Mank is my new favorite David Fincher film, edging past Gone Girl and Zodiac. He hasn’t simply made a movie about the writing of cinema’s greatest work… he’s picked the bones of Kane’s myths and played with the flesh. The recreation of Gregg Toland’s visual style is impressive, but the meticulous care put into the sound is even moreso; Fincher has taken the wonky audio levels, intrusive score, and other artifacts of 1941’s technical limitations and aestheticized them. Meanwhile, in front of the camera, Gary Oldman isn’t doing anything new, either, but his execution is perfect.

Do yourself a favor, though: don’t watch it until you’ve watched Citizen Kane. Mank works as a story even when stripped of its context, but much of Fincher’s passion and effort will go unnoticed without it. And honestly, it wouldn’t hurt to spend a few minutes with Google, brushing up on your early 20th century media moguls, particularly Louis B. Mayer and William Randolph Hearst. (If nothing else, you might find it strangely heartening to see that American politics have always been corrupt and disturbing and manipulative in practice.)