As a man, there are two Stephen King stories (movies and books) that get to me, and most other men too; The Green Mile and The Shawshank Redemption. Both play on our presumption of innocence, in one case we’re shown that John Coffey is wholly innocent. Yet Andy Dufresne, is more a case of: “It is implied he didn’t do it, but we’re not too sure.” This makes some of us slightly uncomfortable when we’re happy to see him free, after crawling through a mile of fecal matter and coming out clean on the other side.

It is this presumption that plays a big part in our modern-day news, political cycle; and general demeanor. I may have shown my hand in the argument about Walmart stocking guns and limiting displays of games. The presumption of innocence is often given to men, particularly white men, in the case of these shootings. If you are young, it is games or mental instability. If you are an older man it is mental insanity or if you are of color it is terrorism, and if you are a woman you are crazy, period. However, when a man attacks a woman, or at least is assumed to have, there’s a reaction by humans to say that he did it with a small group assuming innocence.

This is where I’d like to introduce one of the best movies of the last twenty years, Gone Girl. I won’t dress this up in any way, and I don’t want to say there will be no spoilers because those reviews are boring. If you have not seen Gone Girl as of yet, rent it or view it on your preferred streaming service, buy the Blu-ray, or do whatever you do (this is NOT an endorsement to pirate). I’ve shown my hand, I think everyone should go watch it and watch it now. Once you have seen it, come back and we’ll have a bit of a chat about it. A one-sided chat, where you have to read my opinions; and then tell me while I’m wrong, but a chat nonetheless.

Now you’ve either seen it and don’t have to worry about spoilers, or that you just don’t care because you are a rebel without a cause. Let’s get to the gitty, but slightly wrong, blood-soaked kitchen matters. Gone Girl is about the murder of a young woman called Amy (neé, Elliott) Dunne, played by the wonderful Rosamund Pike, and her supposed killer and husband Nick, played by Ben Affleck. They are your typical middle-class, white suburban couple, with a few flaws that they don’t like to show in public. A modern-day Stepford Wives aesthetic without all the 1950s dresses and other period design choices.

Now if you’re still reading past the spoiler warning, Nick didn’t do it. I know at this point, the presumption of innocence might be playing in your head, but that’s the point. At this moment in the beautifully written screenplay by the writer of the novel, Gillian Flynn; this assumption that we have come to know as the horrible husband beating his wife and killing her, is turned on its’ head. At this point, we’re shown Amy as this happy-go-lucky, bored, middle-class wife who’s seen moderate fame and lives in New York’s lower east side. She’s almost the ‘Amazing Amy‘ her parents wanted her to be.

Though it is the description that Nick gives in his opening moments, “When I think of my wife, I think of her head.” Already, you might be thinking that he’s a murderer and he’s done some despicable things with her decapitated head. “I picture cracking her lovely skull, unspooling her brain, trying to get answers,” now all you are hearing in your head is the Psycho shower scene sting as you picture how he’s done it. This is a beautiful psychological tool on us, the audience, followed by a display of Nick standing out in the street at 6 AM, him day drinking, or his description of their 5th anniversary.

I think it is from here I should state how beautiful the script is to read, while being written by a novelist, the author of the story nonetheless. When reading the descriptions of actions, “He twirls and twirls a lock, a screw tightening,” is a writers description, not a screenwriter’s account of actions. Characters have a voice, not a Joss Whedon monotone defensiveness, and they slowly build to there ultimate peak.

The best way to explore this would be the video essay by Lessons from the Screenplay’s “Don’t Underestimate the Screenwriter,” (shown below) episode on Gone Girl. Michael‘s detail on the topic is far greater than anything I could provide, as most of what I’ve written is drivel. A great essay on the quality of a good writer and not an adaptationist.

However, it is the character work Flynn writes, and Fincher directs; with Pike and Affleck bringing it to life. They are the perfect synonym for the people you’d find the national news recounting with their 24-hour cycles, spouting hatred for Nick. Slowly it is built that Nick is a fallible creature and could have many issues, though we’re sitting back with moments from Amy’s journal accounting the relationship.

We see her side of events from meeting, “A great, gorgeous, sweet, cool-a** guy,” to Amy and Nick’s relationship being frayed by a recession, cancer, and a move. Flashing back to moments of this relationship until one day, Nick is at “The Bar,” Amy is at home, and the cat is let outside by that day’s events. Amy becomes the Gone Girl.

The story isn’t an action piece, a rom-com, or a standard BBC 2 drama that airs at 9 PM on a Wednesday. It is a harsh look at the horrible human condition of two despicable humans, sensationalized, and vilified by national news and those around the situation. There are three important characters: Nick, our protagonist who we find out isn’t so flawless as he wants everyone to believe. Amy, a woman broken by a childhood of parents selling her life to be greater than it is. The third is Rhonda Boney, played by Kim Dickens, lead investigator and the only person that equals the audience with her knowledge and lack thereof.

Day one of Amy’s disappearance is what you’d expect, with Nick out during the time of her departure, the home is a mess when he gets back, cops have a suspicion. There’s enough left to let the dumbest of us (me) know something is wrong. We know where Nick was, he was drinking. So it couldn’t have been him. The same slightly creepy guy that moments later is shown as a “cute” guy saying: “I have to kiss you now. I can’t let you go through a sugar storm unkissed.”

It is something that would make most men think is fine, while most women roll their eyes. It continues to build this happy couple vibe, with frayed points in the modern-day and perfection once they first met. Boney without their baggage clouding her judgment is left looking at the crime scene, given evidence of a blood-soaked kitchen, and a confused husband neither worried and crying, nor behaving like he’s happy about it.

Gradually, the flashbacks become a more depressing reality than a fairytale romance. From cancer within the family, a recession and money troubles; to Nick outright attacking Amy and showing disinterest in her. Meanwhile, with Amy gone and Nick under everyone’s scope, we see his modern-day reality not being the perfect husband he wants to be for everyone. This is exemplified in his relationship with a student of his, a desire to keep some secrets from Boney, and the madwoman at the center of the “Find Amy” campaign.

Shawna Kelly, the madwoman, is the epitome of everyone on the internet right now. We’re all horrid humans deep down, looking to get our moment of fame or touching that fame in some way. Shawna seems nice for a moment, she wants a picture and to give Nick some food in his time of crisis. She gets a really nice, yet unsolicited, picture with this winner of the Ben Affleck look-alike contest. However, she gets very defensive when he asks about deleting the picture or possibly not sharing it. We all want our little bit of fame, no matter how horrible we are to get it.

While Nick and Amy’s story is being explained to us, Boney and her assuming lap dog are looking at the case. This builds to Boney finding out the blood in the kitchen was Amy’s. The lapdog listening to pseudo-psychology/news calling for Nick’s head thinks Nick has done it. Taking us to the hour mark, the reveal comes by Boney that the living room looked staged, blood was sloppily mopped up, and leads to a neighbor yelling that Amy was pregnant and Nick had done it. This is also the point we find the journal Amy was giving us flashbacks through was burnt with the final line: “I think this man is going to kill me.”

Now I won’t spoil the next hour too much. Though I will say there are a lot of parallels as we see the story of days gone and further from another perspective along with Nick, Amy (via flashbacks), and Boney. I will, however, state Neil Patrick Harris is type-cast as a creepy rich straight man. Though he along with Tyler Perry accentuate the colorful cast of characters including Missi Pyle as the headhunting nutjob in the entertainment section of cable news.

The smallest and quietest piece of the puzzles is David Fincher himself. Unlike other directors, he doesn’t have a signature call sign like Tarantino has for violence, swearing, and race; Spielberg has for, “The oner;” Bay for “Bay-hem,” or Abrams has for wanting to make Star Wars out of Star Trek (Warning: videos feature expletives). As Fincher states himself and Nerdwriter1 explains well, “Fincher’s camerawork is often regarded as impersonal or coldly omniscient.”

Fincher doesn’t overstay his welcome in the drama, he lets it grow with his direction. He keeps you interested in the story by keeping the movement in the shot. There’s nothing flashy, there’s nothing explosive, and there’s not really a big climactic end. When other directors would force you to sit through the entire two hours to find out anything and leaving you a little disappointed: Gone Girl starts at the end, tells the story, reveals the big climax an hour in, and the next hour is to tell you how it happened and a little more.

The end, without trying to spoil it, is as I said earlier: “A harsh look at the horrible human condition of two despicable humans, sensationalized, and vilified.” Only Boney is safe from getting marred by the brush of either sensationalism or vilification. Amy is played with the duality of a stereotypical crazy woman and part of what would be a feminist icon revered. Is it smart? Perfectly depicting every woman and man? Displaying only the highest of truth to everyone’s lives? No, no, and no.

While it was one of the cut endings, the news and media aspect is a big part of what makes Gone Girl interesting. Fincher described the media as “tragedy vampirism,” and that’s what the movie is. Our greater vampiric notion that with tragedy there is a show to be watched, a depiction of middle-America (and other countries) gone fame hunting, and simplistic darkness behind the masks worn. It is a simple tragedy with no individual villain, by the end, half the cast is hate-able or plainly disinteresting.

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Gone Girl

$5.31 USD

8.5

Score

8.5/10

Pros

• A brilliant thriller.
• Beautifuly written script.
• Perfectly cast.
• A mirror to our vampiric nature to tragedy.

Cons

• Watered down from the book.