Gone Girl – A Double Homicide

You can’t compare a film to a book. I know it can be hard watching Harry Potter after binging the books over the Summer for the eighth time, but adaptations aren’t meant to tell the same story. They are more like a retelling with the same roots. But then there are books that are so intrinsically literary, books with a premise that is impossible to recreate in the short time frame of a feature film. Right now, everyone is buzzing about Dune and rightfully so; my review will be published this week and I am extremely impressed at Villeneuve’s ability at creating vast depth. But it isn’t the book.

A few years ago, I showed my girlfriend Fincher’s Gone Girl. She hated it. She had (relatively) recently read Gillian Flynn’s novel and it blew her away but all she could say of the film was that it paled in comparison to the original. I told her the usual spiel, “You need to look at it as a separate thing,” “It is unfair to compare them,” “No, I’m not being defensive I just like the film.” Last week I read Gone Girl from cover to cover and have unfortunately discovered that I was indeed wrong.

WARNING!

From this point on, I’m going to spoil both film and book (there is very little narrative difference between the two), so if you haven’t consumed either then shame on you because you are missing out.

Gone Girl is about Nick Dunne and his wife Amy who disappears on their five-year anniversary. The story is obviously a lot more complex but to cut a long story short, Amy staged her own disappearance to spite her terrible husband after a tough and failing marriage. This discovery is the mid-point climax of both film and book, the former of which mostly follows Nick as he looks for his wife while he incriminates himself. On the other hand, the book switches perspective every chapter, still present-day Nick while Amy’s chapters are excerpts from her diary.

The film does show flashbacks and does get the main points across, but you never truly love Amy. The same can be said for many adaptations as there is obviously more time to dive deeper into a character’s psyche in prose, but what makes Gone Girl special is the relationship between Nick, Amy, and reader. In one chapter, Nick talks about Amy’s anniversary treasure hunt and looks back on their first anniversary negatively just for the next to be Amy’s diary the morning of the treasure hunt and how excited she is to spend a perfect day with her husband.

Nick is no longer the main character. Amy is a person with her own perspective, and we get to see every important moment from her side; Nick’s memories of disastrous days compared to Amy’s growing resentment. She is hopeful and wants to fix things with him, but he is already on the other end of the timeline, cheating and ready to end things.

Now we are 300 pages in. Nick is the sole suspect in Amy’s murder/disappearance and Amy’s diary depicts her as the scared wife who keeps hoping to find her husband inside the man he has become. And then Amy transitions to the present day, she is alive, has set Nick up, and admits that all her diary entries were faked as part of her plan (although there are always truths in the best lies).

In the film, Amy is insane and no matter what Nick has done, it does not excuse the faux reality she has created. However, in the book, I wanted to scream, “YES! He deserves it so much and you are so much better than him. Screw him!” And even as her insanity bubbles to the surface, painting the once-sweet Amy in a new light, I still love her.

Gone Girl (the book) was able to split its time between two extremely compelling characters and fleshing both out effectively. Gone Girl (the film) focuses on Nick and tries to paint the same story without Amy constantly interrupting the main plot. I don’t blame them; if a film splits its time equally then you are going to have two weak characters instead of a stronger and more supportable option.

The film still made me hate Nick, but I never loved Amy. I keep trying to imagine a film where I do love her, but I can’t. There simply isn’t enough time to sit there and stew on it, but what if there was?