Nobody Move, This Is A Review: The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (18s)
David Fincher has directed some very good crime films during his distinguished career, including Se7en (1995) and Zodiac (2007), but it’s unlikely The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (18s) will feature on a show-reel of his finest moments when the Academy finally gets around to presenting him with a lifetime achievement award. A remake of the Swedish film of the same name from 2009, and remarkably faithful to both it and the Stieg Larsson novel that serves as its source material, the story finds disgraced journalist Mikael Blomqvist (Daniel Craig) commissioned by a wealthy industrialist, Henrik Vanger (Christopher Plummer), to investigate the disappearance of the man’s niece some forty years previously. Blomqvist is aided in his search by Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara), an unorthodox investigator who specialises in computer hacking. The fatal flaw in the film, however, is that while Salander is by some distance the most original element of the tale, the story doesn’t actually require her presence in order for Blomqvist to solve the mystery. Meanwhile, her originality should not be confused with plausibility: shockingly rebellious, and with good reason, Salander’s memorable physical appearance is the antithesis of the successful investigator’s ability to blend in to the point of invisibility. Moreover, a crucial plot twist, in which she meekly submits to a sexual predator and so sets in train most of the secondary plot, is entirely out of character. That said, Mara is bracingly forthright as the unlovable Salander, and Craig puts in a solid if largely unmemorable performance. Fincher crafts a handsome-looking film which offers a beautifully bleak Sweden, and presents us with a formidable cast (Robin Wright, Stellan Skarsgaard, Steven Berkoff and Joely Richardson all have meaty roles), but ultimately the story, which is essentially a creaking old Agatha Christie-style ‘locked-room’ mystery, defeats even this most inventive and idiosyncratic of auteur directors. - Declan Burke

  This review first appeared in the Irish Examiner.

The Name’s Blond, Blond Satan

Wandered along to the new James Bond movie on Friday night, anticipating a very good time on the basis that the reviews were saying Bond had gone psycho while trying to avenge the murder of Vesper in Casino Royale (actually, that bit I didn’t really get, because if memory serves Vesper ratted out Bond near the end of Casino Royale – so why should he give a rat’s fundament? Or wasn’t I paying attention?). Anyway, if you liked Daniel Craig’s first outing as Bond, you’ll probably like this one too. It’s a tad darker in tone, although it’s nowhere as bleakly nihilistic as some folk were reporting, and Craig is probably the most effective Bond yet, Connery included. There’s a beautiful little moment early on in the flick, where, having dispensed with yet another bad guy, Bond pauses to take the guy’s pulse and ensure he’s dead before moving on to search his room. You can believe that quality of sadistic professionalism of Craig’s Bond, his impassive features and ice-blue eyes perfect for the part of Fleming’s (barely) human weapon – watching Craig in the early part of the movie, actually, I was reminded of Hammett’s description of Sam Spade as ‘a blond Satan’. Unfortunately, that little interlude is about the only original or fresh idea in the entire movie. It’s all put together with some style, and the various chase scenes are quite polished – although the editing in the early sections appear to have been done by a team of monkeys deprived of their Ritalin – but the overall sense of the thing is that they’re still chasing the Bourne market with a more downbeat, ruthless Bond, while still hung up on the idea of Bond being a noble character who only wants what’s best for queen and country. It’s all jolly good fun, mind, and it’s a hell of a lot better than most Bond flicks – but you just wish, with Craig in the role, they were prepared to let 007 off the leash, just for once.