Mank Review: A Glorious Ode to Old Hollywood

Writing can be a lonely business unless you’re in Hollywood: then you have a dozen more writers who have come before you and will come after. In the case of Mank, David Fincher’s film about the writing of Citizen Kane, there comes something else entirely.

Mank is about the man who either solely wrote the film or co-wrote it, Herman J. Mankiewicz.

The film comes down on the debate in its own definitive way, and it can be easy to get tied up in the validity of the movie, whether or not Welles’ contribution to the screenplay is as minute as the film and Pauline Kael in her 1971 article portrays, where there may certainly be calls for an anti-Welles bent to the whole proceeding.

But taken as a film, Mank is not about the writing of the script, per se, but about the man writing the script.

Herman J. Mankiewicz (Gary Oldman) is a big personality with pearls of wisdom in his every utterance, and Oldman portrays him with the exact amount of bravado and gusto needed to pull it off. His truths have a cutting effect, much to his own detriment, and Oldman plays wonderfully off of that balancing act.

Because though the movie is about the production of the script, the film is more about Mank’s personal relationships, not only to his somewhat estranged family, but to friends and those he works with. The one that stands out most is that of William Hearst (Charles Dance) and Marion Davies (Amanda Seyfried), who make up the basis for Kane in the first place.

Dance’s Hearst is a calm, reasonable sort here, quiet but so consuming whenever he’s in a room.

Seyfried, by contrast, is one of the absolute stars of the film, lighting up every frame she’s in with exuberance and an excitability that can help break up the tired, smoke-filled rooms she usually occupies. She also, at times, serves as Mank’s conscience, their occasional closeness becoming one of the film’s stronger points.

Tom Burke’s Orson Welles is like a phantom hanging over the entire film, caught in glimpses and on the periphery as though he’s an omnipotent god. Burke does a wonderful rendition of the filmmaking genius, where when he finally arrives in full, its brief time allows for myth to become reality.

Lily Collins serves as Mank’s secretary Rita, where she’s the fresh eyes to his manners and methods for us to see alongside. Collins doesn’t get a whole lot to do beyond questioning certain parts of his lifestyle and slowly digging beyond his platitudes, but she can always be counted on for a solid performance.

In between the biting anecdotes and carefully worded japes is a hint of vulnerability and self-destruction, where Mank may be his own worst enemy. It’s as though he can’t help himself in the moment, and while there is an eye toward sympathy, there’s a pang of self-awareness to the character, where he realizes his error but sees no reason to correct.

It’s who he is.

While the film is framed around the writing of Citizen Kane, it’s about Old Hollywood in its entirety, commenting on the conservatism that dominates the upper echelon, the extravagance at the top while an economic downturn rages beyond the walls, and about a flawed man at its center who must battle the system while battling himself.

Mank doesn’t shy away at the corrosive nature of the business it delves into, but it also knows when to glorify it, all the same. There’s a give and take to the Hollywood of yesterday, and Mank himself knows that himself all too well.

The love and attention Mank gives its era is spectacular, from the gorgeous costume design to the grandeur of the Hollywood studios, down to the class divide that splits the executives from the crew and extras.

This may not hail the hallmarks of a David Fincher film, but it holds a particularity to its filmmaking, where every single moment, down to its own non-linear style of storytelling, feels tight and succinct, where every meticulous detail has its place.

But one area of the film that feels authentic and exciting is its old school charms. Its presentation is as though it’s passed through a time machine, from the crackle of the sound mix, the dialogue sounding as though it’s recorded on a sound stage, and those old, familiar burns that signify a reel change is coming.

These little sorts of things go a long way with adding charm and feeling like a film of the very time it’s capturing, as though it’s escaped a capsule.

For film fans, Mank marks a new Fincher film, another great Oldman performance, and a love letter to the golden age. For a general audience, there may be a small barrier beyond its black and white, but through perhaps needing to know a few of the famous names of the past that pepper the runtime.

But in its totality, Mank is a triumph about a flawed man in a flawed business, where wealth and excess are everywhere, and struggle and poverty aren’t far behind.

 

What did you think of Mank? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

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Mank is now available on Netflix.

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