Movie Review: The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo

I love a good mystery, and this movie has two of them:

1) Why would a Swedish journalist have a British accent?

2) Is it possible to follow the plot?

The first we leave to the ages, and the second is answered with a "no." The movie is 2 hours, 38 minutes long, but they still didn't find the time to walk you through the mystery. For a mystery movie, that's a little unfortunate. The basic idea: a disgraced journalist gets hired by an industrial tycoon to solve the 40-year-old disappearance of his neice. Everyone in the tycoon's family is a suspect, as they all live on the same island, hate each other, and have ties to the Nazis.

There's potential for awesomeness here. Any time you put a homicidal maniac on an island, a great movie can break out at any second. And who doesn't hate Nazis? The problem: however much investigating they show you, there's not any dramatic tension. Most of the investigating involves Daniel Craig (he of the accent) and Rooney Mara looking at old pictures and digging up old police files; they start to make connections, but it's hard to figure out what connectiosn they're making. There's never a prime suspect that they hunt down, or a totally hot lead. For all the crazy Nazi family members, only two of them get more than three minutes of screen time. You never bother questioning who actually did it, because it CLEARLY has to be someone heavily involved in the plot. You never really knew what was going on in 1940s detective movies -- "The Maltese Falcon," for example -- but they kept parading the suspects around so that guessing was half the fun.

But judging by the title, the mystery isn't the point of the story. The point is to introduce the girl with the dragon tattoo (Mara), who is an asocial bisexual psycho capable of hacking into any computer. She has great reasons for being an asocial bisexual psycho -- in this movie alone, she has to deal with a pervy court-appointed guardian, with horrifying results. Since the bad guys in this movie are all sexual predators, I guess there's something satisfying about watching a young woman violate the bad guys in a variety of cringe-inducing ways.

The whole thing is stylish and entertaining, but there was a bit of a disconnect by the end. Mysteries should be mysterious, you know?

Tags: movies

Book Review: Another Roadside Attraction

Wikipedia says Tom Robbins has a "cult following," which is intriguing, because he writes mostly about cults. This was his first novel, but the fifth I've read. You can see how he laid the groundwork for future books:

• Chapter-length philosophical diatribes (every book)
• Graphic sex by promiscuous people (every book)
• Extensive use of psychotropic drugs (every book)
• A cult-like Catholic Church (Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates)
• Fugitive anarchists (Still Life With Woodpecker)
• The goat god Pan (Jitterbug Perfume)
• Singing the praises of "floral" consciousness (Jitterbug Perfume)

You're either going to like Tom Robbins or you aren't. I happen to like him, though I would instinctively hate any of his protagonists were I to meet them in real life. They are mostly "free-thinking" people with a self-assured understanding of the ways of the universe (or an indifference to complete understanding). They talk like stoned grad students about religion, they reject most forms of authority and they have sexual proclivities suited to a Woodstock port-a-john. (Assuming they had such things at Woodstock.) The plots always have a broad sweep -- some cosmic or spiritual awakening is always on the verge of happening -- and the resolution often includes a small manifesto on the way everyone in the world should think. It ostensibly comes from a character, but it's basically Tom Robbins spouting off. By my math, he was 35 when he wrote "Another Roadside Attraction" in 1971, but it seems like his brain has been chugging down the track since then.

I like the style, more than anything. He uses loopy narration, often jumping off into strange asides about freaky science facts or odd cultural rituals around the world. It fosters this strange sense of connectivity, and it always reinforces whatever unspeakably odd point he's trying to make. Generally speaking, I would almost never agree with Tom Robbins on anything, but I would love to have him persuade me for a few hours. It's accessibly off-beat, if that makes sense.

Thinking back on it now, there's not too much actual story to "Another Roadside Attraction." A slutty, free-thinking hippie chick named Amanda marries a mysterious "magician" named John Paul, and they open a hot dog stand / zoo on a highway north of Seattle. Amanda is obsessed with butterflies and plants and the Earth; John Paul thinks about energy and light all the time. It leads to some unusual discussions. They have a friend, Plucky, who deals drugs to artists; he accidentally infiltrates a monastery of Catholic assassin-monks and through a series of unusual events ends up stealing the corpse of Jesus Christ from the Vatican (it's not much of a spoiler, trust me). The action is surprisingly limited; most of the story exists so that characters can give speeches on mushrooms, butterflies, capitalism or the pope.

It wasn't my favorite Tom Robbins book (I think I'll give that title to "Skinny Legs and All," which has a can of beans and a spoon as major characters), but it's still zestfully amusing, unless you're a hard-core Catholic. You gotta like it when a writer goes for the gusto, and Tom Robbins usually goes for a second helping.

Floral Consciousness

I actually achieved floral consciousness while reading "Another Roadside Attraction," since it was the first book I've ever consumed on a Kindle. This will be an increasingly common occurrence, as there are only four trees left in the world; and so I think I should get used to it.

There are some clear disadvantages. When reading a longer book, I like to mark my place with various food stains; that way, I can relive the great meals of recent weeks while thumbing backward to find an important detail. Were I attacked by gang of street toughs while reading the paper version of "Truman," I could easily beat at least one of them to death using the book, then still have a readable book when I am done; even attempting this with a Kindle will likely void my warranty and let the street toughs know that I own expensive personal electronics.

It is also very difficult to hide a gun or liquor bottle in a cut-out in a Kindle.

There are also some clear advantages. I do most of my pleasure reading while riding an exercise bike, and I mostly read 900-page history books that could easily kill a street tough. The Kindle, however, fits comfortably on the bike's magazine holder; the font size can be increased; and the Kindle absorbs much less of my odor than the average paper book. Also, people who see a 900-page history book instinctively know not to engage me in conversation. Those who see me with a sleek piece of personal electronics might politely ask what I'm reading; at that point, they cannot escape a 30-minute lecture on Harry Truman and the freemasons.

You can also use your Kindle to buy an online coupon for bulk liquor sales.

Since I received about 5,000 pages of printed material for Christmas, books are still in my future, I will but I will keep you posted on any developments on the future of literature as we know it. Promise.

Tags: books

Book Review: Mr. Jefferson's Hammer

If you're being polite about it, William Henry Harrison was an ambitious man whose racial attitudes were in line with those of his contemporaries. If you're being blunt, he screwed a lot of Indians.

I bought my copy of "Mr. Jefferson's Hammer" in the giftshop at Grouseland, Harrison's mansion from his time as governor of Indiana Territory. Indiana was much bigger back then, and a lot less white. Harrison was a social climber -- he was a protege of Mad Anthony Wayne, the great Revolutionary War general. Instead of climbing Virginia's plantation culture, Harrison figured it might be more lucrative to create a new plantation culture on the western frontier. With slaves, and everything!

His plan worked beautifully, as he was set up as governor; and as governor (and one of the only military officers for hundreds of miles) he was charged with stealing land from the Indians. This book will make you feel very bad about being a honky. Indian policym more or less tacitly approved by President Jefferson, was to buy land from tribes that did not "own" it, negotiate with lesser chiefs in a tribe, or invite only those chiefs that were likely to sell out their people. Within those paramaters, Harrison was a fairly honorable guy -- in that he didn't let the Indians get drunk at negotiations, for example.

Which isn't to say he was a bad guy. The book doesn't give you a perfectly crisp picture of Harrison, but he was clearly an ambitious man with racial attidudes common to the era. He was devoted to his wife and apparently well-respected by his troops. Plus, Harrison had to be on a bit of a power trip. For a few years he was the closest thing to a king that the country had. He technically had to answer to the president, but since no one had a cell phone, he could be a dictator for a pretty large (if lightly populated) area. By about 1810 that power was starting to wane as the population grew and representative government became feasible; the territory started splitting up. Harrison had more vocal opponents (he wanted slavery in the territory, others didn't) and the territory started to slip from his grasp.

At which point he moved back to Ohio and the next phase of his career. And just 30 short years later, he was president. Harrison's general m.o. was basic competence leveraged with powerful connections; the one area where he really stood out, though, was screwing Indians.

Makes you feel good to be a white person. Not that you were planning to, but you probably shouldn't grab this book; it's a little dry and academic for a casual read. Of course, if you're an American Indian and you need a reminder to be really angry, this is the perfect book.

Tags: books

Book Review: The History of the United States During the Administrations of James Madison

Two centuries on, the War of 1812 is forgotten. That's probably because it's tough to teach in a public school setting. You have to set it up with a few weeks of Napoleonic history, explain why impressment of soldiers was so controversial, explain the political divisions and regionalism of the Federalist/Republican split, outline Thomas Jefferson's attempts to shape international relations with the lever of American commerZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ ......

What? Wh ... I'm awake!

So, most people know two thing about the war: the British burned the White House, because they were jerks; and Andrew Jackson won a battle two weeks after the treaty ending the war was signed, because he was ornery. Writing a mere century after the fact, Henry Adams saw so much more: the war came close to tearing the young nation apart; but even in losing the fight, America emerged more resilient and powerful. Because America kicks ass.

It's really a great story, and if you have six free months and no other pressing reading, I highly recommend that you give this book a chance. (If you have a whole year free, start off with "The History of the United States During the Administrations of Thomas Jefferson." That, or re-evaluate your entire social life.) As Madison was taking over, Jefferson was slinking into retirement. He had tried to impose an embargo on England in retaliation for various maritime slights, but the economic damage to America was so great that Congress pulled the plug. Madison had mostly the same views as Jefferson, but was a touch more pragmatic about things. He was an operator.

His mistake, if you can call it that, was trying to dance with France and England at the same time. The war in Europe was seriously mucking with the U.S. economy. France didn't want people shipping to British ports, and Britain didn't want people shipping to French ports. It was like a bad break-up, where neither partner is willing to let mutual friends hang out. Madison and the Republicans had always leaned toward the French in these matters, so their hope was to make Napoleon open his arms to unfettered U.S. moneygrubbing.

But if history teaches us anything, it is not to **** with Napoleon. I'll spare you the details, but he essentially agreed to lift sanctions on the U.S. -- if the U.S. agreed to fight Britain, should Britain not do the same. He then issued a decree lifting the sanctions, while simultaneously ordering his agents to ignore the decree. Everyone who wasn't Napoleon tried to be super polite back in those days (cell phones hadn't ruined everything), so the U.S. had to either make a SUPER awkward apology to England or declare war. Enough people were grumpy with England -- and thought that we could snag Canada in the process -- that the nation rushed headlong into MORTAL COMBAT.

Sort of. The best part about early 19th century America is that it was both great and small. The number of people shaping global affairs is stunningly low. The War of 1812 saw battles near the U.S.-Canadian border in Michigan and New York; Indian "clean up" in Mississippi and Alabama; the British invasion of the mid-Atlantic; and a bunch of small-scale naval affairs. A really big army would be about 5,000 people, and a tremendously ugly battle might leave about 200 people dead. The U.S. fleet (minus privateers) was laughably small (remember, Jefferson hated the thought of a standing military) and it was national news when a single ship sank or was captured. Two British cruisers with a detachment of marines were enough to put the entire Chesapeake Bay into a crippling state of alarm.

No one seemed to be particularly competent at fighting; the British generals were arrogant and dim, the American generals were more timid. John Armstrong, by Adams' account, spent much of his time as Secretary of War trying to cover his own ass and fire the generals he didn't like; part of that might have involved setting those generals up for failures in the field. There were some definite success stories, but it wasn't a well-oiled American machine taking on the British. Instead, you had a few vibrant personalities -- Andrew Jackson, William Henry Harison -- holding together relucant militia armies long enough to fight to a draw. The biggest military revelation was that American shipbuilding was technologically superior to that of the mightiest navy in the world; U.S. ships were faster and sturdier than their limey counterparts.

And while all this was going on, Congress was stuck in a state of paralysis, barely passing the bills that kept the federal government functioning; New England lawmakers were secretly plotting ways to secede from the union; and the export economy was in total shambles.

Astonishingly, it all works out. When the war is over, England was too whipped from its European struggles to demand anything more than a reversion to the status quo. France was in shambles, as Napoleon had been shown the door. America, for all of its struggles, emerged in pretty good health. The infrastructure damage was relatively minor; farms, factories and shipyards were sitting on a huge stockpile of goods that were ready to hit a receptive global market; and the national pride whipped up by a "Second Revolution" did enough to smooth over some of the major political differences of the day. There are a lot of fascinating players that emerged: John Quincy Adams, as a diplomatic superstar; Andrew Jackson, as a military legend; William Henry Harrison, as an Indian fighter and folk hero; James Monroe, as the utility player in Madison's cabinet and the heir to the presidency.

And we can't forget Madison. This book isn't really about him, as the 1801-09 book wasn't really about Jefferson. He's just a constant presence. In this account, like others I've read, he's a bit of a wet blanket. Madison was smart and shrewd, but also personality deficient. Napoleon boxed him in, and judging from his letters and actions, he knew it. War with England wasn't really his dream, and he didn't do the best job managing the actual struggle. By the time his term had ended, though, America was in a better spot than when he began. That has to count for something. His story is really about the evolution of American government. This was the first crisis of its kind faced by the young republic, and it served as a catalyst for the evolution of executive, legislative and diplomatic power.

I really loved this book, from its operatic scope to the finer details of military maneuvering. Every now and then Adams bogs down in details -- every time ships square off, he runs down their stats as though they were boxers -- but the personalities and inherent drama just jump off the page. It took me months to get through the whole thing but there's just so much to admire. Adams has his detractors (some people feel that, as John Adams' great grandson, he has it in for the Republicans), but you just can't find a book like this anymore. It's a stunning piece of work, and if you're a history nerd you owe it to yourself to get through it.

Tags: books

Reading Rainbow

Just so you know, I did more than watch five movies in the last four months. I also finished about four books. Before we get to our regularly scheduled blog programming, you're going to have to sit through four book reviews. Enjoy!

Book Review: Mr. Gatling's Terrible Marvel

The dirty secret about pre-20th-century war is that it was dirty. There was a definite threat from the large numbers of people who wanted to kill you, but the pressing daily concern had to come from smelling really bad, getting infected and dying. If you get a few thousand people to go on a camping trip for months on end, it's not going to end well.

Richard Gatling brought firearms on par with dysentery for sheer killing force, through the invention of a reliable machine gun. His hope, first off, was to make money -- Gatling liked inventing things, and he got his start hawking agricultural implement of his own design. Beyond that, he thought the Gatling gun might make the world a safer place. One man with a working Gatling could do the work of 20 Civil War soldiers, reducing the manpower (and potential casualties) of an army in the field; and by being so ridiculously effective, the Gatling would make your enemies give up and go home before a shot was fired. Instead, it was accepted too late for the Civil War and became an iconic image of terror and intimidation, used in lopsided standoffs between the developed and undeveloped world. It also supposedly made us casual about death.

This book, which written by the Pultizer Prize winner Julia Keller, uses Gatling's life story as a clothes line to hang a bunch of different vignettes about industrialization, the American spirit and world affairs. The gun is supposed to be the wire binding these themes together It doesn't work, not even remotely.

There's a lot of interesting stuff here; I particularly like a meandering description of the 19th century Patent Office, which drew scads of tourists hoping to glimpse models of the future. There's something romantic about that time, before specialization and expertise took opportunity away from a smart guy with a dream. Just 150 years ago there were a bunch of frontiers that you didn't need a Ph.D. to break; now there's so much bureaucracy and conceptual physics to wade through that the average CPA isn't going to invent a world-changing superweapon in his basement. Sigh.

But if you have two brain cells to rub together, you can't accept the premise that the studying the gun somehow explains it ALL. Nothing can. I'm sure when you're pitching a book to a publsher, it's a lot sexier if you promise your 500-page book about Fiestaware cleanly delineates the Cold War. But your premise is patently dishonest. For this book, there were changes in religion, urbanization, standards of living and the global economy. The spread of the Gatling fits into that tapestry, but it's not the loom. A little humility would make it more readable.

So would some good editing. Keller is overwrought and could make do with a lot fewer adjectives. Not only that, some chapters read like overlapping term papers -- certain factoids and characters are reintroduced multiple times, as though you hadn't already read them. The impression I was left with is that she wanted to do a straight-up biography of Gatling, didn't find enough material to make for a compelling book, then tried to patch up some gaping holes to meet a deadline.

Ah well. There are some good bits of trivia at least, and it's short. But you can find better things to do with your time. Such as reading ...

Book Review: The President and the Assassin

Now this is more like it. Scott Miller also goes for a macro approach, but a slightly more micro macro. Instead of the riduculous premise that one invention is a reasonable lens to view 50 years of cultural change, Miller is interested in the dual rise of imperialism and anarchy. Instead of speculation, he just gives a bunch of intriguing, well-researched chapters on key moments in the history of each.

On the imperial side, the protagonist is William McKinley, a Civil War hero and accomplished politician who was obscured by two men his life. Theodore Roosevelt was the bright light that makes McKinley hard to see , and Mark Hanna -- McKinkley's corpulent campaign manager -- was the shadow he could never escape. By Miller's account, there was more there than you learn in history class (i.e., nothing). McKinley was unerringly polite and ridculously attentive to his fragile wife; he remembered his time in the war and wasn't keen on starting a new one with the Spanish. But when push came to shove, he made the calls that put America on the path to empire. Unfortunately (for my tastes, since I likes me the presidents) he's only the guiding hand in a lot of these dramas, as America gets hooks into Hawaii, the Philippines and Cuba. Fortunately, at each of those conquests there's an intriguing collection of personalities (crusty admirals, Philippine rebel leaders, stubborn Spanish generals).

For the anarchists, there's Leon Czolgosz, the Polish-American communist who shot McKinley in Buffalo. Czolgosz was a loner (and the details of his life are a little thin). But Miller serves up portraits of the key anarchists agitators of the era and the incidents that inspired them, like the Haymarket riot and the Homestead riot. He does a nice survey of the rise of Emma Goldman, the anarchist who was Czolgosz's muse.

The mix is really compelling. You have the modern world taking shape, and the backlash from those changes -- the hardcore anarchists were essentially terrorists -- tearing things apart. Just a fascinating time in American history, and Miller keeps the narrative clipping along at a brisk pace. I don't know that there's any riveting new analyis here, but it's defintitely a worthwhile look at an often overlooked era.

Tags: books