The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

I have a penchant for remakes. I have always relished the evolution from page to screen, from one language or medium to another. Theme and variation, as it were. In this case the theme is Stieg Larsson’s world famous mystery novel, though perhaps it ought to be reclassified as a horror story. In its initial publication, Larsson’s piece was titled Men Who Hate Women – but in the dilution of translation for American and international audiences, the intricate and verbose novel became the sexily re-titled The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. In the first book alone, the trilogy combines the taboo with a parent’s worst nightmare. Larsson does not shy away from the potential atrocity of human behavior, nor does it minimize or marginalize the instances of it. On the contrary, I am more than a little surprised at the lack of criticism and condemnation for the violence and abuse depicted throughout the novel an the film – at least, I am surprised that the praise outweighs the chastisement. Incredible that our nation’s notorious conservativism (especially in campaign season) has bypassed the Larsson Millenium trilogy, at least one of which is now featured in many a school’s curriculum.

Let me set aside the grotesque actions within the plot and return to the film itself. I find myself struggling to avoid plagiarizing Roger Ebert even inadvertently, as we share so many of the same opinions. He is entirely correct to assess director David Fincher’s The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo as neither better nor worse than the 2009 Swedish version – merely different, as it should be. There was never any doubt that Fincher (Fight Club, The Social Network) was an excellent choice for the helm, and Trent Reznor’s contribution to the score definitely brought the edginess you’d expect from a Fincher film. I wonder though who made the decision to feature the chosen graphic behind the opening credits. An action-mystery-drama starring Daniel Craig might to better than to open with a driving rock anthem and vaguely erotic animation, if only to distance itself from the mixed-review Bond films of late.

In any case, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo belongs to Mikael Blomkvist and Lisbeth Salander. The American film version has Daniel Craig trying to dodge one icon while Rooney Mara struggles to live up to another. Craig does well to bring his fatherly insight to the role – even if he is James Bond fit, looking like he could easily take on any opponent (and win). Roger Ebert noted that it must be impossible to fully abandon the confidence of Bond once you’ve earned it; I imagine he is right. That said, I could not think of a better A-Lister for the role. What I missed in this version was Mikael’s reticence to take on the story of the missing Vanger girl, and any fear he may have had upon doing so. The stakes are high for Mikael, whose reputation and bank account have taken a major hit. It’s one thing to be a man with nothing left to lose, but Mikael has redemption on the line. Mara, as Lisbeth, faces a similar challenge. A portion of the series’ success is owed to the riveting and dynamic performance delivered by Noomi Rapace in the first big-screen adaptation. So popular was her depiction of the unlikely heroine, fans petitioned to have her reprise the role in English. Understandably she declined, having lived with the role for several years. Fincher eventually cast Mara, having worked with her on The Social Network. Mara brings a youthful awkwardness to the role that is touching - she’s a much more vulnerable Lisbeth than Rapace. She’s more fragile and less volatile, which drives many of the differences in other characters. This is a Lisbeth that could use a protector, though she goes without. Again, I find her performance neither better nor worse than Rapace’s - just different. Craig and Mara are an unlikely combination, and Blomkvist’s progression from father-figure to romantic interest is troubling, if thematically apt. I expect there will be many papers on the subject in film classes.

All the same, it is a fine film. The performances are effective, and as they develop they continue to complement each other. To a degree, I wish I had been able to watch the film without the baggage of familiarity; perhaps knowing ‘whodunnit’ prevented me from becoming as absorbed in these characters as I might have otherwise. (Maybe if I had been discovering the case with Blomkvist, I would not have been observing Bond trudging through the snow.) Fincher keeps the film moving at a steady pace, abbreviating most of Blomkvist’s complicated love life and balancing his screen time to Lisbeth’s. The fact that it works does not mean that it has been accomplished without sacrifice. There’s a lack of nuance, and while the shortcuts taken at the end may go unnoticed by newcomers, the simplification is anticlimactic - and a little questionable. Would it work? Really? I missed the resolution of the Swedish film, and the hard-won closure for the Vanger story alone. The denouement is a messy struggle to tie up the many strains of plot that Larsson has strewn about - something that was bothersome in both films and added to the tedium of the novel.

I’m glad to have seen both films, and I consider the opportunity to observe the differences between them a luxury. Remakes, reboots, retellings all have their purpose, and they probably go back to a tradition of oral history. If theatre is built upon cycles of the same plays (as it so often is), why shouldn’t the same story be told again on film? No, it’s not always a good idea (The Dinner Game and Dinner for Shmucks are not just in different languages but in different humors), but this Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is another viable production of the story, engaging and complex.