Going to the movies with my sister, Grace, is something I treasure. Our schedules constantly conflict, yet we
both value the kind of quality time that can only be had with overpriced
popcorn. Two summers ago, Grace wanted
to see The Help: she’d devoured
Kathryn Stockett’s novel and was psyched to see Emma Stone in the role of
Skeeter. I didn’t know much about the
story, only that the film itself was drawing rave reviews across the critical
spectrum. I loved it: great performances,
powerful message, and just the right mix of humor and drama. When the lights came on, I turned to see
Grace’s reaction. She was sitting with
her arms crossed, neither frowning or smiling.
Grace is never very vocal on things that displease her, and she offered
only one critique of the film.
The book was better.
Nothing ruins an adaptation more than when something isn’t right. It can be anything: a missing scene, an altered bit of backstory, a minor character edited out. Once that something becomes apparent, everything else feels tarnished. (It was good, but…) If I read the novel before seeing the film, I press play on the defense. Adaptations are messy business, and something’s bound to be lost in the fray.
There are exceptions to the rule, of course: those rare films that capture books just as we imagine them, right down to the passionate staring. For me, that film is the 1995 version of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. (From start to finish it’s a six hour watch, so if you’re going to attempt it, plan breaks and bring plenty of snacks.) The experience is like jumping into the pages of the novel: much of the dialogue is word-for-word, real English estates serve as backdrops for the settings, and the performances are flawless. It is a universally acknowledged truth that no one can stare passionately quite like Colin Firth’s Mr. Darcy.
The fine print on all of this is that Pride and Prejudice was originally adapted for television and released as a miniseries. Any focus group assembled would conclude that modern audiences can’t sit through a six hour long epic, even if we’d all love that perfect adaptation. Maybe there’s a beauty in the messiness, and we can take some kind of comfort in the fact that no two imaginations are the same. Or, we can critique books-to-movies like the would-be directors we all are at heart.
The Good, The Bad, and The Puzzling: Adaptations That Stick
To Kill A Mockingbird (1962) – As cliché as it sounds, Harper Lee’s novel is one of my favorite books, and Gregory Peck’s Atticus is deserving of all his awards. While some of the details were lost in translation, this film is a great example of a timeless novel well adapted to the screen. (Though the scene with the mad dog was bizarrely edited, we’ll forgive them.)
The book was better.
Nothing ruins an adaptation more than when something isn’t right. It can be anything: a missing scene, an altered bit of backstory, a minor character edited out. Once that something becomes apparent, everything else feels tarnished. (It was good, but…) If I read the novel before seeing the film, I press play on the defense. Adaptations are messy business, and something’s bound to be lost in the fray.
There are exceptions to the rule, of course: those rare films that capture books just as we imagine them, right down to the passionate staring. For me, that film is the 1995 version of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. (From start to finish it’s a six hour watch, so if you’re going to attempt it, plan breaks and bring plenty of snacks.) The experience is like jumping into the pages of the novel: much of the dialogue is word-for-word, real English estates serve as backdrops for the settings, and the performances are flawless. It is a universally acknowledged truth that no one can stare passionately quite like Colin Firth’s Mr. Darcy.
The fine print on all of this is that Pride and Prejudice was originally adapted for television and released as a miniseries. Any focus group assembled would conclude that modern audiences can’t sit through a six hour long epic, even if we’d all love that perfect adaptation. Maybe there’s a beauty in the messiness, and we can take some kind of comfort in the fact that no two imaginations are the same. Or, we can critique books-to-movies like the would-be directors we all are at heart.
The Good, The Bad, and The Puzzling: Adaptations That Stick
To Kill A Mockingbird (1962) – As cliché as it sounds, Harper Lee’s novel is one of my favorite books, and Gregory Peck’s Atticus is deserving of all his awards. While some of the details were lost in translation, this film is a great example of a timeless novel well adapted to the screen. (Though the scene with the mad dog was bizarrely edited, we’ll forgive them.)
The English Patient (1996) – I’ll be honest: I watched the movie before I read the book. That being said, Michael Ondaatje’s novel and Anthony Mingella’s film almost have to be enjoyed as separate entities. Yet, in both, two themes shine through: loss and the strange beauty of the desert. Multiple storylines exist in each, and it’s a matter of opinion which threads are the strongest. (Personally, I’m in love with anything that involves Ralph Fiennes in a romantic lead.)
I am someone who nearly always enjoys the book better than the movie. As you know, this adaptation of Pride and Prejudice is one of my all time favorites! It is truly one of the few movies I can think of that "captures" all I envisioned from the book. "A River Runs Through It" is another that comes close for me. . .
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