A ‘Mank’ Review

MANK!

It cannot be overstated how much David Fincher means to me. In my review of Tenet earlier this year I referenced my relationship to the films of Christopher Nolan; and while Nolan may have been the first director I truly loved, Fincher is the director who seemed like he was making movies that perfectly matched my interests. Like most men between the ages of 22 and 42, my relationship with David Fincher began with the oft-misunderstood Fight Club. And like most men in that age bracket, I did not “get” it. I had no grasp of whether or not this movie was an indictment of the penchant for violence that seems to loom below the surface of many young men, or if it was some sort of feminist text on the dangers of masculinity; if it was glorifying and validating the feelings of incels and mysterious loners, or if it viewed them as dangerous people who were bad for society. All I knew, was that I thought it was the coolest movie I’d ever seen. As a 14-year-old kid with a budding political mind who loved hardcore and punk music, this movie starring one of my favorite actors (I’ve mentioned this time and time again, but I love Brad Pitt so much), about accessing some primal part of your “manhood” by fighting your friends and inciting a revolution, that has a soundtrack by the Dust Brothers with a “Where Is My Mind” needle drop in the final moment of the film, was the perfect movie for me at that moment. Now, when I watch Fight Club, I’m much more apt to think of the themes and how they are understood by the audience, but all the same, it inspired a desire to see everything I could that was made by David Fincher.

From that initial viewing of Fight Club, I began down the rabbit hole of the “required” Fincher viewings and have since then begun to believe his best work is not the perverse and violent, but the films where people spend lots of time at their desk and a lot of time speaking fervently. I think Fincher’s two greatest films are Zodiac and The Social Network, which are two films that share far more in common than you would think on the surface; they’re both work movies. While the elevator pitch of Zodiac is “it’s the story of the Zodiac killer in northern California in the late 60s and the people who try to pursue him”, Zodiac spends the bulk of its time at offices, desks, and dinners, and that’s what makes it my favorite movie. Despite being ostensibly “about” the Zodiac killer, the film really centers around a journalist, a cartoonist, and a detective. Even if David Fincher shot the opening murder scene 90 plus times, he takes just as much care in Jake Gyllenhaal moving a pencil across his desk; he’s here to show the toll that your job can take on you and the lengths that men go to be right and to be celebrated. The Social Network feels in conjunction with that last part. While there are many factual inaccuracies with the Aaron Sorkin script based upon Ben Mezrich’s book, the point remains the same that it is a film about selfish men who are willing to go to the greatest lengths, not to be rich, but to be right. Mank feels like the third guest at this dinner party of flawed men who may or may not be geniuses.

Mank began its life as a screenplay written by David Fincher’s father, Jack, which draws heavily from Pauline Kael’s book-length essay Raising Kane, published in the New Yorker in February of 1971. In the essay, Kael makes the claim that Orson Welles did not deserve a writing credit for Citizen Kane and that the sole credit should’ve gone to Herman J. Mankiewicz. While Jack Fincher’s original script seemed built around that premise of who deserves the credit for a masterpiece like Kane, in the ensuing years since the film was originally brought to studios Eric Roth, a collaborator of Fincher’s on Netflix’s House of Cards and Oscar-winning writer, turned the focus more towards a man who agreed to take no credit for his magnum opus and then changed his mind. Mank is not about Orson Welles, it isn’t even that much about William Randolph Hearst; it is about work and hubris. In the same way that Zodiac has a specific person in mind who it believes is the Zodiac killer, Mank has a belief in Welles authorship of the script, but that is all secondary to what the film really seems concerned with. There’s also a temptation to call this a celebration of old Hollywood, and while it’s a joy to see Louis B. Mayer portrayed on screen or to have so many legendary screenwriters appear in this film, it doesn’t feel of the same vein as Once Upon a Time… In Hollywood. Mank's portrayal of failure, addiction, and the toll that those take on people is some of Fincher’s very best work. That being said, there’s no one better equipped to star in a biopic about a successful yet flawed man with a penchant for hitting the bottle than Gary Oldman. This film is Oldman at his best and brightest because he loves a character with a sense of morality who drinks too much, has a gravitational pull, and whose morals shine through all the muck of his personality. While Darkest Hour is an award given when it feels like “it’s time”, Mank is truly the best I’ve ever seen Gary Oldman. He is absolutely electric, from his fast-talking introduction in a writer’s room to his meltdown at San Simeon, he sweeps you off your feet. Also, the screenplay and Mank’s genuine personality has a large part to play in this, but Oldman has so much chemistry with every woman he shares a room with. Each of his interactions with Tuppence Middleton, Lily Collins, and Amanda Seyfried are just so wonderfully charming. Each time Tuppence Middleton showed up on screen, I could not help but smile. The interplay she has with Oldman where they bounce off of and complement one another is a joy to watch; with the scenes at the election night party and the speech she gives Herman at the Kemper Campbell Ranch being particular highlights of mine and moments I’ve rewatched multiple times since I first watched Mank.

I also want to dedicate some time to my favorite moment on screen in 2020. A moment I have thought about probably every day since December 4th; Mank and Marion’s walk through San Simeon. It is an exercise in perfect dialogue paired with perfect acting. Amanda Seyfried as Marion Davies gives what may just be my favorite performance of the year and in this scene, she gets to be Dulcinea del Toboso brought to life. She not only has the golden hair and alabaster neck, but she displays “a thousand million charms of mind”. Seyfried’s portrayal of Davies is of a woman who contains multitudes; in the walkthrough of San Simeon alone she makes an indictment of her own intelligence and ability and then moments later demonstrates her quick wit and knowledge beyond expectation or years. It also brings me great joy because this scene doesn’t end with either person betraying the person they love, but rather sharing in an incredibly intimate platonic love for one another. I’m not directly saying that Mank is a buddy comedy, but maybe? Not really, but I’m so taken by Amanda Seyfried. In the strangest way possible, her performance in Mank feels like it is a combination of Mary in First Reformed and Karen in Mean Girls. Let me explain. In First Reformed, Seyfried plays a widow and a mother who feels lost after the suicide of her environmentalist husband. Her performance is anchored on her face, and I don’t just mean her beauty, but her distinct talent for portraying years of pent up emotions in a telling look. Conversely, in Mean Girls, she’s the ditsy blonde friend who has some of the best lines in the movie. Put those telling looks and that comedic talent and timing together and you have the incomparable Marion Davies. There is also a lot of nuance to be seen because most people would play the role from one angle or the other: ditsy blonde from Brooklyn with a rich boyfriend or suppressed lover locked away inside a monument to man’s arrogance.

It’s in the relationship that Herman has with people like Marion Davies or Louis B. Mayer or his younger brother Joe, that the film gets to reckon with the life that he leads and how so much of the difficulty in his life is self-inflicted or exacerbated by his hubris and inability to concede. There’s a stretch towards the end of the second act that is focused on California’s gubernatorial race between socialist author Upton Sinclair and conservative lieutenant governor Frank Merriam. In particular, the scene at the election party where Mank bets thousands of dollars on Sinclair winning with Mayer shows just how much of a degenerate gambler he is and that Mank’s personal politics and feelings towards Sinclair’s ideologies aren’t what he cares about: he wants to feel like he’s right, like he has won. Drinking himself into a stupor as he sees the votes roll in, Mank sits with his wife Sara and mulls over the situation he’s placed himself in. Most of the moments in the film where Mank finds himself in direct conflict with the people around him come from his sense of self-importance and a sort of superiority. Even the moments that feel like he’s doing the right thing, like requesting that Orson give him a writing credit on Citizen Kane, are clearly done from a place of wanting to be recognized for his genius. And that’s what makes Mank the most personal of David Fincher’s films. It isn’t just the script written by his late father, or the admiration of Citizen Kane, or that it is a film about filmmaking; it’s that David Fincher knows that he’s a genius and wants to be respected as such. Take for instance the release of Mank. After releasing The Game in 1997, Fincher approached the studio with the idea to finally make the film his father had written over 20 years earlier and insisted on the stylistic flourishes and that it be shot entirely in black and white. The studio disagreed, understandably. The Game barely made back it’s budget worldwide, Fincher had directed four films up to that point, all of which were dark and perverse thrillers or horror films, and he was fighting to make a drama about filmmaking shot entirely in black and white. So while it’s great that Netflix gave him a four-year contract worth a lot of money to make Mank and presumably one or two additional films, this is Fincher’s way of stating that his genius is worth everyone’s time and that he’s been right all along. It’s a brilliant play and I’m more than grateful to reap the benefits of Fincher and Mankiewicz’s genius.

I could not recommend Mank more highly. It’s a wonderfully funny film that is a brilliant display of craftsmanship and performance all around, with Amanda Seyfried and Gary Oldman giving Oscar-worthy performances. Mank is just a good hang, the sort of movie you’ll probably revisit every couple of years to watch with a friend or as a double feature anniversary watch with Citizen Kane. This film just means a lot to me. If you can’t tell, David Fincher is my favorite director and I’ve been waiting for six years for him to release another film. I’m delighted by Mank and hope you take the time to watch it. Also, go watch Citizen Kane if you haven’t. It’s a masterpiece, I don’t want to hear that it is boring or that it is “overrated”. Thank you for reading this year. Fincher Forever. Mank forever.