Vikander is great, but little else is.
I'd rather have been watching one of the Jolie flicks, to be honest.
Frankenheimer handles chaotic action with breathtaking energy and clarity; the car chases in this film are a master-class in action cinema. While Frankenheimer allows himself a few marvelous flourishes (the very best being a quick edit from blood splashed on a car window to an ice skater's red sweater), his direction is mostly understated here, but never less than precise.
Twenty-four hours later, I'm still not at all sure what to make of Gone Girl, a messy, wild, nasty film that seems like the collision of four or five different films. For some, that might be a feature, not a bug (maybe I'll share that point of view with time).
For now, the best I can say for Gone Girl is that its final act, which drops any semblance of verisimilitude in exchange for outrageous black comedy, is legitimately hilarious.