Historically, when a female character takes on the role of hero–especially that of action hero–her motivation is singularly feminine: to protect her young. Whether it’s Ellen Ripley shouting, “Get away from her you bitch!” to divert an alien’s attention from her surrogate daughter or Beatrix Kiddo embarking on a bloody revenge odyssey to punish those who robbed her of her unborn child, women are generally only allowed to take on a traditionally masculine role when there’s a feminine motivation to offset it.
Are there exceptions to this rule? Of course (and often the exceptions are when the the violence a woman perpetrates serves to further sexualize her). But it has been many years since we’ve seen a character like Lisbeth Salander (Rooney Mara), if we’ve ever seen one at all. It’s also misleading to suggest she’s taking on the role of action hero here, but make no mistake she’s walking down the path more frequently traveled by male characters, and she is without a doubt the (anti-)hero of this story.
Totally androgynous, and rendered more alien than sexy, Lisbeth Salander is a razor sharp, antisocial hacker. She refuses to make eye contact, cannot be bothered with handshakes or how-do-you-dos, and is most comfortable when alone, working her magic on a computer. Salander flits into and out of the story in the film’s first half as director David Fincher cuts back and forth between her and disgraced journalist, Mikael Blomkvist (Daniel Craig).
Where Ellen Ripley had her flame thrower, and Beatrix wielded a samurai sword, Salander’s main weapon is knowledge. The hacker character is as traditionally male as the action hero, and though Salander does not shy away from a physical fight–indeed, she can take on men more than twice her size–it is her hacker prowess that most impresses us. Similarly, when she must pore over archival records, you can see her finesse with computers play out across physical paper as she searches for the facts, zeroing in on the details that connect the dots.
She endures a horrific attack at the hands of her social worker. When she exacts her revenge, she brutalizes him–yes–but she has also carefully crafted a plan to break free from the system, and her parting gift to her rapist is more chilling and satisfying than any amount of physical pain she could have inflicted upon him. When Mara looks into the camera with wide eyes encircled by raccoon makeup and says, “I am crazy,” you believe her but never doubt her genius.
Androgynous alien though she may be, Salander is also a sexual being. Again, she is allowed more freedom while most female characters tend to be a discrete type. When Lisbeth picks up a woman at a nightclub, you might assume she’s a lesbian, playing butch to her one-night-stand’s femme.
Though she later beds Blomkvist. Literally, she removes her clothes and mounts him, asking him to stop talking. So although her sexuality might be somewhat murky, she takes on a more dominant, traditionally masculine-role no matter what.
This trait is taken to an almost comical level in a later sex scene: Salander is on top, and Blomkvist again tries to talk, but she will not let him; the sex is over when she climaxes. Everything about this puts Lisbeth in the traditionally male role, yet it’s achieved without overtly feminizing Mikael.
I realize I’ve spilled a lot of digital ink only talking about Lisbeth, but let’s be frank: this is her film, and by her I mean both Lisbeth and Rooney. Lisbeth’s character is the biggest draw to this story–people are fascinated by her, as well they should be. David Fincher fought to cast Rooney Mara for this role, and he has essentially given her the opportunity to have a breakout success. Ms. Mara certainly delivers the goods.
The main plot is utterly conventional. Many of you have probably read the books and/or seen the Swedish films. I had done neither and only had the vaguest idea of what the story was about. It’s an ordinary murder mystery by all accounts, but what elevates this film to a higher strata are Lisbeth and–of course–David Fincher’s meticulous direction.
Dragon Tattoo combines elements of three of Fincher’s most successful films: Seven, Zodiac and The Social Network. Few have doubted that this adaptation was especially suited for him. As always, the painstaking care Fincher takes in making his films is felt and appreciated here. He is truly one of the greatest mainstream directors working today.
That said, this film could have been trimmed down by a minimum of ten minutes, possibly more. As recently as a few months ago, Fincher was at odds with the studio over the final cut of his film. They of course wanted a shorter movie, Fincher a longer one. Looking back at some of his more recent films, I think it would have made sense to opt for The Social Network‘s relative brevity. Zodiac was a long film, but that was a decades-spanning procedural; The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is not Zodiac.