The Lisbeth Salander trilogy ends with a thud in Hornet’s Nest. Not a bang or a blaze: those would require more than a stately pace and less dependence on revealed secrets. Slower than the second, which was less kinetic than the first, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest serves only to close the book on the ultimate Lefty persecution fantasy. While loyal fans won’t be too disappointed, the uninitiated should steer clear.
Every last dark secret gets revealed, diminishing the shock effect of the major secrets revealed in the first two (Dragon Tattoo & Played with Fire). This third installment clearly needs the juice of secrets revealed to keep its motor going, in part to distract from its increasingly obvious reality exploitations.
Now we wait for next year’s Hollywood remake to see what sordid master David Fincher will do with this classic tale. He’s long since proven himself the king of mordantly funny thrillers and has stocked his cast with great players: The Social Network’s Rooney Mara as Lisbeth Salander, Daniel Craig as Mikael Blomkvist, Robin Wright as Erika Berger. Good thing, since the Swede’s have set the bar high, even given the muted buzz from this Hornet’s Nest.
Welcome back Noomi Rapace as Lisbeth Salander! A well known and appreciated commodity, she’d become one of the great undercover agents in movie history by the second installment, so this valedictory turn is bittersweet.
The rest of the cast are also plenty familiar from installments one and two. Standouts continue to be Michael Nyqvist’s crusading journalist (author Sieg Larsson’s alter ego) and Micke Spreitz’s malevolent blond lug. Spreitz deserves to be a Bond villain in the future.
Not without ample dark humor, some of it LOL.
Payoffs are inevitable in final installments. The bad guys must die since there are no sequels for which they need to be alive. Still the story inevitably feels like checking items off a list.
Less edgy than the earlier installments, in part because the rape scene is mostly just heard. Visually, we see the shock and revulsion in the eyes of lawyers and judges when they view the video, but are spared viewing it ourselves. Effective and graceful, this.
Sweden is presented once again as economically rich yet emotionally chilly. The latter is no doubt part of traditional Swedish character, yet seems exacerbated by the post-modern absence of nuclear families. For instance, Lizbeth Salander’s lawyer is heavily pregnant (though never acknowledged as such) and has other children she apparently never Mothers, all with no Father in the picture. The casual acceptance of adults emancipated from all but the bare biology of their familial roles is striking in its totality.