Book First or Film First? A reflection on film adaptations
Are you a book first or a film first kind of person when it comes to film adaptations? This is a question I put recently to an audience at a film screening of an adaptation of Alexander Maksik’s 2013 novel, ‘A Marker to Measure Drift’, adapted for the screen by Maksik and screenwriter Susanne Farrell. The film was called Drift.
Interestingly, just over half the audience indicated they would read the book first when they knew a film adaptation was in the offing or just released. And our two Q&A guests were divided in their opinion. The question I would like to pose is does reading the book first spoil the experience of watching the film?
Let me state my position. I immediately buy the book if I hear of a film adaptation that interests me. Why? Because the book is the source material. It is the original piece of creativity and I want to know it first as it was intended to be known: in book form (be that physical or audio). It does of course mean that when I see the film, I have pre-conceived views of the plot, narrative and characters, so the question becomes will the film match my pre-conceptions, or can I accept the inevitable changes the filmmakers will have made because the film stands alone as an interpretation of the novel in film form. Just as a ballet or opera interprets an original text through dance or singing, so a film adaptation should be free to interpret a book using its unique methods and medium.
When I subsequently see the film adaptation, I experience a mix of feelings. I can be captivated by the realisation of the world of the book through set and costume design or locations, and I can easily be emotionally manipulated by the films sound design. But, when it comes to the screen play, I can get frustrated by changes made that take away from rather than enhance or capture the spirit of the original text.
To give an example, [spoiler alert!] Yorgos Lanthimos’s 2023 adaptation of Alistair Gray’s ‘Poor Things’ poorly represented a novel that was written in, for and about his beloved Glasgow. Glasgow does not feature in the film. Lanthimos’s Bella is child/woman who is enabled to have a second chance at life (which she grabs lustily) by the men in her life. She appears to have agency as she matures, but she has no real independence from patriarchy. However, Gray’s Bella is given the opportunity to have her say in the final part of the novel and she turns the whole narrative the reader has just enjoyed completely on its head, as she reveals herself to be a self-determined and self-made woman in charge of her own destiny. Gray also has a lot to say about the social condition of the poor in Glasgow and some of the European cities Bella travels to, and its capitalist causes; and the degradation of women whatever their social status by men, topics Lanthimos glosses over.
This is not to say that Lanthimos’s adaptation is not a good film. It is beautifully crafted, a visual treat in set and costume, and extremely well acted. But if it left you in any way dissatisfied with Bella’s narrative arc or the vacuous social politics embedded in it, my advice is to read the book.
A film adaptation that I admire greatly because of it captures the essence of the original text in film form, is John Huston’s 1987 film of James Joyce’s ‘The Dead’, the final story in Joyce’s collection of short stories, ‘Dubliners’ (1914). The film stays mostly true to the narrative and is exquisitely rendered in its 1904 Feast of the Epiphany domestic setting with all elements of the film cohering as a paean to Joyce’s melancholic novella of opportunities missed, lost loves and stasis.
The cast, led by the late, great, Donal McCann, and Angelica Huston in possibly her finest role, is mostly made up of Abbey Theatre actors who work seamlessly together to bring Joyce and adapter Tony Huston’s words to life with vigour, humour and a profound humanity.
As John Huston’s last film, which he directed attached to oxygen cylinders and via a monitor away from the action, it stands as a testament to his versatility and creativity right to the end. He died three months before its release to critical acclaim and many awards nominations and wins.
In contrast, what greater accolade can a film adaptation receive than for the writer of the original book to state the film is better! This is apparently what Mario Puzo said of The Godfather (1972) as he was in his final days having reached the age of 100 in 1999. He said he wrote the novel, a departure from his previous pulp fiction and children’s books, to get himself out of considerable debt. The book went on to sell over twenty-one million copies and was optioned for what was to become a multi-million dollar franchise with the subsequent three films of the same name.
Finally, with regard to Drift (2023), this very good adaptation captures so many aspects of this novel, not least in its wordless first fifteen minutes as a war-displaced Liberian woman (played by Cynthia Erivo) drifts homeless and lost in her PTSD around the Greek island she has been abandoned on. Even as it condenses and changes or adds certain narrative threads, such as its emphasis on the lead character’s bond with her wayward sister, and the focus on an intimate item of clothing that symbolises both their bond and its violent loss, the film never loses sight of the book’s central tenet, that we all need someone to find us when we are lost and to hold us as we grieve.
In the Q&A that followed the screening, co-adapter, Susanne Farrell spoke of the inevitability of adding aspects of herself and her life into all her screenwriting (something Puzo also spoke of – ‘Don Corleone’ is based on his mother!). She also spoke of the need to read the novel then put it away and write the film.
To conclude, when I can, I will always try and read the book first, but I can still watch the film adaptation and enjoy it as a different art form that requires a different kind of language from the written page: the language of moving images and sounds as well as dialogue, but no less read albeit on (hopefully) the big screen of the cinema.
by LBFF’s Festival Coordinator and Programmer, Madeleine Casey
