Wednesday 24 February 2010

The (not - so?) Lovely Bones and a slight rant.

Today I went with my best friend to go and see The Lovely Bones. Now, we've both been excited to see the film for a long time as we're both huge fans of the book. It tells the story of Susie Salmon, a fourteen year old girl who is murdered by one of the men in her neighbourhood. Don't worry, I've not given away any of the plot as this is revealed in both the trailer and in the blurb of the book, if you're interested in either. The book is simply brilliant. It's gripping. It's original. It's creative. It's clever. It's also upsetting, yes, but strangely life affirming. It makes you think about what you've got and that you should live every day as if it's your last. It also makes you question life after death, and what this term could actually mean. Plus, I seem to have an unconscious love for depressing novels and movies, so it was automatically a winner for me.

So, today I wake with a smile (and not just because I've had a lovely, long sleep as per usual) and walk with an extra spring in my step, knowing I'm finally going to watch The Lovely Bones after all this time. I meet Amy, the bestie, from uni and off we trot to the cinema in Birmingham. We take our seats just as the adverts are beginning, and see trailers for other films we want to see, one of which I'll come back to later. The adverts finish. The final lights in the cinema dim. The opening credits begin. We settle down to have our minds filled with visual loveliness for the next couple of hours.

And after all that? The film was a let down. I mean a complete let down. It was good, there's no denying that. I know 'good' is a poor term for someone doing an English degree, but I can't really describe it any other way. It wasn't bad but it wasn't amazing, as it quite easily could have been. The material was all there, in the form of 300 - or - so glorious pages of fiction, but the director could have done so much more with it. This surprised me, as Peter Jackson's films usually have people raving. I can't see that happening with The Lovely Bones, sorry Pete. I think that perhaps if I hadn't read the book first, I may have loved it. I mean, don't get me wrong, I did like it. The acting was top notch. Saoirse Ronan (I don't have a clue how to pronounce her first name, but it looks pretty) was brilliant as Susie. She portrayed a broken child immaculately, from beginning to end. Stanley Tucci was even better as her murderer. Every time he came on screen, I could feel the hairs on my arms stand on end. He was so unnerving and believeable it was frightening. Finally, Mark Wahlberg played Susie's dad and captured the unimaginable heartbreak of the father of a dead child impeccably. Yeah, I can't pick faults with the actors. It was just everything else that made Amy and I grumble on the train home. Firstly, there was a lot missed out. I knew this was unavoidable, but I felt there were important aspects of the novel that were completely overlooked. A couple of these were probably a bit gruesome for the 12A rating, but at the end of the day surely a story with adult themes should have a more adult rating? I don't know, maybe I'm just a bit horrible for wanting the grim parts included, aha. I also thought that some of the parts included were a bit pointless and that certain scenes seemed to have been dragged out. The visuals of Susie's heaven were beautiful, but I do think that Peter Jackon went a bit CGI crazy, and that these were probably the scenes that could have been shortened or cut.

For all of these reasons, although The Lovely Bones was enjoyably watchable, I was gravely let down by it. And because of this I now have a topic to rant about. I would love to know why, if the showbiz folk insist on doing so, when movie adaptations are made of novels the stories aren't stuck to more closely. Don't get me wrong, I get genuinely excited when I know a book I love is being made into a film, and on some occasions films have made me go and read their novel predecessor. However, if you're going to do it then do it bloody right! Granted, sometimes they are done to a tee (for example, Closer is a perfect, almost word for word adaptation of the play it is based on), but more often than not, in my personal experience, one is always left disappointed. The Time Traveler's Wife is a perfect example. The novel is beautiful, as is the film, but again I couldn't help but feel let down by all of the deviations made from the original story. Confessions of a Shopaholic is based on two of Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic novels (some of my not-so-guilty pleasures when it comes to reading) and that was so different from the books that I pretty much watched it as a seperate entity from them. I just don't get how it is that film makers can make their work pretty much as long as they like now, and have almost infinite sources to make them as close to perfection as is humanly possible, yet people who are bookworms more often than not leave disappointed at these film adaptations. I return now to one of the trailers I mentioned earlier. Nicholas Sparks' Dear John is one of my favourite books. I think it has wonderful characters, a gripping story and is written beautifully. In a couple of months time it will be hitting cinemas. And, as brilliant as the trailer looks, I'm currently shitting it. I adore the book and naturally will watch the film, but I have a sinking feeling that this recurring disappointment will visit once more when I see it. I'm crossing my fingers and toes, but who knows. Ooh, that rhymed. I'm a poet and I didn't know it, ha. Oh my, I think this is a sign that I need to stop writing now, go and get me some juice and then continue my Life Writing work.

If you've read this far, well done and big kudos to you. If you've skipped to here ... I don't blame you, you get small kudos for being so sneaky. Anyway kids, lessons learnt today are that film adaptations are more often than not a let down, and that perhaps the movie makers should think twice and not make them at all if they're just going to do them badly. Oh, and also that it's a bit creepy when middle aged men go to see films on their own and only laugh at the parts that involve the murderer ... but that's another story for another blog.

Have a good one kids.

No comments:

Post a Comment