Helen and I have had a hell of a time watching movies lately. Between work and raising a very active 17-month-old baby, it’s hard to watch anything more than a few sitcoms before passing out on the couch. We rallied last night to watch a full-length feature for the first time in months and watched the international hit, The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. What better way to celebrating scaling back on our Netflix subscription than by streaming a movie, right?
You’ll have to forgive me for not reading the books, but when my Danish host mom recommended them to Helen and me back when we visited them in ’09, I had a hunch they’d be here soon. It’s a gruesome story poorly told; Helen, who has read the book, explained that they really took liberties with it and I can’t rightly say it was for the best, but where it doesn’t succeed as an adaptation, it works as a thriller.
Lisbeth Salander reads like a more emotionally tormented Jason Bourne, with even less insight into her troubled past. She’s a fascinating character who’s absolutely captivating onscreen. The main problem with the movie is that the story can’t seem to get out of its own way at times. The hamfisted director hammers home in every possible frame just how atrocious and psychotic these crimes are, as if the audience hadn’t ascertained that already. Hopefully that improves in future installments.
My biggest worry about The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo? That people will overstate the influence of the Swedish Nazi Party. The Swedes have their faults, but being Nazi sympathizers isn’t one of them.