“I swear, you two are the most fucked-up people I’ve ever known . . . and I specialize in fucked up.” So says celebrity lawyer Tanner Bolt brought to vibrant life by Tyler Perry in David Fincher’s 2014 thriller, Gone Girl. Given Bolt’s prior experiences, all of what transpires in this movie, revealed little by little, remains beyond the pale. In other words, this is some crazy-ass shit. The film’s two main characters are, no doubt, an example of a perfect romance gone woefully awry. Nick and Amy are, in no uncertain terms, supremely fucked up.
Gone Girl is based on Gillian Flynn’s novel of the same name, a psychological thriller and blockbuster tome. The story centers on the mysterious disappearance of Amy Dunne (the excellent Rosamund Pike) on the day of her fifth wedding anniversary to her husband Nick (Ben Affleck, here at his best). As the investigation unfolds, suspicion falls on Nick who, thanks to his own haplessness and his wife’s dastardly deeds, becomes the prime suspect among law enforcement and the media (local authorities include the fabulous Kim Dickens and Patrick Fugit).
Nick does himself no favors when it comes to upholding his innocence. He smiles during an initial press photo op in an attempt to portray himself as a self-styled, chivalrous good guy. In actuality, he’s a total doofus and philanderer. In one particularly galling bit of bad judgement, Nick cheats on his missing wife with one of his university students (Emily Ratajkowski) in the home of his twin sister Margot (the excellent Carrie Coon). It’s no surprise, then, that Nick’s shortcomings come into the crosshairs of his cunning wife, causing him to eventually fall flatly into Amy’s immaculately designed trap.
At the center of Gone Girl is a mammoth plot twist—Amy has expertly framed her husband for her disappearance, brilliantly engineering his downfall. She stages her own death with utmost, exacting detail, and all the blame—thanks to her intricate machinations—subsequently falls squarely atop Nick’s head. Because of this, Nick is faced with the very real possibility of the death penalty, which is legal in the state of Missouri, Nick’s home state and a point of contention in the marriage. The result is a perfectly staged pseudo-murder.
Until it isn’t. It turns out Amy is much better at pre than post-execution, so to speak. After framing Nick with the highest precision, she absconds to a retreat in the Ozark Mountains where she starts to get sloppy, forgetting her fake name and unnecessarily revealing her cache of cash to two ne’er-do-wells (Lola Kirke and Boyd Holbrook) who end up robbing her. Forced to reach out for help from a former wealthy flame (Neil Patrick Harris), she murders him during a harrowing, staged rape after witnessing her husband’s staged apology on national television. She returns to Nick, bloody and conciliatory, clearing his name and revealing to the world that she is still alive.
Gone Girl endures as a pop triumph. It stands as Fincher’s third best film, just behind his twin masterpieces, Zodiac and The Social Network (in that order). While some may see it as just another genre masterwork, as an adaptation of a literary phenomenon, it’s almost perfect. The cold exactitude that Fincher is often criticized for, shines here. Fincher is well-suited for a tale of naked revenge (see Seven and The Social Network), and he’s also adept at presenting an unreliable narrator (see Fight Club), so it’s no surprise that Gone Girl is a success.
Fincher still stands as a nonentity among directors, though—at least to the academy members responsible for voting for each year’s Oscars. Gone Girl was a huge hit, grossing a worldwide total of $369.3 million against a production budget of $61 million. And yet, its single (well-deserved) nomination was for Pike in the category of Best Actress. A case could be made that most of its supporting cast—Perry, Coon and Dickens, particularly—deserved recognition, as well. In a year when wan films like The Imitation Game and The Theory of Everything cleaned up, the fact that Gone Girl didn’t get nominations for Best Picture or Best Director is a minor scandal. Gone Girl wasn’t even nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay. Ludicrous.
But none of that matters. Gone Girl not only continues to stand out as a highly rewatchable bit of popcorn cinema, but it also stands as a totemic examination of the institution of marriage itself. Some people think the movie is a twisted rom-com. Others see it as an obvious cautionary tale. The story of Nick and Amy, imperfectly perfect in every way, is a celebration of a seriously fucked-up union between two seriously fucked-up souls. Till death, staged or otherwise, do them part.
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