Matty

Ready, aim, fire. It’s that easy. Like killing a mockingbird. Harper Lee used the title of her celebrated autobiographical novel not only in this sense. It is also a crucial acknowledgement of the protagonist, Jean Louise Finch. Killing a bluejay and killing a mockingbird are not the same thing. The film adaptation of the riveting novel is not so riveting itself. The Southern atmosphere, inhospitable to blacks (and anyone who supports them), is represented mainly by one character, the truly diabolical Bob Ewell (= evil). Of course, the film doesn’t make it clear that “that” is present in the vast majority of people. Of all the themes contained in the book, the filmmakers give priority to the issue of racism, which explains why the instructive episodes with the morphine-addicted Mrs. Dubose were edited out and why there is a complete lack of other characters (Aunt Alexandra) who influence the children’s way of thinking. The long court scene and the subsequent quick ending (the book’s plot covering three years is condensed into roughly one year) create the impression that the film should have been a courtroom drama. Would some added minutes have helped? No, two hours are enough, but in my opinion, what’s essential is not dealt with in that amount of time. The film lacks the dark magic of the adult world that as children we longed to discover, vaguely intuiting what dangers that involves. The title of the feature-length documentary about the film, Fearful Symmetry, captures it exactly. Another film, with a weaker story, stands out in every aspect with its “fearful symmetry”, namely The Night of the Hunter. Appendix: Martin Arnold’s entertaining experiment Passage á l'acte encourages an alternative view on To Kill a Mockingbird and other, similar mainstream films. 75%

Though it’s not would-be action-packed revving of diesel engines, this “ungraspable” film deserves the title Fast & Furious. The first screwball third and second slapstick third are clearly funnier than the not-so-amusingly mishandled ending, which is really just too much. I would prefer to see this play (actually these two plays) in a theatre. With Bogdanovich directing. 75%

Remember the likable girl who dumped Mark Zuckerberg at the beginning of The Social Network? Try to imagine her with a lot of piercings, a mohawk and t-shirt emblazoned with FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING FUCKER on her thin, pale body. Love her or hate her, she doesn’t know how to be any other way. Lisbeth Salander. Though the film respects the book’s dual (in later parts, multiple) narrative perspective, it’s hard not to get the impression that Fincher is more fascinated by the androgynous hacker than by the reporter obsessed with finding out the truth. The filmmaker, who has always gravitated toward anarchy, as is evident in the violation of genre conventions in his films, has previously expressed a weakness for anti-social protagonists who aim to tear down the system. Actually, “weakness” probably isn’t a very appropriate term, as it can be associated with compassion, understanding and emotional kinship – none of which Fincher shows towards his characters. He does not offer them any kind of protection, which, with respect to the genre and the nature of the crimes committed, evokes an intense fear that practically anything can happen to the protagonists. This is true even if you have read the book and/or seen the Swedish version and you know what happens and when. I wouldn’t call the “care about the characters if you want; the information is more important to me” approach heartless; it’s just maximally focused on the issue being observed and reminiscent of Lisbeth’s thinking based on the analysis of consequences. Every piece of information presented will be put to use sooner or later. Every character and every action serves the narrative. I found the most cold-blooded example of the pragmatic understanding of a human being as a bearer of useful information to be Mikael’s meeting with his daughter, which doesn’t serve to inform us about the protagonist’s personal life, but only to further the investigation. The indifference to people’s emotions doesn’t come only from the director’s “mechanical” perfectionism – it is one of the film’s primary themes. None of the presented families is functional (Mikael is divorced, Lisbeth tried to burn her father); in the biggest family, money replaced emotions. Affection is expressed through sex. The crushing of all certainties continues with the discrediting of the system that made Lisbeth a legally insane psychopath and is not effective even in investigating crimes that can be proven only at the cost of committing other crimes. On top of that, utter hopelessness is ensured by the fatiguing outdoor cold, in which, however, it is less probable that some lunatic will inflict serious internal injuries than in the outwardly safe heated homes. Thanks also to the edgy music, spilling over into and out of the noise of the setting and thus always “present”, I had an unpleasant feeling not only during the most brutal scenes, but from start to finish. I consider making a film this disturbing based on a bestselling novel (so it is basically a so-called pre-sold product) and within a system built on feel-good movies to be an act almost as subversive as splicing frames of bare male genitalia into a children's film. 85%