Director: David Fincher
Rated: R
Character foils, enemies, and dopplegangers—David Fincher is undoubtedly unprecedented in creating suspense between two sparring characters in some of his most notable adaptations. Fight Club (1996) depicts the character conflict between business-weary insomniac (Ed Norton) and his violent, free-spirited doppleganger, Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt). This probably set the precedence in his subsequent adaptations such as Social Network (2010) and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011)—all of which had some of the most interesting character foils and enemies. In his new adaptation Gone Girl (2014), a novel by Gillian Flynn, Fincher seduces his audience in a psychological thriller that leaves no stone unturned in its exploration of 21st century marriage.
The film chronicles a fateful union between two literati, Amy Dunne (Rosamand Pike), a pop psychology magazine writer, and Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck), a creative writing instructor. Fear, infidelity, resentment, and insecurity lead to a disturbing mind game in trying to figure who is the real victim in the marriage and who will ultimately prevail.
The film begins with Nick reluctantly divulging information to his twin sister Margot Dunne (Carrie Coon) about his anticlimactic celebration of his fifth wedding anniversary since the marriage has deteriorated. On the same day, Nick returns home and notices the living room is in disarray and his wife is missing. He immediately calls for the police. The police investigator surveys the home where incriminating “clues” are left behind, which eventually change the missing person investigation to a crime investigation. As part of an anniversary tradition, Amy leaves notes (poetically expressed in riddles) with an alarming subtext that not only lead Nick to his anniversary present, but to a gradual awareness that he is being punished for being a “bad” husband.
The complex narrative oscillates between past and present that keeps us wondering whether or not Nick is guilty. Fragments from Amy’s journal are narrated by her voiceover that chronicles her life with Nick. Amid the courtship and early years of marriage, Nick and Amy were the perfect couple on the outside—passionate, attractive, and educated. The marriage begins to falter when Amy is plucked from her New York life to become a Missourian so that Nick can help his mom who was dying of cancer. From this, she must adapt to a new life—one of the many sacrifices she must make to uphold the marriage—a sacrifice she later resents.
Gone Girl offers a compelling examination of the dynamics of marital expectations in order to project the envious postcard-perfect marriage. The film ascertains the typical marital deal-breakers: financial challenges, insecurity, betrayal, and physical and emotional distance. The marital bliss spirals into a series of internal and external conflicts propelled by failed expectations. A reversal in the expected gender roles perpetuates more conflict between Nick and Amy. Nick loses his job during the recession; Amy becomes the breadwinner. He slumbers around playing video games and spends Amy’s money unnecessarily. Amy becomes frustrated as Nick fails to keep his end of the “deal” while she maintains her end—the martyr and the beautifully manicured size-two wife.
As they become more disconnected, Nick carries on an affair. This eventually makes him suspect amid his wife’s disappearance. Moreover, when the investigator questions Nick about Amy’s friends, hobbies, and activities during her spare time, he is dumbfounded—again, raising more suspicion.
As the crumbling dynamics of the marriage is exposed, so is Amy’s motive to seek revenge. But then, there are always two sides of the coin when it comes to a failed marriage. Her thoughts on her marriage can be questionable, since we learn she is a manipulative sociopath. And as Nick begins to live in a media-frenzy fishbowl for being the prime suspect of his wife’s disappearance and possible murder, Amy takes on a new identity and relishes in the media’s public crucifixion of her husband as the adulterous, uncaring community pariah who is getting away with murder.
Treatment: The cure for this sort of fertility problem solely depends on the medical history of the overnight cialis soft thought about that patient. Do not let pain viagra sale http://secretworldchronicle.com/viagra-8081.html be your guide. buy canadian viagra Going back to my statement before, where I stated that spam is not profitable. We continue listening to persistently that the exploration for a cure is just on the off chance that you want to take part in sexual movement People with an unfavorable susceptibility to sildenafil ought to stay away from this pharmaceutical Maintain a strategic distance from admission of liquor, grape juice and grapefruits alongside buy viagra italy.
The suspense intensifies in a tug-of-war to outwit each other—especially when Nick begins to understand that he is being framed. He learns how to use the media to play the culpable adulterer who still loves his wife—but would never resort to killing her in spite of his faults. Thus, another reversal happens again—as the sympathy pendulum swings towards the “loving” and “grieving” husband with “typical” imperfections rather than the “missing” Amy.
My only criticism of Gone Girl is the cheapening of the climactic moment, which happens when Amy returns home. This part of the narrative abruptly explores another dimension in their marriage filled with arm-twisting acquiescence for the mere sake of maintaining a façade and projecting a revered public image. They eventually become the “perfect” couple again but this time as two masochistic, media-exploiting charlatans. Nick appropriately calls themselves “partners in crime.”
But as the narrative takes on a new tension, Fincher is guilty of glossing over this quickly in an attempt to tie up loose ends—especially at a climactic and significant moment that actually has the potential to reveal the resounding nightmare of a fraudulent marriage during the couple’s “reunion.” Too much emphasis was on the police investigation in trying to piece the puzzle—which was not needed, since Amy does it for us when she discloses her plot to frame her husband. (Fincher is guilty of unnecessary storytelling in Fight Club and The Girl with a Dragon Tattoo as well). In effect, the abruptness loses its Hitchcockian rhythm along with its narrative balance.
For a film that is intellectually enthralling and rhythmically suspenseful (with the exception of the ending), Fincher needs to trust his audience in terms of following and staying with his narrative until the very end.
In spite of the film’s shortcomings, Gone Girl, indeed, makes a bold statement about marriage that is no longer swept under the carpet. To say that the marriage between Nick and Amy deteriorated because Amy was a sociopath is to simplify and weaken the film’s compelling theme: The institution of the modern marriage is merely a cultural ideal and not a necessity—a far cry from the preceding decades where marriage is needed for financial alliance, security, and stability. In the 21st century where men and women no longer have to abide by strict, traditional gender roles, marriage is an added bonus that caters to the façade of social conventions and cultural acceptance.
Thus, Gone Girl’s biggest assault on the institution of marriage is targeted towards the be-all and end-all idealism—a dangerous and egregious fallacy—since it no longer has its place in a milieu driven by self-promotion, individualism, image, and self-indulgence.
November 12, 2014
© 2014 MMReviews. Materials may be used freely for educational purposes, with proper attribution.