The Man Who Left Too Soon

by Barry Forshaw

  Hollywood remakes of European films are usually ill-advised, stripping out and siphoning off all the crucial elements that made the properties so successful in the first place. It’s to be hoped that Hollywood breaks this trend when it finally gets round to the novels of Stieg Larsson.

  THE GIRL WHO IS LISBETH: NOOMI RAPACE

  When Noomi Rapace landed the much sought-after part of Lisbeth Salander, she had everything to lose. The Swedish actress was well aware of the astonishing success of the books in her own country when she auditioned – and was equally aware of the fact that many readers had a strong mental image of Larsson’s difficult, uncommunicative heroine. She knew that you had to be at the top of your game to meet these very high audience expectations – and not just for a local Scandinavian audience, but for the worldwide market that these films (originally made for television) would almost certainly reach. But the youthful actress had another problem: how to play what is essentially an impossible character? In the books, Lisbeth is a bizarre conglomeration of disparate, unrealistic elements, and her creator’s mastery lay in his ability to make the reader believe in this unlikely elfin figure who is nevertheless capable of extreme violence. That Noomi Rapace has also made her a believable character – and has done so with such consummate success – has not only consolidated the appeal of the trilogy of Swedish films, but has offered her the possibility of a stellar career abroad. Her first post-Lisbeth, English-language undertaking was a signing for the sequel to the first Guy Ritchie/Robert Downey Jr Sherlock Holmes film – and a more striking contrast of milieu to the Millennium films couldn’t be imagined.

  Director Niels Arden Oplev, to whom was granted the task of bringing the Larsson trilogy to the screen, knew full well that the casting of the principal female character was absolutely central to the enterprise, and became quickly convinced that in Rapace he had hired the right person. But the director initially had to be persuaded, so fraught was the casting process when it came to Lisbeth. Oplev was seeking an actress who would have the deepest possible relationship with the character, someone who worked along the lines of total identification espoused (initially) by the master Russian acting coach Stanislavsky and later by the ‘method’ school of acting, as popularised by Lee Strasberg’s Actors’ Studio in New York. This complete immersion in the character – both physically and psychologically – was something that Rapace took on board with dedication (it was her own chosen approach to the acting process) – and the result in all three films is some of the most strikingly authentic acting in modern cinema.

  Oplev first interviewed Noomi Rapace in 2007. She had acquired a considerable reputation in several serious Swedish films as well as making a mark in a variety of theatre productions, but the director was not persuaded by this impressive track record at the start, and thought that Rapace looked too feminine and attractive – hardly the appropriate appearance for the in-your-face, tattooed, black leather-wearing Salander. But the actress was aware that the part was one to be fought for (and, if necessary, suffered for) – not only offering a challenge for an ambitious performer such as herself, but also presenting a career-making opportunity that would be second to none. She made it clear to the director that she was prepared to make all the physical and psychological changes necessary to be persuasive in this difficult part, and began a rigorous diet, cutting out virtually everything but protein – and, as she realised, possibly creating health problems for herself in the future. The parallels with the reckless Salander, whose lifestyle is hardly a healthy one, were obvious. At the same time, Rapace adopted a regime of extreme physical exercise, attempting to give her body a lean, boyish appearance with the merest suggestion of subcutaneous fat – and in this transformation, as the films’ occasional nude scenes demonstrate, she succeeded all too well. Punishing martial arts were also part of the actress’s training, notably kickboxing and Thai boxing. Her natural aptitude in this area gave her the confidence to tell the director that she did not want him to rely on stunt doubles, and that she was keen to tackle the sheer physicality of the role. Other physical necessities for the part included the ability to ride a motorbike – a skill that is crucial to the action sequences in the films – so Rapace also worked on obtaining her licence.

  Her physical commitments, however, extended beyond making her body shape more androgynous. She had her hair cut short and undertook genuine piercings, eschewing the cosmetic simulacra of such things that were offered to her initially.

  All this physical immersion in the role paid off handsomely in terms of creating a startling look for Salander, but of far greater importance was the inner life that the actress was to bring to her character. Rapace has stated that she perfectly understood the rebellious, anti-establishment stance of Larsson’s heroine, which has echoes in the actress’s own turbulent teenage years. But it is the edgy, distrustful core of Salander that Rapace portrays with such absolute understanding. And the actress realises that the humanity and vulnerability of the character – elements that Lisbeth does her best to repress – must be displayed to the audience, but with subtlety. We may at times look at Lisbeth with the same dismay as the sympathetic characters around her, but we must always be able to locate the human, caring part of her psyche – the part that only a few of the characters (Blomkvist, his lawyer sister Annika, Salander’s sometime-lover Miriam Wu) are able to access. It is a measure of the actress’s success that she is able to synthesise all these elements in a totally persuasive fashion – largely deprived, what is more, of one of the key elements in an actor’s armoury: dialogue. Unlike in the books, where frequently we are party to Lisbeth’s thoughts, it is left to an often silent Rapace to convey the inner conflicts of her character. We find ourselves studying the most minute flicker of facial expression to ‘read’ her feelings – and Rapace is particularly adept at the moments where common human feeling dictates that she thank someone who has helped her – but she cannot break through the sociopathic barriers she has built around herself. For Noomi Rapace, Lisbeth Salander is a hard act to follow.

  MILLENNIUM MUSIC: JACOB GROTH

  A key element in the Larsson films is the music – the edgy, nervous scores. Jacob Groth is an admirer of Bernard Herrmann, the composer who provided the perfect marriage of music and image in the films of Alfred Hitchcock. So, in suspense terms, the Danish composer had a true master to emulate when scoring The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, The Girl Who Played with Fire and The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest. But Groth is no stranger to challenges when it comes to scoring films. Five times an Emmy Award-winner, and a nominee on a further occasion, he has established himself as a film composer of great authority. His music communicates a subtle atmosphere, mostly downplaying orchestral bravura and maximising an effective Nordic restraint. Like Tim Burton’s house composer Danny Elfman, Groth has a background in rock music. Originally a guitarist, he began some 25 years ago to fine-tune his talents as a composer on Danish movies, and in the 1990s he made his debut as a composer for television. His big break came with Taxa, a long-running success on Scandinavian TV, but his chef d’oeuvre – and the calling card for his international reputation – was his score for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, which was nominated in the ‘best score’ category by the European Film Academy in 2009.

  It would be hard to overestimate the added value provided by Jacob Groth’s music for the three Swedish films of the Millennium Trilogy. Listeners – and film buffs – are still divided over the vexed question as to whether or not a film score should call attention to itself or work subliminally to complement the action on screen. Groth is very much of the latter school. He has enjoyed a particularly close professional relationship with Niels Arden Oplev, the director of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, a relationship honed over several years of working together. I heard about this over prodigious Blomkvist-style quantities of coffee during a fascinating couple of hours when Groth was in London in 2010. I met the composer in a penthouse flat high above the noise and bustle of Soho as he worke
d on a console, creating the score for a new film. It was an instructive experience. Groth, amiable and articulate, is a professional musician who takes a completely businesslike approach to his job. However, he says wryly, it is an approach that took a battering when he was working on the Millennium films.

  ‘I became totally involved emotionally when scoring the Larsson movies,’ he revealed, ‘and kept having to remind myself that my job was to ensure that every dramatic element in the film was given its proper value – and that way, justice would be done to Stieg Larsson’s memory. Which it had to be. Niels and I – everyone connected with the film, in fact – had that objective very much in mind. But it was often disturbing to work on the films – and to enter that dark world again and again. In fact, much more so for me when working on the films as opposed to reading the books; I found it impossible not to feel a hot flush of shame – shame for my own sex. It has to be said that Larsson is under no illusions about the depth to which men – some men – will sink. I suppose that’s an attitude which is reflected in the Swedish title of the first book and film, Men Who Hate Women. But I tried to force myself to be objective when scoring the films – I knew I had to keep a certain distance – and it wasn’t all dealing with negative energy. To some degree, I could maximise the musical elements connected to the more sympathetic men in the films – obviously Blomkvist is the principal example.’

  But was the job made more difficult, I asked, by the very detailed performances of Noomi Rapace and Michael Nyqvist? Was there a fine balance between enhancing their performances and detracting from them? ‘Do you mean in the sense that their performances were so complete it was up to me as a composer not to get in the way? The answer to that is obviously yes – where the actors are doing very subtle work (which clearly is most of the time with performers as skilled as Noomi and Michael), a composer such as myself must adopt the lightest of touches. But when the director wants to accentuate the drama and menace of a scene – and there are plenty of edgy, dangerous scenes in the trilogy which fit that description – I am able to employ all my resources, which in the case of these films included a large orchestra… a larger orchestra, in fact, than I’m usually able to use. And – as to whether or not a composer’s work should be noticed – well, if people didn’t notice my work, I’m not offended. I consider that means I’m doing my job – the music is hopefully working on a subliminal level to bring out things that perhaps the director and actors have not found. I was, in a way, a handmaiden – or facilitator – to a particular vision of Stieg Larsson’s world. I hope – had he lived – he would have been happy with what I did.’

  CHAPTER 11

  THE MILLENNIUM TOUR:

  In Larsson’s Footsteps

  It was hardly surprising, given the worldwide success of the Lisbeth Salander books, that the canny tourist operators of Stockholm would come up with a ‘Millennium Tour’.

  There are, of course, many such literary tours worldwide built around celebrated characters and series of books, and those taking such tours range from the intellectual literati to those of a frankly fannish persuasion. And many people who have taken part in such walking tours are familiar with those for whom the dividing line between fantasy and reality is a touch blurred. There are those, for instance, who send letters – in the 21st century – to 221b Baker Street asking for help from Sherlock Holmes, presupposing that the Great Detective is not the fictitious creation of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, or that Holmes is the oldest surviving Victorian.

  Those who attend the Stieg Larsson walking tour in Stockholm represent a particularly interesting mix, both in age and social background. But there is one unifying factor: a voracious appetite for any information concerning Stieg Larsson and his three remarkable novels. The walk includes a 7-11 shop, which, of course, features in the trilogy, and the staff is familiar with groups of up to 24 people pausing on the wide shopping street of Götgatan on the island of Södermalm, looking attentively through the windows as if they were gazing at a religious shrine.

  Thriller writer Robert Ryan (author of such novels as Signal Red) also pens a series of pithy travel pieces for The Times, and he has noted that the guide on the tour he attended said of this store, ‘You will see packets of Billy’s Deep Pan Pizza, a snack that figures prominently in all three novels.’ And apparently, at least one of the party can always be counted on to go in and buy a packet of this appetising souvenir. As Ryan notes, the Millennium Trilogy, as reflected in this walking tour, is ‘no gourmet guide to Stockholm: the hero and heroine exist on a diet of cheap microwaved pizzas, Whoppers, coffee and cigarettes, with vodka and lime or aquavit thrown in’. The guide points out that this was the way Larsson himself lived: ‘Working too hard, eating junk food, smoking too much. It’s probably what killed him.’ In fact, this macabre observation is perfectly appropriate in the context of the tour celebrating a series of books which take readers into the furthest excesses of human behaviour. Despite this, Stockholm’s pride in the city’s dark chronicler is unbounded, and any tourist carrying copies of the books can count on locals taking a personal interest, and asking if the book they’re reading is living up to expectations (the canny tourist will diplomatically always answer in the affirmative).

  It is inevitable, given the topography of the books, that the majority of the locations included in the tour are on Södermalm Island – where most of the principal protagonists reside – which has the upwardly mobile, and distinctly trendy, elements of certain parts of London.

  The ever-increasing number of visitors travel from all parts of Europe, and the tours are accordingly conducted in Swedish, English, Italian and French. Needless to say, most of the questions thrown at the footsore guides relate to Lisbeth Salander and Mikael Blomkvist. The guides, who work for the City Museum, are used to this, and have ready answers for the oft-repeated questions.

  The initial meeting point is Bellmansgatan, which is the location of the attic apartment of the novels’ investigative journalist, Blomkvist. The apartment overlooks the water, and is a striking location. Robert Ryan has suggested that it is worth following the tourist example and starting from here, following the prescribed route to get a feel for Södermalm.

  The district was once working class but has since transmogrified into a key area for the arts and media community, with a markedly bohemian feel. A snapshot of the kind of locals residing here may be discerned from the portraits in Café Rival at 3 Mariatorget, which include actors such as Stellan Skärsgård, the director of the much-acclaimed film Let the Right One In, Tomas Alfredson, the pop singer Robyn, and the actors who appear in the Millennium movies. The entire complex, with its talented residents is, in fact, co-owned by Benny Andersson of the erstwhile band Abba.

  The route along which walkers on the Millennium Tours are led encompasses steep but attractive examples of the best of eighteenth-century Sweden’s cobbled streets, and these are, of course, the location for a variety of clandestine sexual encounters in the books. Visitors are taken past ancient churches which have been cursed by witches and an anonymous-looking synagogue, before coming to a significant location.

  This is the HQ of Greenpeace, an organisation celebrated for its crusading work exposing the iniquities of all-powerful (and often bullying) multinational corporations – so where better for Stieg Larsson to locate the fictitious offices of Mikael Blomkvist’s similarly crusading magazine Millennium? Shortly after passing this building, visitors are then able to see some beautiful views of the city’s atmospheric waterfronts and canals.

  One of the most striking vistas may be glimpsed from Montelisvägen, a wooden walkway which offers a view of Kungsholmen, with its remarkable city hall, police headquarters and courthouse – all of which, of course, figure in the novels.

  To the west of this are the offices of Expo, and the magazine on which Larsson worked is one of the more sombre locations on the tour. For many years, Larsson held down a job with a truly prodigious workload, and burned a phenomenal amount of energy fighti
ng for the many causes which were dear to his heart. This is the building where Larsson was taken ill at his desk before dying in hospital (that hospital also features in the Millennium Trilogy).

  During the two hours of this fascinating trawl through the locations of Larsson’s novels, the interest level of most groups remains high. Robert Ryan reports that on the trip he took, a Canadian in the group announced that he was planning to read all the books again (apparently this remark is de rigueur for many visitors, according to the tour organisers), and half a dozen of Ryan’s group headed for the Grand Hotel. One of Stockholm’s most iconic buildings, the hotel overlooks the ferries which leave for Sandhamn, a beautiful island in the outer archipelago, where, in the novels, Blomkvist owns a cottage – and where he sleeps with Lisbeth Salander during their brief and unsatisfactory affair. The location has great natural beauty, with (beyond the yachting centre) summer cabins located on exquisite untouched beaches.

  As a tourist destination Sandhamn is a test of the seriousness of the Stieg Larsson fan – only the most dedicated Salander/Blomkvist followers need apply, as the island is to be reached after a three-hour boat trip, and, as Eva Gabrielsson has pointed out, the exact location of the journalist’s cottage is not specified in the novels.

  Details of the tour may be obtained from The City Museum (Ryssgården, Slussen 00 46 8 508 31 659), at www.stadsmuseum.stockholm.se, and tickets are available at the museum or tourist offices. It is also possible to buy a Millennium map for a self-guided tour.