This review contains spoilers.

Having finished Gillian Flynn’s book only hours before sitting down in the cinema to watch David Fincher’s adaptation of Gone Girl, the characters of Nick and Amy Dunne had been on my mind for the best part of a week, and so began another two and half hours in their company. Although, perhaps it is better to say that I had entered their minds too, as Flynn’s book facilitates an uncomfortable amount of access to the psychology of both Nick and Amy, each hiding secrets, hatred and resentment towards each other and those around them.

Like the novel on which it is based, Fincher’s film begins on the 5th wedding anniversary of Nick and Amy Dunne (Ben Affleck and Rosamund Pike). However something is amiss. After leaving Amy alone at home in the morning, Nick returns later that day to find his front door open, the living room a mess, and traces of blood in the kitchen. Like any sane human being, Nick’s first reaction is to call the police, who duly arrive in the form of Detective Boney (Kim Dickens) and Officer Gilpin (Patrick Fugit). Yet, the rationality of his first instinct to dial 911 is undermined by his apparent indifference to the very serious situation he finds himself in. Nick displays little emotion in the wake of his wife’s disappearance and his clear detachment from the situation immediately marks him out to both the detectives and the film’s audience as a prime suspect.

The day of their anniversary and Amy’s disappearance is quickly contrasted by flashback sequences in which Amy, writing in her diary, paints a picture of an initially perfect romance, spiraling out of control as the couple wed and move back to Nick’s hometown in Missouri, away from the high-life of New York City, where Nick becomes increasingly bitter, distant and even violent.

The opening act of Gone Girl is a brilliantly crafted exercise in aligning its audience with a particular viewpoint of the situation. The case against Nick quickly builds with revelation upon revelation betraying his affair with a college student, Amy’s pregnancy which Nick supposedly didn’t want, and the apparent violence he exacted upon her: documented by both neighbors and Amy’s aforementioned diary which is soon found by the police. It looks like an open and closed case of homicide, made all the more certain by Amy’s final diary entry which reads – ‘this man may kill me.’

And then the second act begins.

 

In a chilling montage which recounts the day of the anniversary from the perspective of Amy, it is revealed that her disappearance was an elaborately staged farce of her own construction, orchestrated to frame Nick for her murder as punishment for his infidelity. Prompting a game of cat and mouse in which Nick attempts to counteract the various seeds of doubt and guilt which Amy had planted before her disappearance in order to seal his fate behind bars on death row, Gone Girl at its core, works as an indictment of the media’s fascination with and dependence upon criminal cases which can be manipulated and distorted beyond all rational thought for the sake of viewer figures in our contemporary 24 news culture. Like the artifice of Amy’s performance as the ‘Cool Girl’ who initially wins Nick’s heart during their early romance, and as the image of the perfect housewife as presented in her fabricated diary, Nick too must learn to present himself for the cameras in a manner which will elicit as much audience sympathy as possible, transitioning from the most hated man in America to the flawed but doting husband wishing for a chance to rebuild his marriage if only Amy was returned. Of course, Nick realises what Amy has done, but must put on this show if he has any hope of surviving the witch-hunt which has developed around the case.

It is the film’s satire of Fox News/Nancy Grace-like scare-mongering where the film (and indeed the book) really shines. However, this facet of the film’s social commentary does not entirely elevate the production above what are some glaring problems.

The first issue is the film’s pacing. Although less noticeable whilst reading the book, the film adaptation foregrounds the narrative’s incessant need to race to its mid-point revelation that Amy has orchestrated the entire situation. Whilst not necessarily a bad structuring decision on the part of Gillian Flynn, the fact that the narrative’s ‘twist’ is placed where it is, arguably deflates both the second and third act of the kind of tension built up in the first, when both deal with the fall-out of an event which occurred a third of the way into the film. That’s not to say, that a tidy, perhaps more ‘audience-friendly’ revelation at the end of the narrative would be better, but when compared to the climaxes of Fincher’s previous works like Fight Club (1999) or Se7en (1995), Gone Girl’s gradual decent down from the beginning of its second act, pales in comparison to the cinematic crescendos of other such films.

The film’s casting also fells slightly off in places. Whilst Pike offers a brilliant performance as Amy, Affleck isn’t exactly an actor known for his dramatic range, which arguably does assist in his performance of a character which is emotionally indifferent to Amy’s indifference. Although he is generally good in the role, and his turn at Nick is perhaps a highlight of his career, his performance does falter on more occasions than a viewer is perhaps willing to remain supportive. Most peculiar, however, is the casting of two predominantly comic actors in very serious roles – Neil Patrick Harris as Amy’s ex-boyfriend Desi, and Tyler Perry as Nick’s Lawyer Tanner Bolt. Whilst I am all for casting against type, neither character has enough screen time to really allow their actors to develop, and whilst the casting of Tyler Perry may be less abrasive for British audiences unfamiliar with the comedian, Harris’s Desi often feels like little more than a sedated Barney Stinson: divorced from his catch-wait for it-phrases but just as rich and obsessive.

However, Gone Girl for all its flaws is still necessary viewing. Its cinematography is slick and Trent Reznor’s score marks another brilliant filmic contribution for the Nine Inch Nails frontman. If anything, its shortcomings highlight the weaknesses of the source material rather than resulting from its adaptation to screen, and whilst its individual parts may not combine in a completely convincing manner, Gone Girl is still an effective film from a director who has a clear mastery over the thriller genre.