The better half and the not so better half

Rating: 6/10 (4 October 2014)

Gone Girl is a truly great film half of the time. The problem with Gone Girl is that its also a truly bad film half of the time. But does the better half prevail?
For starters, its a gorgeous movie to look at. Would we expect anything less from the mind of David Fincher focused through the lens of Jeff Cronenweth? Its pretty much a given that a Fincher film will unwrap itself as cinematic candy. On the aural spectrum, Fincher films are equally as satisfying. The semi-recent union of Fincher and NIN front-man Trent Reznor, along with his producing partner Atticus Ross, have crafted a continuity of impeccable style over Fincher's last few efforts.
There's no denying that Fincher has etched his place atop his generation's Mt. Rushmore of cinematic style. Where Fincher failed to impress me this time, however, was with his sense of pacing. Gone Girl is a film which relies heavily on the convention of flashback, and the execution in and out of these flashbacks was repeatedly fumbled. The conventional ways in and out of a flashback are to cut, fade, or dissolve (never the cheesy dreamy dissolve though; that's no good). The method Fincher has chosen to employ here is the fade, but for some inexplicable reason he seems to have made a deliberate decision to clip these transitions unnecessarily short, executing them at nearly double their usual speed. The result of this is that important moments of resonance are lost on the audience.
A key example is when Amy's diary narration accompanies the moment where she crawls into bed, terrified of her husband, and she says the line, "This man may actually kill me". This is perhaps the most crucial line of dialogue in the entire film. Its actually the line that ended the trailer with a dramatic punch. But in the film, this punch is lost because the line is immediately followed by a quick fade that rushes us away from the tension of the moment. If ever there was a place for a slow-burning fade-out, this would be it.
This may seem like nitpicking to some, but I would challenge any contention wholeheartedly because what these clipped fades ultimately do is deprive the audience of an opportunity to segue from one emotional tonality to another. The transitions in Gone Girl are jarring, but not in any kind of provocative way. Instead, they are abrupt, and dare I say, even amateur. In the 2009 documentary This Is It, there's a scene in which Michael Jackson explains the importance of "letting it sizzle", of holding a dramatic pause to maximize its effect on an audience. In Gone Girl, David Fincher forgot to "let it sizzle".
There's a lot of buzz surrounding Rosamund Pike's performance in this film, and deservedly so. For the majority of the film she is truly a force of nature. She plays a sociopath so effectively that I for one will never be able to view her in another film without recalling this one. I'll always be wary that she is hiding something sinister inside that pretty little head of hers. Her counterpart, Mr. Affleck, is less impressive with his performance, yet its still an appropriate one for the majority of the film. Its appropriate because his character is essentially ineffective in every sense. Ineffective at gaining our trust, ineffective at drawing our sympathy, and ineffective at duping us into liking him (unlike Amy, who for all her evil character flaws is still irresistibly charismatic).
The casting of Affleck seems to be very deliberate choice by Fincher. Despite the thousands of "Team Ben" fans that undoubtedly exist, a large majority of the population still seem to dislike him passionately. I'm reminded of Kubrick's decision to cast Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman in the film Eyes Wide Shut. They were a couple whom people could sense were putting up a facade, and that translated beautifully into the film. Likewise, Affleck's un-likability, however unjustified, is in perfect harmony with the character of Nick Dunne.
In my above praise of the two leads I included the statement "for the majority of the film." The reason why is because despite how pitch perfect these performances were at times, they were equally as dreadful and unconvincing at others. Most notably, and ironically perhaps, when they had to actually perform their scenes together!
The series of "falling in love" flashbacks that comprise the first act feature some of the most melodramatic, feigned, and stilted performances I've seen all year. The chemistry between the characters is implied, but its never actually palpable between the two leads. Rosamund Pike, who delivers an Oscar worthy performance for most of this movie, is absolutely terrible during these opening scenes. Her line delivery is overly deliberate and artificial. Instead of talking to another human being she speaks as if she's providing the seductive narration in a Cialis commercial.
Affleck, on the other hand, can't seem to pull off his scripted charm with any real conviction. He's supposed to be the man who rescues Amy "from all this awesomeness". Instead, he behaves like a cardboard cut-out and flashes about as much personality as a glass of water. He's merely hitting his marks in these scenes, and it shows.
On balance, the gorgeous cinematography, rich score, and mostly strong performances throughout can't save this film, for this one seems to contradict itself at every turn. The strengths of the film quickly turn into its weaknesses, and for every clever plot twist there is an equally unforgivable face-palm moment (why the hell is Amy still covered in the blood of her captor when she returns home from the hospital?!??).
In the end, Gone Girl is a case in which the whole is not greater than the sum of its parts. And when I say parts, no, I'm not factoring Ben's shower rod into the discussion ; )