The Internet’s undulating curve pulled a whopper this time. First, Fincher was making an obscure F. Scott Fitzgerald short story into a full-length with trusty leading man Pitt and Blanchett, who could act her way to the front of a DMV line. Then we were excited. Then Golden Globe noms were announced (meaningless). Then they started smelling Forrest Gump and we started to bail. Then we got nervous. Then we saw it. And then it was better than expected (at that point) but worse than originally hoped for.

These are confusing times for film lovers trying to a.) stay ahead of the curve and b.) enjoy films on their own merit. See it for the art direction and cinematography, which is indescribably beautiful, and Blanchett’s hair, which may be made out of a unicorn’s mane. Avoid, if possible, a.) the dreadful Alexandre Desplat score b.) Fincher’s attempts to swell. He doesn’t swell well, he destroys.