Why does Hollywood often take our favorite novels and turn them into disappointing movies? This isn’t a new complaint. Preferring the book over the movie is almost a rite of passage for many. Novels are a constant source of stories for Hollywood, from popular franchises like Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings to bestsellers like The Da Vinci Code and The Bourne series. While some of these adaptations are successful, the attempt to make movies from literary novels often ends in disaster.
Take, for example, the film adaptation of Richard Yates’ “Revolutionary Road.” The novel is a masterpiece, but the movie falls flat. The book’s strength lies in its ability to instill false hope repeatedly, making readers see their own dreams and disappointments in the characters. The movie, however, focuses more on the plot than the characters, reducing the audience to mere spectators rather than participants in the story. This is a common issue with Hollywood adaptations: there’s so much plot to cover that there’s no time to tell the story properly.
Hollywood often makes unnecessary concessions, admitting that movies are dumber than books. This is evident when smart books are turned into witless movies. However, there are exceptions. Paul Schrader’s “Mishima: A Life in Four Chapters” is a brilliant example of how a movie can respect the source material while creating something unique. Schrader uses a combination of literary and visual vocabularies to indicate that books and movies play by different rules.
“Mishima” tells the story of Yukio Mishima, Japan’s most famous writer in the 1950s and ‘60s. Mishima believed in the restoration of Japan’s imperial glory and maintained his own private militia. The movie tells the story of Mishima’s life and career, incorporating three of his novels: “The Temple of the Golden Pavilion,” “Kyoko’s House,” and “Runaway Horses.” Schrader sets these stories in highly stylized stage sets, creating a formal, artificial space where characters move about for our edification.
The novel is an attempt to express life, typically a mimetic attempt. But there’s no naturalism in the novel. Writing down what actually happens would be boring and read as fake. The novel is a hermetic system with formal rules that tries to express or comment on something outside itself. Schrader’s treatment of the novels in “Mishima” is more open-eyed. They’re set apart, self-contained, and yet miniature worlds are there within.
“Mishima” is a formal work of art that offers visceral pleasures. From the shots of the writer’s baroque house to the blazing red sun that ends the film, Schrader works with a wide palette of colors and settings that string the viewer along from scene to scene. This is the luxury of film: it can cohere a narrative through color or technical devices such as panning and focus.
In contrast, “Revolutionary Road” uses the medium of film to very little effect. Perhaps if the director had concentrated more on the mood and tone of the book instead of styling it like a two-hour episode of “Mad Men,” the movie could be viewed as something more than a chance for slow readers to imbibe a classic.
This brings us to the broader issue of Hollywood’s approach to filmmaking. The mainstream art movie has become a duty, useful mostly for picking up awards. Regretting the lost golden age of movies won’t bring it back. But directors and producers who aspire to more elevated renown should put down that Penguin Classic and pick up a movie.
Consider the Marvel movies, for example. “Spider-Man: Far From Home” is a fun movie, but it’s also a little annoying how it smirks and winks as if it’s in on the fatigue, offering an illusion of cool when at heart it’s as slavishly on-message as everything else. The film makes good use of Jake Gyllenhaal, who brings a dark meta tinge to the whole thing. His presence points out the artifice of the franchise, but his cause is lost in the end, announcing a new phase of MCU hegemony.
“Far From Home” is a movie about attempted escape that carefully reminds us that there’s no such thing to be had. Even post-Avengers, we may get smaller, lighter, more personal Marvel movies, but they’ll still all be in rote service to the grand design. Peter Parker might fall in love, graduate, and leave Queens behind, but he’ll remain trapped in the same simulation. The great treadmill built by Marvel catches all in the end—even those allowed to swing, seemingly free, so high above it.
In conclusion, Hollywood often fails to capture the essence of literary novels in their film adaptations. The focus on plot over character and the need to adhere to the source material’s prestige often result in disappointing movies. However, there are exceptions where directors like Paul Schrader manage to create something unique and respectful of the source material. As for the future, perhaps it’s time for Hollywood to put down the books and focus on creating original, compelling stories that can stand on their own.
Source: Culturebox
