The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo (2011)

Let’s talk about David Fincher’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, which is technically a Hollywood remake of the Swedish film but somehow manages to stand on its own feet. It’s based on Stieg Larsson’s mega-popular novel, which you’ve probably spotted in at least three airport bookstores. Rooney Mara slips into the role of Lisbeth Salander with a kind of alien confidence. You can’t look away from her — half of the mystery here is just trying to figure out what makes her tick.

At its core, the movie is about a disgraced journalist (Daniel Craig, dialed way down from his James Bond energy) and a brilliant hacker diving into a decades-old disappearance case involving a twisted, filthy-rich Swedish family. The classic murder mystery setup is there, but in Fincher's hands, it picks up a cold, clinical sheen. You feel like you’re inside a snow-globe version of Sweden, with every window frosting over. Cinematographer Jeff Cronenweth brings that icy aesthetic to life; the entire movie feels coated in blue and grey. There is not a single warm frame.

As a mystery, the film is layered and labyrinthine. The plot constantly dangles clues just out of reach, and Fincher lets moments breathe instead of rushing to the next revelation. It feels like he trusts the audience to keep up. The downside: the pacing drags a bit in the middle. I get that we need to see all the red herrings being tossed around, but some sections, especially the long exposition scenes, could’ve used a little tightening. There are times where you find yourself mentally pleading for the plot to kick into gear.

Rooney Mara’s performance is the heart of the film. She plays Lisbeth like she knows how to hurt and how to disappear at the same time. I remember being genuinely startled by her presence — the awkward silences, the sharp intelligence behind her hollow-eyed looks, those tiny flinches in moments when most actors would go big. Daniel Craig, meanwhile, has the tricky task of being the audience’s proxy, and he plays it straight, maybe a bit too straight? He’s almost neutral to a fault, with Mara pulling most of the emotional weight.

The supporting cast, including Christopher Plummer as the haunted patriarch, is solid and occasionally steals scenes. What’s more, the film doesn’t flinch at showing the darkness inside the glossy surface. Some moments are genuinely tough to watch. Fincher isn’t shy about the violence and trauma in the story, and I think it’s a fair warning: do not watch this expecting easy popcorn thrills. It’s heavy, sometimes grimy.

The score by Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross is one of the high points for me. Industrial clangs and ghostly echoes creep in at just the right moments. The opening credits alone are such a jolt — it’s a sequence that makes you want to sit up straight, foreshadowing what’s to come. They blend menace and melancholy, making every frame feel one second away from disaster.

The big flaw, I’d say, is that for all its style and nerve, the film can feel emotionally distant. There are moments when you feel the chill and not much else. Lisbeth’s personal story, which should cut deepest, sometimes gets buried under the procedural plot. I found myself wanting more of her world and less corporate family drama. Still, when the film finally snaps all the puzzle pieces together, it’s gratifying and sickly satisfying in equal measure.

By the time the credits roll, you’ll probably feel both bruised and a little bit awed. The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is gripping and dense, sometimes repellent, but it’s never dull. It’s a hard film to love, but an easy one to respect.