Anyone who adores Hollywood history was undoubtedly clamouring to see what David Fincher was going to concoct when it was announced that his next project (his first in over half a decade, and the one directly following his reinvention of the psychological thriller with Gone Girl) would be Mank, based on a screenplay written by his late father, who was fascinated by the authorship controversy behind Citizen Kane, a film that needs no introduction. Assembling an impressive cast, and filming it in a way that would hearken back to the heyday of the Golden Age of filmmaking (going so far as to replicate the same style present in films of the 1940s), Fincher seemed well on his way to creating something memorable – after all, he is a director who has attempted forays into a range of genres and worked through nearly every corner of the industry, often emerging with some incredibly promising work that stands the test of time in most instances. Therefore, in a film that had so much going for it, it’s bewildering that its biggest twist is that it is an absolute bore, which is quite surprising, considering it hails from an artist who may not always hit the mark, but at least frequently makes something worth discussing. Mank is an unusually middle-of-the-road effort from a director who has dedicated much of his career, for better or worse, to pushing the envelope and telling stories in his own distinct way. Whether we chalk it up to a screenplay that he decided to direct solely to honour his late father (which is a valid and quite sentimental reason), or the fact that this feels so heavily detached from even the most abstract works Fincher has directed, Mank just simply doesn’t have much of a direction, venturing into territory without actually setting down a coherent path – and the result is a film that doesn’t even bother grasping for greatness, instead settling for the bare minimum and relying on external factors (such as the visual palette and the insatiable power of nostalgia) to bolster what is unfortunately a story that deserved so much more than what it received in the end, easily making Mank one of the year’s most surprisingly mediocre achievements, which is not something any of us quite expected to come from this material.

Language is certainly very important when discussing any work of art, since the right choice of words is necessary in choosing how to label a piece. Mank presents us with quite a quandary, since it doesn’t easily lend itself to any coherent description, particularly in terms of how we speak about it as both a deeply personal work close to the director’s heart, and on the superficial level as a film produced for audiences at large. To call Mank a disappointment seems callous, but is certainly warrants such a description, considering how it does just that – it takes one of the most fascinating true-life stories of Hollywood’s first century, the controversy behind the writing of Citizen Kane (which has always been a divisive subject, with critics being divided on whether it was written by Herman J. Mankiewicz and stolen by Orson Welles, or written in collaboration between the two artists), and turns it into an overlong, bloated attempt at a biographical film about the machinations of the film industry at a time when the studio reigned supreme, while simultaneously squandering an endless amount of potential that was perched right there for the director to use. There were seemingly infinite possibilities to make something fantastic embedded in Mank, so it stands to reason that expectations were higher than perhaps anything Fincher has directed in his career to date, since working within the confines of such a well-known property – in fact, the film that is most often cited as the greatest of all time – lent this project a degree of gravitas that it regrettably fails to honour with horrifying regularity, constantly opting to adhere strictly to the unfortunately meandering script of a writer who certainly had passion for this material, but lacked the weathered experience (or rather the insider knowledge) to make something of a promising idea. This is only exacerbated by the director’s refusal to deviate from his father’s intentions, creating a work that is difficult to criticize without coming across as callous or insensitive to what is, first and foremost, a very touching example of bringing to life the vision of someone who was never able to see their passion brought to the screen in their lifetime – but putting aside the heartfelt context of this film’s creation, we simply can’t excuse its massive shortcomings, which need to be addressed on their own terms, without the domineering periphery getting in the way.

However, sentimentality is never a valid excuse for poor filmmaking, and while saying this about Mank is also somewhat inappropriate (since it certainly isn’t lazy in terms of its artistic direction, instead being more self-indulgent, which you’d think would be appropriate for a film that positions a man who was the embodiment of self-centred brilliance as a pivotal character, even if its portrayal of Welles is highly-questionable at best), it does open up space to discuss the areas in which the film tried and failed to take a few leaps towards greatness. There is very little doubt that Fincher is a gifted filmmaker – he’s spun gold out of the most paltry yarn in the past (and turning weak material into some of the definitive films of their generation, to the point where he almost immediately leapt to the forefront of great filmmakers from his generation), so for him to be working on a property centred on Citizen Kane seemed like the next logical step, as well as one that would ensure him some degree of safety in going wherever he felt compelled to venture. Unfortunately, Mank is a clear case of giving an artist too much freedom and struggling to reign it in, since there isn’t anything particularly memorable about this story that demands our attention – but Fincher seems to believe the opposite, and instead takes this screenplay and turns it into a film that promises to be an in-depth analysis of a truly fascinating period in Hollywood industry, but doesn’t deliver on both a literal and abstract level, which is beyond disconcerting, and cause for an enormous amount of concern, since audiences are not always interested in being coerced into watching something that is sold on a particular narrative, and instead being forced into enduring a film that flirts dangerously close with outright misleading us, taking us on a journey into the heartland of Hollywood that very few viewers, if any, would have expected to find when watching this film, which promises something that it doesn’t quite deliver, at least not in the way we’d hope.

In short, Mank purports to be a film about the writing of Citizen Kane, which isn’t completely untrue in itself, since on a base-level, it does look at the film’s inception and how the titular character went about being inspired to write it, looking into his past in contrast with the period in which he was commissioned by the ingenious Welles to work on something that would make for a thrilling debut feature film. However, this is quickly abandoned not long into the film, which gradually becomes less about Citizen Kane and Welles, and more about the simmering political tensions that were brewing in the industry at the time, set to the backdrop of the 1934 gubernatorial election, where author and social activist Upton Sinclair (a “filthy Bolshevik”,  as he is referred to a few times in the film) went up against Frank Merriam, which was a battle of liberal progress and conservative values. This isn’t a bad story, and would’ve otherwise made for a very compelling film on its own, or at least be a brief sub-plot in a sweeping epic that examined the intersections between Hollywood and the wider socio-political milieu of the period between the Great Depression and the outset of the Second World War. It’s certainly foolish to expect the film industry to ever be a self-sufficient entity that isn’t inextricably tied to the broader institutions (as we see throughout, there is a worrying amount of investment in politics by studio heads and other powerful members of the industry), which inform the content that audiences consume – and it would’ve made for a truly exciting and refreshing glimpse into the overlap between the world of entertainment and the wider social and cultural agenda, had Fincher actually cared to make the minor but pivotal changes to the original script that would’ve allowed it to be a very strong commentary on the film industry, in the vein of works that tread familiar ground, such as The Day of the Locust and Cradle Will Rock, both of which are the ideal prototypical versions of what Mank was clearly trying to be, but at least seem to be willing to stand firm in their premises, rather than going in a dozen different directions.

The problem comes in the fact that Mank halts its main plot – which we all went into this film expecting to see – and replaces it with an aimless exploration of politics, channelling these issues through the perspective of a man who doesn’t even hold much of an opinion on them, making the decision to centre almost the entire second act of this film on the Sinclair/Merriam election quite bewildering. This can only be explained by the elder Fincher’s lifelong commitment to editorial issues, with Mank being a passion project that he used as a vessel to express his interest in the politics of this time, not only the trials and tribulations of the film industry, which eventually take a backseat to the less-inspiring and often overly-academic explorations of political issues. In isolation, this is certainly not a bad idea and could have been fertile ground for some insightful discussions – but when you have a film that isn’t strong enough to support these political conversations, but is still perfectly willing to side-track a large portion of the film for the sake of not deviating from the original script (which is treated as some sacrosanct text, despite being made by someone who consistently asserts his authorial vision), it becomes a true test of the audience’s patience, which is not something Fincher should have encouraged when taking on this project. The ideal version of Mank is one that doesn’t put so much needless stock into sub-plots that could’ve easily been condensed to be brief but memorable additions to the much stronger narrative. The film seems caught between wanting to be an intricate tapestry of the industry and its many peculiar occupants, and a harrowing portrait of one man’s journey through it – and while there was certainly a masterpiece embedded somewhere in Mank, it fails to rear its head until the final few moments, which may be electrifying, but come at the end of a sinuous narrative that leaves the viewer more fatigued than enthused, which profoundly hinders the impact of the film.

There are certainly hints of brilliance scattered throughout this film, and there are moments where it genuinely seems like it is on the path to seamlessly blending a satirical look at the Golden Age of Hollywood with a socially-charged commentary on the culture at large, casting a wide net over a number of issues. This is a film that struggles to find its voice, despite having a very talented director at the helm. However, despite the shortcomings in the narrative, Fincher does manage to employ a variety of other factors that help prevent Mank from being a complete failure. This essentially comes down to two separate categories in which the director frequently thrives – the performances, and the creative details of the work. In terms of the former, Gary Oldman is solid (if not uninspiring) as the titular screenwriter, playing a role in which he is severely miscast, playing a character at least two decades younger than himself, but still showing a rare amount of restraint that we don’t often see coming from an actor whose more recent choices have been all about excess, almost as if he is perpetually clamouring to be the most notable person in the room. Oldman leaves enough space for the rest of the ensemble to shine, but it’s not clear if they were always up to the challenge, with Amanda Seyfried (who is rapidly developing into a very distinct actress capable of incredible versatility) and Lily Collins doing very well on screen in parts that are perhaps too underwritten to make an impression without their spirited performances. This relates directly to other strength of Mank, the aforementioned creative details, which are perhaps the most significant aspects of the film. The cinematography is gorgeous (although the overwhelming praise it has received does border on excessive – cinematographer Erik Messerschmidt does produce some striking images, but it’s hardly revolutionary), and the composing team of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross produce what is perhaps the only flawless aspect of the film in the score, which perfectly replicates the kind of orchestrations we’d hear in the films that Fincher and his cohorts were clearly focused on replicating here.

Mank is a very artistically-resonant film – but the question is whether or not that is enough. To its credit, the film does (for the most part) avoid relitigating the polarizing matter at the core, seeming to not take a side on the authorship controversy – but this seems to be more of a result of deviating from this side of the story long before it could dive deep into the matter, instead relegating it to the final few minutes of the film, which may be the best parts of the film, since its where it is actually managing to say something, but at the expense of sacrificing two hours of our time for the sake of a winding exploration of matters that aren’t all that interesting in contrast to what we expected to see. There’s a certain level of admiration that comes when we see someone make a film about the creation of Citizen Kane, and have Orson Welles only make his proper entrance at the two-hour mark, which seems to completely defeat the purpose of the film – it would’ve at least been worth it had they bothered to characterize Welles beyond the shrieking, self-centred brat that he’s often portrayed as in the contemporary perspective, almost as if being effortlessly gifted at one’s field has to be accompanied by indelible personality flaws (but giving too much attention to the characterization of Welles would imply that Mank actually cares about him beyond using him as a villainous plot device, which it absolutely does not – Welles deserved so much better than the film was interested in providing). The film is so set in its ways, genuinely believing that two hours of aimlessly hopping between time periods is perfectly adequate, one of the fundamental flaws of Mank, and the reason why it struggles to establish enough gravitas to make any profound statement. This film’s lack of commitment to taking a side and standing by it points towards an unfortunate lack of conviction, and its decision to spend only about a quarter of its running time exploring this fascinating conflict, and then resolving it with a coda that is essentially consolidating loose-lipped gossip that doesn’t have much validity on its own, makes us question how passionate anyone involved in this film actually was about this story, or if it was just an attempt to capitalize on an old conflict for the sake of having discussions that extend beyond what we expected the film to focus on. Whether they took the side of Mankiewicz and his claim that he wrote Citizen Kane on his own, or believed the party-line that it was a collaboration between a seasoned playwright and the wunderkind who changed cinema, a decision needed to be made, which entailed actually doing the work – and simply having your resolution be derived from hearsay that can be found in a pedestrian excursion of brief research, seems oddly inappropriate for a film that purports to be the definitive word on the matter.

There is some value in Mank – after all, this isn’t a travesty, and can’t even be called a bad film, since it achieved exactly what it set out to do, and returned something that has enthused many viewers, who found something worthwhile in the film and saw certain aspects that warranted the attention the film is receiving. It isn’t even a matter of it polarizing those who are allegiant to Welles, and those who are critical of his genius, since there seems to be a fair amount of civil discourse amongst viewers on both sides who found the bipartisan approach somewhat refreshing, especially considering the biggest concern many had going into it was that it would be too heavily-dependent on one perspective, which would ultimately needlessly eviscerate the other. However, this doesn’t mean that Mank is a particularly good film either – it may seem to take a relatively bipartisan stance, but this is solely because it doesn’t seem to have the audacity to take a solid stand on either side, relying instead on surface-level rumours to propel itself forward, creating the illusion that it is bringing unprecedented clarity to a decades-long controversy, when in actuality it’s just presenting the same highly-contentious details that we’ve been aware of for years as unimpeachable facts. Yet, despite being built on this very matter and apparently being concerned with resolving it, the film becomes almost inconsequential to even be considered a noteworthy analysis of this issue, since so much of Mank is instead focused on going in a number of different directions, struggling to find a particular tone or storyline to follow, and instead throwing a few ideas out into the ether, and hoping that some of them will linger long enough to evolve into memorable discussions, which quite simply never happens, many of its moments ringing as entirely inauthentic and simply an attempt to capitalize on the often misguided understanding of this era in Hollywood history. Regardless of how often Fincher tries to connect the wildly disparate narrative threads into something that appears coherent, Mank just feels like a film setting off on a journey without any thematic or tonal road-map, instead relying on the expected twists and turns that come with an unchartered journey and using an archaic argument that we will simply never be able to resolve as its framing device – and for any other film that had more experimental leanings, this may be refreshing, but when dealing with something that has relatively high-stakes (at least in terms of those committed to proving or disproving a particular set of rumours), it comes across as inappropriate and perhaps even disrespectful to both sides, since the work to present a case for either is clearly absent, replaced instead with an abundance of unnecessary discussions that are only marginally related to the main premise – whether or not the conclusions reached are genuine, at least be dedicated enough to the real-life figures to do them justice.

The intentions this film had are at least clear – it wanted to be a sweeping Hollywood epic that used its main character as an audience surrogate, someone whose relatively impartial view of issues relating both to the film industry and the wider social and political context, would make him a relatively reliable source, since he is unassuming enough to not distract from the very interesting ideas embedded in numerous sub-plots that form the basis of this film, even if a few of them could’ve been streamlined, or just been elided entirely, since they don’t hold as much credence as this film appears to think they do. Mank is a film that definitelyaims for greatness (and it seems to be willing to actually put in the work, even if only on an artistic level), but seems to fall short every time, losing all sense of direction and instead relying too much on the audience’s blind-faith to propel it forward, since the visual splendour and laborious efforts to replicate a particular era of film is enough to make Mank a striking film on a visual level at the very least. Therefore, this film is not a complete failure on all fronts, since there are some elements that are worth noting and discussing in the context of how Fincher addresses some pertinent issues – but its hesitance to take a firm stance on any of its fundamental issues means that Mank simply doesn’t have much to say outside of its general consolidation of old rumours as facts, and means that it just doesn’t have the depth and nuance necessary for the conversations it seems so intent on inciting, yet another reason why it is one of the year’s more disappointing films. Even if one doesn’t enter into this film with the intention of finding a solution to this controversy, Mank is still simply too prosaic and heavy-handed to make much of an impression, and while it does leave us suitably impressed on a creative level, this novelty wears off relatively soon, leaving us without anything of real value outside of a few brief moments of excellence that should’ve been the starting point for a masterpiece, not the peaks of an otherwise dull and lifeless attempt at venturing into the past.