High fidelity
The book is always better than the movie.
When I saw “The Book of Mormon” for the first time, there was an ad in the Playbill for the Church of Latter Day Saints — a woman with brown hair and an easy smile, a book of Mormon in the corner, with the tagline “The book is always better.” I took a picture and sent it to my brother. I knew he would laugh, because the running joke in our family is that I have never admitted to enjoying a movie based on a book more than the book itself. I don’t deny this. I have nothing against movies, or TV shows, or plays, in fact, I enjoy them all. And I even understand the alterations that a big (or small) screen adaptation of a book requires (though as I typed that sentence, “alterations” was initially “limitations” and that is probably the best explanation of my viewpoint I can give).
With the end of “Game of Thrones” upon us, there are myriad opinions on the quality and effectiveness of the production of the final season, and my own lies somewhere in the middle. I was entertained, but somewhat frustrated at the dramatic change in pacing. But I was also relieved — because there will eventually be a book to cover all that untrodden ground, to tie up the loose ends and make sense of the details that so many viewers, including myself, struggled to piece together during the prior seven seasons. What was the point of (fill in nuanced plot point of your choice here)? The answers, hopefully, will be there in the final installments from George R.R. Martin, and, like many, I am anxious to read them.
The truth is, I love stories. I love them in any form — acted out on stage or screen, read by talented narrators in audiobooks or podcasts, and, of course, in the written words of a novel, where I can lose myself in the places and characters given to me by my favorite authors. Series books make me swoon — the chance to escape into some other world and follow a story for three separate books? Yes, please.
The trouble with adaptations, for me, comes in the surrender of the interpretation to someone else’s imagination. I may like his or her version perfectly fine, but in the end, I prefer my own. I understand that when authors publish books, they release little pieces of their souls out into the world for us readers to sort through, and I take that responsibility to heart. I pay attention to the details included, making vivid pictures in my head of the worlds and people, trying to grasp themes, appreciate dialogue and the way the subplots all weave together. I can tell when an author has taken the time to layer the world with lots of specifics that fill in the nooks and crannies, so the picture in my mind goes from black and white to sepia tones, up to full on color with textures I can feel in my fingertips.
When I watch a TV or movie that has been adapted from a book, my disappointment rarely comes from the quality of the filmmaking or television production, or the individual efforts of actors or directors. It is the flattening of the three-dimensional world in my head into two-dimensional images on a screen. Talented writers work hard to distill the salient parts into a story that flows on screen. But I miss all the little juicy bits that get squished out in the compression for time. No movie could immerse me like my own imagination. It’s why I read fiction in the first place, to give my brain some open land to roam and explore and see where it takes me.
This doesn’t stop me from watching shows like “Game of Thrones”, or seeing movies based on books, and enjoying them on their own merits. I will always love a well-told story, no matter the medium. A really good adaptation is a treat — like a world-class chef making one of my mom’s recipes. There is a place in the world for both versions…but my heart will always be with the original.
