BOOKS AND ARTS JANUARY 17, 2012
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In The Iron Lady, a figure named Margaret Thatcher orders the sinking of the Argentinean battleship, the Belgrano. She “wins” the war of the Falkland Islands, just as she had won leadership of the Conservative party in Great Britain and had become the nation’s first female prime minister. As such, she imposed austerity cuts; she beat down the trade union movement; she gutted many parts of her country, especially the manufacturing north; and she restored a version of prosperity in the financial services industry that was lifted on the wave of the Internet. She was the most significant leader Britain had had since Churchill. But she was more drastic than the wartime premier. He responded to an external threat when he had no other choice. Mrs. Thatcher was an innovator determined on radical surgery. Churchill was resolute, and she was an ideologue—which is most useful or more dangerous?
Meryl Streep plays Thatcher in The Iron Lady, and she is the greatest actress we have. She is as brilliant as you would have expected, yet she is so defeated by the film’s task that we are impeded in our sense of Thatcher herself. Elsewhere, there are single shots of another superwoman, Rooney Mara as Lisbeth Salander in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, that go to the heart of cinema. One dead-eyed glance, one alienated shrug, one moment of her hurtling on her motor bike, and we are riveted, while Streep’s extraordinary, humane skill seems adrift and even fussy. How can this be?
It’s not that I specially admire David Fincher’s Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. When a mystery film takes 158 minutes, it has more than whodunit on its mind; it has pretension and obsession—coming after Se7en and Zodiac, this is Fincher’s third film about a serial killer. Having not read the Stieg Larsson books, or seen the Swedish films of 2009, I came to this English-language remake with fresh eyes, and was shocked to discover how old-fashioned the story is. The situation of the disgraced investigative journalist, Mikael Blomkvist (played by Daniel Craig), given a second chance by being hired to investigate the forty-year-old murder of a teenage girl, Harriet, from a wealthy and dysfunctional family, feels as quaint as Sherlock Holmes.
So Blomkvist is set down on a bleak, wintry island on which several members of the family live without ever talking to one another. The hiring patriarch in the case (Christopher Plummer) gives him box-loads of research and assures Blomkvist that he’ll soon work out the family tree. I never did—yet I knew who the killer was early on, just because of the casting.
That whole intrigue (the “Harriet” mystery) is a set-up for Lisbeth Salander. She is a punk, bisexual waif, a ward of the state, a hostile wolf, and a computer genius. When she is hideously raped by her state guardian, she takes a cruel revenge on him that seems satisfying because revenge is intrinsic to the rhythm and justice of movie. But despite her victimization, she is as much a superwoman as Lauren Bacall in her first film, To Have and Have Not (1944). That’s the one where she seems alone, immaculate, hardboiled and ready to teach Bogart how to whistle, until she turns out to be so pliant a love-child Bogart ended up marrying her.
Lisbeth Salander admits that she can’t get on with people, and nothing in Fincher’s vision encourages any such hope. She regards others as if they were the walls in corridors; she suffers horribly and responds like a psychopathic wizard; she has piercings on her face and an indigo-black tattoo draped over her sinuous body. We know this, because eventually, after she has agreed to help Blomkvist in his investigation of Harriet with her infinite hacking talent (all taken on trust in the film), she strips off one night and stands before him, silent and naked. “Is this sensible?” he asks, like a weary James Bond. But she is on him, saving him the effort of having to woo or ask her. She is in charge, and a flawless male fantasy despite the film’s gestures towards feminism. I have no idea whether Mara could play anyone else—Bacall couldn’t really after her first two Howard Hawks films—but it doesn’t matter. She holds this crazy, prolonged film together, so Daniel Craig stands aside and lets her baleful ghost own the camera.
Everyone on The Iron Lady, starting with director Phyllida Lloyd and screenwriter Abi Morgan, assumes that Streep will own the film and conduct it to grace or glory. But there is no movie at home, because describing a real political leader is so much harder on screen than making an assertion of insolent glamour. The Iron Lady has three Thatchers: the young woman who got married and started a political career (Alexandra Roach); the leader; and the older widow who hallucinates that her husband is still alive and who is gradually losing her mind. (The real Baroness Thatcher is eighty-six and still alive. I never liked her, but I hope she is beyond seeing or understanding this inept movie.)
As you might expect, Streep is magnificent but speciously sympathetic in the Alzheimer-like coda to the real drama, even if her husband Denis (played by Jim Broadbent) proves such a bore you can’t understand why so decisive a woman stayed with him. One answer is hinted at: that she had to be married to a businessman to win a seat in Parliament. Another is easily imagined: like many people fixed on power she had no interest in love or sex, except where it might assist her.
Thatcher in lonely dementia has nothing to do with the mounting isolation of her leadership, but it softens the project. I do not intend to suggest that Thatcher used actual sex to gain power, but winning the leadership of her party was her most startling achievement. She appropriated a men’s club, and that took charm, warmth and ways of impressing men. But Streep is as chilled in this film as she is inventive, and she does not convey how Thatcher affected her male associates. There is no reason for making this story if you can’t get inside Thatcher’s head and feel her instinct for manipulation. Streep is endlessly creative and actressy; but there is no nature in her Thatcher, and no secret to draw us in.
Against that, the authority of Rooney Mara’s Lisbeth Salander is beguiling just because of how little she gives away about herself. The glamour in reticence is endlessly winning, and the point of putting these two superwomen together is to stress how the sensationalism of a black leather now and a blank stare from a haunting face can surpass ideas, history, politics and all the things the world once hoped to work with. The Iron Lady believes in depth, while movies depend on the panache of superficiality.
David Thomson is the author of The New Biographical Dictionary of Film and The Moment of Psycho: How Alfred Hitchcock Taught America to Love Murder.
45 comments
Of course, the fictional character is inherently more interesting: she can be whatever the writer, movie maker, or actress wants her to be; indeed, Salander's character doesn't even attempt to be like an actual human being. It's possible with a real character, but not as easily accomplished, especially when the real character and her eye witnesses are still among us; Salander's character is a punk, bisexual waif with a tattoo, while Mrs. Thatcher is married to a bore and carries a handbag. Make The Iron Lady 30 years hence, and the actress who plays her can be just as beguiling as Salander. If Thomson is correct, and movies (or, more accurately, movies for today's audience) depend on superficiality, then I may spending less and less of my time watching them. And so may other sensible people with an imagination. Imagination. I suspect that superficiality is a substitute for imagination. The viewers' imagination.
- rayward
January 17, 2012 at 11:03am
Both the makers of this film, including Meryl Streep, and the author of this review, David Thomson, feel the need to assert that, though they're trying to be objective, they really don't like Margaret Thatcher. How do you avoid superficiality when you're more interested in preening for your intellectual peers than in producing an original and insightful creation? Self-regard, in my opinion, is Ms. Streep's achilles heel as an actor.
- Athought
January 17, 2012 at 3:16pm
....Why Lisbeth Salander Beats Margaret Thatcher.... What a dumb proposition. That aside, I see Thatcher, as reinforced by this movie, as a kind of Lear, the difference being Lear is in text what Thatcher was/is in life, one too outsized to be captured by one artistic representation. Therefore, when Lear is performed, the best we can do is get aspects and iterations of him. So, too, it's a mistake, I'd argue, to try to capture the whole of Thatcher. So, I similarly take The Iron Lady to be offering a version of her, and here the juxtaposition of the old frail Thatcher, who in her onsetting dotage provides such a poignant contrast to the ascending and predominant political person she was in the prime of her power. I can see the argument that that juxtaposition is too pat and contrived. I'd say that Streep's acting gainsays that view. I was moved when she finally "let her husband go." So the movie as biopic is also a moving portrayal of Thatcher in quite old age when the family she necessarily didn't have time for when in power means more to her, necessarily, than anything else. I see Thatcher, as reinforced by this movie, as a kind of Lear, the difference being Lear is in text what Thatcher was/is in life, one too outsized to be captured by one artistic representation. Therefore, when Lear is performed, the best we can do is get aspects and iterations of him. So, too, it's a mistake, I'd argue, to try to capture the whole of Thatcher. So, I similarly take The Iron Lady to be offering a version of her, and here the juxtaposition of the old frail Thatcher who in her onsetting dotage provides such a poignant contrast to the ascending and predominant political person she was in the prime of her power. I can see the argument that that juxtaposition is too pat and contrived. I'd say that Streep's acting gainsays that view. I was moved when she finally "let her husband go." So the movie as biopic is also a moving portrayal of Thatcher in quite old age when the family she necessarily didn't have time for when in power means more to her, necessarily, than anything else. I see Thatcher, as reinforced by this movie, as a kind of Lear, the difference being Lear is in text what Thatcher was/is in life, one too outsized to be captured by one artistic representation. Therefore, when Lear is performed, the best we can do is get aspects and iterations of him. So, too, it's a mistake, I'd argue, to try to capture the whole of Thatcher. So, I similarly take The Iron Lady to be offering a version of her, and here the juxtaposition of the old frail Thatcher who in her onsetting dotage provides such a poignant contrast to the ascending and predominant political person she was in the prime of her power. I can see the argument that that juxtaposition is too pat and contrived. I'd say that Streep's acting gainsays that view. I was moved when she finally "let her husband go." So the movie as biopic is also a moving portrayal of Thatcher in quite old age when the family she necessarily didn't have time for when in power means more to her, necessarily, than anything else.
- basman
January 17, 2012 at 5:28pm
Sorry for the triplication, my bad, bad, bad.
- basman
January 17, 2012 at 5:29pm
basman, I think the comparison to Lear is a propos. As to whether the fictional Salander is superior to the fictionalized Thatcher, that's above my pay grade. But I feel pretty confident in saying that Salander resembles many real people I know, and also that Mara was robbed at the golden globes.
- miceelf
January 17, 2012 at 5:33pm
"I have no idea whether Mara could play anyone else ...." She played the cute girlfriend in The Social Network -- nothing like the Salander role! How does she do it? In the immortal words of Sir Ian McKellan, "How do I act so well? What I do is I pretend to be the person I'm portraying in the film or play." http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4SL-L5WZcJc
- JakeH
January 17, 2012 at 6:15pm
I saw the original films and thought Naomi Rapace was just great as Lisabeth Salander, especially the first one in the series.
- rewiredhogdog
January 17, 2012 at 7:32pm
JakeH, she also played victims in such movies as the remade nightmare on elm street. as well as bit parts as victims of different kinds in mediocre rom coms.
- miceelf
January 17, 2012 at 8:13pm
I didn't have much interest in seeing The Iron Lady because Thatcher's right-wing politics were the opposite of my own, and it's tough to muster interest in a biopic about a person you don't like. It's not like she's fascinatingly evil. She's just a bummer. I mean, the Falklands? Really? Quick quiz: How many people died in that war? What was the population of the Falklands in 1980? What is/was its strategic, economic and/or geopolitical significance? Wikipedia Says: 900, 1800, 0. Stark numbers. Stark, stupid numbers. Was the rock even worth a single ship? To which the answer was, "It's the principle!" To which the answer was, "Oh, you mean the great legal principle of imperial takers, keepers?" Unadulterated silliness.
- JakeH
January 17, 2012 at 8:26pm
Up to you but I'd recommend seeing the movie for at least four reasons: Thatcher was a world ranking figure of compelling intellect, analytic intellect at that and compelling personal force who grew from modest rank to unbelievable heights by virtue of her intellect and personal force; the perspective is in stark tension with those heights even as the movie reviews them; Streep's performance is for the ages, best I've seen in a long time; and honestly there is so much mediocrity that gets ventilated and hyped, it's almost an obligation, not really, to take in a movie like this that has aspects of greatness such as here in the acting. But I'm in a decided minority here, I'll grant.
- basman
January 17, 2012 at 9:07pm
What JakeH said on 1/17/12 at 6:15 pm EDT
- ironyroad
January 17, 2012 at 9:30pm
P.S. I take it neither of you will be seeing Rick Perry, The Man, The Music.
- basman
January 17, 2012 at 9:49pm
basman, I've already seen Rick Perry in a movie. I believe it was called Talladega Nights.
- miceelf
January 18, 2012 at 8:51am
I probably won't make it, but I believe K2K is organizing a special showing for TNR subscribers in the New York area.
- ironyroad
January 18, 2012 at 1:03pm
Funny, ironyroad. Your approach to these things is the very opposite of mine. If I sense in myself a strong visceral reluctance to see a certain movie or read a certain book, because I don't like the director or the character or the author, I consider that very reluctance to be an important reason for me to go see the movie or read the book or whatever. I noticed it about myself when I was only 17 and forced myself to go see "Clockwork Orange" and "The Godfather" both of which I absolutely did not want to see. Of course it is easier to take the path of least resistance and passively ignore that which we dislike but my way is more interesting and potentially brings greater insight. IMHO.
- noga1
January 18, 2012 at 7:28pm
Other film I forced myself to go see but for different reasons was "Sophie Scholl" and Mike Leigh's "Another year".
- noga1
January 18, 2012 at 7:32pm
"As you might expect, Streep is magnificent but speciously sympathetic in the Alzheimer-like coda to the real drama, even if her husband Denis (played by Jim Broadbent) proves such a bore you can’t understand why so decisive a woman stayed with him. " How about she stayed with him because she liked and respected him and because she was grateful for him standing by her side through thick and thin? Why the cynicism, as if the only understandable motive for people to stay together is excitement and mutual interest? I don't even understand why "decisive" is at odds with staying with a boring husband. Perhaps it takes a decisive woman to stay with a boring husband.
- noga1
January 18, 2012 at 7:50pm
Noga, I believe the Rick Perry movie is just a joke of basman's -- I do go to a movie now and then against a feeling of reluctance/resistance and sometimes it has paid off. Two that come to mind are (coincidentally) "Another Year" and "Let The Right One In." What didn't pay off was "Talledega Nights" which I found forced and unfunny -- Will Ferrell does nothing for me.
- ironyroad
January 19, 2012 at 4:14pm
What I also meant to say was that I definitely plan to see 'Iron Lady' despite my dislike of Thatcher's politics, in case that got lost.
- ironyroad
January 19, 2012 at 4:44pm
I'm curious. What was your reason for the reluctance to see "Another year"?
- noga1
January 19, 2012 at 9:30pm
I'm not sure. More than once I've reacted that way to a new film of Leigh's and then I see it and end up liking it. Some caricature of his movies that lodged in my head early on and won't go away?
- ironyroad
January 20, 2012 at 2:58am
I found the film (Another year) tedious and clichoid. I couldn't like any of the characters. They all seemed pathetic each in their own unique way. Yet clearly we were meant to admire the central couple, both physically unattractive and sanctimonious, for the so-called enduring beauty of their love for each other and (qualified) charity towards more fallible humans.
- noga1
January 20, 2012 at 3:51am
Completely off topic, I thought you mind find these interesting: http://www.businessinsider.com/berlin-aerial-photographs-hein-gorny-2012-1
- noga1
January 20, 2012 at 4:05am
It's odd looking at those photos because I was there for six weeks during the summer, and walking around exactly those areas near the Reichstag and Brandenburg gate. Unrecognizable now, even from fifteen years ago. Another Year left me somewhat ambivalent -- I didn't like the wife character, pretty much for the reasons you mention, but I found the husband ok in that grizzled understated English way. It seems to me that middle-aged people have the right to be physically unattractive (I fight for my rights!).
- ironyroad
January 20, 2012 at 5:30pm
Anybody can look attractive, ironyroad. Middle-age is no excuse. Did they have to make her buck-teethed and so frumpy? It seemed to be a deliberate choice by the director that she should look horsey and unappealing. I was wondering what exactly he gained from it. What point was he making? That if she had a little more physical allure it might interfere with her saintliness? It's not as if the characters were not aware of their looks. There were some exchanges about it. It's as if he was doing it as a sort of admonition to all those middle aged women out there who spend too much time doing their hair or something. As if the only two possibilities were either the aging woman who is resigned to her age and the other silly middle aged woman who dresses too young and tarty for her age.
- noga1
January 20, 2012 at 6:40pm
But she isn't saintly, Noga, she is a somewhat smug let-me-explain-what-you're-doing-wrong-in-your-life type who withdraws her friendship from someone who needed her and passes that friend along to "professional counseling." I guess it's possible that Leigh meant that part of the end of the movie to suddenly open up another perspective, while still showcasing her virtuous and caring acts. Or maybe the movie is standing by her all the way, and genuinely believes the act at the end was justified (well, maybe it was justified in some ways but counseling isn't a substitute for friendship). The friend, in contrast, is attractive -- I thought so at least.
- ironyroad
January 20, 2012 at 8:11pm
Yes, in a pathetic sort of way.
- noga1
January 20, 2012 at 9:13pm
I saw the movie with a few, older, friends of mine. They thought the second proposition was the right one, that we were meant to identify with the older woman. But we talked about it some more and they came around to my way of seeing her. Not a bad person just someone who, as you said, couldn't be a friend when she was needed most to be a friend. "Family" was her reason. Even so, there was no need for her to speak about Mary as if she were some piece of discardable junk. The fact is, I don't trust Leigh and I don't think we were intended to feel such pity for her.
- noga1
January 21, 2012 at 12:00am
I identified with Mary a lot. I remember sitting in a large-ish group of people in a restaurant aftwards and feeling quite angry that nobody understood her, or empathized. I still think, however, that Gerry is capable of seeing people's needs (she's the one that gets Tom's widowed brother to come to London for a while). But like a lot of thoughtful, caring, and capable people she extracts a price (control? respect?) for her good deeds. Coincidentally, we were having a discussion of a similar nature in class today, about Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms and his (and/or the narrator Frederic's) attitude to Catherine Barkley and her fate. We talked a bit about whether there's an authorial distance from Frederic Henry's story that makes the novel more than some kind of narcissistic male war fantasy. I think myself that caution is maybe advised, not just assuming the authorial position is an endorsement of the narrative POV's position. I do respect Leigh, on the basis of experience, as someone who can't just be locked into any one moment of what his movies say.
- ironyroad
January 21, 2012 at 12:40am
"... still think, however, that Gerry is capable of seeing people's needs (she's the one that gets Tom's widowed brother to come to London for a while)." He was "family".
- noga1
January 21, 2012 at 8:18am
Mary is a natural victim. She begs to be kicked and abused in her behaviour, neediness, lack of self-awareness. She is a natural target for bullies and do-gooders simultaneously and they both tire of her eventually. There is a certain anger in the way of her portrayal in the film, always fumbling, helpless, selfish, silly, which is why I think Leigh did not intend us to sympathize with her. If he did he would have allowed her at least one or two moments of dignity. He stands right behind Gerry.
- noga1
January 21, 2012 at 8:31am
Yup, that's why I identified with her.
- ironyroad
January 21, 2012 at 12:55pm
Are pity for a character and identification with it the same? Just wondering. I watched "The spy who came in from the cold" last night (by sheer coincidence my son brought it from the library yesterday. Today he is a leCarre aficionado). I saw it years and years ago and didn't remember much so it was like seeing it for the first time. As it reached the end, I was reminded of Neil Burnside's resort to a similar solution at that memorable episode. Do you think it was some sort of a homage to LeCarre but from the side of the decision-maker, as if providing some sort of retroactive defense to why such a brutal end was the only possible solution? (I think we can talk about it here in this thread. We are not disrupting any conversation)
- noga1
January 21, 2012 at 1:28pm
True, it looks as if everyone else has gone elsewhere. On The Spy Who Came In, yes, I think there is at least some prima facie evidence that the Sandbaggers creator (Ian MacIntosh) was making a gesture toward that famous climax in espionage fiction (and movies). It would be interesting to watch both scenes back-to-back. Maybe there are other clues there. The structure is somewhat different, however, as in Sandbaggers, Burnside orders Laura's execution as there is no other way out of the dilemma that he has found himself in, and essentially he brings about the death of someone he loves. With The Spy Who Came In, it's more that Smiley and Control look the other way as Mundt has Liz killed at the Berlin Wall (they pretty much know that's what he's planning) but they expect Leamas to jump into the Western sector and escape. His romantic/existential choice to climb back down is typical Le Carré, but Burnside's choice is grimly pragmatic, the opposite of any romantic sacrifice. Burnside will do anything for the mission. Leamas has given up the mission (in a general sense, not the specific operation he's been on). And Leamas had specifically asked that Liz not be dragged further into the operation, a promise given by London but then broken.
- ironyroad
January 21, 2012 at 3:28pm
I see Burnside's role as more analogous to that of control, rather than Leamas (who would be an innocent operative in the order of Caine). He was burdened by the ethical question of what harm can be inflicted on one individual in order to benefit the greater part of society. (Robert Kaplan calls this kind of thinking "pagan ethics"). Perhaps MacIntosh was interested in placing the man responsible for the decision to execute the beloved in the shoes of the lover and see how that would work out. Of course Laura was not as innocent as Nan was. In "The spy who" the puppet masters are depicted as pretty cynical. We don't like them. Their word is worth nothing. In the Sandbaggers we get to see them tormented by the kind of decisions they have to make. It's the politicians who are the cynics. I agree that LeCarre does have a romantic streak that is allowed to play in the way action unfolds in his books. In the recent "Tinker Tailor", Smiley's love for his wife plays a significant role in his inability to see clearly. Perhaps I will try out your suggestion, as I have them both available right now.
- noga1
January 21, 2012 at 6:54pm
Oh yes, I just realized -- she's Nan in the movie, but Liz Gold in the novel (they changed names as Burton was married to Liz Taylor at the time). The novel also raises a couple of issues about Jews. She's one, Fiedler's another. I don't think this comes up so clearly in the film.
- ironyroad
January 22, 2012 at 1:26am
In any case, what do you think about the final scenes of SB and The Spy played against each other?
- ironyroad
January 22, 2012 at 1:29am
Well, we have two young and talented women who entrusted their life to their lovers who proved to be either too weak or too devious to cherish and preserve that life. The locale is the same, that famous Berlin Wall with its ominous perpetual darkness enlightened only by machine gun shots and people dying as they attempt to cross into a "better" world. And no matter how persuasive the rationale is, we remain with a deep sense of betrayal, that love and fine principles will never be allowed to triumph in the shadowy world of foreign policy. Seems to me John LeCarre is fascinated by Jews and tries to understand them from the inside out but there is a problem, an obstacle. He cannot really get away from the modern stereotype of the Jew as furtive, ambitious, intellectual, subversive and irresistibly charming (Axel in "Perfect spy" is actually re-incarnation of Fiedler writ larger), or the Jewesss who is politically naive and righteous who believes in "free love" which at the time of the novel and film would have translated directly into a tart. He usually punishes them in his novels.
- noga1
January 22, 2012 at 9:26am
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wR3LtWcn2lo&feature=related
- noga1
January 22, 2012 at 12:20pm
I think Laura knows the risks -- she isn't the only operative in SB who met that fate, but it's true that she doesn't know in this case that her escape will not happen, and that is the searing thing. She is happy to be walking out of East Berlin and towards Burnside, at the moment the shot comes. In contrast, Liz is not trained for espionage work. She's genuinely a caring and romantic individual who won't see the bad in people, except in the abstract sense of capitalism or something. But she has already experienced the gap between ideal and reality when she first gets to the GDR. So your description is elegantly concise but I have a feeling it only fits Liz well. If I was cynical I'd say she's the kind of girl who will go to bed with you provided you talk political analysis with her for four hours beforehand. I don't think le Carré is very good with his female characters in general. Charlie in The Little Drummer Girl is perhaps the most complex but I think that she's a kind of guy really. I watched some of the other YouTube clips -- Le Carré has been awarded some high-end German literary prizes recently. He speaks German beautifully.
- ironyroad
January 22, 2012 at 7:03pm
I didn't like Charlie. She was too suggestible and pro-Palestinian. I can't stand the politics of emotionalism. You can sell anything to the emotionally suggestible. I did say Laura was not innocent.
- noga1
January 22, 2012 at 9:38pm
That's true, you did. I just reread your earlier post.
- ironyroad
January 22, 2012 at 10:58pm
About attractiveness: http://www.newscientist.com/article/dn6355 Apparently, we are hard wired to respond to prettiness even as day old babies. But a baby is notoriously known to think his mom is the model of beauty. It is a genuine belief on his part. I speak from experience. Yet of course it is statistically provable that not all moms are pretty. And fathers do not yield the same type of aesthetic appreciation. So how exactly accurate this research is, I wonder.
- noga1
January 23, 2012 at 4:54pm
Planning to see Tinker Tailor on Saturday.
- ironyroad
January 25, 2012 at 1:41am
"The artist" on Saturday for me.
- noga1
January 25, 2012 at 6:54am