Insomnia (1997 and 2002)

“Insomnia” was first made as a Swedish/Norwegian crime noir in 1997 with Stellan Skarsgard, and then remade in 2002 as an American thriller with Al Pacino. Remakes suck, right? Well, in a rare miracle, maybe a one-time miracle, the remake is as nearly strong as its predecessor. Both will keep you up at night.

The 1997 film is bleak, moody and has an ambivalent ending that sticks to the inside of your brain. It also packs a powerful example of low-key, but excellent acting from Skarsgard. The 2002 version is equally stark yet takes us deeper into the cracks behind Pacino’s protagonist, and presents a more formidable opponent.

Both versions have the same set up: The murder of a teenage girl in a small burg near the Article Circle (Norway in 1997; Alaska in 2002) demands the experience of a big-city homicide investigator (Skarsgard; Pacino). Each town is experiencing what is known as midnight sun, therefore it is blazing daylight 24/7. The lack of darkness wrecks havoc on each detective’s already damaged psyche, and all senses crumble. Fast. A fatal FUBAR shooting during a stakeout empowers the respective murderer above the policeman and derails the investigation.

1997: Skarsgard plays Jonas Engstrom, a man with no apparent emotional attachment. When he speaks to a high school classroom about the need to bring forth information about the murder, he does so blandly. The only certainly in life, he tells the students, is that they will never see their dead classmate again. He shoots a dog point blank with a pistol. He shoots his partner. It gets worse. Engstrom also has eyes and hands for young girls. The man is repugnant, immoral, and the killer (Bjorn Floberg) quickly sniffs that trait out. As the investigation further crumbles and sleep alludes Engstrom, he becomes more cut off emotionally, stone silent, his pupils and his psyche shrink into nothing. Yet he’s still obsessed with the case, solving it to prove he can, to snag a better job, or to bring the killer to justice, or maybe all three. Director/co-writer Erik Skoldbjaerg creates a powerful and disturbing film, exploring the moral lines men cross, knowingly or unwittingly. A

2002: Christopher Nolan directs Pacino as lead detective Will Dormer and Martin Donovan as his partner, Hap Eckhart. Dormer is no junkie for young girls, but he is a shady, “F” the rules veteran cop about to barbecued by I.A. back in L.A. When Eckhart dishes that he’s going to sell Dormer to the bosses, their friendship shatters. On the stakeout for the killer, Dormer shoots Eckhart. By mistake? No. Just before firing, Dormer changes guns. That’s the murky ice pool that Nolan and screenwriter Hillary Seitz pushes us into. Pacino is all jitters, off-kilter senses and dropping eyelids. As in “Memento,” where the protagonist had no memory, Nolan plays with flashbacks, senses and truths. Images of past and present sins haunt Dormer like a killer. And Pacino looks hunted. Robin Williams, creepy as hell in a fine performance, plays the killer and game master. The definitive ending, good as it is, doesn’t forge inside the head as does the original’s murky question mark. And Hilary Swank's young cop is under-written, and a bit eager college girl for my taste. But, wow, a great film in its own right. A-