Sunday, October 19, 2014

Some thoughts on the film Gone Girl

"There's a difference between really loving someone and loving the idea of her."*



    The David Fincher directed film Gone Girl feels incredibly icy and sleek. Based upon the novel of the same name, the story begins with the disappearance of a beautiful blond wife from her home in middle America. Of course, then the husband becomes the primary suspect. There are signs of a struggle and a massive amount of blood spilled and cleaned up but no body. And as the husband, Nick, is thrown through the paces of both sheepish innocence and assumed suspicion, we begin to learn that the picture-perfect marriage was not quite thus at all or ever. There are clues that point towards veiled - and not quite so veiled - malice and maybe some signs of domestic violence, perhaps callous cheating, and the wife, Amy, might have been pregnant when she vanished. It all makes for a suspenseful procedural. Especially in Fincher's hands - just see the director's other polished and glassy efforts including Zodiac and Seven

     But there is even more to this story than just the aforementioned. There is a twist - a big twist - and I will attempt mightily to avoid spilling it here. But be warned: you might be able to guess at that secret plot point by reading further.
     I can say that Amy, the girl who is gone, has a history. A sordid history of a malevolent nature. And it is dredged up as the searchers exhaustively poke through the woods, fields, trash heaps, and lakes within and surrounding the small town from which she has vanished - without real trace as to where she is now and if she is still alive. But there is evidence of a different kind in Amy's past, and I had to keep reminding myself that the novel and the film's script were written by a woman over and over again as I watched the narrative flex and stretch beyond all recognition of reality.
    So it goes like this: Amy has a history of sociopathic behaviors - making up rape and physical and emotional abuse claims to punish the various men in her life. It's disturbing on many levels, and I know I am not the only one who got a strange sensation from this story's details. I can't help but think play with a few ideas about how this reads to me. It's just infinitely interesting to consider, but I certainly can't say that this was at all an intention of those writing the script or filming the movie. Humor me. To my specifically wired brain, Gone Girl the film reads almost like a screeching response to the current swell of voices speaking out against the gendered/sexualized violence inherent in our misogynistic culture. As the number of those survivors and allies against sexual and domestic violence grows and their voices increase in volume, Amy's outright lying and manipulation surrounding these types of acts can almost sound like an antifeminist rant - against those who decry misogyny and its innumerable attributes. To me, it reads like a knee-jerk backlash comment that could've come from those who benefit most from and buy into misogyny (even when they are not consciously aware of it). Amy's fabrications are their worst nightmare come to life, i.e. a woman making up claims of sexual and domestic violence to punish "innocent" men. It's another example of a commonly-employed excuse this culture pushes to denounce and silence those who come forward to critique it. Because there was once a woman who lied, all your voices - survivors and allies alike - are questionable and, thus, discredited. 
     It is a questionable reading of this film, to be sure. But I do know I am not the only one who had that prickly haired feeling when Amy's history and nature of malicious and vengeful acts was revealed. It sounds a lot like something I have heard so many, many times before.



"What are you thinking? What are you feeling? What have we done to each other? What will we do?"*



*dialogue from the film

Review of the film Martha Marcy May Marlene

 "I don't blame you for not trusting people."*

    Martha has every right to not trust anyone. But the real issue is she is also questioning whether she can trust herself. And this latter mistrust is so much more terrifying than the first could ever be. The things she remembers, did they really happen the way her memory tells her they did? And if she can't trust her memories, then can she be sure that any experience now is real as well? It all seems dreamy - hazy - and the smallest detail of the present will send her mind spinning backwards - so that it can be hard to distinguish where she is, who she is with, and what is truly occurring in this moment.
    In the film Martha Marcy May Marlene, the plot drifts, and sometimes leaps, from the present to the past with little or no cue. And viewers slowly are immersed in the mind-space of the title character, a young woman who ran from a troubled childhood to a place she thought would give her comfort and safety. Yet, that place, a small, isolated upstate farm that may or not be a misanthropic cult run by a scarily charismatic and seductive male leader, reveals itself as something Martha must run away from as well. But whether she has truly escaped is open to interpretation throughout the narrative.

"Do you ever have that feeling where you can't tell if something is a memory or something you dreamed?"*

     Having sought refuge with her older, estranged sister in a huge, lake-side mansion, Martha wanders through the riffing of her mind like a sleep-walker - unsure of where that thin line between dream and reality exists. There are beautiful moments from the farm - in which Martha works side by side with the other women in the fields, listens to a young man strum a guitar and hum through the lines of an improvised song, and smells the bald head of a newborn baby. And there are frightening moments - of strange, misogynistic rituals, drugged herbal teas and foggy periods of forgetfulness mixed with searing pain, and whispered, veiled threats and actual acts of violence. But there enters for Martha that mistrust again, of herself, of what her mind is telling her happened, and if that could possibly have been true. 
    A slow and terrifyingly realistic film, Martha Marcy May Marlene is a superb psychological thriller featuring amazing performances. And images that sear on the brain with eerie beauty. It all feels like it could have happened - or maybe not at all.



*dialogue from the film