For a while, Gone Girl looks, feels, and sounds perfect.

Much of that success is owed to director David Fincher, as the film is unmistakable of his filmography. The shot-for-shot perfectionist-level of cinematography. Excellent tension, with credit to another excellent score from Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross. Trying to pull this kind of con off, you need a mastermind. It’s incredibly fitting that the mind that served up the Tyler Durden reveal in Fight Club, was responsible for trying to explain this one.

There’s so much going for the film to make audiences root for its success. The best acting of Ben Affleck’s career. Breakout roles for Kim Dickens (Det. Rhonda Boney) and Carrie Coon (Margo Dunne). Tyler Perry shatters Madea-born expectations. An excellent supporting cast rounded out by Patrick Fugit (The Almost Famous kid all grown up, as a cop), Casey Wilson (SNL & Happy Endings favorite as Amy’s friend Noelle), Missi Pyle (Nancy Grace stand-in Ellen Abbott), and a creepier-than-ever Neil Patrick Harris (Desi Collings). Tying it all together, a never ending tension, even after the reveal.

Unfortunately, in the film’s big reveal, the water-cooler-chat-twist, it all falls down. So, yes, in case you missed it the first time, THIS IS A SPOILER WARNING.

So, the twist. The pivotal moment in the film, which it’s built to, and possibly cannot unravel itself from.

Amy’s just driving away, alive, and reveals her whole charade to us, point by point. With the belief that she has the cunning of a Bond villain, but in fact she’s even less believable than Dr. Evil.

The pivot curdles unprepared audiences’ stomaches with the news that Amy Dunne is a false accuser of rape. Since the issue already hashed out when the book rose to best seller heights, it’s not exactly news that’s being hashed out in the media. For me, though, and anybody else who didn’t read the book, this was a WHAT THE F*&K? moment.

This is hard enough to stomach, without the subsequently weird bent Gone Girl is about to take. Alyssa Rosenberg argues that because Amy is so far fetched and preposterous, that this shouldn’t be taken as a part of the conversation on People Who Cry Rape. The issue isn’t settled for me, though.

It’s a lot to process and a lot to take in, the fact that yes, Amy is the villain. That we’ve been played like a fiddle by her diary’s narration, just as Amy intended to con the cops. All the while, we’re watching her stage everything, with the focused, driven type-A effort of past Fincher characters. She fits into the patterns set up by Jesse Eisenberg’s Mark Zuckerberg and Rooney Mara’s Lisbeth Salander.

Then I laughed. Somewhere between the draining of her own blood, and her cleaning the floor of it, I laughed. And I felt guilty for having done so.

When I chuckled at Missi Pyle’s appearance, or the shocking reemergence of Minkus from Boy Meets World, I didn’t feel bad. Those were little look who they cast! moments.

This was not being able to believe what I was seeing, because it felt so phony. So over-the-top. For all the heavy drama that’s happened, a lot of people will refuse for the film to go down a funny path.

As much as the audience may not be ready for it, there are two big twists when Amy is revealed to be alive. Not only did she stage the entire event, but the film is pivoting to Noir Comedy. The novel, I’m told, doesn’t take nearly the funny turn that the film does. Which if you ask me makes the movie a lot better than the novel.

There is no way to take the con that Amy’s put together seriously. Yet the tone of the movie doesn’t bend to slapstick comedy, it retains its Fincherness.

We’re conditioned to believe prestige films don’t go here. But realize, for all the seriousness, they cast Emily Ratajkowski, The Robin Thicke “Blurred Lines” video girl, as Andie, the other half of Nick’s affair.

That alone should have been a giant red flag. For a couple of years now, I’ve enjoyed going into films knowing as little as possible. Sometimes, it bites me in the rear.

Once everything’s been revealed, and Nick goes to New York to hire Tanner Bolt (Tyler Perry). And Bolt just laughs and laughs once the story is explained to him. Which is a cue to the audience: it’s OK to find this funny.

It’s a prestige film, with tons of tension and half a bucket of blood. No matter how many cues are set up, the latter half of the film is still hard to figure out in the moment. After we left the theater, a friend told me that after the twist, they lost all interest in the story.

And the movie continues down a rabbit hole of humor from the pivot on down. Amy’s life on the run, from being mistaken for being a local to getting robbed by two of them? As tense as it gets, this is supposed to be a funny comeuppance.

And Neil Patrick Harris’ bizarrely camp performance bludgeons the audience, demanding viewers not take it seriously. All the while, the tension continues to rise and fall. It’s a mixed message, and demands to be accepted on its own terms.