- The Lunch with Justin Chang, Chief Film Critic for Variety: Down to the Wire on 2013 …
- The Lunch with Director Shaul Schwartz of ‘Narco Cultura’
- The Lunch with Dir. Joel Allen Schroder of ‘Dear Mr. Watterson …’
- The Lunch with John Sayles, Director/Writer of ‘Go for Sisters’
- The Lunch with ‘Charlie Victor Romeo’ Directors Patrick Daniels and Robert Berger
TagsAmy Adams Angelina Jolie Anne Hathaway Cameron Diaz Carey Mulligan Daniel Radcliffe Darren Aronofsky David Fincher Dwayne Johnson Edward Norton Elizabeth Banks Emily Blunt Emma Watson Gary Oldman George Clooney Gwyneth Paltrow Jack Black James Franco Jason Segel Jason Sudeikis Jesse Eisenberg John C. Reilly Johnny Depp Joseph Gordon-Levitt Julia Roberts Mark Wahlberg Matt Damon Michael Bay Michelle Williams Mila Kunis Natalie Portman Owen Wilson Paul Rudd Reese Witherspoon Robert De Niro Robert Downey Jr Ryan Gosling Sam Worthington Seth Rogen Steven Soderbergh The Avengers The Lunch Tom Cruise Twilight: Breaking Dawn Zack Snyder
Tag Archives: David Fincher
With an elegantly frosted beard and cobalt-blue eyes, David Fincher paced and perfected his ginger ale’s mix of ice to fluid before he sat down to talk with The Hitlist about “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo,” his take on the best-selling – and, albeit in Swedish, already filmed – novel where punk hacker Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara) is hired by journalist Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig) to uncover a decades-old murder long hidden in the twisted branches and knarled roots of a powerful family tree. Fincher had just come from a press conference with a mass of press asking questions, where I had the chance to ask him one question, point-blank – not accusing him of hypocrisy, or of trawling through the depths with some of the more edgy material in “Dragon Tattoo” – at the same time, the director had given a hearty laugh referring to the film’s smoking as part of its “hard R.”
I asked the director about the fact that “Dragon Tattoo” is rated R for forced sex, violent sex and the discussion and depiction of sexually motivated torture-murd,er – and yet Steve McQueen’s “Shame,” which features consensual (and unhappy) sex and nude Michael Fassbender’s genitals is rated NC-17. Does that discrepancy in rating, I asked, reflect the ways in which the MPAA is a broken system or does it reflect the public’s tolerance for misogyny and murder? Fincher, with good humor, considering the question, answered, “I think all of that.” As the assembled reporters laughed at his bluntness, he clarified, “I don’t know; I haven’t seen ‘Shame,’ so I can’t comment on the movie.” But, I followed up, do you feel your film is deserving of an R rating? “Yes, I do – absolutely.” Do you, I continued, think that the film deserves an NC-17 rating? “No.”
Later, upstairs, as the director paced and moved with the elegantly energetic figure eights of a jungle cat in a too-small cage, we spoke about the need to cut while adapting, the question of length, and the precise difference between justice and vengeance. And even before we started, Fincher was shaking his head – not angrily, but with a kind of Zen acceptance – and talking about how tired he was of some of the process of promoting his newest film.
“Stone” doesn’t unfold like a traditional crime drama as Edward Norton and Robert De Niro face off — which is why it’s a little jarring to compare the rock-’em-sock-’em trailer with the film. It’s a dislocation Norton sums up as politely as possible. “I concur with your observation that the marketing materials maybe make it look a little more plot-driven, noir-ish than it is. I’m hopeful that, giving credit to our partners in this, they’ve noted — and I don’t disagree — that in some ways you need the voices of writers and critics and things to start to flesh out what you’re communicating about it, and I do think they intend to use what we’re getting back off this film to let that sell of it bloom into a little more, so that they can let people know that it’s also a little more serious.”
Playing devil’s advocate, I offered that you can’t really do marketing for “Stone” cut from its quieter moments, a trailer of Terrence Malick-styled shots of wheat fields with the radio playing a pastor reading scripture. Norton laughed: “No. Or you could, but no one would go. It’s really interesting, isn’t it? I always try to be accommodating or remember that we are people who say — you, me and everybody who thinks they love films, who does love films — we say things, we say we want complexity, and we say that we want the unexpected and stuff like that, but there’s something in us as well that responds to certain things in very visceral ways. There’s something in us that, we want the unexpected, yet that means that we have expectations.”
Norton related a conversation he had with director David Fincher right after “Fight Club’s release, when initial critical and audience consensus was torn. “I said, ‘Are you getting this thing where you’re getting some people saying, ‘I think it’s brilliant, I think it’s complex, but I don’t know if people are going to be able to handle this, this and that about it’?’ And Fincher goes, ‘Yeah, it’s a very particular phenomenon: It’s called ‘I loved it, but I’m the smartest person in my peer group.’ Phenomenal. Now every time I go through any kind of thing with a film, and people say, ‘I just wonder if people are going to be able to go with it,’ in my mind I hear, ‘I loved it, but I’m the smartest person in my peer group.’”
And yet, Norton has high expectations for “Stone,” even in the face of the challenges facing a smaller, smarter and decidedly different film in today’s multiplex-driven marketplace. “I hope, all joking aside, I really, really encourage and hope that people will seek out a film like that that gives them a complex experience,” he said. “I really, genuinely think John (Curran, director) has crafted a very, very complex rumination on things that are in the nervous system of our country right now. You know what? People still come up to me all the time, and if it’s ‘Fight Club’ that’s their film that they like, or if it’s ’25th Hour’ or whatever, I really, really like it when people come up going, ‘That ending still — I’m still trying to get my mind around that.’ Because that means it’s gone in them in a way that they’re puzzling over, and I think that’s way better than getting a better review where the critic can tell you what the film’s about in one viewing and then wave it off. Good to see a movie out, right now, that you can’t wave off. I think that’s the way to do it.” “Stone” is currently playing in limited release.
David Fincher’s latest, “The Social Network,” is about the founding of the online sharing site and social hub Facebook much in the same way that “The Great Gatsby” is about New York real estate. The opening scene is set in the dim, misty past of 2003, where future titan Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg) has a conversation with his girlfriend, Erica Albright (Rooney Mara), and it goes from accidentally cold to deliberately cruel so swiftly and so hard that, by the time the conversation is over, their heads — and yours — are spinning. Aaron Sorkin (TV’s “The West Wing,” “Sports Night”) adapted the script from Ben Mezrich’s book “The Accidental Billionaires,” and his trademark rat-a-tat dialogue has finally found the place it can run free — the minds and mouths of the superswift, socially maladroit young people who define so much of modern life by inventing new ways to connect without really getting how to, you know, actually connect.
For anyone who thinks that Fincher — best-known for dark thrillers and crime stories like “Seven” and “Zodiac” — might not be suited to this material, there are three things to note. One is that Fincher’s shot-on-digital-video style makes everything achingly, impressively dark. Harvard, where Zuckerberg first started coding what would become Facebook, looks as shadowed and haunted as a dungeon. Second is the fact that this is a crime story: Much of the film is occupied by two present-day lawsuits brought by separate parties left out of the Facebook revolution, and we watch as offhand ideas become computer code, as casual conversations become the foundation of billion-dollar businesses and as friends become litigants. Finally, “The Social Network” is fleet, funny and playful — more so than any Fincher film since “Fight Club,” and, like that film, in no small part because Fincher is equally suspicious of both the old order that must be overthrown and of the revolutionaries that would replace it.
The film swaggers with a bravado born of insecurity: Facebook begins on a night when Zuckerberg gets drunk and lashes out at the women of Harvard. All of them. Eisenberg — who can, occasionally, seem too clever and curiously detached on film — is perfectly cast as a man who is too clever, curious and detached, and delivers the performance of his career. Justin Timberlake, an actual pop star, scores as Sean Parker, a rock-star computer programmer who co-founded Napster and struck a blow to the music industry without, perhaps, actually thinking about what that would mean. Andrew Garfield’s Eduardo Saverin goes from friend to business partner to enemy, and Garfield makes you feel not only how much that hurts but also how much that was necessary. There are a lot of movies in the mix here — “Citizen Kane,” “The Bad and the Beautiful,” “All the President’s Men,” even “Animal House” — but it’s hardly an exercise in references for references’ sake. Sorkin and Fincher build an unflattering portrait of how we live now — and their acid-tongued, sharp-minded mean nerds, sniping at each other between coding sessions, make the best possible portrait of the greed, genius and gratuitous cruelty of the dot-com era. The nerds have attained their revenge, and it is not a kind or benevolent rule.
“The Social Network” is ultimately, like “The Great Gatsby,” a dissection of the contradictions in the American character — that you can be anything you want to be and yet that will somehow not be enough; that while you can reinvent yourself, you’ll still know who you are. (It’s worth noting that Eisenberg’s Zuckerberg never seems to attend the fabulous parties thrown in the name of his success, always on the other side of the glass from the fun.) There’s sex and drugs and HTML, but there’s also the feeling that Facebook, for all its value, may not be worth anything — aside from Farmville and birthday reminders, what does the site really offer us, and does it make us in any way better? After Zuckerberg is cruel online, Albright rages at him, “The Internet’s not written in pencil, Mark — it’s written in ink.” And yet mistakes become empires, even when the empires make money through some sleight of hand where all they’re selling is some intangible feeling of coolness. At one point, a lawyer on the team defending Zuckerberg suggests how he’ll have to come out the bad guy just for purposes of the narrative: “Every creation myth needs a devil.” Not story, or history, but myth.
Fincher’s technical accomplishments are both visible (the murky look of the film matches the murky morals of the characters) and invisible (the all-American sons of privilege who are suing Zuckerberg and Cameron and Tyler Winklevoss are played by one actor, Armie Hammer, whose face is placed digitally onto another actor’s body). Sorkin’s dialogue skips over the surface of the film fleet and fast as a skipping stone, but you still feel the bigger concerns and broader points moving in the darkness and the depths below. Between the two of them, their collaboration’s a knockout punch of money, mythology, morality and the modern world. Cyndi Lauper once sang “Money Changes Everything” — a song she borrowed from another band, the Brains, and made a hit, thereby making it, in the eyes of many, her song — and that came to mind in the film’s final scene as Mark Zuckerberg sits alone in a conference room trying to get back in touch with his past in the only way he knows how. Money changes everything, except for the things it can’t, and the way “The Social Network” understands that contradiction to turn the personal feuds and legal battles of one business on the cutting edge of the here-and-now into a timeless and, yes, tragic story is why it’s a triumph.