Mank - Wank

 

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    Back in 2011, there was a little film called The Artist. The story of a prominent star in the silent film era at risk of losing his career with the integration of sound allowing the use of audible dialogue referred to then as "Talking Pictures" or "Talkies" for short. The film was presented in the classical style of silent films: including title cards in place of audible dialogue, sweeping dramatic music, and shot on old-fashioned black and white celluloid film. It was a neat and heavily detailed imitation of the classic style. Still, apart from its well-observed mimicry of silent films, it didn't do anything creative with the presentation, aside from one brief nightmare sequence where sound suddenly and unexpectedly enters the artist's life. Even so, it went on the win five Acadamy Awards, including Best Picture, out of ten nominations. 

    In my honest opinion, The Artist, while well made, was not worthy of the Best Picture Oscar. It had nothing interesting to say about its own subject matter and lacked any kind of nuance or unique voice. Plus, nothing was presented in the film that had not been done before in a hundred other "suffering artist" stories that Hollywood can't seem to get enough of. It is the kind of Hollywood placating that has poisoned and continues to poison filmmaking as an art form and as a business. 

    So, it should come as no surprise to any of my wonderful readers that I find today's subject, Mank, to be nothing more than a desperate plea from a once talented and nuanced filmmaker, David Fincher, to finally have his Oscar after two previous nominations for films that were far more nuanced and Oscar-worthy than his latest offering. While I can appreciate Fincher's intentions and reasons for making this film (the script was penned by his late father), I can't call it great. Not only for how painfully obvious his pandering to the Oscar voting panel is, but because of how uninspired and wrongheaded the whole affair genuinely feels. 

    Taking place in the "glory days" of Hollywood between the mid-1930s and early-1940s, the story follows Herman Mankiewicz (Gary Oldman), the Oscar-winning screenwriter who penned the first draft of Hollywood's favorite accomplishment, Citizen Kane. Following a non-linear progression, we see Mank working on the first draft of the script, with occasional flashbacks to key moments that likely inspired the story he would write. Including his strange friendship with William Randolph Hearst and Mank's supposed accidental involvement in the swinging of the 1934 California Mayoral election. Namely, the belief that Mank was somehow unintentionally responsible for the creation of "Fake News". I'm not kidding. 

    If you're wondering why my summary of the story is so minimal, it's because there wasn't much of an actual story in this film. At no point was I presented with a tangible conflict, a sympathetic protagonist, or an emotionally resonating reason to care about anything on the screen! The script seems overly occupied with presenting a specific depiction of historical events, along with replicating shots and moments from the other film it's so tangentially related to. It never provides a coherent or sympathetic reason for any of it. 

    Much like The Artist, Mank is more interested in replicating filmmaking techniques of the era it takes place in, right down to recording old-fashioned mono audio. This might have been a neat feature if it didn't make it nearly impossible to understand half of the dialogue. More often than not, scenes with copious amounts of talking are drowned out by the other sounds within the scene. It's almost as terrible as the sound mixing for Christopher Nolan's Tenet. These aesthetic and artistic choices don't seem to have any purpose other than, again, to remind you of Citizen Kane. 

    The cast all do a wonderful job, but their characters leave much to be desired. Gary Oldman is his usual entertaining self despite him playing the largest collection of arrogant, pretentious, self-righteous, elitist artist archetypes rolled up into a single character. Amanda Seyfried is a talented and gorgeous actress who is utterly wasted in this film. She literally has nothing to do but strikes classic Hollywood glamor poses and provide an unnecessary "will they-won't they" romance subplot to the proceedings with an incredibly obvious "they won't" answer hanging over their heads the entire time. While Amanda Seyfried does deserve an Oscar, it should not be for this! 

    Probably the most thoroughly disappointing aspect of this film is its director, David Fincher. While I may disagree with his perfectionism and how he chooses to execute his artistic visions (for example, demanding nearly two hundred takes of every single shot), there's no denying that Fincher has a unique voice as a filmmaker. Some of his masterpieces like Se7en, The Social Network, and Gone Girl are all memorable films executed with incredible care and precision one can't help but admire and appreciate. Sadly, I can't help but feel that he's either losing his passion for it or he's suddenly trying too hard to appease the very establishment he has openly criticized. Rightfully so, I might add. This is the same man who, when making his first film, once commented on his experience working with the studio by saying, "I gave them a Champagne glass, and they turned it into a Beer mug."

    Mank is not the most insulting movie I have seen this year so far, but it is indeed the least worthy of an Oscar, especially Best Picture. The only thing that makes watching this movie more depressing is how likely it's going to win anyway, despite what little it offers in terms of nuance and entertainment, though I do hope that I'm wrong. It is worth checking out for yourself if you're the least bit curious, and maybe there's an aspect of the presentation that will speak to you. As for me, I sadly got nothing out of the experience, except for yet another reason to finally give up on the Academy Awards. 

    If nothing else, let Mank serve as a reminder of how much more political the Hollywood system is than we might otherwise like to believe. 

Ladies & gentlemen, I am TheNorm; thank you all for reading.