I’ve missed theaters this year. I saw Christopher Nolan’s Tenet earlier, but I’ve grown accustomed to a steady diet of Sour Patch, comfortable seats, and creative expression. Habits though, like ideas, have consequences. Many of my trips to the cinema over the years have been tiny investments in an economic and cultural system empowering a small slice of American industry, centered for decades in Southern California. David Fincher’s Mank, available on Netflix since Friday, is an enjoyable, critical, and artistic look at the people behind that industry, and the consequences of their magic.

To peek behind the curtain of Hollywood entertainment, the film leads us to look through the eyes of Gary Oldman’s Herman Mankiewicz, a man with the insight accompanying wit and the difficulties accompanying excessive drinking. Mank is an insider in the Golden Age Hollywood studio system, but an outsider at heart. Always rewarded with a seat at the head table, he can’t help saying something or making a bet that sets his host’s teeth on edge. Even better, our protagonist has a heart. He regrets his own insistence on always being the smartest person in the room and regrets that his wife – “Poor Sara” – has to put up with his troublesome ways. Mank also takes action to rescue the downtrodden, whether a depressed producer friend or the Jews suffering in Hitler’s Germany.

We’ve seen this version of Oldman before – an impressive wordsmith with inspiring values and a drinking problem – in 2017’s Darkest Hour. He performs admirably in Mank as well. But where’s the conflict? Well, Mank is under pressure from wunderkind Orson Welles to write a script for Citizen Kane. The Welles contract only begins the struggling screenwriter’s troubles though. The 1934 race to be California’s next governor is on, and skilled writer Upton Sinclair is the underdog fighting against incumbent Frank Merriam, the establishment figure. At least, that’s how Mank sees it. His superiors in Hollywood have a different view, proclaiming Sinclair a socialist crank challenging the Republican Merriam, the last hope of the American way of life.  

Mank then tells a story of an imperfect man caught up in a swirling vortex of emotions and stresses. He’s not that interested in making do day-by-day though. In Los Angeles high society, enough food and alcohol seem to always be at his fingertips. Mank is trying to understand it all instead. If you asked Gary Oldman’s Herman Mankiewicz what’s wrong with Hollywood, he might think something like “There’s a unified system of powerful, unscrupulous people who use their influence to insist on a deceptive conformity, with consequences for the personal lives of the entertainment elite and the civic health of California.” He would use much more flowery prose when he spoke his criticism, with a few Latin phrases and medieval allusions, but that’s his basic complaint. As a creative individual, Mank is marooned in a dry world of corporate conformity.

As a 21^st-century conservative, it’s difficult not to read that sentiment in Mank as a critique of present political correctness. The cantankerous screenwriter is constantly coming up against a system of expectations – the words he’s supposed to say at dinner, the money he’s supposed to give to Merriam’s campaign, the respect he’s supposed to pay to Hollywood elite despite their misdeeds, etc. Mank resists, and he pays the price. His career and relationships suffer.  However, in 1930’s California, it’s the socialist Sinclair and the liberal Mank who come under pressure from conservative media giants. The film looks beyond present commentary then, and points to problems bigger than individuals, campaigns, or movements.

Director David Fincher’s detailed touch takes the story of a troubled screenwriter to a level of art that resonates in little things. The film is black and white, a further link to the movies of Hollywood’s Golden Age. Lighting plays an important role in setting mood and tone, carrying meaning in a way that few films manage through the use of color. Like Citizen Kane, shadows and smoke provide a hazy atmosphere that fits with the shifting and questionable positions of the characters. Another parallel involves the use of changing perspectives and flashbacks, but a brief typewriter-style snippet of text foregrounds scenes so the viewer can fit the pieces together.

Beyond Fincher’s skill and Oldman’s mischievous charm, the remainder of the cast puts in solid performances across the board. Charles Dance’s William Randolph Hearst has the subtlety of restrained, aging grandeur. Arliss Howard and Tom Burke shine as Louis B. Mayer and Orson Welles respectively, powerful men with a firm grasp of what they want from Mank and how the screenwriter should conduct himself. Like Tom Pelphrey’s Joe Mankiewicz, Herman’s wife cares for him and tries to point him away from the losing battles the screenwriter insists on fighting. Sara, played with energy by Tuppence Middleton, helps the audience see that Mank is a deeply flawed man, even as we come to side with him in his defeats.

Mank is a movie that pushes the viewer to keep thinking. Golden Age Hollywood is peopled with complicated characters. They suggest the importance of doing what is right beyond the selfish desires of individuals as well as the obstacles raised by indulgent habits against good intentions. Believers familiar with Philippians 2:3-4, 2 Timothy 2:1-4, and the broader counsel of Scripture shouldn’t be shocked by the film’s insights. It never hurts to see them presented creatively though. In the hurry of our own lives we can lose track of the compromises and opportunities piling up over years of seeking the Lord and living in the world.

All in all, Netflix’s most recent offering is worth watching. Oldman’s wordy banter, an understated soundtrack, and Fincher’s guiding hand are a winning combination. The film should yield something to think about that’s spiritual and social, personal as well as political. We don’t live in 1930’s Hollywood, but we still face the challenge of saying the right thing, making the right choice, and doing right by those around us. Unlike Mank, who struggles alone onscreen with the people and institutions around him, we can take heart in our Lord who has overcome the world.