Aaron Hendrix’s review published on Letterboxd:
I swear, you two are the most fucked-up people I've ever known...And I specialize in fucked-up.
In Gone Girl's final act, its dime-store crime novel premise is sublimated into existential horror. All of the deeply sardonic commentary on coverage of high-profile murders and mass public projection evaporates in a brief exploration of the ellipsis at the conclusion of these cases. Fincher's winding mystery masterpiece works on repeat viewing not because the storytelling is so brilliantly plotted - well, not just because the storytelling is so brilliantly plotted - but rather because this dissection of relationships, power structures, and celebrity gossip gone awry is so stunningly rendered. Every scene transition is a wry visual metaphor. Every scene, an ultra-clean composition of cool blues and metallic grays. Every note, a jittering, inharmonic clash of sounds. Gone Girl is still my favorite from Fincher and still one of my favorites of all time.