The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest, the third and final film from the Swedish series based on the wildly popular Stieg Larsson novels, is about as interesting as 150 minutes of thumb twiddling. I haven’t liked the other films and thought the book was the weakest of Larsson’s installments, so why did I choose to see, let alone type out a few words about this last effort? I guess I just wanted the full experience to fully judge the upcoming Hollywood versions. Besides, what’s the point in reviewing only two out of three? I need to complete my trilogy of negative reactions to this trilogy. Anyways, in this version director Daniel Alfredson and screenwriter Ulf Ryberg pick up right where the cliffhanger ending of The Girl Who Played With Fire left off. They methodically set out trying to find every loose end the series has accumulated and tie it up tight. The plot sidelines its greatest asset, the great Noomi Rapace as the distinctive Lisbeth Salander, confining her to a hospital bed for at least half of the film. Luckily, the plot still manages to feature more than enough gratuitous sadism. There are also some dull thriller elements and a repetitive courtroom circus thrown in as an attempt to keep things interesting. But every time the film threatens to burst forth with excitement, the filmmakers dutifully steer safely clear of the opportunity. Each film in this inexplicably popular art house franchise has gotten progressively worse. This is the worst. It’s not merely bad; it’s deadly boring. The series concludes the same way it began, with exposition and a shrug.
No comments:
Post a Comment