I use the word “bratty” for the way it is endorsed, there is no thrill if there is no empathy.
Fincher’s bratty film is in no way near the genre it claims for. Not thrilling, nor mysterious, no drama. The only possible way it would fall under the section “crime” is if we arrest it for forging the documents on applying it under those above mentioned genres. That was way too harsh. So I should take some heat off and put someone worthy on the stand. And it is not the director David Fincher. He shouldn’t be blamed at all. I wouldn’t even call it his choice. And instead it is the writer whose desperate pointless venture of creating a mind bending experience for the viewers fails repeatedly in the film.
And it grows annoying to be honest, after a while. The eye opening revelations are hair pulling disasters where the predictability is just a cherry on top. Where the only thing sad above the fact that Fincher has to keep all this mess togethers, is that someone talented as Michael Douglas has to go through the banal set of rules for The Game.
Mostly, I find people around me gushing over the nail biting climax and to be honest I don’t mind the old flip and turn show. I couldn’t care less. No matter how much hard Christopher McQuarrie tries in Mission Impossible: Fallout, he could barely draw out a nod from me. But that is only because we know that those fireworks won’t ever glorify your night. The real crux is on how clean and precise you are on spiraling out the web of lies. Especially a film like this that has to keep its audience in the dark all the time. And that is why I love the first act of the film, it is properly polished, beautifully edited and smartly directed. The obvious things never go loud and if they do, they are intended to be.