Everyone is abuzz with the last of the Harry Potter films finally making it to theaters. Whether you love the books and hate the films, love the films and hate the books, hate the books and films or love the books and films, chances are Harry's been wizarding your brain. For those of us eager to be published, there is no denying that Rowling's success has put a spell on us. (pun intended.)
But the Harry Potter films have brought to light an overwhelming falsehood: the books are always better than the movies. How many times have we gone to see a film that had once pressed its world into the comforting pages of a book, only to hear that statement somewhere at the end? How many times have we muttered those words ourselves?
The problem with comparisons, and why we shouldn't make them:
There is more going on in a book than there can ever be in a film, and vice versa. These are two different art forms, and nothing will translate one hundred percent into the other. Sacrifices must be made.
Many of us leave the theater disappointed in a film that was once a book we adored, but not many of us understand why. We blame the plot changes, the flatness of the characters, the cheesiness of the effects. We blame the all-star cast or the unknown cast, the director's bad decisions, the script's bad dialogue.
When the Twilight movie first exploded on the screen, I was fresh from the series and was curious about the film. I left the theater feeling let down by Summit entertainment, yet I couldn't figure out why. The film stayed true to the book's actions, the characters were relatively the same. So what, then, was the problem?
You can't translate a voice. A book isn't just a story. It isn't just characters. It isn't just a world. Every writer has a voice in mind when she builds a sentence, when she constructs her scene. A painting can have a person in it, but what makes it beautiful? The colors, the paint strokes, the lighting--everything the painter decides to include, to enhance, to hide. A book is the same. The voice is our paint strokes, the voice splatters color on a canvas, shapes the objects we wish to share.
The people who wish to turn your favorite novel into a film cannot bring to life the voice the writer used when writing it. That voice is an invisible character, one that has no name or shape. Without the voice, the film can seem flat. We sense something missing yet cannot pinpoint it. But it's the voice we're looking for, and when our expectations are not met, we're disappointed.
Of course, other elements come in to play: sometimes the characters aren't as we pictured them, sometimes plot points shift and scenes are dropped completely. This, piled on to the missing Voice, can darken how we perceive a film.
How many of you have seen How to Train Your Dragon AND read the book? Completely different plots--even major characters were altered. Howl's Moving Castle is another example of huge plot changes. Yet these are favorites for some--I know they are favorites of mine. But why?
Many who enjoyed these films didn't read the books, so didn't know to look for that invisible character known as voice. They couldn't make comparisons, and saw the film for what it was meant to be: a FILM. A reinterpretation of an idea--of a story.
A film is not a book, but an interpretation.
Stories have played a huge role in our existence, since before recorded history. Stories have been told and retold and retold and retold, all in different voices, all with different words.
As we develop, new ways of telling stories also develop. No longer are we limited to orally passing tales between one another: We can read them, we can watch them, we can play them. Each is a new voice, each a new retelling.
When we judge a movie because of our experience with the book, we're being unfair to the movie. But how can we work past that?
I stopped thinking of these films as movies based on books, and started thinking of them as reinterpretations. Because a film is an entirely different art form, there are different criteria one needs to set--you can't judge it against the same criteria. By thinking of the films as reinterpretations of story, or as movies based on an idea instead of a previous execution, one can appreciate the film and give an accurate judgement of it.
Expectations:
As a writer, I find myself thinking, "What if someone wants to make a movie out of my story?" Sure, that's a one in a million chance--but we all toy with the idea and have thought of responses to it. Me? My desire is to see it done by Dreamworks, the studio behind How to Train Your Dragon. I decided I don't care what they add or remove from the story, so long as the characters behave how I intended for them to be and the feeling of the story remains the same.
This is the only criteria I look for when I watch a film based on a book--on top of my usual criteria for when I see any other film: good story, good characters, good editing--so it is all I expect for the imaginary day my words are translated to pictures on the big screen. I don't see it as a lowering of expectations. I see it as fair expectations, for any film based on a book should be judged by the same criteria as a film with no preexisting form.
Douglas Adams had many versions of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy--the film, the radio shows, the books, and the television show--and each had a unique quality to them that made them different than the rest. Where's the fun in telling the same old story all the time? Even Stephanie Meyer changed stuff up when she was rewriting Twilight from Edward's point of view. (And I have to admit... when I read the bit she released, it was actually much better than the first book.)
Everyone is entitled to their opinion. Many would feel that, in order to show respect to fans, the people behind the film need to stay as true to the book as possible. However, what if I were to talk about books based on movies?
I've read many novel adaptations, and the good ones do something that the films do not: they add voice. They dive into character minds. But they leave out things that can only be found in the movie. George Lucas has the funky transitions between scenes. The Sixth Sense uses the color red strategically throughout the film. Whenever a story--despite its origins--finds itself in a new medium, there are additions and there are sacrifices.
Next time you see a film based on a book you once read, try to see it for what it is: a film. This is a new way to enjoy a story you once loved, and while the story may not be the same, that doesn't mean it isn't good. That way you know... if the film disappoints you, it's because the film failed in being a good film.
Some stories are told better by others. I happen to enjoy the film version of The Lovely Bones more than the book, but I enjoy Howl's Moving Castle as a book more than as a movie. Sometimes, the books are better than the movies. But not always.
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