For going on twenty years now—my how time flies—David
Fincher has been our preeminent auteur of gross, depressing tales of
murder and mayhem. Almost uniquely, Fincher has mastered a high-wire
balancing act in the thriller genre, crafting films that are formally
pristine, morally bracing, thematically insidious, emotionally
devastating, and—most important of all—highly entertaining.
Though chiefly noted for this selfsame prediliction toward the
pleasantly
unpleasant, Fincher has tried his hand at other things, too—one time it
was good, one time it was the worst thing ever. On this episode: a lot less murder in this than our last entry, but—as if in compensation—it brings the most mayhem of them all. Spoiler alert: I am Jack's review of a widely-seen zeitgeist hit now approaching sixteen years old