Books and Movies. Movie and Books

Books and Movies. Movies and Books

     Recently the movie Brooklyn came out, based on the book by author Colm Tóibín. You may remember the book as that thing you got over the summer before freshmen year and never read....well I read it. I read it because I like to read, and you know what? It wasn't that bad! Until you got to the ending and then it was just plain terrible. It tricked me into thinking it wasn't a shitty book, but oh...it was a shitty book. On the popular website A.V. Club they gave Brooklyn (the movie) an A-! An A- is a pretty good grade for a movie on A.V. Club, and the author just spoons it loads of praise, it's actually sickening to read. Will I see the movie now? Probably not. Is it really as good as they say? Could vert well be. The reason I bring this all up is because I wanted talk briefly about the sin in Hollywood of turing books into movies. And that may not apply to Brooklyn, but just seeing it brings this idea to mind. 

     Today (and yesterday) in a world of 100% unoriginal ideas it has come to the attention of Hollywood scriptwriters everywhere that the easiest way to make a quick buck is to make an "adaptation" of a movie. The stories already written, tried and tested, so why the hell not? 

     

     You've heard the term "Oh well the movie wasn't as good as the book" in every way possible and at this point it comes across as arrogant to the process of filmmaking and storytelling. That's because it's unfair to do so; movies and books are different and shouldn't be compared to one another. My quarrel isn't with the fact that the books are usually better than the movies, which they are, my quarrel is in the fact that today adaptations have become the staple of Hollywood cinema to the point where I just have to say "Hollywood, take a break." 

     I think there's a lot of good adaptation that will (and have) come out this year, The Reverant, Me, Earl, and the Dying Girl, but there;'s also been a lot of bad. And my biggest pete peeve is when they take a short book and make it into three movie to take the poor suckers money who goes to see them. I would love to go into a case study about this but I'm honestly just exhausted of thinking sbout the state of Hollywood Cinema today so I'll quit while I still have some form of judgement about me. Not my finest blog post, but not my worst. 

     

     

Gone Girl, David Fincher, and How to Make a Decent Adaptation

Before I get into things in-depth, let's just clear the air here: Gone Girl is pretty fucked up. The book, the film, the whole damn premise of the story is some of the darkest, most messed up stuff I've ever heard. I'll do my best not to spoil anything for people who haven't seen/read it yet, but let's be honest, I probably will at some point. Just a heads up.

(Side note for anyone who has seen the film, I just saw that the movie was rated R for - among other things (cough cough Ben Affleck's penis) - a scene of bloody violence. A scene. Just one. I think we can all assume what it was.)

Touching less on the technical aspects of David Fincher  - Emily already beat me to that - I'd like to focus more on how he makes, as the Economist called it, a "perfect adaptation." Never one to shy away from adapting books, (3 of his last 4 feature films were based on short stories or novels; The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and now Gone Girl) Fincher always seems to find a way to circumvent the pre-established audience and market for a certain book and create something that is uniquely his. The question I'm interested in answering is: how does a director give a film his/her own personal flourish while simultaneously staying true to the source material?

Fincher, probably talking about how creepy his films are.

There's been plenty of bad book adaptations. More bad than good, actually. The handful of really good ones - Lord of the Rings, Blade Runner, No Country for Old Men, to name a few - all have the same basic thing in common: they capture the essence of the source material, along with the plot. In one of the more informative articles I think I've ever found on the A.V. club, one of the contributing writers, Scott Tobias, brings up a really interesting point about adaptations. When talking about Gary Ross' film adaptation of the Hunger Games, he says that "Films content with merely illustrating books are more concerned with problem solving and translation than artistic expression." This is something I'd never considered before. A literal, direct-from-the-book adaptation is almost no fun at all: if you're going to just film everything right from the page, there's a sense of "well hey, what was the point?" If the audience already knows everything, it's basically just a rehashing of the book, just with less.

It's pretty safe to say that Fincher gets this. The very first thing he did right was to hire the author of Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn, to also pen the screenplay (her first). This assured not only that the story would be close to that of the novel - pleasing the already established fan base - but that the general tone (cold, dark) would be the same as well. Films are much less intimate than novels by nature. In many books - Gone Girl included - we can literally hear inside the characters heads. One of the many goals for adaptations is to find a believable substitute for these internal voices, and to show character's emotions and thoughts in a much more visual manner. Gone Girl succeeds at this on every level.

While it stuck surprisingly close to the book (Flynn only cut out a few minor, expendable characters and events to cut down on the already lengthy 2.5 hour runtime) I never found myself knowing what would happen next. Apart from the acting (a pretty great Ben Affleck and a really great Rosamund Pike) and the score (the always amazing dynamic duo of Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross gave the film a super weird, super dark tone throughout) I thought the film did a particularly nice job of depicting the various news shows breaking the story about Amy going missing. The 24 hour news cycle was a big part of Flynn's book, but it was only elevated here; the whole thing worked better on a more visual level.

Apart from a few underdeveloped areas (Amy's "cool girl" monologue - one of the best parts of the book - was more or less glossed over) I thought Fincher did an amazing job of taking a very dark, very complex subject matter and turning it into something that was not only visually stimulating but also really fucking creepy. The atmosphere, tone, and message all matched that of the book, all while giving me a whole new perspective on the story as a whole.