David Fincher
Gone Girl

THE REVIEW

Clearly, I put the original title, because in Italy we like to mess up titles. It's known by now. L'amore bugiardo. That's the title it was released under in our theaters, this film adaptation of the namesake novel by a woman I didn't know.
And that's it.

Good old David Fincher behind the camera, the one who, in my opinion, really knows his way around thrillers. And I think I can get everyone to agree. If not everyone, many. If not many, a handful of faces. If not faces, you won't finish the pages. And it's within the pages of a diary that Amy decides to tell a little bit of everything: she recounts the story between her and Ben Affleck (just seen, I already can't remember the protagonist's name, poor devil, me), from the romantic prologue to the intriguing epilogue. Amy adds truth and a bit of herself.
It just so happens that on the day of their fifth wedding anniversary, Amy disappears without a trace, or rather, the only traces that remain seem to suggest a covered-up murder at the hands of her violent and adulterous husband.

That said, I'll stop with the plot: it would be a mess to go on. The succession of plot twists is dizzying and keeps the viewer's attention very high, which is the true strong point of the film.
Ben Affleck as protagonist, something that always puzzles me.

"Who's in the new Fincher?" - "Ben Affleck" - "Ah."

"Who's in the new Tinto Brass?" - "Rosi Bindi" - "Ah."

And yet, and yet. Sure, he is what he is, but whatever that is, it skillfully takes a back seat. And as we know, even the most mediocre work has more soul than my judgment labeling it as such, as someone once said.

Maybe a bit of superficiality: the investigations, the legal proceedings, and especially the role of the media, which in the main-stream Hollywood thriller is represented in the same way for at least the last twenty years or so. But it's also true that the story initially and elegantly dresses itself in a thriller, then offers quite a few reflections on the theme and themes of marriage, embodying a silent and distressing Kramer vs. Kramer spirit, changing face, bewildering, and launching torpedoes very skillfully, really entertaining.
An honest work, without too much pretense, and not too ignorant either, of course. A good confirmation.

Ta tàra tatà, tatà.

Ta tàra tatà, tatà.

It's the tune from Hitchcock.