Mank

Coincidentally, I had no idea this film (Mank) existed when I started writing about movies from a different age during the pandemic (different ages), that seemed to me much more daring and literary than 21st century outputs, as the idea applies to mass markets and their obsession with sequels, and not the less commercially oriented laissez-faire narrative scene.

It's difficult to situate Mank within a specific scene since it was released by Netflix (without being too obvious), whose matrices cover a wide divergent spectrum, and often impress when they aren't bewildering.

I would argue that the room for creative endeavour (and have previously) within Netflix (and other online streaming sources) is vast and modestly expanding, it's a different business model less dependent on advertising (as far as I know) and perhaps therefore retaining more vital independence (flush with cash).

I don't see many films like Mank or The Irishman or Marriage Story or Roma on Netflix (that's quite a few good ones come to think of it), but to have thought I would have seen such films on their site 10 years ago would have seemed utterly preposterous.

I shouldn't be too hard on contemporary cinema for lacking my oddball literary qualifications either, its current strengths are fantasy and adventure, not that it's impossible to blend the two (see William Gibson).

Besides I forget ye olde mutations as they apply to unexpected epochs, when suddenly there's a tangible utopian surge that hasn't been calculated through strategic planning (Aliens).

Who knows when it's bound to erupt but I think it's best not to search for it or attempt to cultivate it.

Just hopefully become viscerally aware when it happens (different styles, different tastes, relativity).

While keenly focusing on independent cinema.

Mank heads back to the '30s and '40s to recapture a waylaid aesthetic, eventually abandoned as tastes transformed and the unforeseen reimagined cinematic life.

It follows prominent screenwriter Herman J. Mankiewicz (Gary Oldman) as he writes Citizen Kane in alcoholic dismay, and reflects upon the just calamitous social confrontations that motivated bygone days.

A series of flashbacks leading to conflicts with a daring ambitious headstrong Orson Welles (Tom Burke), loves lost and uncompromised confidence spearheading bold mischievous caricatures.

Just think something up and pitch it if you have to come up with something.

In flux to subtly entertain.

People who are tired of boredom.

*Just to be clear, I find strategically planning in the arts to be somewhat dull, or to lack the excitement oft generated by spontaneous endeavours. Not that planning something isn't important, it's just that if the plan is too strict, it may miss out on many thrilling accidental opportunities. I suppose not planning something leads to mistakes, but playful mistakes are so much more fun than preplanned pretensions.

**I do think strategic planning is very important when combatting a pandemic. I'm glad I don't have to make such decisions. Hospitals are being overrun and frontline workers must be extremely stressed. I've never seen a more serious no-win situation. Eventually, a vaccine will be available. Patience and prudence.

Gone Girl

Just what goes into sustaining a successful marriage, what is that secret critical ingredient for ensuring the preeminence of your conjugal bliss?

Mad blind overwhelming desire may wear off, especially if the couple in question doesn't role play or at least dress-up from time to time, possibly as their favourite Star Trek character, and if the initial hard-pounding insatiable craze dissipates, the arduous work necessary to recapture its incandescence sets in, both participants required to reimagine its stringency, dedication and commitment, adhered to as pluralizing factors.

In David Fincher's Gone Girl, Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck) refuses to abide by such an adherence, succumbing to adulterous lechery, slowly destroying the love of his spirited partner.

Mistake.

Or mistakes, seeing how he's been ignoring her for years while living a life of sloth off her trust fund, after having moved from New York City (where he worked as a writer) to Missouri, much to wife Amy's (Rosamund Pike) dismay.

He's a jerk, he blames it on her, total jackass.

But he has no idea that Amy's pure psycho.

The film's divided into two halves, one focusing on Nick as he comes to terms with his inextricable predicament, the other which brings Amy into the mix, focusing on her troubles on the road, until a crucial accidental resurgence, of the romantic love which at one point defined her.

Kierkegaard style.

At first I thought the introduction of Amy was an unfortunate twist.

I figured the film would slowly continue to suffocate lacklustre Nick, his tension inimically increasing, a high-wired harrowing stench, accentuating paranoid asphyxia.

Amy's introduction eliminates this tension, replacing it with alternative constraints which infernalize her psychotic scenario, which is rather excessive, considering that she could have just left him.

But her passion demands vengeance, vengeance which she seeks eruditely, revelling in the media's saccharine sensationalization, before rediscovering that lost kernel of youth.

There's a great sequence where she's robbed after letting her guard down, the sequence diversifying the film's wedded hysteria by injecting minor seemingly ineffectual characters, who become common denominators in the subsequent action.

Gone Girl has plenty of variability, strong major and minor characters, ridiculous yet plausible logistics, competing disastrous degenerations, polarities within polarities, a sympathetic coach, an amorphous yet easy-to-follow blend of media, family, legality, and law enforcement, Proust is mentioned twice (in uncomplimentary fashions however), desperate strategic planning, and a non-traditional take on victimization.

The ending's solid, a bizarre reversal of what's-to-be-expected, the film's myriad depressions, sentimentally sanctified.

Quite dark.

Quite good.

Not my favourite David Fincher film, but you still see why he's one of America's best.

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo

A murderer has avoided detection for decades. A journalist's reputation has been publicly ridiculed. A brilliant young researcher's incredible talent flourishes. A family's dark secrets seek revelation.

Patterns lie hidden within eclectic sources. Technological expertise facilitates their synthesization. The resultant thesis can be investigated with meticulous precision. Alternatives and subterfuges staggeringly structure the aggregate.

David Fincher's version of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is a sombre subterranean endeavour. Deeply digging into clandestine contrivances frenetically attempting to function without restraint, it descends into the feverish dementia affluently prospering beyond the restrictions of amicability.

And exorcises demons.

Ostracized individuals use their resourcefulness to disentangle an established privileged network from within and bring its mastermind to justice.

Having recreated a foothold within their culture's social fabric, divisions remain which prevent them from socializing on their gains.

The Social Network

I'm on Facebook every single day. Mostly just to play Scrabble but also to see the news items etc. that friends have designated as worthy of sharing. And to see who is adhering to the art of creating compelling Facebook Profile Status Updates. It's not the easiest thing to do although its analysis depends upon which of the myriad factors one's disposition chooses to exalt as wrought iron synthetic principles at that specific time, which depends upon how that day's events have individually affected his or her historical constitution. Even if you have principles that you always apply it depends upon how those principles align themselves with and are interpreted by your personality's unique composition at that given moment. I'm just trying to say that it must be fun being a judge.

David Fincher's The Social Network examines how Facebook came to be, placing its provocative genesis within a generally non-judgmental framework. Harvard student Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) is distraught regarding a relationship that has gone sour and engages in cybershenanigans in order to reestablish his sense of self. Said shenanigans impress three other students who resultantly share their idea for a social networking site, hoping that he will join their team. However, believing he can improve on their idea and develop it on his own, with a little help from his friends, Zuckerberg breaks and predominantly partners with his best friend Eduardo (Andrew Garfield) instead. But differing philosophies concerning how the company should be managed significantly rupture their bond, and the film unreels by staggering two simultaneous lawsuits with the practical details composing their judicial trajectories.

Zuckerberg comes across as exceptionally shrewd and benefits economically and culturally if not socially from his endeavours. The film's well structured (especially the opening scene), thankfully providing unnecessary depth for some of its characters while realigning our attention every couple of minutes or so. Generalizations regarding personalities are delivered incisively (internally speaking) and the difficulties of fantastically capturing the legal realities disrupting Zuckerberg's life are handled well (the scenes are terse and kitschy yet volatile and characteristic [the form 'distilling' the undergraduate personality]). Sean Parker's (Justin Timberlake) introduction effectively breaks up the narrative, functioning as a transformative bridge much like that in David Bowie's "Changes." And although the breakdown of Zuckerberg and Saverin's friendship is a little tough to take, at least its resolution sees some ethics transferred to the world of business. After lengthy, expensive, legal proceedings.

Well, I'm about to check Facebook for the 16th time today in order to see if that ukelele jam's still on for tomorrow and whether or not I can score a Scrabble bingo. Why did T_______ post that picture? That's not going to go over well. I would start my own zoo but you can't design it from scratch and I want a zoo that only contains different types of bears. This kind of functionality isn't present people . . !

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

David Fincher's adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Curious Case of Benjamin Button chronicles the life of its title's hero (Brad Pitt), born an old man who grows younger as he ages. Throughout his travels, he meets many a quirky character with an idiosyncratic tale to tell, including an artist (who dies with cigar in mouth [Captain Mike played by Jared Harris]) and a sirenic swimmer who tenaciously challenges the English Channel (Elizabeth Abbot played by Tilda Swinton). These minor characters leave major impressions on both the film's and Benjamin's personality ("it's funny how sometimes the people we remember the least make the greatest impression"), placing this curious case in the realm of other magically realistic narratives such as Forrest Gump, Big Fish, and The Princess Bride. Benjamin's innocent love for childhood sweetheart Daisy (Cate Blanchett) parallels that cultivated by the heroes of these films as well, and as their roundabout romance ties together each successive movement, we're left to examine the alimentary affects which valedictory events have on the development of an individual.

Benjamin doesn't spend much time moralizing about right and wrong or the difference between the correct way and the highway. Instead, it elevates happenstance and making the most of what you have, much to its credit. One theme which reverberates throughout emphasizes that it's "not about how well you play, it's about how you feel about what you play," a theme which encourages and applauds disenfranchised forms of artistic expression, while coincidentally displaying them all the while. It also provides several neat little particular tidbits of avuncular advice for puzzling situations that arise throughout life, such as the three rules for Benjamin's first love affair (never look at me during the day, always part before sunrise, and never say I love you) amongst others.

While I found The Curious Case to follow Forrest Gump's heels far to closely, providing a sedately sensational story that left little room for outstanding acting, it's certainly multidimensional enough to inspire myriad interpretations depending upon the disposition of the viewer in question. And it's romantic and fun. Probably not Oscar's choice for best picture of the year, but it's worth checking out if you like films that present profiles of charismatic offbeat people in a fantastically realistic fashion. In tune, in touch, quite different from the other Fincher films I've seen, Benjamin's buttons are sewn on tight with a sentimental style that's laid out just right.

Zodiak

I read some harsh reviews regarding David Fincher's new film Zodiac before viewing and am pleasantly content to contradict them. Fincher's filmmaking is top notch so it’s no wonder he didn't have any qualms releasing a 2 hour and forty minute research thriller.

Zodiak’s opening image is astutely assigned, that being firecrackers bursting in the sky. They instantly reflect the psyche of a serial killer, the killer vainly creating a spot for themself in humanity's cultural pantheon, a transient constellation in the summer sky (although the fact that Zodiac exists as a film somewhat destabilizes the image's effect, unless we consider its essence to be allegorically reflective of the serial killer's plight universally, always pestiferously seeking the prestige of a doctor, a professional athlete, a gifted tenor [professionals with images platonically pasted in the sky]).

The first conversation between Mark Ruffalo and Anthony Edwards is hard-boiled banter at its best and Fincher's casting top notch. Mark Ruffalo and Jake Gyllenhaal are given an outstanding opportunity to display their talent, Dermot Mulroney steals a number of scenes for the first time since Young Guns, Anthony Edwards is dryly comedic and sternly subversive, and Robert Downey Jr. excels. Excellent stuff.