. Because when it comes to revelations and playing with versions of reality, Gone Girl moves from its strong beginning to its deliciously nasty middle and end. 

This is largely due to how - I'll refrain from spoilers - Flynn's story is able to work in Amy's perspective, despite her absence and possible death. When we're seeing Amy on screen in flashback, or merely hearing her voice reading excerpts from her diary, she is easily the most compelling thing in all of Gone Girl. Pike, an accomplished actress in England who has yet to really break out Stateside, is totally arresting in the role. Though I periodically wished that Flynn would have lingered on certain moments longer (despite the length, I never found that the film was dragging) that would have given Amy room to leave an even more striking impression with the viewer. Even so, what Pike has pulled off here is still wonderfully diverse, weaving together different ideas who Amy is (was?), depending on whose version of the story is being told. Her casting was already a great idea, but she has done more than simply coast on her physical attributes. We can debate whether Noomi Rapace or Rooney Mara made a better Lisbeth Salander, but it'll be hard for anyone else to fill Pike's shoes for Amy Dunne. 

In its own unconventional way, Gone Girl eventually emerges as a two-hander, despite the supporting characters in both Nick and Amy's lives. It's a story of marriage, after all, even if one spouse might be a murder victim. "People told us and told us and told us - marriage is hard work," goes an entry in Amy's diary, and the ways in which Gone Girl takes this notion to such darkly funny conclusions, are an critical part of why the film succeeds as well as it does. For all of the mystery and salacious details, Flynn and Fincher - without becoming glib - inject enough shots of humor into the proceedings to keep the film from descending into a state of perpetual gloom and tragedy.

There's been talk of Gone Girl as a devilish satire of modern media sensationalism, although I found the film to be a bit more straightforward. A sense of humor does not automatically classify a dark genre picture as a satire, just as a few funny lines now and then don't make Mad Men a comedy. There are subversive, even mocking, elements to Flynn's tale (the Nancy Grace figure played by Missi Pyle), but Gone Girl is still a mystery at its core. The darkest depths of relationships are also so present, and such wide-reaching satire seems like a tertiary goal at best. However, the "devilish" part is absolutely true. No matter what comes to light in Gone Girl, there's always one more little dig, one more little twist of the knife. We think there has to be a bottom that brings the pit of human filth to an end. Gone Girl, however, suggests that there is no such end, and in such a way that the very notion will leave a sick grin etched on your face, whether you like it or not.

Grade: B+/A-

Review: "To the Wonder"

Director: Terrence Malick
Runtime: 112 minutes

One of the most surprising things about To the Wonder, the sixth film from secretive director Terrence Malick, is that it opens with grainy digital footage from a camera phone. Anyone with even cursory knowledge of the man's work knows that, even to detractors, his films are regarded as some of the most beautiful ever made. Yet the times they are a changin', as the opening seconds quietly let us know. Not only is To the Wonder Malick's first film shot with digital cameras, it is also his first film to take place in the present. It seems like a logical progression, as Malick becomes less and less concerned with concrete narratives. Yet if 2011's The Tree of Life was the director's most ambitious abstract feature, To the Wonder is easily his most intimate. As such, it's likely to baffle and delight, bore and exhilarate depending on how well you connect with Malick's stylistic progression over the years. 

Allegedly semi-autobiographical, Wonder's plot can be thought of as Malick's take on Blue Valentine, as it chronicles the various ups and downs of a relationship. We're first introduced to Neil (Ben Affleck) and Marina (Olga Kurylenko), in the early stages of a whirlwind romance that culminates with a trip to Mont St. Michel. It's an elegant and symbolically rich method of showing the (perhaps naive) innocence of their relationship. Marina, the more free-spirited of the two, dances through the incoming tide as Neil watches. Moments later, they embrace in one of the medieval stone courtyards of the famed castle. Their love is at its simplest, unencumbered by the distractions of the modern world. When they touch, it occurs with complete receptiveness. 

Marina and her young daughter move with Neil to Oklahoma. Though surrounded by trappings of the middle class, Marina is able to flourish in America, dancing in the wheat fields that are as vast as the blue sky above them. But, as sometimes happens, the harmony of Neil and Marina's relationship is ruptured by forces that are only barely hinted at. It's here that To the Wonder will most likely start to frustrate certain audience members. One never goes into a Malick movie expecting to be spoon-fed exposition. However, the motivations for the emotional developments (more so in the first half) can, at times, feel too distant and vague. As such, the earlier portions of romantic discord can feel more frustrating than engaging. In part, this stems from the fact that the problem seems to originate with Neil, yet the film is - despite a side venture featuring Rachel McAdams - more oriented around Marina. 

In the film's second half, Marina's voice over tells us that the weak-willed never have the courage to finish things. It's a valuable statement, one that taps into the seemingly out of the blue dissolutions between Neil and Marina, and then Neil and McAdams' Jane. Yet it comes so late that it's hard not to feel as though Malick has missed an opportunity to inject this insight earlier, and give Neil's actions a clearer through-line. Malick's characters rarely pop-out of the frame; they're simply woven into the greater tapestry of the film around them. But in To the Wonder, one can't help but feel the need for just a little more to work with when it comes to figuring these people out. The vision and scope here are so much smaller, despite the constant swooping shots of the sky and the horizon, but there are times when the film feels divided as to whether it wants to be intimate or epic. 

The strain to become an epic is felt most in the scenes involving local priest Fr. Quintana (Javier Bardem). Though he interacts with both Neil and Marina on different occasions,  Malick also strives to give this man of God his own emotional and spiritual journey. Neil and Marina struggle with the emotional repercussions of their faltering romantic love, an area in which Fr. Quintana's spiritual advice can only go so far. Instead, his greater struggle is reconciling his uncertainty with his position, and his struggle to feel God's love, the love that reaches out without judgement or jealousy at all times. It's a journey that certainly has its moments, yet the balance between the two can't help but feel off-kilter. Whenever Quintana appears on screen, it's difficult not to wish that the momentum of the Neil and Marina story arc had been left undisturbed. Malick's goals with this side of the film are noble, yet they cry out to be explored as part of another film (either as the center or as a subplot). The thematic links make sense on paper, but in execution, they aren't quite as convincing.

Thankfully, To the Wonder is anchored in Neil and Marina's story, especially Marina's. In the film's second half, Marina comes further into the foreground, and the various aspects of the film's look at love - platonic, romantic, and spiritual - suddenly coalesce. Kurylenko is a true surprise here, and delivers a performance that ranks among the best in Malick's filmography. There are remnants of Jessica Chastain's gentle mother from The Tree of Life, yet Marina is very much her own modern woman. After so many disposable roles following her breakout turn in Quantum of Solace, it's refreshing to see her bring such sensitivity to the role. Marina is free-spirited  and at times childlike in her innocence and connection with nature, yet she is never distractingly childish. She's torn between her Catholic upbringing, and the almost primal sense of connection she feels to nature and its laws. It's a performance that is both subdued and radiant, effortlessly portrayed and captured. For a film that allegedly contained no true script during shooting, Marina feels like one of Malick's most structured characters. 

That same structure carries over into the film's later stretches, and helps To the Wonder stay true to its convictions. The film's last act has the potential to feel dragged-out and repetitive, yet instead it builds on everything that came before. To the Wonder may not touch The Tree of Life for overall quality, but its final half hour is certainly much more stirring at first glance. Despite the character-based issues earlier in the film, the conclusion here actually delivers on the ideas and themes that have been running underneath the beautiful images the entire time. Malick may take too long to let those ideas surface, but once he does, his film's intimacy finally starts to fit together. The voice over work feels most meaningful, as do the (typically strong) classical pieces that Malick has picked out for the soundtrack. Credit should also go to cinematographer Emmanuel Lubezki for capturing the whole thing with such naturalistic beauty. There's a rawness to the imagery that, despite its kinship with Lubezki's work on The Tree of Life, has echoes of Malick's Badlands (another film with a romance set against the midwest). Like any of Malick's films, it deserves to be experienced on the big screen, if only to fully appreciate the sheer beauty of it all. 

Ultimately, that beauty will only go so far with many. The gap between The Tree of Life and To the Wonder is the shortest between any two Malick films, and some will likely argue that this acceleration has produced the director's weakest film. Yet for all of its flaws, there's so much to admire here that I find it hard to turn this film away. In the transition from The Tree of Life to To the Wonder, Malick had to descend from truly cosmic heights in order to take a stab at material so deeply rooted in emotional intimacy. And while the director may have stumbled on his way down, he has, to his credit, managed to land with grace. 

Grade: B

Review: "Argo"

Director: Ben Affleck
Runtime: 120 minutes

At once a period-thriller, true story, and darkly funny commentary on Hollywood, Ben Affleck's Argo is a stupendously entertaining drama built on remarkable craftsmanship. The actor's third outing as a director finds him in the middle ground between his first two features. Round three finds Affleck balancing the grim realities of Gone Baby, Gone with the broader entertainment value of The Town. The result is a lively and thoroughly entertaining film that is never sunk by its basis in real events. True story or not, this is compelling movie making that has mainstream appeal without needing to dumb itself down.

Based on declassified events, Argo follows Tony Mendez (Affleck), a CIA extraction expert, as he tries to maneuver the rescue of six Americans during the Iran Hostage Crisis. Opening with a nail-biting depiction of the assault on the American embassy in Tehran, the film follows six workers who escape to the home of the Canadian ambassador. From there, the film weaves together Mendez's unique (and very risky) idea for a mission: set up a cover as a Canadian film crew to get in and out of increasingly hostile Iran. 

What Affleck and writer Chris Terrio accomplish is a constantly engaging work of storytelling, even when the outcome is never really in doubt. Argo is, of course, working from real events, yet the film is so immersive that it never feels hindered by its historical basis. Affleck and his technical collaborators are firing on all cylinders, and whether the film is being funny or serious, the momentum never flags from the opening scenes. Terrio also deserves credit for including an efficient and thorough background of the events leading up to the hostage crisis. Even though Mendez may be the "good guy," the film as a whole makes several jabs at the American involvement in the Middle East that led to the crisis.

The only department where Argo is lacking is character development. That's not to say that the characters are one note. They're all nicely drawn, even if they aren't afforded terrific amount of depth. Yet because the characters are completely governed by their circumstances, and not their own doing, there's virtually no room for people to grow or change. The closest the film comes to achieving this is Joe Stafford (Scoot McNairy) gradually overcoming his disdain for Mendez's plan. It's a knock down for the film, where all of the other elements congeal so well. Thankfully the performances all come through quite nicely, especially McNairy, Bryan Cranston (as a fellow CIA official), and Clea DuVall.

Yet even though the character development borders on non-existent, Terrio's script is still very well written and Affleck's direction carries off the tonal switches of the narrative seamlessly. Rather than succumb to the temptation to create an overly dour and bleak story, Argo introduces a fair amount of humor. Most of it comes via makeup artist John Chambers (John Goodman) and big time producer Lester Siegel (Alan Arkin), both of whom help create the fake background info for the film Mendez is using as his cover. As much as the film is about the grim circumstances of the Iran Hostage Crisis, it is also a very funny send up of the amount of fakery involved in Hollywood.

Despite the forgery and deception involved in the plot, Argo is a very real, and very good third feature from Affleck. The use of real events never feels cheap or exploitative, and allows the director room to craft an impeccable thriller with some excellent and visceral sequences that deliver a wonderful payoff. Argo is a first rate piece of mainstream filmmaking that solidifies Affleck as one of Hollywood's most exciting voices behind the camera.

Grade: B+

"The Town" - REVIEW

The sophomore slump. Whether one is talking about music, TV, film, the stage, etc..., it's not a phrase that anyone wants to hear about their early work. When Ben Affleck tried his hand at directing with 2007's Gone Baby Gone, even some who praised the film were careful; did Affleck just get lucky? Was this a fluke? Now, three years later, Affleck returns with another Boston-set tale of crime-drama to prove that he actually might have a knack for this directing thing. Affleck's latest, while not as successful as his directorial debut, is solid proof that 'Baby' was no accident.

Adapted from Chuck Hogan's novel "Prince of Thieves," The Town is the story of Doug McCray (Affleck), a bank robber born and raised in Boston's Charlestown area who, along with right-hand-man Jem (Jeremy Renner) go after banks and trucks, usually on orders from their cryptic boss "the florist" (Pete Postlethwaite). After robbing one bank and taking one of its managers, Claire (Rebecca Hall), hostage (she is promptly released unharmed), they discover that she lives very close nearby. Doug follows Claire and starts to befriend her, which of course, will lead to some tensions later on. Meanwhile, an FBI agent (Jon Hamm) comes in to investigate Claire's kidnapping in an effort to finally pin down McCray and his cohorts. As the third major "one-last-job" movie this year (after Inception and The American), The Town is certainly the most conventional of the trio, but that doesn't stop it from being very well made and enjoyable.

Though the film's first third or so, including the opening heist, doesn't quite register, the film really ramps up the quality starting with a heist involving the gang dressed in the creepiest old-nun masks I've ever seen. Affleck, with help from DP Robert Elswit, proves adept at staging a good-old-fashioned car chase/shoot-out both here and at the end, and its these fire fights that help liven up the routine elements of the story. The direction here is tough, straightforward, and effective. Unfortunately, the same can't be said of Affleck's involvement as an actor or co-writer. There seem to be visible signs in Affleck's scenes that he is somewhat uncomfortable being in front of the camera under his own direction. One scene in particular of him simply sitting in a car waiting looks like it could have been behind-the-scenes footage of Affleck relaxing on set. The rest of the cast fare much better though (save for Postlethwaite), especially Hall (the second time she's been an MVP in an ensemble this year) and Blake Lively as the film's two female characters. Jeremy Renner does solid work as well as Jem, but he brings us to the other big issue with the film. Part of what hinders The Town and keeps it from achieving greater impact, aside from the too-tidy last scenes, is the writing, or rather, lack-thereof. These characters feel like types, and rather empty types for that matter. Jem's past and the 9 years he spent in prison feel more like a casually thrown in detail than a fully explored angle for the character, while poor Jon Hamm is stuck simply being authoritative and angry until he gets to share one of the film's best acting scenes with Lively. This lack of stronger, richer characterization (two men are there simply to be bodies for later on) is what keeps the film from being more compelling until the nun-mask-robbery, and unfortunately this carries over to the end; the film starts to lean towards being inconsequential.

Still, for its faults, The Town remains a compelling, albeit routine, film that is executed well for the most part. It may not be up there with the likes of Heat or The Departed, but it should more than satisfy one's fix for a gritty, well-told crime story.

Grade: B

"The Town" gets off to a good start

For those of you wondering whether Ben Affleck's second stab at directing would either be a disappointment or, worse, prove that Gone Baby Gone was a fluke, TotalFilm's Jamie Graham begs to differ. In his 4 star review, Graham has few negative things to say, to the point where he barely bothers to elaborate on them. He gives particularly strong praise to the cast (without pointing fingers at a weak link), especially Affleck, Renner, Hall, and even Gossip Girl's Blake Lively. The sections of the review that most caught my eye, though, were these:

Gravel-toned, pragmatic, it’s the voice of Doug MacRay (Ben Affleck), the brains of the brawny crew who hit a bank. The commentary won’t appear again until the closing scenes. It doesn’t need to, its job is done: we’re 20 seconds into Affleck’s sophomore directing effort and we already know this is a hardboiled crime drama, a modern-day noir. And while The Town glories in genre tropes it also dumps any overt stylings or clipped, staccato dialogue, instead keeping the action alive and lithe. Keeping it real. The plot is conventional, clichéd even, MacRay trying to find that one last job, get out, “put this whole fuckin’ town in my rear-view mirror.” No one will let him.

Obviously, this is a great first "official" review for the film as both its theatrical and festival premieres approach. Gone Baby Gone received plenty of praise, but only managed a nomination for Amy Ryan, so if this allegedly conventional-yet-really-well-done film takes off, Affleck could have a major Oscar contender on his hands in everything from Picture, Director, and the acting categories, down to sound design. Obviously it's still too early to make hardcore "I'll-bet-my-house-it'll happen" Oscar predictions, but if other critics follow suit, you might want to start bumping The Town up a few notches on your list of contenders.