Book to film: Silver Linings Playbook

Both the book and film versions of Silver Linings Playbook are great, but the book is better.  The voice of the male protagonist, Pat, nails a particular kind of poignant humor in the book that the movie, with Pat portrayed by Bradley Cooper, does not fully accomplish.  And to be fair, that may be because the movie is limited to two hours, and Pat cannot get as much of his voice in there as in the book.

Pat is a former high school history teacher who has just been let out of a mental institution and released to the care of his mother.  In the movie, he has been there for several months.  In the book, he believes he's only been on the inside for a few months when in fact he has been there for four years.  He plans on reconciling with his estranged wife, Nikki, and devotes his time to trying to become the man she always wanted.  Meanwhile, he's being pursued by a troubled woman named Tiffany.

The selective liberties that the script takes from the novel are basically fine.  In terms of how I saw the characters in my mind's eye, the movie came up short, but one casting choice that ended up fitting was Jennifer Lawrence.  I didn't have trouble buying her as Tiffany for one minute.  Whether you have read the book or not, you will likely agree that she steals the show.

The Silver Linings Playbook is Matthew Quick's debut novel.  His second book, The Good Luck of Right Now, is also good.  It has significant similarities to its predecessor:  a teetering-on-loserdom male protagonist/narrator who tries to make his way in life in the wake of a life-changing development; both female love interests are very emotionally damaged; and the male protagonist's voice displays the same kind of poignant humor.  Going forward, Quick would be wise to distance himself somewhat from that voice so he does not pigeonhole himself as a writer.  Yet this is my only real criticism of his books, both of which are great reads.

Review of Black Swan

Darren Aronofsky has done it again--another harrowing and thought-provoking drama. His previous effort, The Wrestler, has much in common with his latest. Black Swan explores the interplay between madness and art in a competitive context.

Natalie Portman plays Nina Sayers, a ballerina chosen to replace aging Beth (Winona Ryder) as star of the company, playing the lead in Swan Lake. Director Thomas (Vincent Cassel) sees her as a natural White Swan, but she must also play the Black Swan, requiring an abandon he is doubtful that she can possess. Mila Kunis plays Lily, whom Nina sees as her rival but also as someone whose comparative worldliness intrigues her. Barbara Hershey has a memorable turn as Nina's rather suffocating, ex-ballerina mother.

Viewers are made to question how much is reality versus fantasy as Nina's delusions are played out onscreen. I wondered whether or not Lily was completely made up by Nina, given how many of the delusions are wrapped up with her. Some criticism of the film has centered around the horror movie tactics that pick up in the second half of the movie, but that is when Nina's psychological deteroriation increases in severity and therefore make sense. Set against the beauty of the Swan Lake production, Nina's mental breakdown is the more disturbing. For all the figures who are causing her turmoil in her life, Nina is her own worst foe.

The film is not so much about the world of ballet as a broader look at the parallel between art and madness and about delving too far into what one cannot handle. In fact, in a case of life imitating art, the role was nearly too intense for Portman: "There were some nights that I thought I literally was going to die," she said. "It was the first time I understood how you could get so wrapped up in a role that it could sort of take you down." Black Swan is a riveting look at an artist's breakdown, but the message of the movie seems to be a cautionary one rather than a complete romanticization. The violence contained in the film is therefore not gratuitous. The movie may be hard for some to take, but it is well done.

Book to film: Never Let Me Go

In my blog entry for April 30, I briefly reviewed Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go, comparing it to another dystopian novel, The Unit, by Ninni Holmqvist. I recently went to see the movie version of Never Let Me Go (directed by Mark Romanek from a screenplay by Alex Garland). The film adaptation is well done. If you happen to be like me in actually preferring solemn movies that make you think, I recommend this one.

The story centers around the lives of three friends--Kathy, Tommy, and Ruth--played by Carey Mulligan, Andrew Garfield, and Keira Knightley, respectively. All three display good acting. Mulligan is required to convey a lot nonverbally and succeeds. Knightley impresses in completely inhabiting an unsympathetic character. When I read the book, I pictured the character of Tommy as a blond, perpetually youthful pretty boy--not resembling Andrew Garfield--but it is a testament to his acting chops that I was able to accept him in the role.

This is a story of a complicated friendship/love triangle, at first oddly insulated from the cruel reality of the society and then thrust out into it, with the chips falling where they may. Some hope is kept alive, but there is a (perhaps strange) resignation in the attitudes of the friends. Tommy is arguably the most likeable character because he has an innocent, appealing quality and may have the least sense of resignation of the three friends.

The film is largely faithful to the book. In the film version, the shocking premise of the plot is revealed early on by a new teacher, Miss Lucy (Sally Hawkins, in a small but memorable role). In the book, this character does not reveal as much, so the three friends, as well as the reader, are kept in the dark for longer. The book is therefore more subtle. Both the book and the film explore haunting questions about mortality, love, and duty. This is a deeply affecting movie, with an elusive message that is difficult to put into words.

And Then There Were None: four ways

A few weeks ago, I saw a theatrical production of And Then There Were None, adapted from the Agatha Christie novel of the same name (some editions were entitled Ten Little Indians). Did you know that it's the seventh bestselling book ever? And that Christie is the third bestselling author of all time, after the Bible and Shakespeare?

The story involves ten people invited to an island under different pretenses. Once there, each guest is accused by a mysterious voice on a gramophone record of committing a particular murder. Then the guests themselves begin falling prey to a murderer. After each killing, a soldier (or Indian) figurine from the dining room table is broken. In each of their rooms is hung a copy of the nursery rhyme "Ten Little Soldiers" (or "Ten Little Indians") and the murders eerily echo the verses of the rhyme. If they are alone on the island, then the murderer must be among the ten of them, but who?

Christie herself adapted the novel for the stage, changing the ending significantly (basically, injecting a form of a "happy" ending). I was interested in reading the book to compare the two, and my curiosity extended to my viewing two film versions, Rene Clair's And Then There Were None (1945) and George Pollock's Ten Little Indians (1965). In terms of the story, I thought the book was the best, followed by the 1945 film version, the 1965 version, and finally the play. The problem with the play was that it did not spell out certain things that the movie versions did fill in. Ten Little Indians is inferior to the 1945 film for several reasons: the setting is changed to an Austrian mountaintop; some of the characters, their alleged crimes, and how they are killed off are changed (and not for the better); there are too many gratuitous shots of Vera undressing; and it seems too dated to the 60s.

Overall, though, the book cannot be beat. What I most appreciate about it is the "note found in a bottle" postscript. It explains everything from the murderer's point of view. And Then There Were None is an extremely clever mystery!

Didn't want to wait for the DVD of this one

I had a great time seeing Tim Burton's Alice in Wonderland. I often like Burton's films, and he puts Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, two of my favorite actors, in a bunch of them. And again, they don't disappoint. The buzz from critics has been that Bonham Carter upstages Depp, but I disagree. They're both excellent in their roles. Bonham Carter probably gets more laughs, though, because of her Red Queen's gigantic head and "Off with his head!" spasms.

As my mom (moviegoing companion) said, it's great to hear Johnny Depp recite "The Jabberwocky," and with ferocity! Speaking of the dialogue, I like how Alice utters one of the best lines from the books: "I've often believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

I like the tenderness between Alice and Depp's Mad Hatter. They have each other's backs. Alice also values the advice of the caterpillar, despite her frustration with the "Who are you?" shtick.

This isn't another version of Alice in Wonderland so much as it is a continuation in which Alice, now a young woman, travels back to Wonderland. There are many familiar characters from Disney's classic cartoon version, and some different ones. I love the books and seeing the film makes me want to revisit them (I hope those who see the movie and haven't experienced the books will be inspired to do so!).

I like this film a lot better than Burton's reworking of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I don't think that film needed another version. I welcomed more Wonderland, however!