Mank

Though I feel that Mank is one of David Fincher’s lesser efforts, I have to say that getting a new film from a quality filmmaker like Fincher in 2020 is something I’m grateful for. Mank is technically brilliant, with a visual and sound design that evokes the very movie it’s protagonist spends a portion of the narrative writing. That film is Citizen Kane, and while having a greater knowledge of Kane will enhance your viewing of Mank, I won’t go as far to say that it’s necessary. Which feeds into my general problem with this well-made movie.

Mank appears to be a retrospective of old Hollywood, while divulging into the creation of what’s considered to be the greatest film ever made. And while we’re getting that story, the film also appears to be a character study of the man who authored it, Herman J. Mankiewicz (Gary Oldman). Except, Mank is ultimately none of these things. Instead it chooses to firmly wrap itself in politics. Now I’ll admit that politics is not the focal point I wanted here, but I could get past that if it’s in service of a great story. The problem with Mank is that the politics keep the film at an arm’s length despite it also being one of Fincher’s warmest outings (second warmest behind Benjamin Button). Mank is full of quick-witted dialogue, strong performances, and a perfect musical score; all of that combined with Fincher’s talent makes for individual scenes of greatness. Just not greatness overall.

The main action in Mank takes place in 1940, when Orson Welles (Tom Burke) is given complete creative freedom for his next project by RKO. Enter Herman Mankiewicz, who’s recovering from a broken leg he sustained in a car accident. He receives a phone call from Welles, who has recruited him to write the screenplay for his new film. Herman dictates the script to his secretary, Rita Alexander (Lily Collins), who writes it down, noticing similarities between the main character and William Randolph Hearst (Charles Dance). The narrative then flashes back to 1930, where Mankiewicz and other writers work at Paramount Studios, navigating their work among the studio heads and the changing world around them. The film cuts back and forth between these time periods with the past eventually catching up to the present, showcasing the reasons that Mankiewicz wants to write the screenplay.

The narrative’s flashback structure intentionally mimic’s Kane’s, just as the sound design intentionally evokes the characters speaking as though they’re in an open chamber. The film, though shot in 8K, intentionally has scratches, cigarette burns, and is overall diluted to appear worn by time. Heavy beams of backlighting call attention to their beauty as they do in Kane; and scenes that take place at Hearst’s palace are just shy of the exaggerated Xanadu. The score by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross is as though ripped out of a time machine. I loved how much was devoted to the details, which will always be one of Fincher’s strong suits.

As I’ve said, my issue with the film isn’t that it tackles politics; my issue with the film is that the politics plants the story “in-place” when it so feels as if it wants to run in other established directions. Scenes of various writers, actors, or people in positions of power have the kind of fast dialogue that Fincher has grown to use in his movies. It’s one thing to hear the gossip of the town, it’s quite another to hear it so effortlessly fast; and yet even more impressive for the screenplay to place these words in the mouths of the likes of Hearst, Chaplin, Mayer, Thalberg and Orson Wells. And it’s true that the best of these scenes contains a discussion of politics, which eventually leads to one of the film’s main story beats – the 1934 election between Upton Sinclair and Frank Merriam for governor of California in which propaganda films and a Hearst infused media played an outcome. I’m not saying this wasn’t an important thing to tackle in relation to the creating of Kane; I’m saying that I simply couldn’t connect to it.

Then there’s the character study aspect of the film. Despite Mankiewicz being the title role, I never felt as though we got to spend any real personal time with him. He’s an alcoholic, a gambler, a womanizer with a wife, a man who holds a grudge, a man who admires those whom surprise him and a man of principles. In short, an enigma. However, an enigma unexplored by this movie despite his being in every scene. His relationships are left untraveled as well – his transition into despising Hearst is only disclosed through the election; his relationship with Wells is barley touched upon just as it seems like it should take over the entire narrative; his relationship with his loyal wife is chalked up to “why do you put up with me?”; and there’s a crucial relationship with a director named Shelly Metcalf that the story wants the audience to care about way more than the audience will.  

Oldman is expectedly excellent, though he’s too old for the character and that makes scenes where he’s supposed to be the same age as Amanda Seyfried’s Marion Davis a little distracting. Still, he commands the screen, especially in a climactic moment where he delivers a drunken monologue which is essentially the outline of Kane. The scene is the best in the movie, perfectly written, acted, and blocked by Fincher. Seyfried does the best work of her career with a surprisingly layered performance that will attract viewers as much as it does Mankiewicz. Lily Collins likewise shows how good she can be when under the direction of someone like Fincher. Tuppence Middleton as the long suffering Mrs. Mankiewicz looks too young for Oldman, but she holds her own against him. I also loved Tom Pelphrey as Joseph Mankiewicz, Herman’s brother, who provides the film, along with Seyfried and Collins, a bit of warmth. The actors playing the studio heads are all great, with Arliss Howard as Louis B. Mayer being the standout. Dance is perfectly Tywin Lannister as Hearst, despite his American accent being slightly flippant. Finally there’s Tom Burke who doesn’t look enough like Wells, but sounds exactly like him. I wish he was in the movie more.

The conclusion of Mank just sort of fizzles out after the long monologue, as though the screenplay by the late Jack Fincher, David’s father, was set on the story he wanted to tell, even if their was an audience that craved more. And I suppose craving more is a good thing when it comes to any film; however, with Mank I just found it difficult latch on to what I was given. My love for Fincher and movies carried me into being impressed with this film, but it isn’t my Rosebud.

Grade: B