Newsletter: The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo.
The original title of the Stieg Larsson’s Millennium Trilogy was Men Who Hated Women. Granted, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is catchy title and more imaginative than the original title, but the original is to the point and accurate. It is particularly true in the first novel in the series. Mikael Blomkvist, a crusading investigative journalist, a man with considerable appeal to the opposite sex, and Lizbeth Salander, a leather-clad world-classed hacker and rabid individualist who has been the victim of male outrage more than a few times in her young life, combined forces to track down a serial killer that is a member of a prominent wealthy but twisted Swedish family. This member has a pattern of kidnapping young girls, prostitutes, immigrants, runaways, and brutally torturing them before he kills them, almost like a sport, a pastime, with utter disregard for them as human beings. There’s also incest in the family and a liking for Hitler and Nazism. Larsson juxtaposes this corrupt and decadent family against the virtuous two investigators who are on the side of the angels, even if in an eccentric way. After the three movies were made for Swedish television, and were a great success, here as well as in Europe, the American director who specializes in dark, psychological dramas, David Fincher, decided to take on Dragon Tattoo, which was a year in the making and was released just before Christmas in 2011.
First let me state I have read all three novels, the first one twice, and I have seen all three Swedish movies twice. In other words, I have pretty well soaked up the narrative and the characters, and I can’t tell you how much admiration I have for Lizbeth Salander. For me she has become the paradigm for the kick-ass female, replacing the likes of Wonder Woman, mixing a fiery sense of revenge against males who have abused her, with a photographic memory, and a brilliance on the computer—an up-to-date heroine cast by talent and technology to take on the patriarchy in its many forms while remaining an ultra-independent person.
I came to Fincher’s film with an open mind. It is, cinematically, more satisfying than the TV movies. It was shot with more authority and a better eye for detail and composition, and with a dark atmosphere that approaches that of a horror film, which was fitting considering the last part of the film. There were some echoes of Seven when dealing with the photographs of the dead girls.
I thought Daniel Craig and newcomer Rooney Mara had good chemistry. Rooney has a more womanly body then Noomi Repace, the actress who plays Lizbeth in the Swedish movies; she is not so slight of frame, nor so flat chested, which struck me as a plus. The look they gave Mara is rather ghoulish: pale grey skin, as if it was against her religion to be exposed to sunlight. Mara has since been nominated for an Oscar for her performance, quite an achievement for someone who had never starred in major film. But despite all this hoopla Miss Rapace’s performance tends to pop up first when I think about the story on film. Perhaps it’s just the fact she was in all three movies and has therefore carved a deeper niche in my mind. In the final analysis I think both women did a fantastic job.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Friday, January 13, 2012
Lizbeth the Great
2012_1_03 Lisbeth the Great
On Dec. 31, a few hours before midnight I closed out my notebook on movies seen in 2011. For some reason it was way below my average for the last few years, which was 250 films. This year it was 216 films and/or episodes from cable serials. Almost all the cable material came from recorded programs by Mike Keenan. The first film I saw in 2011 was “I am a Born Liar,” a doc about Fellini. The last was another doc, “Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work.” Both were attained through Netflix.
On Jan. 1 I recorded these notes:
• J.C. Martin selected eight books of Southern Arizona authors for his section in the Sunday paper. I was not one of them. It instantly threw me into a fit of failure, a state of mind I thought I was beyond. Apparently not, which is exasperating. For one thing my disappointment could be premature.
• Fincher’s long-awaited version of “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo” made less money than expected over its first weekend of release--$28 mil. The most likely reason for that was the type of movie it is: not exactly Christmas fare. It was released now for one reason: to be a contender in the race for the Oscars.
• Mark Harris wrote a great piece in the latest EW on the film. It was perhaps the best feature article I have ever read in the rag. He reminded me that Stieg Larsson’s original title for the trilogy was Men Who Hated Women. It was
• Less colorful than what the publisher thought would work better but it had the advantage of being painfully accurate.
• Harris selected eight kick-ass females from previous films that contributed to the Identity of Lisbeth Salander. I recognized five of them.
• Rooney Mara has that unusual first name from a relative, none other than Art Rooney, a previous owner of the Pittsburgh Steelers.
From Jan. 2:
Kai and I went to see the 10 AM showing of “Dragon Tattoo” at Foothills mall. I had read that the opening two minutes, while the credits run, was as abstract and powerful as the credits of “Seven.” It was a real blast of imagery combined with loud grunge music. It was quite a display but how it related remains problematic. It was a flashy capsulation of his blue-black style.
Lisbeth would certainly qualify as a Grunge/Goth character; she always dressed in black, down to her underwear, daring the world to criticize her, wallowing in her asocial weirdness. Rooney has a more womanly body than Noomi had, who was slight and flat chested. One could believe Michel would find her sexy under that Goth exterior. The picture of her in her ordinary persona revealed a sun-kissed bloom of a pretty girl. As Lisbeth it appears she did everything she could to avoid the sun. She came from an underground world, like Kate Beckinsale in her vampire role. Only her underworld is that of computer hackers. That pale, ghoulish look is designed to show her disdain for convention and social niceties, to put normal people off, to keep them at arm’s length. She wants to be seen as a demonic apparition. Yet, the Swedish girl’s image still dominates in my mind’s eye. In time both images will probably merge into one.
What really separates the two films is the cinematic and directorial artistry of David Fincher and a superb cast. It is a much darker film, more full of dread—even the winter scenes seem filmed in hell. If it wasn’t raining or snowing, it was nighttime. Fincher excels at that dark atmosphere.
Christopher Plummer was a real plus, especially in describing his reprobate family, which was actually worse than he thought. I’d like to see get a nomination for best Supporting actor.
On Dec. 31, a few hours before midnight I closed out my notebook on movies seen in 2011. For some reason it was way below my average for the last few years, which was 250 films. This year it was 216 films and/or episodes from cable serials. Almost all the cable material came from recorded programs by Mike Keenan. The first film I saw in 2011 was “I am a Born Liar,” a doc about Fellini. The last was another doc, “Joan Rivers: A Piece of Work.” Both were attained through Netflix.
On Jan. 1 I recorded these notes:
• J.C. Martin selected eight books of Southern Arizona authors for his section in the Sunday paper. I was not one of them. It instantly threw me into a fit of failure, a state of mind I thought I was beyond. Apparently not, which is exasperating. For one thing my disappointment could be premature.
• Fincher’s long-awaited version of “The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo” made less money than expected over its first weekend of release--$28 mil. The most likely reason for that was the type of movie it is: not exactly Christmas fare. It was released now for one reason: to be a contender in the race for the Oscars.
• Mark Harris wrote a great piece in the latest EW on the film. It was perhaps the best feature article I have ever read in the rag. He reminded me that Stieg Larsson’s original title for the trilogy was Men Who Hated Women. It was
• Less colorful than what the publisher thought would work better but it had the advantage of being painfully accurate.
• Harris selected eight kick-ass females from previous films that contributed to the Identity of Lisbeth Salander. I recognized five of them.
• Rooney Mara has that unusual first name from a relative, none other than Art Rooney, a previous owner of the Pittsburgh Steelers.
From Jan. 2:
Kai and I went to see the 10 AM showing of “Dragon Tattoo” at Foothills mall. I had read that the opening two minutes, while the credits run, was as abstract and powerful as the credits of “Seven.” It was a real blast of imagery combined with loud grunge music. It was quite a display but how it related remains problematic. It was a flashy capsulation of his blue-black style.
Lisbeth would certainly qualify as a Grunge/Goth character; she always dressed in black, down to her underwear, daring the world to criticize her, wallowing in her asocial weirdness. Rooney has a more womanly body than Noomi had, who was slight and flat chested. One could believe Michel would find her sexy under that Goth exterior. The picture of her in her ordinary persona revealed a sun-kissed bloom of a pretty girl. As Lisbeth it appears she did everything she could to avoid the sun. She came from an underground world, like Kate Beckinsale in her vampire role. Only her underworld is that of computer hackers. That pale, ghoulish look is designed to show her disdain for convention and social niceties, to put normal people off, to keep them at arm’s length. She wants to be seen as a demonic apparition. Yet, the Swedish girl’s image still dominates in my mind’s eye. In time both images will probably merge into one.
What really separates the two films is the cinematic and directorial artistry of David Fincher and a superb cast. It is a much darker film, more full of dread—even the winter scenes seem filmed in hell. If it wasn’t raining or snowing, it was nighttime. Fincher excels at that dark atmosphere.
Christopher Plummer was a real plus, especially in describing his reprobate family, which was actually worse than he thought. I’d like to see get a nomination for best Supporting actor.
A Confessional Bent
2012_1_11 A Confessional bent
Listen, I really appreciate your letter and I only wish some of my other old friends and associates would have read the book with emotion and with the thoughtfulness you gave to it. You didn’t pull any punches (“a very warped mind’) and had your reservations about my openness of mind, yet at the same time you were generous of spirit and affirmative in many of your comments about my intentions and talents.
Early in my academic career openness wasn’t a priority for me because I was an abstract painter; but for a number of different reasons I went through a profound transformation while teaching at UNLV that brought about a radical sea change to my life, necessitating a recalibration of philosophy and creative intentions. I dropped painting and began to draw in pen and ink, my favorite medium, and instead of abstractions I started turning out satirical drawings of political figures and other public personages. To my surprise I had a flair for such things. By the time I got to Tucson I was a believer in Heraclites’ credo: I SEARCH MYSELF. Or as James Joyce put it, “Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.” So from 1974 onward my ship has sailed in an inward direction.
One of the not-so-hidden traits of my openness of mind and heart was, to state the obvious, a confessional bent or inclination, derived no doubt from my experience as a catholic youngster in Wisconsin. I always like the feeling of dispensing with my sins and moral missteps, of shedding sins like shedding sickness, of becoming clean again, of getting another chance, and of the forgiveness of sins as the major virtue of Christianity. I always felt like a cork bobbing up out of dirty water.
Aye, from my mid thirties on experience weighed on me like sin used to and being an artist provided me with a vehicle for externalization of the assimilated material that had been “forged in the smithy of my soul.” I could wring myself out and afterwards make room for more experience that later would be ready to be poured out into an endless river of images and insights that ultimately took the shape of a circle. Eventually I developed a stable of motifs and symbols that became my visual signature. And at the center of this circle was a commitment to openness and I have long been willing to accept the risks involved with openness. I believe it was T.S, Eliot who said, Humankind cannot stand too much reality. That would be more in keeping with your stance toward your burden of experience.
Till another time,
Ciao,
Jerry P
Listen, I really appreciate your letter and I only wish some of my other old friends and associates would have read the book with emotion and with the thoughtfulness you gave to it. You didn’t pull any punches (“a very warped mind’) and had your reservations about my openness of mind, yet at the same time you were generous of spirit and affirmative in many of your comments about my intentions and talents.
Early in my academic career openness wasn’t a priority for me because I was an abstract painter; but for a number of different reasons I went through a profound transformation while teaching at UNLV that brought about a radical sea change to my life, necessitating a recalibration of philosophy and creative intentions. I dropped painting and began to draw in pen and ink, my favorite medium, and instead of abstractions I started turning out satirical drawings of political figures and other public personages. To my surprise I had a flair for such things. By the time I got to Tucson I was a believer in Heraclites’ credo: I SEARCH MYSELF. Or as James Joyce put it, “Welcome, O life! I go to encounter for the millionth time the reality of experience and to forge in the smithy of my soul the uncreated conscience of my race.” So from 1974 onward my ship has sailed in an inward direction.
One of the not-so-hidden traits of my openness of mind and heart was, to state the obvious, a confessional bent or inclination, derived no doubt from my experience as a catholic youngster in Wisconsin. I always like the feeling of dispensing with my sins and moral missteps, of shedding sins like shedding sickness, of becoming clean again, of getting another chance, and of the forgiveness of sins as the major virtue of Christianity. I always felt like a cork bobbing up out of dirty water.
Aye, from my mid thirties on experience weighed on me like sin used to and being an artist provided me with a vehicle for externalization of the assimilated material that had been “forged in the smithy of my soul.” I could wring myself out and afterwards make room for more experience that later would be ready to be poured out into an endless river of images and insights that ultimately took the shape of a circle. Eventually I developed a stable of motifs and symbols that became my visual signature. And at the center of this circle was a commitment to openness and I have long been willing to accept the risks involved with openness. I believe it was T.S, Eliot who said, Humankind cannot stand too much reality. That would be more in keeping with your stance toward your burden of experience.
Till another time,
Ciao,
Jerry P
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