Review: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2004, 2009, 2011)

The first time I came in contact with Stieg Larson's now infamous Millenium Trilogy, I was at a rooftop dinner party for a friend when everyone at the table started talking about the books and the tragic tale of his premature death. That was back in 2008, before the Swedish film became available in the U.S. Since then, the trilogy has exploded into the global consciousness, selling in excess of 20 million copies and spawning two separate film versions of the series (with the Swedish triumvirate complete and the American trilogy 1/3rd of the way through). Last week I was home and couldn't sleep and came across it in my Netflix queue, though I don't even remember adding it. In any case, I turned it on as I was falling asleep and two and a half hours latter was transfixed. I remembered that I had been cajoled into buying the novel itself a couple of months back by another friend and found it sitting on my shelf. Out of pure curiosity I decided to read it, and in less than 25 hours had done just that. The first book is no masterpiece. At least in its translation, the writing is average, the narrative wraps up a little too nicely and the conversations at times pedantic and too heavily weighed toward his rather cynical view of corporations, media (particularly financial reporters), men and humanity in general. And yet he has created two of the more interesting characters you will ever meet in a genre that often paints characters as thin as Calista Flockhard's profile (or an ace of clubs if you don't know the actress).

In any case, the book is extraordinary in parts and flows from one page to the next with a flair for detail and narrative structure that draws you in and keeps you hooked. As I said, the first novel The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (Men Who Hate Women in Swedish), does wrap up a little too nicely for my tastes and the odd way in which it both decry's the greed and corruption of big business and celebrates wealth and success, makes the book feel oddly hypocritical. And as I've said, it does offer a rather dismal view of humanity, except in the reason I think the series has captured this cultural moment so well -- the enigmatic Lisabeth Salander. Lisabeth is a girl who has been in and out of trouble, mental institutions and is a sort of goth meets punk meets S&M mix, neither beautiful nor ugly. In fact, as you learn more and more of her story, you can't help but become transfixed by her ability to overcome her tragic past and seek friendship and love with the delicacy of a flower welcoming a bee while fearing its sharp sting upon its stamen. She is essentially a contemporary feminist hero, looking for belief in a world where hatred and corruption lurk around every corner. But she strikes back at this world, hiding behind people's preconceptions of her and her deeper brilliance and toughness, housed in a 4'11", 90 pound frame. Mikael Blomvist is the other major character, clearly inspired by Larsson himself. He is a muckracking reporter who is charged with the crime of libel at the beginning of the novel, then gets involved in an attempt to solve a 40-year old murder. I'm sure most know the story from here, so I won't bore you with the details, but it is a wonderful mystery that unfolds at just the right pace before the startling denoument and a long wrap-up to follow.

Given the popularity of the series, it is no surprise that the trilogy would be made into film. And Sweden beat Hollywood to the punch, releasing all three in quick succession. The first is a brilliant 2 1/2 hour rendering of the novel, with only minor changes. Those changes work in my estimation and with the brilliant performances of Michael Nyvquist (who I remember from his equally striking portrayal of a drunk, abusive husband in Together several years ago) and Noomi Rapace, as the inimitable Lisabeth, one becomes almost immediately empathetic to their individual and collective causes. The supporting cast is equally strong and the trilogy unfolds under the adept tutelage of director Niels Arden Oplev. The second film, Girl Who Played with Fire, is slightly less impressive than the first but is certainly enthralling and the final film Girl Who Kicked the Hornet's Nest is a lovely finishing touch to three great, exciting and action-packed character study cum murder mysteries/crime dramas. The question then  becomes why remake them?

Hollywood has, it appears, largely run out of ideas and is in the process of almost constant recycling and appropriation. So why not take a $10,000,000 Swedish film based on a smash hit and make it into a $100 million dollar blockbuster with one of the hottest directors around, David Fincher of Social Network fame? Well, having watched both films within a week, I'm not sure what the answer is except it will turn a profit and many Americans refuse to read anything -- including the annoying subtitles on the bottom of any foreign film. Don't get me wrong, Fincher's film is still very good. With the additional money, his version is clearly more aesthetically interesting and the action scenes more "turbo charged," as studio's and critics like to repeat ad nauseum as if it means anything any more. In any case, Nyqvist and Rapace are replaced here by Daniel Craig and Rooney Mara. Both offer excellent performances that provide their own takes on the two leading characters. Yet I can't help but think that $90 million less gave a little more. While Fincher's film comes in at about the same length, it seems to rush through much of the narrative and change around the plot line without sufficient reason or explanation. I don't want to write a boring review that argues that the movie should have stayed faithful to the script, because it is often the case that movies require variations to fully embrace the differences of visual grammar from linguistics. But many of the changes here seem completely unnecessary and mildly annoying. Many opportunities to build suspense seem to be elided, the build up of the murder mystery too neat and tidy and we are thus instead stuck with the Hollywood conventions of film angle, point of view and crescendoing music to make the point that something exciting is about to happen. I thought a that a few more scenes between Mikael and Henrik Vanger for instance would have provided the build-up and narrative shaping that would have invited the audience in more. I also think Craig has slightly missed the gist of his character, who is more vulnerable and unaffectedly congenial that he appears here, and thus offers a less nuanced version of an oddly likable womanizer and bad father (in the novel). Mara is also excellent, but again seems to lack some of the facial complexity that Rapace brought to the part, even as she sometimes seems more human and less mechanical. One strength of the new film over the old is a more extensive explanation of the ending, with the final scene following the novel much more closely. This final scene, without giving away too much to those who have not experienced any version, seems so critical to our understanding of Lisabeth and I thus wish it had been in the original -- as it would help explain the second film's opening sequences better.

In any case, unlike Dan Brown's tripe, the Twilight books/films, Lord of the Rings trio or even the slightly more palatable Harry Potter oeuvre (I should mention I've read none of them except the Tolkien novels when I was a kid), the Millenium trilogy has largely lived up to the hype, at least in my estimation. To reiterate, it's not the quality of the writing or even the narrative structure, but the compelling cast of characters, the social critique, the feminist themes, the unfolding mysteries and the dark, but saturated perspective on humanity that makes the books and films come alive. They are often silly and sometimes pedantic, but somehow work. Swedish Version: A-     Fincher Version: B+

Great Book: The Manual of Detection

There have been some impressive debut novels in recent years, including Gary Schtyngart's The Russian Debutante's Handbook and Jonathon Saffron Froer's Everything is Illuminated. And I just picked up another worthy of the praise it has received -- The Manual of Detection by Jedediah Berry. I have always been a fan of mystery -- going through everything Agatha Christie and Rex Stout wrote by the end of high school, moving on to Patricia Highsmith, Dashielle Hammett and Ray Chandler among countless others and seeing anything and everything that even skates on the edge of noir. Here Berry revives the old crime drama, but with a postmodern flair that is truly inspired. The plot circles around and comes together wonderfully, the writing is crisp and clear and the outlandish plot begs some broader questions about a society under constant surveillance. There are plenty of unexpected plot twists, fascinatingly odd characters and riveting action, intermingled with a flair for description and some very funny moments. The main character is a clerk at a large detective agency who suddenly finds himself at the center of a plot involving the disappearance of a famous detective he has written reports for for 20 years. As the plot unfolds, we are drawn deeper into a bizarre world where mystical figures have mastered a way to insinuate themselves into your dreams and a cast of carnival characters and agency detectives fight a battle over the heart of the city and its denizens. If you want a great read that will keep your nose in the book, grab a copy of this book and enjoy!

Funniest Books in the English Language

This blog is primarily a space where I offer cultural critique, but today I thought I would offer a short list of the funniest books I have ever read in the English language. These would probably be on most lists, but I know a lot of people that have never read one or more of them – so here they are . . .

1) Confederacy of Dunces (John Kennedy Toole): this brilliant book, post-humous winner of the Pulitzer, follows the travails of chubby, ne’er do well Ignatius T. Reilly and a wonderfully eccentric collection of characters in New Orleans. A movie adaptation has been in the works for years, but seems eternally cursed.
2) Lucky Jim (Kingsley Amis): one of the best books ever written on the absurdly esoteric and petty world of academia and another ne’er do well falling in love with the wrong women.
3) Catch-22 (Joseph Heller): an absurdist tale of World War II that deals with some very profound questions underneath; and through the travails of Captain Yossarian added Catch-22 to the American lexicon. The Nichols film doesn’t quiet capture the magic of the novel, but is still worth a view. This was Heller’s one great novel.
4) Vile Bodies (Evelyn Waugh): a brilliant satire of the senseless decadence of the British upper class in the period between World War I and II. Gore Vidal and William F. Buckley both considered Waugh one of the greatest satirists of his epoch. A film adaptation, Bright Young Things (2003), does a decent job of capturing the epic humor of the book.
5) The Russian Debutate’s Handbook (Gary Shtenygart): a wonderfully inventive tale of assimilation in America and Prague in the early 90s, this book (like his second Absurdistan) is brilliantly rendered with rich characters and

A few others that I think fit the bill include Vonnegut, The Cat’s Cradle, Jonathon Safran Froer Everything is Illuminated (movie sucked), Douglas Adams A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Richard Russo Empire Falls (with very serious undertones), David Sedaris Me Talk Pretty Some Day, Bernard Malamud’s The Natural (very funny, unlike the movie) and Nick Hornby’s About a Boy.

Adaptations and their Discontents

Whenever a popular book is turned into a movie, fans tend to debate the choices made, the actors who will play their favorite characters, what’s missing and just as often complain about all of those choices. Whenever a new Harry Potter movie comes out, another comic book is adapted to TV or a popular book like Da Vinci Code or anything by Tom Clancy, John Grisham or the late Ian Fleming is released an outpouring of opinions and critiques emerges on the Internet like a hermeneutic deconstruction that rivals Derrida, the multiple readings of The Canterbury Tales, or even the Bible. It was in this vein that I did the opposite, reading a book, Pay it Forward, a student of mine reviewed after having already seen the rather mediocre film a few years earlier. The student had made some rather innocuous comments about the differences that I found anything but innocuous. So I forged onward to take on the project from the opposite end. The book, like the movie, is in many ways average except in its message – which is uplifting without being completely saccharine or bathed in bathos. But three changes are made which appear to have clear political undertones. The first is that the teacher, Reuben (Kevin Spacey), moves from Black to White. Second, the original book has the teacher’s injuries occur in Vietnam, not from an abusive father. And finally, the lead character, Trevor (played by Haley Joel Osment), dies saving a gay boy who dresses as a women, not a little kid being bullied by local gang bangers.

In all three cases, there is a softening of most of the edge the original book did have. The story, for those who didn’t see it or read it, revolves around a boy who comes up for a project to change the world. Essentially, he will start by helping three people and rather than asking to be paid back, he asks that they “pay it forward” to three more. The idea is that the “payment” is something huge, not just a little favor and that it not be compensated at all. Trevor sets out to find three people to help and in the process starts a worldwide movement that dramatically changes the world. But the film alters the narrative in ways that undermine part of its ecumenical message. The first and most important change, in my mind, is getting rid of the Black teacher and replacing him with Spacey. This decision allows the moviemakers to avoid the contentiousness of a pretty white women actually dating, having sex with and marrying a Black man (in this case a Black man with injuries much worse than those portrayed in the film). Eschewing one of the biggest unspoken taboos in American society and eschews the potential to challenge that verboten mix and its radical potential in confronting racism.

The second change, taking out the literal and figurative scars of war is interesting, as Hollywood certainly is not afraid to take on this topic – but its absence here individualizes the narrative in a particular sense and arguably unravels its more radical statement on social interaction. Finally, is the less than surprising choice to eliminate the hot button topic of homosexuality. These three choices collectively challenge some of the more radical messages of the book, making the story in line with the Jesus savior narrative so common in American films and moving from a communal sense of social improvement to individual mettle and the ability to face the past and turn one’s life around. The film is not unredeemable, but could have done much more to offer a Utopian, counterhegemonic message – instead becoming a feel good film about individuals overcoming their past and building a new future inspired by a naïve but inspirational child with more wisdom than the adults who surround him (a increasingly common theme on TV and movies). To not end on a negative note, it is an admirable idea and one that could do a lot to change the world we live in today, so pay a favor forward some time and see how it feels . . . (B+ for the positive message (B- as a film))