50/50 (USA) Directed by Jonathan Levine  Written by Will Reiser  Starring Joseph Gordon Leavitt; Seth Rogan; Angelica Huston; Bryce Dallas Howard; Phillip Baker Hall; Matt Frewer; Andrew Airlie

A strange blend of movie-of-the week subject matter and stoner comedy somehow works in spite of itself, due in no small part to a relatively light touch by director Jonathan Levine (The Wackness). The film is based on Will Reiser’s semi-auto-biographical/fictionalized script focusing on his personal battle with cancer. Reiser and actor/producer Seth Rogan were friends in real life, working together on Da Ali G Show in 2003 when he was diagnosed with the disease. Here, Joseph Gordon Leavitt plays Reiser stand-in Adam Lerner, a Public Radio employee in a bad committed relationship with girlfriend Katherine (Bryce Dallas Howard). Adam is a bit of a neurotic, a non-smoker/drinker, who worries about everything, a trait clearly handed down from his smothering Mom Diane (Angelica Huston). Rogan is Adam’s (surprise) stoner best friend/co-worker Kyle, who exploits the news of his buddy’s affliction as a tool to pick up girls and help him smoke more weed. While there is an unfortunate misogynistic viewpoint at work here that helps sour some of the more effective elements of the film, Rogan’s jerk-off character is funny, and the actor is always better when not having to carry the full weight of a film’s emotional center. Although Anna Kendrick’s young therapist Katherine feels like exactly what she is - a contrived screenwriting invention to give Adam a love interest and elicit expository dialogue in a more natural way, their relationship is sweet, despite the overdose of self-aware awkwardness. Saddled with a one-note character, Bryce Dallas Howard somehow manages to squeeze something interesting out of the girlfriend from hell, and Huston does well as the overly protective, burdened Mom, ultimately serving as the impetus for one of the main lessons learned. While the film heavily leans toward the relationship between Adam and Kyle, we do get several effective scenes with cancer patients Alan (Phillip Baker Hall) and Mitch (Matt Frewer) as Adam is undergoes chemo, though opportunies for more trenchant inspection of the medical profession with the chilly, distant Dr. Ross (Andrew Airlie) go largely unexplored. While 50/50 might have been more effective as a film about a guy who gets Cancer and how the people around him react, as opposed to being melded into a comedic sensibility that feels more like Seth Rogan’s well established one, it is nevertheless an interesting handling of a difficult subject matter.

The Ides of March (USA) Directed by George Clooney Written by George Clooney; Grant Heslov; Beau Willmon Starring George Clooney; Ryan Gosling; Evan Rachel Wood; Phillip Seymour Hoffman; Paul Giamatti; Marisa Tomei; Jeffrey Wright; Max Minghella; Jennifer Ehle

Directed by George Clooney, the script is based on the play Farragut North by Beau Willmon (who shares screenwriting credit with Clooney and his partner Grant Heslov). Focusing on presidential candidate/ Pennsylvania Governor Mike Morris (Clooney), Ides is reminiscent of similarly solid political dramas like Primary Colors (1998); The Candidate (1972); The Contender (2000); Manchurian Candidate (1962); The Best Man (1964); and State of Play (2003/2009).

Clooney is clearly at home with the material, and the story naturally reminds us of the many real life presidential candidates who have dealt with public scrutiny under the intense national media spotlight. Ideas about special interest groups/PACs and the accepted quid pro quo nature of the beast are woven in nicely to a fairly standard morality play. With visuals from Alexander Payne regular Phedon Papamichael, the mis-en-scene is nothing less than rock solid - the look just right, the dialogue crackling with insider talk and topical references.

Clooney’s Hollywood cache can be felt in the knock-out cast he manages to assemble, one that includes Ryan Gosling as media expert/2nd in command, Stephen Meyers; Evan Rachel Wood as intern Molly Stearns; Marisa Tomei as reporter Ida Horowicz; Paul Giamatti as opposition campaigner Tom Duffy; Jeffrey Wright as Senator Thompson; and Phillip Seymour Hoffman as campaign manger Paul Zara, and as one might expect given the pedigree of the cast and the director’s background as an actor, the performances are all top-notch.

While it’s easy to enjoy the snappy dialogue and the swift pace of the plot; and, while the talents of the cast create an anticipation regarding the promise of potential greatness in each individual scene; Ides is a rare example of a film that might have benefited from more run time. Its through-line is so strong that’s it’s as if we miss out on some prime opportunities to savor the actors and the spot-on world being portrayed, and one can’t help but wish there was a bit more digressive meandering, and perhaps less reliance on the rigid structure of conventional genre.

The end result of the admittedly slick end product is that there is a feeling of never having gotten to the heart of characters played by Jeffrey Wright, Marisa Tomei, and Phillip Seymour Hoffman, for instance - who all seem equally as potentially interesting as our leads. This is not to say that Clooney and Gosling are not well suited for, or compelling in, their archetypal roles. Clooney, again, looks right at home as Morris - a well-spoken politician with a quick mind and easy smile, a man accustomed to working people and cultivating his image at all costs. Gosling’s Steven, despite his relative experience, is still an innocent, maintaining the belief one can mix idealism with the very cynical, dirty game of campaign strategy, still under the impression that he can carefully manipulate the degrees to which he compromises his personal integrity.

Restraint and minimalism are not often qualities associated with the Hollywood product, and so both should probably always be applauded when employed. Clooney the man has a number of strengths that help make him the effective mini-mogul he is, not the least of which being good taste. The films he has thus far elected to direct are reflective of this quality, each a thoughtful handling of subject matter with some meat on the bones.

Perhaps it is unfair to criticize or penalize a film for not showing off all the members of its phenomenal cast to the fullest, or for having strong, lead actors in minor roles in the first place, and perhaps asking a film that is financed by Hollywood, and essentially affixed to genre, to become something more is also unfair. There is, after all, the old axiom about leaving them wanting more. Still, it might be the very quality of the elements contained in this cinematic stew that raise the stakes and automatically promise something more, and in the end this very good film leaves one feeling feeling somewhat unsatisfied, as if this were part one of a two part mini-series that leaves one anticipating a next installment that will never come.

Directed by Jean Luc Godard  Written by Jean Luc Godard

Eighty one year old Jean Luc Godard continues his ongoing dialectic about the collapse of traditional cinema (and, for that matter, Western civilization) in his latest video essay - the form which has dominated his career for some twenty five years.

It is difficult to pinpoint the parameters of documentary or narrative film, or define what specific forms are better suited for museum installation or film festival circuits as opposed to delivery in mainstream theaters/ V.O.D and the like. Is it the structure of a piece (or lack thereof) that should determine the method of delivery, or is the very narrowness of our expectations responsible for marginalizing avant-garde/non-traditional cinema in all its auspices in the first place?

One thing is for sure - it is only Godard’s reputation (related to the marketplace he despises) that allows a film like this a wider (though, obviously, still limited) audience, but at this point it is not as if the master has suckered anyone in. Complaining about the obtuse particulars when it comes to Godard is akin to bemoaning the methodology in the latest from Lars Von Trier or David Lynch. One can debate the merits of the individual pieces, but the embrace of surrealism and disavowal of some of the accoutrements of traditional cinema have been clearly established.

Regardless of the exact definition of what makes a film a film (and whether or not this question is at all relevant), Godard long since took to blasting cinema for its failures. Well over half of his career has now been dedicated to attempting to de/re-construct the form. His varied subject matter over the course of this pursuit has included repeated attacks on capitalism/consumerism and intellectual explorations of art in its many forms - music, painting, literature. Underlying all of the highly politicized work is, or course, a search for illusive truth, although inaccessibility (at least to many) is often a result of the deliberate opaque quality of the finished products arising from this path.

Broken into three distinct sections, Film Socialisme begins with a cruise ship floating on Mediterranean seas. Immediately, we are hit with Godard’s first use of HD, the footage resembling his vibrant, saturated color in something like Made in The USA. As if to provide a direct contrast to some of this stunning photography, however, the director also employs visuals that seem shot with a cell phone camera. Godard further infuses the section with a host of noise, distortions, and unconventional cuts, and throughout the film he also gives us oddly incomplete English sub-titles (for the French, Arabic, German, and Russian) he has termed Navajo English, consisting of a series of nearly incomprehensible phrases/key words that keep an audience guessing as to what is being said.

In Part One we float around the ship in a kind of dream state, listening to snatches of indecipherable philosophizing from some of the white passengers, the the dark skin workers, and a narrator (with several strange asides about Jews; a references to YouTube; and a bizarre appearance by Patti Smith thrown in for good measure). The feeling evoked is that of randomness, and the flatness of the grotesques populating the boat call to mind the Rive Gauche death walkers of Last Year in Marienbad and the like.

Part Two more rootedly focuses on a family of radicals consisting of two children and their parents based in a gas station in rural Southern France. The disaffected elder daughter and her more animated younger brother put their parents through a kind of test, asking them a series of serious questions about life and the world. As we see various shots of a llama and a donkey, seemingly family pets, two women arrive at the station and proceed to film and record sound. The overall effect is reminiscent of Godard circa the late 60s with characters (again emotionally flattened) speaking in political tract with odd surrealistic flourishes added to the mix. Part Three diverges from any attempt at narrative, and instead employs free flowing montage to show us a history of various political events across a handful of European countries in conflict. This format is recognizable in Godard’s better known essays of the recent past, most notably his series: Histoire du Cinema.

If one doesn’t speak French you must be satisfied with the dribbled bits of information being conveyed by the silly “Navajo English” (basically a series of words). While clearly intentionally alienating, it seems an angry, provincial, and arrogant tactic on the part of the artist. Otherwise, why have the subjects/actors speaking in a recognizable language at all, or why not manipulate the actual sound dialogue as opposed to merely the subtitles? In his defense, Godard the socialist does not preach inclusiveness when it comes to film. As always, his intended audience is exclusively the intellectual elite. It is worth noting, however, that in this case Godard is intent on excluding only those who do not speak his native language.

The work is at times visually beautiful, dreamy, and even vaguely intriguing in its challenging way, while simultaneously being overly precious, unnecessarily shrouded by device, and ultimately, barely cohesive. Of course, Godard could care less what anyone thinks, which is perhaps partly the point, though to what ends?

Tuesday After Christmas (ROM) Directed by Radu Muntean Written by Radu Muntean; Razvan Radulescu; Alexandra Baciu  Starring Mimi Branescu; Maria Popistau; Mirella Oprisor; Dragos Bucur; Sasa Paul-Szel

Arising out of a country that has given us 2005s The Death of Mr. Lazarescu (Cristi Puiu) and 2007s 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days (Christian Mungiu) comes Tuesday After Christmas, director/co-writer Radu Muntean’s simple, self contained story about Paul (Mimi Branescu), a married banker having an affair with his daughter Mara’s (Sasa Paul-Szel) dentist Raluca (Maria Popistau). Muntean uses long, extended takes and - with the exception of slight tilts and pans - very little camera movement (and, for that matter, editing) to allow the film to unfold as if we are simply observing life unfold before us. In fact, the scenes usually play out in a single medium or wide shot. Paul kids with his girlfriend in bed, talks on his cell phone, shops with his wife, disciplines his young daughter, but through the mundane depiction of events a conclusion is building as Paul’s convenient little set up seems destined to end. The wonderful thing about the film is that none of the characters are at all polarized. Paul seems to be a rather ordinary guy with a decent sense of humor, graying, forty-ish, a little overweight. His average if pleasant looking wife Adriana is of the same general age. A working mother, she is busy, concerned about their daughter, immersed in their life together. The object of Paul’s affection, Raluca, is also seemingly a nice enough person, much younger, though no great beauty; not overly demanding of Paul, but clearly tired of their arrangement and wanting more. On the whole, Paul’s marriage seems ordinary, but (with the exception of his infidelity, of course) his relationship doesn’t overtly appear to be in major trouble. The set up is one we all know to be true to life - the older married man leaving his age appropriate wife for a younger woman, but here the story is told with such raw honestly that if feels as if we are watching real time emotion on display. What’s interesting about Muntean’s style though is that his search for documentary-like realism does not include an attempt to mirror the form of documentary through verite methods, but rather involves simply allowing actors to behave truthfully in front of a static, unobtrusive camera. Particularly notable is Mirella Oprisor, who brings a heartbreaking vulnerability and humaness to a woman realizing the life she has constructed is crumbling.

Senna (BRIT) Directed by Asif Kapadia; Written by Mandish Pandey

Senna is a gripping documentary about the life of Brazilian Formula One race car driver Ayrton Senna. What sounds like a very average set up for a sports bio is transformed into high drama of the first order as director Asif Kapadia manages to transcend the genre with a piece that compels from starting gate to finish line. The film uses archival footage extensively, drawing from a staggering 4-5 thousand hours of available material. Kapadia details Senna’s rise from child go-kart racer supported by his doting parents to Formula One prominence in the mid-eighties. Emerging onto center stage is his larger-than-life ongoing battle with Frenchman Alain Prost, a fierce rivalry that involved complicated racing politics and divergent individual approaches to the sport. Coming from a privileged background, the handsome, intense, and enigmatic Senna became a national hero in poverty stricken Brazil, racing with fearlessness that would match any driver in the history of the sport. Unabashedly patriotic, and emboldened by his strong faith in God, Senna felt strongly compelled to represent his country and give them something to be proud of. His mission brought him world wide fame and great fortune, but also burdened him with a heavy, self-imposed mandate to perform at the highest level each time out of the box. To go along with the wealth of behind-the-scenes footage of the driver at work, and home movies showing him during down time with his family, we also experience Senna’s perspective behind the wheel via a camera placed in the car. This footage adds to the suspense as the audience gets a taste of the extreme speed and dangerous turns involved. During his decade long career, Senna battled the powers to be for better safety regulations - efforts that are juxtaposed with his reputation as an extreme risk taker who got better in the rain when danger increased, and, of course, the ultimate irony of his fate.

The Guard (IRE) Directed by John Michael McDonagh  Written by John Michael McDonagh  Starring Brendan Gleason; Don Cheadle; Liam Cunningham; Mark Strong; David Wilmot; Fionnula Flanagan; Rory Keenan; Dominique McElliott; Katarina Cas;

Brother of award winning playwright and In Bruges (2008) writer and director, Martin, John Michael McDonagh directs from his own script, a dry comedy mirroring his brother’s first feature that also stars Brendan Gleason. Here, the actor plays a local police officer (”Guard” or “Garda”) from Connemara with a shaky moral compass and a joke for all occasions. Gleason has made a career playing a variety of cheeky bastards, and he is solid as Sergeant Gerry Boyle, who comes across a murder that turns out to be connected to a group of nefarious international drug smugglers (ably played by Liam Cunningham; Mark Strong; and David Wilmot). The script is filled with a bevy of funny one liners, many of them having to do with either local, Irish Catholic culture, or their parochial, tongue-in-cheek view of all things American. Don Cheadle plays FBI agent Wendell Everett, who shows up in Ireland intent on stopping the gang (though mostly to act as straight man and ensure some American box office), but predictably finds himself a stranger in a strange land. Cheadle’s character is the weakest element of the film, which does best when immersed with Gleason as he interacts with the colorful locals. While veterans Cunningham; Strong; and Wilmot are funny as the philosophizing gangster trio, the dialogue does smack of overwritten early Tarantino. Though she only appears in a few scenes, Fionnula Flanagan is fantastic as Boyle’s dying mother Eileen, and the rest of the supporting players are also very good. Shot with crisp, vibrant colors, the interiors are designed in solid primary colors, mirroring the richly drawn pallet of Ireland’s land and water. While the formulaic plot is strictly by the book, a deep cast that includes a terrific lead; a smart, amusing script; and the color splashed visuals are enough to make The Guard an entertaining, if not altogether original, watch.

Certfied Copy (FR) Directed by Abbas Kiarostami Written by Abbas Kiarostami Starring Juliette Binoche; William Shimmel; Adrian Moore; Gianna Giachetti; Angelo Barbagallo

The marvelous Iranian director Abbas Kiarostami, who has a history of employing non-actors, steps a bit out of his box to create a vehicle for previous collaborator (Shirin) and internationally known actress Juliette Binoche. It is interesting to see Kiarostami working outside his native language (the film easily transitions between French, English, and Italian), and his style is clearly evident in some of the longer takes and shots of characters in cars while driving, but this film is all about the luminous Binoche. It has been some time since Kiarostami made a narrative film, but for him and other Iranian filmmakers the difference between narrative and documentary is often elusive. Iranian cinema is full of conscious, meta nods to the form itself, as well as sleight of hand involving very the nature of fact and fiction. The title of the film points toward the idea of replication in its many forms, and throughout we are never entirely sure of the films’ reality. Kiarostami eschews his standard long sweeping panned shots, but we still gaze upon vistas of a remote, rural area, and the director also employs a series of close-ups featuring the actors (especially Binoche) speaking directly into camera when talking to their scene partner. Binoche plays a woman, Elle, who has a young son and may or may not be a journalist. In the beginning of the film she attends a lecture from British author, James Miller (William Shimmel). The two later meet for what is presumably an interview, but the nature of their relationship begins to come into question. Though there are some scenes featuring supporting actors (Kiarostami mixes experienced and non-experienced actors) it is essentially a two-hander, and there is significant philosophizing about art (the subject of Miller’s book Carbon Copy), a subject that is related to personal relationships. Shimmel is an opera singer by profession, and in his best moments his stoic, inexpressive manner and upright countenance might be comparable to Ciaran Hinds or David Straithan. In direct contrast, Binoche is, per usual, a delight, full of small gestures and looks that breathe life into the somewhat dry proceedings. If one can get beyond the abstract nature of the relationship between the leads (a commentary in and of itself), there is much here between the lines about the nature of men and women and long term romantic relationships.

Mildred Pierce (HBO) Difrected by Todd Haynes  Written by Tod Haynes; Jonathan Raymond  Starring Kate Winslet; Guy Pearce; Evan Rachel Wood; Brian O’Byrne; Mare Winningham; James Legros; Melissa Leo; Morgan Turner; Hope Davis; Marin Ireland; Ronald Guttman; Miriam Shor

Melodrama is most often synonymous with soapy, overdone weepies filled with big acting and plot overstuffed with tragedy. With Todd Haynes it becomes something very different - period piece, riff on earlier masters like Douglas Sirk, and simply put - emotion infused drama of the highest order. This five part, 336 minute HBO mini-series has already deservedly received a heap of awards, including an Emmy for Kate Winslet, Guy Pearce, and ones for music (the great Carter Burwell), casting, and art direction, and is nominated for many others. Based on the 1941 novel by James M. Cain, this adaptation follows the well-known 1945 film of the same name, which famously starred Joan Crawford. This version (perhaps owed in large part to the run time) remains truer to the book, telling the story entirely from Mildred’s perspective. Kate Winslet is nothing less than outstanding in a demanding role in which she is on screen throughout, dominating with a subtle, nuanced performance from start to finish. Guy Pearce as lover and later, husband, Monty; Melissa Leo as pal Lucy; and Evan Rachel Wood as grown up daughter Veda are also superb (young Morgan Turner is less successful as child Veda). Cinematographer Edward Lachman, who also teamed up with Haynes in Far From Heaven, gives the series a warm, cinematic look, and the period is lovingly evoked from an obviously talented design team and a director with a top-notch feel for period. The story revolves around the newly divorced Mildred’s search for identity and financial independence in pre-WWII America, but its narrow focus on one woman’s life does not belie the relevance to greater issues having to do with women, class, and the concept of the American dream. Though Mildred’s daughter Veda is a bit of a one dimensional character, blindly ambitious and pretentious from a young age, she is, of course, an outgrowth of something deep inside Mildred, a manifestation of her own desire to be better in the eyes of the community, and to live up to what she believes herself to be. Adapted by Haynes and director Kelly Reichart’s frequent collaborator Jonathan Raymond, the script is tightly wound and extremely well modulated. An exceptional piece of filmmaking for a cable television station that continues to provide a home for important work in several formats.

The Artist (Fr/BELG) Directed by Michael Hazanavicius Written Michael Hazanavicius  Starring Jean Dujardin; Berenice Bejo; John Goodman; James Cromwell; Penelope Anne Miller; Missi Pyle; Malcolm McDowell

A twelve million dollar French silent would not, at least on paper, seem like an obvious formula for success. The Artist, however, manages to defy convention and proves itself an entertaining, and deceptively simple homage to Hollywood’s great silent period, as well as movie-making in general.

Forty Four year old writer/director Michael Hazanavicius (OSS 117 Cairo, Nest of Spies; OSS 117: Lost in Rio) is a unique voice. Through a playful approach that is at once ironic and earnest in its depiction of this bygone era, the director treads a precarious tonal line with impressive adroitness. Taking place in the late 1920s and early 30s as the movies transition from silent to sound, the film is nominally a straight-forward tale about a silent film stars’ fall from grace and the rise of a young ingenue he encounters, but its stylistic handling elevates it in a multitude of ways, ultimately becoming a reflection on the art of film-making itself, and specifically, its ability to mirror reality.

Shot in an aspect ratio of 1:33 to reflect the style of the period, the box-like screen gives the actors center stage. Appealing leads Jean Dujardin as the famous George Valentin and (Hazanavicius’ wife) Berenice Bejo as would be actress Peppy Miller are terrific (both actors have worked for the director before), as is George’s Jack Russell Terrier (played by Uggie, the same dog from Water for Elephants), who has a number of scene stealing moments. The supporting cast includes John Goodman as producer Al Zimmer; James Cromwell as George’s chauffeur Clifton; and Penelope Anne Miller as George’s wife Doris.

What’s most interesting about the performances, particularly in the case of Dujardin and Bejo, is that they play their parts in a modern, emotionally true to life way, while still adopting the overly expressive pantomime of the time when performing in the movies within the movie. The film also includes a long list of out of movie bits and pieces that are clearly paying homage to silents (the stairs sequence; the dressing room mannequin gag), and some fanciful manipulation of sound that help create an interesting ongoing juxtaposition of several worlds.

While Hazavanicius to an extent distances the audience with an ongoing stream of style and a series of literal and figurative winks to the camera, he simultaneously endears by demonstrating his passion for the subject matter throughout. It is both these loving touches - the nods to silent melodrama and physical comedy, to period dress, to the archetypal, A Star is Born plot-line of a young, wide eyed innocent endeavoring to make it big in Hollywood, as well as the real emotions displayed by the leads, that ultimately separates this from mere spoof or satire and keeps us engaged.

Perhaps it’s that very lack of cynicism that punctuates the idea that the film is something different, but like some of the best stuff for kids it’s made all the more attractive because its creator addresses the time we live in and our own consciousness of film history, which means we are in on the joke all along. It’s a bit of benevolent trickery, and one that assists the film in its obvious aim at inclusiveness. While films in various genres endeavoring for wide commercial appeal most often show themselves to be lacking organic authorship, The Artist is open to those of various levels of film experience, accessible to an audience of many ages, without feeling canned or manipulative - or rather, feeling like that only in places where the filmmaker intends it to. One can appreciate the story from a more narrow perspective, and enjoy the fun, but for those with a little more cinematic savvy it never panders.

Because it endeavors to be loved and to share its appreciation for the subject matter it gently spoofs, The Artist opens itself up for criticism for being overly sappy or easy, and ultimately thin. In truth, there is much richness to be mined if one can muster up the imagination and playful spirit to be open to receive it.

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (USA) Directed by David Fincher Written by Steve Zaillian Starring Rooney Mara; Daniel Craig; Christopher Plummer; Robin Wright; Stellan Skarsgard; Joely Richardson; Goran Visnjic

This American adaptation of the late Stieg Larson’s first book (in his best selling trilogy) is fighting an uphill battle for at least three reasons - one, three Swedish films covering the books were released in 2009; two, in these same films, Noomi Rapace gave an unforgettable performance as the barely communicative, abused feminist avenger/hacker extraordinaire Lisbeth Salander; and three, though the film is set in Sweden and the exteriors were shot there, the mere fact that this 2011 version is in English means that the characters are not speaking the language native to the place where it is set.

With those points in mind, Director David Fincher does well evoking the basics of the book and Rooney Mara is excellent as Salander. In fact, it should be noted that the casting here is uniformly strong, with Daniel Craig as disgraced investigative journalist/owner of Millenium Magazine, Mikael Blomkvist; Robin Wright as his business partner/married lover Erika Berger; Christopher Plummer as elderly industrialist Henrik Vanger; and Stellan Skarsgard as his nephew Martin Vanger all perfect for their roles. The accents coming out of their mouths, however, are all over the map - with some like Mara employing what sounds like a reasonable Swedish accent, while others (Craig, etc.) sticking to their native British one. Regardless, films that choose to go this route always have issues with feeling inorganic, and this one is no different. As well-made as the film may be there is therefore something off about it, and for this reason alone no matter how much money is spent it will likely be impossible to live up to the admittedly flawed Swedish originals.

This is not to say that Fincher is not in full command of what we see. The look is nothing if not precise; the score (by Atticus Ross and Trent Reznor) impeccable; and if there is little in the way of innovative or at least extravagant camera movement or (with the exception of some computer screen shots) clever visuals/editing panache (ala The Social Network) it is still the work of a director at the top of his/her game. Perhaps what’s most surprising then is that the film is also devoid of the kind of atmospheric style Fincher has become known for in thrillers like Se7en and Zodiac. So while the material would have seemingly lent itself to a somewhat darker cinematic treatment, what we get is a kind of clean, non-showy handling that naturally features the story and lead characters. If the end result suffers from a bit of bloodlessness, Fincher to his credit refuses to push the action or suspense, choosing to let the story slowly unfold. Knowing the wealth of technology and skill at his disposal, there is humility involved in this approach, a simplification of methodology based on earned confidence.

Though Mara has the rather thankless task of following one of the more surprising turns by a relative unknown in recent memory, this should not (though likely inevitable does) diminish the quality of her efforts. She is very good as the vulnerable yet powerful Lisbeth, conveying volumes with small gestures and looks. Yes, it is a meaty role that any actress of age would give their eye teeth for, but there are a select number of young women who likely could have pulled it off. And as was the case with Rapace before her, it is difficult in hindsight to imagine a single one of them who might have done any better. Craig too is excellent as the smart, capable, and slightly rakish journalist, and only an actor with his rugged good looks and quiet gravitas could have commanded the role so completely.

Larsson’s source material is a strange phenomenon - an essentially pulp, roller coaster ride of a serial trading in sexual politics, but one with richly drawn characters and plotting that travels through the rungs of socio-political Swedish society. Blomqkvist is, of course, a version of the author himself, who was a crusader against some of same kind of institutionalized corruption outlined in his fiction. His interest in misogyny, power relationships in the workplace having to do with gender, and the physical and sexual exploitation of women were reportedly heavily influenced by a rape he witnessed as a teenager. Fincher treads carefully in this area, honoring the material by refusing to shy away from the more graphic elements, while refraining from voyeuristically fetishizing the events.

The script diverges in several places from the first book/original film entry, and ends in a place clearly designed to play on the central relationship and lead an audience into the next installment; and while there is an anti-climactic nature to the entire last third - no doubt influenced by the same, one can appreciate the lack of cacophonous build and denouement. Rather, we are left with several threads to help merge the first film with the second, of which the team of Fincher and screenwriter Steve Zaillian (and undoubtedly all of the actors) are already signed on for.

The question, of course, is not about the quality of the final product - from the top down it is completely professional and well composed, rather, if like most re-makes, it was the slightest bit necessary.