starring Ben Affleck, Rosamund Pike, Neil Patrick Harris, Tyler Perry
screenplay by Gillian Flynn, based on her novel
directed by David Fincher
by Walter Chaw The only question David Fincher's movies try to answer is whether it's possible to do everything well (better than well, really--I mean better than anyone has ever done anything before) and still produce what is essentially a piece of shit. He's the king of garbage cinema, David Lean doing Jackie Collins for some damn reason. Sometimes he does misanthropic stuff that's transcendent (Se7en, The Social Network, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo), and sometimes he does misanthropic stuff like Gone Girl. Don't get me wrong: for what it is, Gone Girl is a masterpiece, but its source, Gillian Flynn's ridiculously-popular potboiler, is so trashy that at some point one can't help but wonder if Fincher isn't testing himself with the weakest possible material. After tackling this and Stieg Larsson, I suspect he was in the running for, and disappointed not to get his hands on, Fifty Shades of Grey; how about this one with Fabio on the cover, Mr. Fincher? There seems no low to which Fincher wouldn't descend, and here goes your deeply, comically misanthropic proof.