The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo vs Hannibal

The only criticism I heard about The Social Network involved an implied sexism and marginalization of the female characters. I imagine director David Fincher got a kick out of this, knowing that his next movie, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, featured a badass, genius, female character, and that she was to be portrayed by the only actress who got any respect in The Social Network: Rooney Mara.

Mara is Lisbeth Salander, a role portrayed as recently as last year by Noomi Rapace in the original Swedish trilogy. Lisbeth, totally abused, exploited and abandoned by various authority figures in her life, retreats inward, making herself into a cyber superhero. Like Batman, she dresses for function and intimidation. She wears black, head-to-toe, a leather coat and boots, fingerless gloves, multiple piercings and tattoos. Her face is stark white, with no brows, and her hair (also jet black), cut to expose her face in all situations. Coming at you in the dark (and sometimes Lisbeth Salander comes at you in the dark), she must look like a ghostly face hovering at you, to dole out justice, or revenge, or a horny pickup. Whatever it is, Lisbeth gets hers. I think she’s an amazing character, one whose uniqueness is all the more impressive for being in a remake. We’ve seen Lisbeth Salander perfected already, and yet here she is, again, brand new. I’m not sure how many actresses Mara beat out to play Lisbeth. I’m guessing it rivaled the searches for Scarlett O’Hara and Catwoman. Mara was the right choice. Speaking English in a Swedish accent, her giant eyes darting to the four corners of a room or computer screen, Mara is equally at home with Lisbeth’s mental, physical, sexual and cyber challenges. As much as I enjoyed Noomi Rapace’s portrayal of Salander, I was never motivated to check out her sequels. I can’t wait to see what Rooney Mara’s Lisbeth Salander gets into next.

For the movie at hand, Lisbeth finds herself wrapped up in a couple different missions involving a reporter named Mikael (Daniel Craig). The first involves a background check for Mikael’s credentials as a reporter, biographer, and detective for a rich older man (Christopher Plummer) who suspects one of his family members of murdering his favorite niece. The second involves assisting Mikael with the actual job. Lisbeth and Mikael are not quite equals. He’s potentially a new authority figure in her life, which she doesn’t welcome; and she’s potentially his intellectual superior, which will obviously push the boundaries of her implied sidekick role in the job. Lisbeth is nobody’s Robin. The family, and family history, Lisbeth and Mikael investigate is full of dark secrets (murder, Nazis, rape, you name it), and leads them down a path of violence and paranoia. There’s so much out there in the way of spoilers for The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo (books, a nearly identical movie), that I’ll not say more.

What I will say is that director David Fincher has delivered yet another great thriller. The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo is meticulously crafted. Every inch of the screen feels important, and will have you searching for clues along with Lisbeth and Mikael. Darkness and shadows are used to terrifying effect, as is the soundtrack, which hums, crackles, buzzes, whistles, and throbs under scenes that are otherwise silent, or that have dialogue significant to the mystery. Fincher wants you to lean in close to listen, although do so at your own peril. The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo is full of violent surprises; the edge of your seat might not be the safest place to be. Ultimately, I liked this version of The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo more than the Swedish original. It’s got a more sinister style to match its lead character and her troubled life. This version has more stylish editing and cinematography, as well as a streamlining of the story (the original has some groaner Agatha Christie moments that verge on Scooby Doo). There’s also a visual decadence to David Fincher’s work that I really go for. The sex scenes (the consensual ones at least) have a sly sense of humor to them. Lisbeth is ambiguous and guarded about a lot of things, but sex isn’t on the list. During her hacking and research, Lisbeth eats, but quickly and obviously just for sustenance. Fincher counts on us recognizing that same behavior in the bedroom. The moments of levity are sparse, though. This is a thriller first and foremost, and it’s a cold, harsh one at that. Fincher declares as quickly as the opening credits—an oily CGI tangle of USB cables, fire and sex—that this is not a remake of a Swedish movie, and it is not an adaptation of that book you almost bought at the airport. The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo is a David Fincher film.

Rebooting an acclaimed thriller, featuring a smart, distinctly-voiced young woman, teaming up with an older pro to stop a violent killer of women? Sounds familiar. But I’m not sure anyone thinks of Hannibal as a Ridley Scott film. How could they when he walked into the job with so many rules? The cast and original director, Jonathan Demme, had famously refused any sequels not adapted from Thomas Harris, who had created the basis for The Silence Of The Lambs. And when the book came out, they (Jodie Foster and Jonathan Demme) hated it and bailed. It was ridiculously gory, and featured plot leaps so out of character they bordered on parody. Faced with a daunting recasting assignment, Scott took the job and forged ahead, faithful to every ludicrous obstacle placed in his way.

Much of Hannibal works. The casting (and recasting) is great, the cinematography is beautiful (no basement pits and filthy dungeons this time. Hannibal has lush sets and locations), and aside from the expected chills, there are a few surprising action set-pieces. But Hannibal’s excesses are jaw-dropping: the violence; the surreal, nightmarish subplots; even the makeup is shocking in its decadence (Gary Oldman’s defies description). In The Silence Of The Lambs, Clarice sees a photo of Hannibal’s attack on a nurse. In Hannibal, we get to see it too. The Silence Of The Lambs capitalized on things we were already afraid of. Hannibal tries to find new ones.

Hannibal Lecter is on the loose. Clarice Starling (Julianne Moore, a more worthy replacement than anyone could have hoped) is still damaged by the events of The Silence Of The Lambs, but also tougher and smarter. They tangle again, although this time with greater personal consequences. Lecter saves her life (from wild pigs, no big whoop), leading to the climax of the movie, which involves that old Jodie Foster deal-breaker: self-cannibalization. Hannibal is a fun time, and has sort of an underrated reputation. How could it not? Yes, it’s responsible for the rebranding of Hannibal Lecter as a posh, chatty, witty killer, full of one-liners and winks to his legend. It’s also a more openly sinister movie than its predecessor. Hannibal has some dark, dirty things on its mind, but nowhere to take them. All we can think about is that other movie. What works, what doesn’t. Perhaps because he started with a foreign film, David Fincher suffers little comparison to his movie’s source, and had no qualms fixing problems he found in its telling. Ridley Scott had the tougher job. The movie he’d taken on was following a Best Picture (and Actress, and Actor) winner.  There are a lot of scary moments in Hannibal, but I bet none compare to the task of a director trying to make it his own.

The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo: A-

Hannibal: B-