Recently I watched Peter Weir’s 1993 movie “Fearless” again. I’ve always liked it hugely. I think now I like it more than ever.

For me it is thematically and stylistically closer to his earlier movies “Picnic at Hanging Rock” (1975) and “The Last Wave” (1977).

In the earlier movie, a group of teachers and young girls from a finishing school picnic at Hanging Rock on Valentine’s Day in 1900, and a young teacher and some the girls go missing. They are never found, and the movie becomes a meditation on unsolved mystery and its effects.

When I first watched “A Ghost Story” just over 2 years ago I found myself more bemused than amused. My experience was somewhere between fascination and boredom. (Odd how the one can fall into the other so quickly, especially if there is a hypnotic effect.) But (and I know no other way to say this) it continued to haunt me. I took that as a good sign. I knew I’d be watching it again.

And I did, last evening.

The title might lead you to think this a horror movie. It’s anything but. However, if you find meditations about the vastness of the Universe, or perhaps better Time and Space, and the insignificance of human life measured against that, perhaps for you this will be a horror movie.

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I do love David Fincher. What follows is more a love letter to him than a detailed critical analysis. That being said, I would not love him so much had his work not satisfied some critical creature lurking in my brain. That detailed analysis I will leave to someone with more time and knowledge than I have, and certainly there is a lot in Fincher’s work deserving such attention. Some of that I