If you've seen David Fincher's "Gone Girl," adapted from the novel of the same title by Gillian Flynn, you probably recall a certain scene, though not centered directly around violence, blood or deception, as particularly arresting. I'm referring, of course, to the "Cool Girl" monologue, wherein the presumed-dead Amy Dunne coolly deconstructs how and why she framed her husband, Nick, for her supposed murder. Here it is again, for reference (Warning: it contains some pretty coarse language).

At first, after viewing this scene, I loved Amy. I thought she was kind of a badass character for asserting herself (albeit, rather dramatically) against her negligent, unfaithful husband. FEMINISM, am I right? (No.)

Following my second watch, I felt that there was something amiss, because while Amy seems to reject these "Cool Girl" pretenders acting in certain ways to appeal to men, Amy is simultaneously striving to do exactly this. At the beginning of Nick and Amy's relationship, Amy admits she played Cool Girl. She adapted her appearance, her interests and her general demeanor to fit her perception of Nick's ideal woman. But let's be clear, she didn't do these things so much out of love, but out of a desire to bring Nick "up to [her] level;" to create an ideal man and the perfect relationship.

But as time goes on, Nick becomes "oblivious," "lazy," "someone [Amy] did not agree to marry." Feeling unappreciated and no longer challenged by the relationship, Amy becomes less inclined to go along with her masquerade as Cool Girl. Amy's discovery of Nick's secret relationship with a student, Andie, is the tipping point. Now, for starters, it's inexcusable that Nick cheated on his wife, and too, it's completely rational that Amy would be disgusted and irate over this development. At the same time, in describing Andie as a "newer, younger, bouncier cool girl," Amy realizes that in dropping the act, she allowed a new Cool Girl to replace her.

In seeing the emergence of the ideal fake-Nick in the media coverage of her disappearance, Amy resolves to reinvent herself as Ultimate Cool Girl, the coolest Cool Girl, and a renewed challenge for her husband. Upon her return home, she proves this point. Her public persona receives sympathy, but privately, she manipulates Nick into compliance.

Observe Amy's judgmental contempt towards the women in surrounding vehicles on the highway; she imagines each of these women as a particular brand of Cool Girl. But from Amy's experience, the 'act' is simply not enough. Interestingly, no men are present during this highway scene. In dissociating herself from other women, even those who she perceives to be 'Cool Girls,' Amy's observations align with how she believes a man would view the world.

It is important to note that both Amy and Nick are unreliable narrators with questionable morals. The ultimate intentions and quite frankly the sanities of the characters is up for debate. The clear issue with Amy's "Cool Girl," as presented by Fincher's adaptation, however, is that without this persona, she's a hollow woman. Her survival is contingent upon Nick's approval, and that isn't badass in the least. She isn't asserting herself; she's recasting herself to win back her husband. If anything, that's cowardly.