There is a certain point in a film-lover’s life when they veer away from the things that got them into film in the first place. Whether it was a certain genre, the power of a certain star, or the word Disney, this refinement of taste inevitably settles on the last name in the opening credits. Lord of the Rings fans will follow Peter Jackson’s name and be thrilled and disgusted by Braindead or Meet the Feebles, Spider-Man fans will open the door of Sam Raimi’s cabin in the woods and become exclusively city-break people for the rest of their lives.
This, often, leads to the fabled auteurs: directors famous for being directors more than for the films they’ve made. That’s where this series will begin: with the directors that are famous in their own right, with their name above the title on the poster instead of the actors. These are the directors that the film industry (we’ll begin with Hollywood, but I plan to go further afield) has given its version of free reign. I’ll start with my favourite director, a director that, while there are certainly many more important and talented, is responsible for my break from genre, stars, and Disney, David Fincher. Also, Fight Club turned 25, this year so there’s a more legitimate reason, and a painful reminder of my crippling oldness.
The format is simple – I pick what I think is, in this case Fincher’s, best film and worst film and see what that tells me about his strengths and weakness, his appeal as an artist, and why he has cemented his place in film history. A directrospective, if you will. Let’s get into it!
Best: Zodiac
How do you turn a true crime book about a modern American mythical serial killer and make it something other than either a frustrating excersice in futility or a tawdry, exploitative mess of blood guts and hysteria? You give it to David Fincher. Zodiac follows the failed pursuit and cultural impact of the Zodiac killer over a period of two decades from the point of view of a cop, a crime reporter, and um, a puzzile guy? Robert Graysmith (who is so much more impressive than a puzzle guy) is our focal point, the man who sticks with the case longer than anyone while only getting the most shallow of answers.
Zodiac is designed to be frustrating. After the success of his first serial killer movie, Se7en, Fincher made the era-defining Fight Club, then Panic Room, a Hitchcockian thriller that I find more entertaining than even Psycho. With Zodiac, he carefully designs and orchestrates a procedural that ultimately fails while also perfecting the sub-genre of 20th century period piece. It is a beautifully paced thriller but is also the tale of a city in the midst of turmoil and change.
Unlike Victorian London, which many filmmakers use creative license to make into a fog-consumed hell for Jack the Ripper to rule, San Francisco in the 60s and 70s is more akin to Armistead Maupin’s bawdy tales of queer community up against the conservative, hard-boiled landscape of Dirty Harry (whose Gemini killer is loosely based on the Zodiac). A weird mix, for sure, but that’s culture for you. Fincher makes the city feel nightmarish, shooting much of the violence in unforgiving (and true) daylight.
Zodiac is a masterpiece of craft, pioneering so-called invisible CGI (he can also be blamed for this as Oasis and Bob Dylan can be blamed for bad buskers), and boasting a mind-boggling eye for detail. What also helps is the blunted star power of the three main actors. Zodiac boast a trio of brilliant leading men in Jake Gyllenhaal, Robert Downey Jr, and Mark Ruffalo. All three completely disappear into their characters, something Fincher has achieved with other stars like Jodie Foster, Cate Blanchett, and Gary Oldman. His casting is always special, but special mention should go to Robert Downey Jr as crime reporter Paul Avery. This was the role that truly brought the future Iron Man in from the cold. A charismatic coward, Downey meticulously deconstructs his hot-shot persona, turning Avery into the has-been that he nearly was.
The skills that Fincher shows in Zodiac are apparent in all of his great films, but what happens when the project doesn’t quite come together?
Worst: The Game
I know, I didn’t put Fight Club as Fincher’s best, and now I’m betraying The Game by calling it his worst over Alien 3. I’m not nuts (at least not this week), my criteria is just a little picky. Alien 3 is a disaster; it would have been a disaster whoever made it and Fincher himself has disowned the movie. I can’t judge his career on a mess that isn’t even really his, as part of another franchise, so I’m doing something much meaner by adhering to his wishes and going for The Game.
The Game stars Michael Douglas as a bored rich guy haunted by the memory of his father’s suicide. His fuck-up little brother, played by Sean Penn, has, as a birthday present, enrolled big bro in a high stakes, reality bending game designed to give him exactly what he wants. The Game, on the face of it, is a solid twisty thriller that used to make money back in the land of John Grisham adaptations and disaster movies that we call the 90s. As much as I’m about to criticize this film, I do miss those little treasures made by the likes of Fincher and Steven Soderberg. If they get made at all these days, they’re plopped on to a streaming service and enjoy a shelf life of about five minutes.
But I digress, The Game is Fincher’s worst movie because of how empty it feels. Seven is a ghoulish delight, Panic Room the ideal thriller, Mank celebrates collaboration and creativity (while also calling the great Orson Welles a bit of a prick), and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is the most unFincher film he ever made. The Game can’t stand up to these films (and is absolutely annihilated by his adaptations of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and Gone Girl), Douglas never gains my sympathy, and when the finale happens all I think is that this would be (and is, I was right) a disappointing rewatch. The Game isn’t underrated so much as it’s underseen. It’s still a good-looking film, and on the first watch it feels like Fincher is pulling you in all directions at once, but he didn’t just make better films than The Game to compare badly against. He made masterpieces.
What are Fincher’s best and worst movies in your opinion? What director do you want to see next for our Directrospective? Let me know in the comments!
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By Kevin Boyle
(header image via The American Society of Cinematographers)
No But Listen 