A dour waxworks, Mank, displays the limitations of David Fincher. Like ...Benjamin Button and Zodiac, Mank has impressive production values to denote the period, but no particular period feel. Attempts at witty banter seem leaden whether placed in the Paramount writers' room or San Simeon. The acting is all over the map ranging from the deplorable ( Lily Collins, Sam Troughton, Jamie McShane) to top notch (Amanda Seyfried, Charles Dance, Ferdinand Kingsley), but when Gary Oldman gives an unmemorable performance you know something is wrong. Fincher is a talented technician whose personality makes him best suited to contemporary pictures with dollops of violence and psychopathology. Despite being an obvious labor of love, Mank is outside his ken.
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