I feel fortunate that in my life I have met an astounding number of smart, creative people who have become my colleagues and friends. From my fellow Movie Morlocks to book authors to fine artists, I am humbled by their talents and creativity. I have learned much from these peers, especially other film instructors, including adjuncts. Overworked and underpaid, adjuncts slug it out in the trenches teaching film literacy because they believe it is a competency vital to our media-driven era. These thoughts came to mind after I learned that my friend Laurence Knapp, an adjunct professor who teaches film studies at Oakton Community College in the Chicago area, has edited a collection titled David Fincher: Interviews (University Press of Mississippi). Fincher’s new movie Gone Girl is scheduled for release in October. A book that chronicles what this director has to say is both timely and important.
I don’t know anyone who was not blown away by the bleak, noir-like Se7en when it was released in the mid-1990s. The film announced director David Fincher’s talents and style to the world. Edgy and innovative but not experimental or alienating, Fincher’s work reveals how far the classic narrative style can be pushed, or bent, without breaking. From Fight Club to Zodiac to The Social Network, he has managed to direct serious, even provocative films, in a Hollywood industry that continues to dumb down its output to cater to a youthful audience.
Aside from the appeal of Fincher as a subject, I was also interested in the book because of the interview format. I am not particularly good at interviewing, and I am always seeking good examples to improve my skills. David Fincher: Interviews is part of the Conversations with Filmmakers series, which collects previously published interviews for posterity. The series serves as excellent resources for film historians and critics as well as models of interviewing techniques and styles. In the past, Larry has edited Brian De Palma: Interviews and Ridley Scott: Interviews. Look for the David Fincher edition on Amazon; or, ask your local library to order it.
Larry was kind enough to answer a few questions not only about Fincher but also about the value of the interview format.
Why did you select David Fincher as the subject? What makes him a good candidate for a compilation like this?
Fincher was my choice from a list provided by the press. I’m a tireless advocate for my generation of American auteurs—the Generation X contingent born in the 1960s. Apart from Quentin Tarantino, few of the directors who came of age in the 1990s (e.g., Paul Thomas Anderson, Sofia Coppola, Richard Linklater, Tyler Perry, David O. Russell, and Andy and Lana Wachowski) get the attention they deserve. That includes Fincher, who has emerged as the most resilient and versatile director of his generation. Fincher is a cagey interviewee. Even when he is not forthcoming, he is always witty, sardonic, and self-deprecating—quintessentially Gen X.
In thinking back over the many interviews that you considered, was there a consensus on Fincher’s best film? Also, as a sort-of companion question to this topic: What Fincher film do you think is his most underrated, or under-appreciated?
Fight Club is unquestionably Fincher’s major cinematic achievement. In 15 years the film has not aged or lost its relevance. It anticipates the fear and self-loathing of post-9/11 America, the growing consensus—now on full display in The Purge films—that America is heading for a cataclysmic crack-up. Fincher’s most underrated film is The Game. It came a little too early; it is actually a forerunner to Adaptation, Stranger Than Fiction, and other “meta” films that explored the artifice and chicanery of narrative fiction filmmaking. Michael Douglas is a stand-in for the viewer as he struggles to make sense of a series of staged events with actors hired to steer him toward a life-changing climax—Hollywood cinema as a self-conscious theme-park intervention. Zodiac is the other Fincher film that demands revisiting. It’s Fincher’s unofficial art film and nod to the New American Cinema of the 1970s. It captures Generation X’s deep-seated memories of the late 1960s and early 1970s as a disruption of the illusive normalcy achieved after WWII. As with Chinatown, The Parallax View, or Nashville, the characters appear aimless and average, carrying so much guilt and anxiety they can barely turn the lights on in their homes after sundown. This is pre-Jaws and Star Wars America in a daze, with their preconceived notions of truth and freedom nullified by that most disquieting and enduring of late 1960s motifs—the nameless, pointless specter of the serial killer.
What question was Fincher consistently asked, or what career event was he constantly asked about? Did he always answer similarly?
Fincher has to contend with two recurring inquiries: 1) the legacy of Alien 3; 2) his reputation for being a perfectionist and a control freak. Both irritate Fincher, especially in the 1990s, when he was still carrying vivid memories from the embattled Alien 3 shoot. Neither of these topics seems particularly relevant to Fincher’s work in the 21st century. He was 27 and a first-time feature filmmaker when he got “chest-busted” by the Alien franchise. Why is that relevant now? As for his notoriety for reshoots and multiple takes, that is a product of his craftsmanship, which is unassailable. Besides, Fincher is not nearly as obsessive or fussy as Stanley Kubrick. Fincher does lament the difficulty of translating a storyboard or visual concept into actual image-making, but that is a qualm shared by all filmmakers who live and love their work.

FINCHER AND MICHAEL DOUGLAS ON THE SET OF ‘THE GAME’: “THE ARTIFICE AND CHICANERY OF NARRATIVE FICTION FILMMAKING”
What is the advantage of the interview format in terms of learning about an artist, or anyone, really? In other words, what do interviews offer that a bio might not? What do they offer that a critical analysis of the work does not?
Interviews are essential to understanding anyone who exists in the public eye or creates work for mass consumption. First, interviews allow the artist to construct a persona that can be crafted into an image and a storyline that can be a source of inspiration and/or enlightenment for the public. Second, interviews allow the interviewer to portray the artist as a manifestation of his or her time and culture—the subject can be interpreted as a visionary, a victim, a willing catalyst, or an unwilling accomplice. What is at issue here is how much control the interviewee has over the process. Is the artist comfortable with questions that demand more than a canned or rehearsed response? Is the artist willing to engage in a dialogue with the interlocutor, or is he or she only interested in preserving and protecting his or her image? This give-and-take is what defines a worthwhile interview, and David Fincher is always forthcoming and candid enough to share his ideas, doubts, fears, regrets, and opinions.
From where did you pull your interviews?
I pull my interviews from wherever I can find them—film journals, newspapers, book transcripts, whatever would be of lasting use to scholars, journalists, or film enthusiasts. I do try to salvage out-of-print material that is not reproduced on the Web; however, even if an interview is cribbed on the Web, there is no guarantee it will stay on the Web, which is why a published collection of interviews has enduring value.
Having edited three in this series, what do you think makes a good interview, and why?
A good interview allows a filmmaker to articulate his or her creative impulses, aesthetic strategies, and cultural assumptions. Artists work instinctually. A good interviewer knows how to frame or finesse a question to allow the respondent to think aloud and put his or her work in perspective. Another feature of a good interview is an exchange that allows the respondent to cue the film experience for the spectator—to encourage the viewer to “read” the film the way the filmmaker intended. All the pieces in David Fincher: Interviews follow these criteria. However, if I had to pick the highlights, they would be Gavin Smith’s Film Comment piece “Inside Out,” which allows Fincher to play with the ambivalence of being an establishment filmmaker who shoots commercials for Apple but also blows up a window display of Macs in Fight Club, and the Fincher Fanatic piece “You Better Be F-cking Serious: David Fincher on Directing,” which allows Fincher to wrestle with his own mixed feelings on being a high-profile auteur who detests becoming a brand name.
Did you use any Web sources? What do you think of Web sources compared to print or other media?
I did use Web sources, especially from the 2000s, which is now more or less de rigueur. In Fincher’s case the Fincher Fanatic website is such a phenomenal source of information and participatory fan culture that I felt obligated to include an original interview from the site—the aforementioned “You Better Be F-cking Serious”—which is, in my humble opinion, the best Fincher interview ever posted or printed. The Web has not really changed or debased the art of the interview, except for the vexing convention of scoring a 5-minute mini-interview at a press junket and hyping it as an exclusive interview. The Emanuel Levy interview I used, “Social Network: Interview with Director David Fincher,” from the critic/scholar’s blog Cinema 24/7 rivals any of the polished Fincher profiles Nev Pierce has written for Empire.
Is there a recent director who would be worthy addition to the Filmmakers in Conversations series?
Not at this strange cultural moment. The Millennials (aka Generation Y or iGen) have failed to produce a major filmmaker worthy of a volume. For now, many of the Generation X filmmakers, who are currently in their 40s or late 30s, remain woefully neglected. That is why my next project is Kevin Smith: Interviews. What is peculiar about Smith is that he is more fascinating as a cult figure and a celebrity auteur/lecturer than as an actual filmmaker, although I am fond of Dogma and of Red State, which alienated many of his fans. I think this is a sign of the times: A craftsman like Fincher, who had the good fortune of building his career and developing his aesthetic during the music video boom of the mid to late 1980s, would be at a loss [if he had to start his career] in the contemporary world of Yahoo channels and Kickstarter campaigns. We may be looking at a lost generation of film auteurs now that the only growth industry is serialized cable television or Netflix, which Fincher himself acknowledges with his series House of Cards.