Fincher versus Nolan

Two famous directors made a comeback this year: David Fincher and Christopher Nolan. A comeback might be a little strong of a term, but you get the idea. They’re both very creative and thoughtful directors and I enjoy both sets of their work with admiration. On the Fincher side, ‘Fight Club’ is a work of directorial genius while ‘Zodiac’ masters slow burn suspense and finds real depth in the art of what cannot be known. On the Nolan side, ‘Inception’ is a glorious, mind binding film that shows how far a great concept can get you, while ‘The Dark Knight’ is still the best superhero film ever made (and probably will be for a considerable time.)

So, both were back this year, and I couldn’t have been more excited. ‘Gone Girl’ for Fincher and ‘Interstellar’ for Nolan. If we pose the question of who ‘won’ (which is very childish of me, I know) well, there was one very clear winner, unfortunately.

‘Gone Girl’ mixes elements of realism with elements of fantasy. On Nick Dunne’s (Ben Affleck) fifth anniversary to wife Amy Elliot-Dunne (Rosamund Pike), he comes home to shattered glass and a broken table. Wife’s blood in the kitchen. No note. Amy is gone. Such an incident instantly creates a vacuum between Dunne’s character and his perception from the outside world – there is now a space inbetween because his wife has gone missing. Before, the media and the public would not have looked twice at Nick Dunne. Average guy, average job, lovely wife. The media thrives off it her disappearance, constantly asking the question ‘Did Nick Dunne kill his wife?’ Fincher’s wonderful camerawork and unflinching gaze really creates an element of paranoia throughout the movie- we, the audience, are very much in the same position as the media. As more sides of Dunne’s character come out, an ambiguity begins to settle into the rhythm of the film: Do we really know everything that’s happening here? Fincher can do ‘unsettling’ in his sleep and pulls it off perfectly here. The acting is also excellent; Affleck proves doubters wrong in a great performance that really has to tow this line of ambiguity. After all, it is almost like he is playing two characters; Dunne has to seem both sympathetic and dangerous, genuine yet creepy, real yet distant. Pike is also wonderful – the chemistry between the couple is really what sells the film, and it is one I thoroughly recommend.

‘Interstellar’, on the other hand, cannot be called anything but disappointing. Nolan stated in interviews that sci-fi classics such as ‘2001: A Space Odyssey’ and ‘Blade Runner’ as inspirations and, in fairness to Nolan, visually, ‘Interstellar’ is gorgeous. Shots looking into space, moving aircraft, suns, black holes, stars…very rarely have such things looked so cinematic and alive. The visual aspect is truly breathtaking; easily Nolan’s best looking film and, if a film was sold purely on looks then this would be the Scarlett Johanssen of sci-fi films. Unfortunately, it’s not, and here’s where the film quickly made me lose patience. Unlike such works as ‘Inception’, ‘Interstellar’ forgets to create an engaging ensemble cast. The acting is great for most of it, but the problem is characterisation. With the exception of McConaughey’s Cooper and Hathaway’s Amelia Brand, there is little expansion to the cast of characters seen on screen. There is no duality to them – most of them just seem like empty voids. This emptiness (remarkably similiar to a black hole, in fact) also takes up most of the plot. Without giving away spoilers, the plot simply keeps pulling itself apart with each new development. It’s like all the scenes were written having just forgotten the parameters that have already been set by a scene that happened not half an hour ago. The amount of cliches, of cloying dialogue, and of ridiculous deus ex machinas (there’s not one but TWO, and they are around ten minutes apart) simply boggles my mind. It is very unconvincing – something I genuinely thought I would ever say about a Nolan film.

And what to award to the winner? Well, a look at the trailer of course! It still gives me goosebumps…

Why the name?

This is a completely valid question. The name doesn’t seem to make any sense. It is, to be honest, slightly self deprecating. I enjoy making fun of myself because, at times, it can really open up the room and really gives a sense that I’m nowhere near as serious as my writing suggests. The main reason for the name, however, links back to my writing in a different way – I’ve noticed that I tend to create characters with pretty serious faults. Maybe it’s partly so I can heal them in a cathartic sense? Or it could just be simply that by exposing their weaknesses, it seems to make for interesting interplay between characters. The thing is when you’re molding characters, you can’t have it both ways – you can have aspects of normality (such aspects are very important) but if one character has a pretty major flaw, it becomes so much more interesting if you expose every character’s flaw because then you instantly have an element of contrast between them. It gives each character an element of separation, of deviation and of individuality. Also, if done right, it makes the audience identify with them, or at least search for a way to understand them because, really, no-one wants anything more than to understand others and to be understood back.

Depeche Mode – Suffer Well

Might as well start with my favourite band: Depeche Mode. Formed in the ’80s, their use of sound has always fascinated me. The same electronic pulse runs throughout their music, but the style of it changes. The band began with a poppy, disco sound, gradually developing into a darker, wilder, introspective sound. This has now developed into a merging of these two ideals – the pop aspect has returned slightly more to the forefront, but the emphasis is still on a more personal, blacker tone. 

Let’s get this ball rolling…

First post…bit awkward. I’m never really quite sure how to start things. That’s one of the main problems I find when I begin to write something. The ideas come relatively simply – create an interesting character and you find you have a range of options, primarily tailored to the character you’ve just created. Create another one and, hey, you have fireworks. Starting something is difficult partly because it is not only the first appearance of said character into the world you have created, but the first appearance of your world in every sense of the world. With scriptwriting, and storytelling in general, you always feel like you’re only as good as the scene you’re currently writing. And so the first scene is a bit one. Relatively simple in one way but a useful reminder of the importance of every scene you write. Even bad ones.