David Fincher seems to make only one type of movie, and it’s not the uplifting kind. Obsessed with gloom and aroused by depression, he guides us through the depths of his high-concept underworlds that are predicated on thou-shalt and thou-shalt-not rules, with little connection with reality as we know it. They are ominous places, invariably infused with menace and infected by claustrophobia. But there’s always an escape hatch: As if scared of weirding-out his core audience of white, middle-class suburbanites, he populates his worlds with gorgeous faces and big name talent. Rendering the outré attractive for the mass market, he’s Hollywood’s answer to Darkness for Dummies.
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