A Home at the End of the World

     Michael Cunningham’s A Home at the End of the World is a wonderful book. It has all the elements of a great contemporary novel. Clear, precise writing, characters that feel alive, and a plot that drives you forward deeper into the book until without realizing it you’re out the other end. The author of The Hours has consistently wowed readers with his visually sensuous writing and daring plots and characters. A Home at the End of the World follows three odd balls as they live together and eventually fall in love with each other. The book then determines to redefine the notion of "family".

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     Jonathan is an awkward little boy who plays with dolls instead of baseballs. Bobby witnesses the death of his only sibling, older brother Carlton, and it significantly affects him and his parents. Bobby meets Jonathan at school and they become best friends. They listen to records (the book opens when the boys are young in the early 1960s), smoke pot, drop acid, and do basically everything together. Eventually they begin experimenting with each other sexually. Cunningham employs a multi-narrator approach to the story. Each chapter is told from a different character’s point of view. Jonathan and Bobby tell most of the story but Jonathan’s mother Alice also provides some narration in a few chapters. Eventually the boys go their own ways and meet up again in New York where Jonathan invites Bobby to come live with him and his roommate Clare. Clare then becomes the forth narrator. She’s a quirky woman in her 30s (the boys are in their 20s at this point) with multi-colored hair and a trust fund. Eventually they all fall in love with each other and decide to have a baby together. The baby would essentially have two fathers and one mother. Like I said, the definition of family comes into question, but in an intriguing way. 

It’s a very compelling book and told so well by Cunningham. His novels should be taught a hundred years from now in writing classes like Fitzgerald is today. It’s truly that good.

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     The movie was released a few years after The Hours swept the Oscars. It’s obvious they were attempting to build off that film’s warm reception but it didn’t work out that way. The film feels thrown together last minute. There’s no style or substance to speak of. It’s basically a greatest hits version of the novel: all the big key moments are there but none of the connecting tissue that provide the bridges between these moments. There is basically zero character development. It’s tough to blame the filmmakers because the book seems like you couldn't make a good movie out of it. It’s hard enough to make a good movie out a first person narrative, never mind four! And the odd thing is that Cunningham wrote the screenplay. Another problem is that it’s too short. It’s a 350 page book and the movie is only 90 minutes. Even the star-studded cast (Colin Farrel, Sissy Spacek, Robin Wright Penn, Dallas Roberts) doesn't add anything to the rushed pace of the film. The only redeemable quality of the film is the excellent sixties soundtrack. All the right songs play at all the right moments. On all other accounts, the film fails. A Home at the End of the World is 100% worth your time and high up in Cunningham’s bibliography but the movie is just bad. It’s an afterthought. Read the book, don’t even bother with the movie.

How I Live Now

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     How I Live Now by Meg Rosoff is my favorite book that I've read this year. It’s not new (it was published in 2004), but it still feels fresh almost a decade later. It totally took me by surprise. First off it’s technically Young Adult. Many YA books can be enjoyed by all ages but How I Live Now truly feels like it’s meant for an older audience than the typical YA target. It’s themes range from war, death, love, incest, heartbreak, and survival in extreme circumstances. If filmed literally and straight from the book this story would be R rated; not meant for teenagers at all. But it’s all delivered through the eyes and thoughts of Daisy, the 15-year-old protagonist who is basically a female Holden Caulfield. Catcher in the Rye has never been made into a movie because it’s basically not filmable. The whole thing is experienced in the head of one of the most eccentric and sarcastic main characters ever designed. I had very low expectations for the recent How I Live Now adaptation and I was right. You couldn't adapt this book properly no matter what angle you took.

     Daisy is a sarcastic, angry, angsty 15-year-old New Yorker sent off to live with her cousins in England after her widowed father marries another woman. Daisy hates her father and her new step mother and as you would expect, just about everything else in her world. She is depressed and anorexic but views and conveys her situation with so much spite and wit that you can’t help but laugh along with her telling of the story. Although not at first, Daisy becomes a truly lovable character. You just want for her to be happy in the end. A war erupts in this not-too-distant future England and Daisy is separated from her older cousins, left alone with her younger cousin Piper who she must take care of amid havoc and social anarchy. The second half of the book is a survival story. I felt so sorry for poor Daisy and little Piper that I desperately wished for their safety. I cared about them like real people.

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     It’s such an odd book, and only works so well because it is told from the mind and words of its hilarious narrator. Take away that narrator and you have a creepy, demented story about a girl in love with her cousin in the middle of war-torn Europe. That’s how the movie feels; hollow, weird, not quite right. A really great independent low-budget film can be the best thing in the world; better than the most spectacular CGI-ridden blockbusters. But a bad independent movie can be just plain unbearable, worse than any mega-budget superhero flick that studios churn out each summer. How I Live Now is next to intolerable. All the major plot points remain but you’re not inside Daisy’s head so it just doesn't work. I found myself not liking the Daisy in the film at all, although she’s played by an actress who usually turns in nice, nuanced performances in such films as Hanna and Atonement. A book so rooted in a character’s thoughts can’t be filmed without losing the essence of the storytelling. It is lost on How I Live Now, leaving you without much to enjoy.

     The book is beautiful and skillfully written. Daisy is a wonderful and original main character. Her story is heartbreaking and vast and timeless. The filmmakers fumbled big time when adapting the story but as stated before, it would be impossible to properly adapt this book. Skip the movie, but don’t delay and read the book as soon as you can.

12 Years a Slave

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     12 Years a Slave is already being called the greatest film of 2013. The slew of Oscar contenders that are traditionally released in December haven’t even been seen yet, and still critics are saying hands down: this is it. I finally had the privilege to see it myself after hearing nothing but good things. Although slightly overrated, 12 Years a Slave is a phenomenal picture; infinitely better than the book as far as entertainment value is concerned.

     Solomon Northup’s memoir Twelve Years a Slave is not meant to entertain. It is meant to horrify. And horrifying it is. Northup details his time spent in bondage as a Louisiana slave. Born free in New York, Northup was drugged, kidnapped, and illegally sold into slavery in 1841. Unable to prove his freedom to white men who wouldn’t care even if he legitimately could, Northup spent 12 years a slave. When he was finally freed he was told his story was essential to teaching the country how horrible the slave trade was. So he wrote it down. He was not a story teller, nor did he have a flare with condensing infinite details into necessary information. The book is a mere eye-witness account of a piece of American history. There isn’t much of a story to speak of. It’s chronological and slightly dry. Only the truth of it makes it important and still relevant today.

     I am in no way trying to belittle Northup or his memoir; it is an integral document to the history of the country, but to a casual reader it would be a complete turn-off. The beginning is fascinating. We learn how he was drugged and kidnapped and sold into slavery, but then there is tiresome detail upon tiresome detail of his journey from one slave owner to the next. The monotony is occasionally interrupted by scenes of action, where he generally disobeys his masters and fought (literally sometimes) back, but then he goes back to explaining daily routines and such. One chapter is particularly dry, in which he describes in painful detail how to pick cotton. It reads like an instruction manual, not a story. But all in all, the truth of the story is impactful and keeps you reading through the less interesting bits. Also, his freedom is achieved in a less than exciting manner. And it leaves you thinking how sad it is that so many slaves were never to gain freedom at all.

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     The film is indeed excellent. The performances are stunning. So many excellent actors show up to turn in fine performances. Chiwetel Ejiofor plays Solomon with confidence, fear, and anger all balanced perfectly. Other great actors such as Benedict Cumberbatch, Michael Fassbender, Paul Dano, Paul Giamatti, and Sarah Paulson are wonderful in each of their roles. The one drawback of the film in comparison to the book is the presence of Brad Pitt. Pitt is an excellent actor and usually makes any scene better. However, his character is just dropped in at the end of the film simply to be the voice of reason. His character in the book is around much longer than in the film. He comes out of nowhere in the movie and turns the whole plot around. The ending of the movie feels a bit rushed but overall, it is a tight, neat, and stunning package 100% worth your time and money.

     If you want to be in on the action at the 2014 Academy Awards, you simply can’t miss 12 Years a Slave. If you want to learn from a first-hand account about some of the grittiest and saddest details of slavery, read the book. Either one will enlighten you. The movie is simply displayed with more panache. 

Ender's Game

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     Orson Scott Card’s classic sci-fi tale hits theaters at the perfect time. Big budget sci-fi is pretty hot right now. From Prometheus to Gravity, audiences can’t seem to get enough of space flight and alien invasions. Young adult fantasy fiction also churns out big money makers at the box office. You’d think Ender’s Game would be a sure fire hit, right? Right? If only it was so…

     I’ll sit through just about any movie of any genre. I never ever leave the theater or turn off a movie because it stinks; I try to tough it out and see it through to the end. (I got up and left the theater during the Evil Dead remake, but that’s a whole different story. There aren't enough letters in “bad” to describe that movie: it’s bbbaaaddd) I really wanted to leave during Ender’s Game. It was that poor. I didn't though, so I can fully appreciate how it suffers in comparison to the book.

     I’ll tell you right now, as a huge science fiction fan, I think Card's Ender’s Game is a bit weak. A bit on the boring side. The themes are deep and raise it up a notch on the maturity scale (I honestly wouldn't call it "young adult" although many do) but let’s face it, the whole book is training. All Ender does is train to become a soldier. Most adventure movies have that training montage or sequence where the main character transforms from novice to expert. The whole book is a training montage. It works though because of the ending which is very clever indeed.  The book is so slow to the point of being confusing until the author drops a bomb as devastating as finding out Bruce Willis was dead at the end of The Sixth Sense. A great little twist ending. I also find the book a bit silly because I don’t see why kids have to be the genius commanders and soldiers. I think a regular military age man or woman could do all the things Ender and his classmates do. There’s no reason for it other than to make the book simply about growing up, in the future, in space, or anywhere on Earth in present day. The science fiction elements feel like a thin disguise to cover up what the story is really about: adolescence.

     Another huge issue I had with the book was the monotonous and brutally boring scenes where Ender was playing the virtual reality game. No one likes to watch someone play a video game, not even a gamer, so why, why Mr. Card, do you think we want to read a black and white, ink on paper description of what someone is doing in a video game. I've never encountered that in a book and I hope I never do again.

     The most interesting part of the book is easily the scenes concerning Ender’s siblings back on Earth, Valentine and Peter. They slowly attempt to take over the world with an inventive form of futuristic Internet which nicely reflects our reality today. I don’t understand why every kid in the Ender’s Game universe is a genius but it’s never more interesting than seen in Val and Peter. Which brings me to the movie.

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     The movie leaves all the thought-provoking elements of the novel behind and focuses on sci-fi action and mean kids in space. The same problem I had with Carrie arises here. Child actors are never convincing being mean to each other. Maybe I’m alone in thinking this but kids aren't that aggressively mean to each other for no reason, and if they are, they don’t say things that can be uttered in a PG-13 movie. I just don’t buy the bullying in the movie. Ender is clearly better than everyone and they all just act like he is useless. It makes no sense. Also, the most interesting part of the book is left out completely. There are no scenes of Val and Peter taking over the world with their political articles.

     The worst part of the movie is the injustice done to the character of Ender. Asa Butterfield is a poor actor, at least for this role (I haven’t seen him in anything else). The character has pretty much zero redeemable qualities. He’s only special because he’s a good strategist, but he isn't likable. Harrison Ford gives a lazy performance as Colonel Graff, but the role doesn't demand much so it’s pardonable. He does say the first line in the book which is an excellent opening and that’s as excited as I was during the run time, hearing those familiar and intriguing words.

     The book is a breeze to read. It’s quick and exciting and, although boring and dragged out at times, delivers some interesting and thought-provoking sci-fi ideas. The movie neglects all of these and leaves you with the barebones sci-fi story which, on its own, isn't a stand-out. The cool twist ending remains intact, but it is undeniably less effective on the screen. The acting is poor, the special effects are, in this day and age, not so special, and the payoff is meager.  If you’re looking for sci-fi thrills watch something else (Dredd, Oblivion, even the lackluster Elysium was better than this). If you want to experience a true science fiction classic, read the book, though it isn't at the top of my list of recommendations. There’s nothing coming out soon to wet the sci-fi appetite so if you’re dying for a spaced-out story, you may have to suffer through the Game. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Carrie (2013)

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     With almost a complete absence of original films, who knows what’s going on with the latest remake/reboot/redo/sequel/prequel/mashup in theaters right now. What to call them? How to judge them? Sit back and enjoy them? Sure, that’s easy enough, but most of them are lame. Horror flick Carrie hits theaters this month and before I get into how it compares to the book, let’s consider what to call it. Back when Total Recall came out in 2012, everyone called it a remake because the Arnold Schwarzenegger version from 1990 is based on the same short story by Phillip K. Dick. It’s not a remake, it’s just another adaptation. The same is true with Carrie. It isn’t a remake, it’s simply based on the same book. And just like the new Total Recall, the new Carrie is useless, boring; total trash.

     I mean, it’s got good things going for it. Chloe Grace Moretz (Carrie) is a great young actress. She’s becoming quite the star. She does a decent enough job, but Sissy Spacek gave a much better performance. Julianne Moore (Margaret White) is an Academy Award winning actress, she can blow you away! But it seems a bit redundant to have an Oscar winner try to fill a role that was already nominated for an Oscar. In terms of film rewards, you literally can’t get any better than that. It makes you wonder…why was this movie even made? Well, I know why…because the recent trend is that really bad horror films make a lot of money. Insidious Chapter 2, widely considered terrible in comparison to the original, broke box office records. No matter how bad modern horror films are, they make loads of money.

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     The one aspect of the new Carrie that earns it points is its attempt to be more like Stephen King’s classic novel. It’s a pretty weak attempt but it gives us more moments taken right from the book than the Brian De Palma’s 1976 version. We see Margaret White giving birth to Carrie after she initially assumes the baby is cancer. We get more backstory involving Carrie’s father. All of these things are fleshed-out in the book but merely mentioned in the movie. It’s nice that the filmmakers tried to incorporate more of the book into their movie, but it feels hollow next to the book.

     The movie also contains a few excellent gore-filled horror scenes. None of them appear in the novel, but they add to the viewing experience. The scene when Chris and Tommy pay their due by Carrie’s carnage is brutal but wonderfully executed; an excellent use of slow motion. You really feel Carrie’s rage when she urns their tricks against them.

     This movie is obviously worse than the book. Even on its own it’s just bad. This movie was essentially made for those young enough to not have heard of either the book or the 1976 movie. But then again, it’s rated R. No one under 17 can buy a movie ticket! I don’t know what the purpose of this movie is. Don’t go see it. Read the book instead.

Carrie

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     Carrie is a classic, plain and simple, and Brian De Palma’s 1976 version is almost as famous as the book itself. Stephen King’s first published novel, Carrie is a terrifying tale about a lonely high school girl with telekinetic powers. Her overly-religious mother and her over-the-top evil classmates make her life a living Hell. Finally one day she snaps and everyone in her small Maine town pays the price. We all know about the dreaded prom scene. It’s a classic horror moment. The image of Sissy Spacek drenched in blood in her gown is ingrained in many a mind. But which does it better, the movie or the book?

     Having never seen the movie all the way through or read the book, I dove into the pages with no real expectations. I was surprised, though, that the Carrie in the book is so very different from the Carrie in the movie. King describes her as dopey, overweight, and spotted with pimples on her neck and back. Sissy Spacek is arguably very pretty and a poor choice for a teen misfit. Especially in the prom scene, Spacek looks truly beautiful. As far as performance goes, however, Spacek nails it. You can’t help but feel horrible at the way she is treated by the other girls. The book fleshes out the tension and makes it more believable, but I found it impossible to accept that kids are that mean to each other. I think today Carrie would be quite popular, at least the way she is depicted in the movie.

     Don’t get me wrong, I loved the film. It’s so rare that a horror movie is actually, well…good, and not just there for scares. I’m amazed at how 70s and 80s horror movies found excellent directors to tell their tales. These days you’ve rarely if ever heard of the man behind the camera of a popular horror film. De Palma has made many classics in many genres (Mission: Impossible, The Untouchables, Snake Eyes) but take for example the director of the upcoming Carrie remake, Kimberly Peirce. Who’s ever heard of her? She’s practically a no-name. Gone are the John Carpenters, James Whales, and if I may say so, Steven Spielbergs of yesteryear who made excellent horror movies that did more than just make you jump.

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     Other highlights of De Palma’s version include performances by John Travolta and William Katt, not to mention Piper Laurie who was nominated for an Oscar for her role as Carrie’s mother. Although none of these characters are completely true to their literary counterparts, they all do wonderfully in their roles. Travolta plays Billy, a loser who dresses like a 50s greaser even though it’s 1976. He is hilarious as a back-talking jerk. I’ve never been so taken by Travolta as I was by him in that role. Katt plays Tommy Ross, the nice popular kid who takes Carrie to prom as a favor to his girlfriend. He’s great; very likable and funny. And of course there’s Laurie as Margaret White. She is pure evil even though she thinks she stands for all things good and Godly. You simply can’t help but hate the way she treats Carrie. It’s a role that could be played out real cheesy, but Laurie does a fine job.
     On all counts the book is better (of course) but I will give the movie one thing: the ending. Prom Night is better on the screen. The book takes a whole 100 pages to describe an event that plays out over less than an hour. The book’s description is all-encompassing, presenting multiple views on the same event, but after a while it becomes tiresome. Every character describing the event says the same thing (“I’d never met Carrie White, but I just knew it was her”) and it becomes too much. The movie has great fun showing you what happens rather than telling you.

     The book has the final say, though, if just for the brilliant ending (which sadly the movie ignores entirely). The book continuously brings up the possibility that Carrie’s powers are genetic and could pop up anywhere in any child. Most people say it’s foolish to believe so, but the final page gives the reader a terrifying account of a little girl playing with marbles…with her mind!!!

Check out my book-to-movie comparison of the upcoming Carrie remake starring Chloë Grace Moretz and Julianne Moore out October 18.

A Single Man

     A Single Man is Christopher Isherwood’s commentary on the life of a single man in 1960’s America. “A single man” here means two things: just one man of millions (in this case George Falconer, a university English professor in his mid-fifties) but also a man who is not married nor has he any children. In those days, specifically L.A. in 1962, a man of George’s age was supposed to be married with a handful of kids. George is not married, lives alone, and despises children. He is the odd man out; he does not belong. It doesn't help that he is in fact gay and still mourning (after eight months) the loss of his lover Jim to a freak car crash. George wears a thin mask of sanity; under his calm, cool demeanor he is thinking about death, an eternity spent alone, and his future without Jim. He is a strong character though, dealing with the loss of someone precious to him in a society that wouldn't give a damn because he is not like everyone else.

     The book is masterful. It’s a sheer pleasure to read Isherwood’s prose. He writes so poetically about despair and loss. George is so wonderfully characterized that he feels very real to the reader. The major draw of the novel, though, is the fact that it all takes place in one day. It opens with George waking up, going through his daily routines, all the while sad and thinking about his Jim. It ends with his going to sleep at the end of that very same day. George meets many colorful characters along the way (the drunk divorced Charlotte, George's ever-curious and good-looking student Kenny, among others) that paint the scene with interesting interactions and different views on life in 60s So. Cal. Isherwood reminds me of Cunningham; the two authors write so beautifully about life, and in most cases it’s a life somehow lacking. Their characters, especially George Falconer, are missing something special and necessary to lead a happy life. It’s depressing stuff, but written with such skill and command over the language one cannot discount it. Please, read this book!

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     I wish I could say avoid the movie but I simply cannot. The film version, starring Colin Firth and Julianne Moore, is adequate. It’s one of those novel-to-film adaptations that has almost every plot point included, almost a visual and audible translation of the book. Having read the book, a fuller, more personal experience, the movie feels hollow. You don’t get that extra information or emotion that you get from being inside someone’s head. Also, there is a heavy emphasis on visual storytelling in the film. Directed by fashion designer and first time filmmaker Tom Ford, A Single Man employs fanciful cinematography, clever visual tricks, and a haunting, sweeping score to color the emotional palette. When emotions get hot in the film, the colors are digitally brightened right before your eyes and reds, blues, yellows and other sharp tones pop. It’s a nifty trick and one used skillfully. It does somehow feel surface level though. As much as I enjoy a faithful adaptation, and often scoff at added bits, A Single Man is the exception. Never once in the book does George consider suicide, but the movie has him carry a loaded revolver around in case things get too heavy for him to deal. The most arresting scene in the movie, excellently acted by Firth, shows George putting the revolver in his mouth, trying different positions in which to end his life. He tries the shower, the bed, even climbs in a sleeping bag in order to leave minimal mess. It's a scene you simply can't look away from.

     A Single Man is a brilliant book, one you could devour in one sitting. The film honors the story as best as it can without digging too deep into George’s fragile emotional state. The film feels a bit showy like, well, like a fashion designer rather than a seasoned dramatist directed it. But that’s okay because it’s different. I strongly recommend the book. The movie is something to seek out if you are curious and want to experience something out of the ordinary as far as high-brow film making goes.

Malavita

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     September is a slow time at the movies. It’s stuck in the in-between surrounded by big action summer movies at its fore and heady, award contenders in the aft. Films that studios don’t really know what to do with come out around this time and they’re usually lacking. The Family, based on Tonino Benacquista’s Malavita, is a perfect example of September ho-hum movies. All the selling points are there (Robert DeNiro in a gangster movie sounds like box office gold, right?) but the final product leaves much to be desired. It’s too bad, because the book is superior in every way.

     We frequently find ourselves nose-deep in what we call a “page-turner”: a book with a plot and writing style that catapults us through the pages to the finale. Malavita is no such book. It’s not a bad read by any means, but it’s not thrilling or engaging enough to really make the reader need to know what happens next.

     The story is simple enough. Giovanni Manzoni was a New Jersey mob boss with a wife and two children; the elder Belle and younger Warren. Giovanni was arrested and tried and ended up turning in all his mob buddies and put into witness protection. Because he was so high up, he now has a 20 million dollar bounty on his head. Such a high profile target can’t live just anywhere, so Giovanni and his tough-as-nails family are sent to live in Normandy, France. The novel opens with the foursome moving into their Normandy home in the middle of the night. It’s your standard fish-out-of-water story. Just imagine any classic mobster from the movies trying to get along in a country he does not know, with a culture he does not care to learn about (the snobby French, no less!), all without resorting to his wise guy antics. Each chapter follows one of the four members of the family getting along in the new territory in their own unique ways. Of course the most predictable ending unfolds: some how the mob figures out Giovanni is in Normandy and a ten-hitman-team is sent to eradicate the snitch and his family.

     The book is a fun, leisurely read. The plot is predictable and familiar, with characters that don’t jump out at you, but are entertaining enough to keep you reading. The most inspired parts of the book concern Giovanni finding an old typewriter in the new house and attempting to write his memoirs. Which is ludicrous because he’s a wise-guy who uses the f-bomb to describe almost any experience, and his identity is top secret. He is reminded over and over that it’s a waste of time to write about his past because he isn’t even allowed to speak of it. He is no longer Giovanni; he is now Fred Blake.

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     You would think Luc Besson, director of such quirky and excellent films as The Fifth Element and The Professional, would be able to breathe fresh cinematic life into a story like Malavita. This is unfortunately not the case. A decently good book becomes a tiresome, often uncomfortable, movie in The Family. All the elements of a good mafia farce seem to be in order (Robert DeNiro as the mob boss, Michelle Pfeiffer as his bitter wife, and Tommy Lee Jones as a tired old FBI agent) but the pieces do not equal a satisfying whole. The film has its laugh-out-loud moments but they are penetrated by tastelessly violent scenes, very few of which appear in the book. The book is funny and thoughtful, but the movie feels slopped together last-minute.

     Oddly the book’s plot stays intact, but it doesn’t hold up on screen. It seems to be the kind of story that isn’t mean to be taken in all at once. You notice the gaps in continuity regarding theme and pacing. It’s just an uneven story. One minute you sympathize with Giovanni, and the next you realize you would never want him as a friend because he committed the ultimate sin: betrayal. You don’t notice these issues when reading the book a few chapters at a time but they show themselves when seeing the whole thing play out on screen. The film is entertaining enough to fill a lazy afternoon on the couch, but don’t spend you money on this one at the theater. Read the book if you’re looking for something light and clever in its execution. 

Dreamcatcher

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     Dreamcatcher is one of Stephen King’s weirdest novels. It was written while he was in the hospital recovering from an accident that occurred in 1999. He was struck by a car and bedridden for weeks. He dealt with the discomfort by writing. Much of his sense of imprisonment bleeds through into the plot of Dreamcatcher. It’s a sci-fi/horror hybrid that will terrify and amuse with equal parts dread and hilarity.

     It’s about four foul-mouthed friends on their annual trip to a cabin in Maine to hunt, drink, and catch up on old times. A hunter claiming to be lost in the woods stumbles upon their cabin and he is taken in, given food and shelter, and promised a trip into town as soon as the storm dies down. Soon the lost hunter, covered in a blood-red fungus and feeling very sick, gives the guys a horrific surprise that I can’t disclose here because it’s the best moment in the book. King himself says of this infamous scene that he wanted it to do for the toilet what Psycho did for the shower. It will haunt your dreams.

     Basically an alien plot to take over the world (starting in upstate Maine, of course) unfolds and the four friends are caught in the middle. Oh, and they have a fifth friend, Duddits, who has “special powers” that they believe is the key in saving the world. Colonel Kurtz (a character modeled after Mr. Kurtz from Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness) is also a key player, becoming insane from secretly hunting aliens his entire life.

     The book is over 900 pages and packed with a plot that goes in so many different directions. It has elements of horror, science fiction, humor, fantasy, drama, tear-jerking sadness, and a pinch of vomit-inducing imagery. Only a pair of fools would attempt to fit all that into a 136 minute movie.

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     Those fools go by the names of Lawrence Kasdan as director and William Goldman as writer. Widely considered the worst movie of 2003, Dreamcatcher stretches itself too thin. What killed this movie for audiences was the poor marketing campaign. The trailers said almost nothing about aliens, only vague hints at horror and shots of a blizzard among pine trees. With an all-star cast (including Morgan Freeman, Timothy Olyphant, Jason Lee, Damien Lewis, Tom Jane, Donny Wahlberg, and Tom Sizemore) people assumed it would be an entertaining two hours. Many were confused and distraught when the first signs of aliens appeared.

     Having said that, the film found an audience among a few science fiction fans. Dreamcatcher is my favorite movie of all time. Watch this film in the woods, snow covered branches scratching against your windows, amid a freakishly strong blizzard, and you will be terrified, especially during the infamous toilet scene! Words can’t describe (because I don’t want spoil it and because I would have to use language not suitable for the lowest, most vulgar of company) how surprising and disturbing that scene is. The movie does it better, simply because…you can see it. Watch this movie if just for that scene. It occurs maybe thirty minutes in so if you hate it, just turn it of with not much time wasted.
     For a film that needed to condense 900 pages of story into two and a quarter hours, Dreamcatcher does a fine job. Certain plot points are changed, others omitted entirely. Even though the film is slightly confusing, muddled, a bit too long, and not what it was advertised as, I adore it. You might too. The ending is completely different in the movie and book, though I don’t mind at all. The film ending is more visually stunning, whereas the book’s ending is intellectually more stimulating and would look just plain cheesy if filmed. Check out the film if you’re feeling adventurous. Read the book if you want a great horror story with a heavy dose of science fiction.

Ethan Frome

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    Ethan Frome by Edith Warton is a classic for many reasons. First of all it’s old. Classics have to be old to stand the test of time. Frome was published in 1911 and quickly became popular. People still read it today. It’s a short little novel that takes place over a few days in a run down cabin in the fictional Starkfield, Massachusetts. Ethan Frome lives in that cabin with his sick wife Zeena and her cousin Mattie Silver. The novel is depressing to the point of actually affecting the reader. You start to feel like poor Ethan in that freezing old house with his even colder wife and helpless cousin Mattie. No book does a better job of making the reader feel trapped; trapped like Ethan in eternity with a perpetually sick wife and a desire to break free. Things get weird when Zeena goes to Bettsbridge to see a doctor and Ethan and Mattie discover their true love for each other. It basically goes downhill from there; downhill like a sled on a cold winter’s day.

     The movie dropped on the scene in 1993, over 80 years after the novel. This gave people some time to think the book over, decide whether it was a classic or not. It was in ’93 and it still is today. Directed by John Madden and starring Liam Neeson as Ethan and Joan Allen as Zeena, the film gets casting down pretty well. Neeson has the right amount of rugged manliness with a side order of charm to fill those lumbering shoes of Ethan’s and Allen is wonderfully wretched as Zeena the hypochondriac. Patricia Arquette creates likeable innocence in the role of Mattie Silver. As far as casting goes, the film gets it right on the money.

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     Where most book to film adaptations cut, cut, cut in order to squeeze the story into a couple of hours, Ethan Frome has the opposite problem. At less than a hundred pages, the filmmakers needed to add, rather than take away. What they added usually works to flesh out the story. Zeena is more of a character in the film, showing more emotional dimension. This is a pleasant surprise. I can’t imagine any actress playing her with as much stiffness and indifference as the way she is written in the book. However, the narrator from the beginning and end of the novel becomes a preacher and a bit of a religious tone is introduced, needlessly in my opinion. He isn’t a character in the meat of the story so I don’t see why he needed to be in the film as much as he is.

     The nice part about John Madden’s Ethan Frome is that it stays true to the novel. With only four or five major scenes in the book, staying true seems unavoidable. It’s a nicely plotted book and the filmmakers took advantage of it, and rightfully so. But all in all, what do we really talk about when we talk about Ethan Frome? The ending. Why is Ethan the sad, crippled man that he is. I’m happy to say the movie does it right. The book does it better if only for one detail (Zeena’s face appears before Ethan, blocking his vision, causing him to lose control of the sled). Still, the ending is so shocking and depressing that it works on both accounts. Whether watching the film or reading the book, no one wants to be Ethan Frome when it’s over. No one.