Like a lot of people, I demolished Stieg Larrson's Dragon Tattoo books when they first came out. I binged the Swedish film and even made it through the miniseries extended cut.
I loved the David Fincher version, and Rooney Mara's iteration is probably my personal favourite of the cinematic Salanders.
By the time Girl in the Spider's Web was published in 2015, my fandom had run its course - and I missed the film adaptation when it was released in 2018.
Curiosity brought me back.
My memories of the Swedish sequels are vague, but my overall impression was that they felt more televisual in aesthetic and were overburdened with the novel’s plot.
The magic of that first book, and which Fincher’s adaptation teased out even further, was the character of Lisbeth Salander, and the way she emotionally connects with Mikael Blomkvist.
There is a romantic aspect to their dynamic, but what really comes through Fincher and Mara’s interpretation is a recognition that Salander has met someone who sees her for herself, without expectations.
Fincher has a misplaced reputation for being cold and misanthropic, but the ending to the 2011 film is so beautifully understated and delicate in exposing Salander at her most vulnerable point, that it is both a perfect climax to the film, and a hook for a sequel.
While it is a soft reboot, most of my interest in Girl in the Spider’s Web was seeing how, in any capacity, it conceptualised Salander.
And a week after watching it, I am struggling to remember what the conception was.
This is no criticism of Claire Foy as a performer. The film as a whole just feels ephemeral.
Every long-running franchise is never fixed in form or concept. Part of my fascination with them is watching the way franchises evolve and change. The longer a series goes on, the more expanded its canvas becomes - the changing of cast members, the shifting of creative personal behind the scenes, the influence of variables like financial success, rival franchises or changing popular tastes.
If a franchise can keep cranking out instalments, you will end up with a variety of different variations, interpretations and experiments with the idea of what this series is. I have found this as a James Bond fan, and other frenchises.
It makes a long-running series interesting.
This is a long-winded way of saying that Spider’s Web is the programmer entry in the broad umbrella of Dragon Tattoo stories.
There is nothing about this movie that feels that unique.
The film’s aesthetic feels a few steps removed from the Fincher template (down to the computer-generated title sequence).
Foy’s Salander is presented as more of an action hero, a loner whose hacking skills are even more supernatural than they were presented as in either the Rapace or Mara versions.
Even the story feels like a collection of familiar elements from previous Salander stories: Salander punishes a bad man, has a passing relationship with a minor character, holds some reserve of feeling for Blomkvist, and undergoes some rather terrifying tortures at the hands of the villains.
The film features a couple of elements which feel promising.
For the first time, Salander’s latest assignment puts her at the centre of genuinely international intrigue, with a touch of Bond in the villain’s masterplan to control the world’s nuclear weapons. This puts her in the crosshairs of an American agent (played by Atlanta’s Lakeith Stanfield), and a bland collection of masked Euro-thugs.
Salander has to become the custodian of a young neurodiverse boy who is key to unlocking the film’s macguffin. The film seems to be interested in doubling, having Salander confront reflections of herself, but her relationship with the young boy is never explored. He is just a plot device, and a cheap way to show the flinty Salander has a soft spot (just like a generic action hero).
The other element which the film tees up as its major CPU is the unveiling of Salander’s previously unseen sister Camilla (played by Blade Runner 2049’s Sylvia Hoeks).
Salander’s sister was mentioned but was never introduced by Stieg Larsson, and she was not a part of the adaptations to this point. She feels like a key to exposing a piece of Lisbeth’s past.
Her father and half-brother had appeared as key antagonists, but Camilla feels like an opportunity to add more shade and dimension to the series’ central character.
However, like Salander’s young charge, Camilla is an obstacle to be overcome. There is a sliver of ambiguity to their final showdown, but whatever catharsis the filmmakers intended is missing.
Despite its attempt to broaden the series’ scope, with more action scenes and locations, the film feels small and - despite its occasional attempts at replicating the earlier films’ darker elements - banal.
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