20 years ago, almost to the day of uploading this essay, David Fincher
released THE GAME. Today I want to look at what I believe to be one of the
greatest films of the 90s and an absolute masterclass in crafting the
perfect lonely protagonist. Much is said about David Fincher's
obsession with detail, every frame having to believably exist in the world he is
creating. Furthermore, his attention to detail extends beyond visual / narrative
storytelling. It also commands every protagonist Fincher has ever brought to
life. One character in particular is Michael Douglas' Nicolas van Orton -
someone so imbued by his lavish lifestyle that he has secluded himself
to a lonely state of living. It's within the character of Van Orton that
Fincher brings to life what I believe to be his most honest portrayal of
loneliness. Whereas in Gone Girl we were shown
loneliness through the prism of married life, or within Fight Club the shackles
of a consumerist society, The Game projects loneliness in its truest form.
Unless others placed themselves in the same vicinity as van Orton, our
protagonist never engages with humanity. He is as internally isolated as he is
externally. Fincher tackles loneliness in a sardonic
manner empowering his titular character with all the gadgets and all
the money he could possibly want. That money, though, is all that van Orton has.
While economic power often represents freedom, at least in the ability to
indulge in life's more prestigious ventures, Fincher strips freedom away
from money. The richer the character, the less they have to live for in their life.
This is morbidly portrayed through the suicide of Nicholas' father and then
wittily juxtaposed with our titular character's similar fate in the final
act. To get to that final act, a period where Nicholas's loneliness is now bare
for the audience to peer at, one has to peel back the layers and trace the
film's opening scenes first.
Because it's within those initial frames of The Game that Fincher executes visual
cues to point toward the facade that is Nicholas' life. The first time we meet
Nicholas, suited and booted, is right here... he's driving through San Francisco on
his daily commute to work. What's interesting about this shot is that his
car is the only one driving in that direction, with trolley tracks
symmetrically following his wheels. This is an undeniably important fragment of
the film because it cements the idea that Nicholas lacks freedom in his life and
that, whatever he does to break out of it, there will always be something invisible
guiding him. Why does this mirror the finale so beautifully? Because while
Nicholas is playing "the game", he believes he is in firm control of his life; he
believes that he should jump off the roof. He believes that he shot his
brother Conrad on the same roof moments before. Yet, ironically, the opening shot
discussed is one that Fincher perversely dangles in front of the audience. He's
essentially holding the last piece to the puzzle and refusing to relinquish it
to Nicholas. That drive through San Francisco culminates in Nicholas dining
with the only person he seems to have a relationship with: Conrad. The illusion
the Fincher sets up during this meal is one that attempts to show us that
Nicholas is not lonely; that Nicholas has a family. The screenplay makes this scene
read like a normal gathering, hence the illusion and the set up, but the real
trump card held within Fincher's sleeve is the framing. Look at whenever Conrad
talks... his black suit perfectly blends with the dark background and colour
palette. All that we see illuminated is his face, which shows an openness toward
Nicholas. Yet whenever Nicolas replies, notice how
Fincher pulls the camera back. This reveals a brighter background, with
Nicholas surrounded by glasses, lamps and windows.
It's a powerful sequence because it reveals how guarded our titular
character is in comparison to his brother and how detached he is from
humanity. This meal ends with Conrad giving Nicholas the infamous CRS card - a
gift that kicks "the game" into motion. When Nicholas is driving back home,
Fincher once again taunts us and his character. Remember those trolley tracks
I mentioned earlier? Despite once again being in a free moving vehicle, electric
lines above him seem to guide his journey now. The car is perfectly placed
beneath them, replacing the trolley tracks from before. Nicholas' loneliness
works in tandem with his lack of freedom. Van Orton's first encounter with the CRS
sees him sport a grey suit against a white shirt and black tie. Those three mundane
colors parallel the walls of the offices. Fincher achieves two things here
I believe: on one hand he's showing van Orton to be his calmest in
prestigious environments. the blending of the colours paints him to be nothing more
than a filthy rich businessman who feels at his most comfortable in corporate
environments. On the other hand, though, it speaks of an attraction.
Although Nicolas believes he is in firm control of his life, the CRS reels him in
and forces him to act, thus nullifying his perceived freedom once more. The
irony is the van Orton yearns for freedom and company yet his hunger for
money is what holds him back. Within Van Orton's house, and just
outside of it, we are met with this dull, earthy colour palette... yet outside of his
house colour seems to burst with life, be that the neon colours that Fincher
employs or the more softer tones. The colour that follows Nicholas around
almost like a grey cloud hanging over his head highlights his loneliness and
helps the audience feel that. The operative word here is *feel*. Fincher
makes no attempt to offer the audience a chancer empathizing or understanding the
titular character. There is no pandering, no exploitative moments of emotion.
Nicholas exists as a real person with real problems. He just happens to also be
a douche bag. We identify not with his being, but rather his loneliness. And now
we come up to one of my favourite parts in this film and a moment I believe to
be the most captivating and perhaps most interesting frame in The Game. This
moment arrives when Nicholas awakes in a Mexican graveyard. It's no coincidence
that Fincher, a man obsessed with every detail within each frame, dresses Nicholas
in all white. He disappears amongst the white gravestones. Fincher further hides
his protagonist in a gorgeous long shot, highlighting the meaningless life he
commands. He is no different to the dead bodies which he walks among, he is
purposeless and alone in the world.
These colour palettes and these frames filled to the brim of detail is how
Fincher enables the audience to feel Nicholas' loneliness. It isn't
expository dialogue that does it, nor is it flashbacks or a sudden turn of events.
The Game is simply a masterclass in creating a dislikable character whose
nature does not connect with the audience yet manages to make them
identify with a facet of his struggle. From 1997 to present day I've found that
The Game is often maligned for not having a single character for the
audience to shout for and root for. This criticism ignores Fincher's storytelling
through visuals. He doesn't want us to care about the character he simply wants
us to feel Nicholas' loneliness. Because, and I truly believe this, if we were to
connect with the character and really care about him then his loneliness would
be void because we would essentially be his company. By isolating and removing
him from the audience's emotions his loneliness becomes all the more powerful.
The Game works because Fincher gives you two ways of watching the film. You can
enjoy the twists and turns of the plot at surface level or you can mine beneath
that and find a tale of melancholy and isolation that discards the plot for the
journey instead...