I watched the latest Wuthering Heights adaptation a few days ago, and it’s fair to say that it doesn’t rigidly follow Emily Brontë’s text. But does that divergence make it a better film than the book? No, no it doesn’t. And on that bombshell, I’m going to have a look at a few films to see whether their changes from the original source material serve the narrative positively or negatively. Potential spoilers ahead.
Wuthering Heights
Well, I’ve already weighed in on whether the changes add anything productive to the new adaptation of Emily Brontë’s classic tale, but let’s go through some examples anyway. Firstly, all the racial context behind Heathcliffe’s ethnicity and the subsequent prejudice he experiences because of it is neatly swept under the door. The ‘dark-skinned gipsy’ described in Bronte’s novel is turned into a model-perfect figure courtesy of Caucasian actor Jacob Elordi. I can’t help but imagine Helen Mirren’s Barbie narrator floating in and pointing out the fact that Elordi is a terrible example of Bronte’s character, with a similar description for Barbie actress Margot Robbie. They’re both decent actors on their own, but they’re really not the kind of people you need for these roles. Forget the old ‘oh they’re not how I imagined them in the book’ trope, the characters are younger in the book, and they’re not pristine, flawless Aussie supermodel folks, goshdarnit.
A more obvious point to address is that there are no sex scenes in Brontës novel. Surprise surprise. It’s what you come to expect from an Emerald Fennel joint, but there’s no chance of that kind of material making its way into the pages of a nineteenth century novel. Sure, it explores pretty important themes like class and obsession, but sex? Hell nah. Oh, and the intriguing narrative structure of flashbacks is switched into a linear narrative in the film. I get this from the point of view of clarity in terms of appealing to a commercial audience, but still, it takes away a lot of the narrative complexity. But don’t you worry, Emerald’s here to distract you with lots of horny tension and dramatic landscapes instead. Hooray?
There are numerous other changes from the book, but hey, time is of the essence. The point is that Emerald’s changes don’t add anything worthwhile.
L.A. Confidential
As much as I enjoyed Ellroy’s book, I needed to watch the film to get my noodle around all that terminology. The text and the film are two very different beasts, but in a good way. Ellroy’s text is a chunky fella, to put it lightly (fatphobia not intended, guys), so it makes sense to cut a lot of stuff out. First and foremost, the big timeline. The book covers about seven years of L.A. crime, whereas the film takes place over a much shorter period.
And the main characters are all pretty different. Jack Vincennes is way more of a sleazebag and Exley has a sexual relationship with Inez Soto, the rape victim in one of the central crime cases. And the whole ‘Rollo Tomassi’ anecdote is made up in the film, probably to boost Exley’s hero persona and create the zinger when Dudley says the name to him after killing Vincennes in the later part of the film. Dudley retains power in the book version, too. Basically, every character in Ellroy’s version is more of a douche. Yeah, that’s a nice literary summary. And there’s generally a lot more blood and guts in the book. I’d have thought that’d be something that the writers would be cool with showing, but the much more heroic ending in the film has a Hollywood happy ending. It is still a solid 18-reated film though, I can’t deny that. Anyway, both the book and film are great works in their own right. Nice.
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
Likewise with this one, I had to watch the film to fully appreciate the book. And the book is also pretty long, so a decent amount of material needed to be condensed. The film does a supreme job of conveying the 70s Cold War era through a distinctive colour palette, exhibiting a genius attention to detail that I’d go on to appreciate more and more in Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul. Le Carré’s spy makes a nice change to the hollow action and womanising that pervades most of the Bond films (don’t shoot me). The film employs various flashback sequences to get the audience up to speed with character backstories, which makes the narrative more coherent.
It did admittedly take me a couple of watches to put all the pieces together, so exposition moments like these definitely helped. There are small location details that are changed in the film too; Ricky Tarr’s doomed romance with Irina takes places in Istanbul rather than the book’s setting of Hong Kong, but that’s not a change that impacts the narrative. And Ricky’s boss doesn’t get shot in the fallout, either. But again, these are details in a flashback sequence, so the overall plot isn’t hindered. Anyway, watch the film first to understand the terminology of the book; both are great. And the BBC television adaption is quality stuff too.
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?/Blade Runner
Ah, Philip K. Dick. I don’t like your writing style, and that’s a fact. Sure, you may be a prominent figure in the sci-fi world and all that, but this doesn’t change the fact that I don’t like your work. Particularly this one. I was already a major league Blade Runner nerd when I picked this text up and gave it a look. The film is a bona fide masterpiece, so it must’ve come from top quality source material, hm? Nope. The same skeleton plot structure exists in both, though. Some rogue ‘replicants’ (manufactured beings created by humans) go on the run and it’s up to a disenfranchised Blade Runner (a kind of hitman that specialises in taking out, or ‘retiring’ replicants) to get rid of them.
Whereas Ridley’s Scott’s joint instead chooses to focus on the plight of the replicants and their human struggles, the book spends a lot more time with Deckard, who’s kind of dull. Which is ironic, because lead replicant Roy Batty (played by the late Rutger Hauer) ended up stealing the show in the film, much to the chagrin of Harrison Ford (the taciturn Rick Dekkard). There’re some interesting building blocks in there about religion, but that’s kept out of the film, as are Philip K Dick’s satirical whimsies, which didn’t land for me. I’m a much bigger fan of the dystopian malaise. Yeah, I just used a cool word. Check it.
Going back to Roy Batty, Scott and Hauer shape the central villain into the film’s beating heart, whereas the character in the book has virtually no…well, character. At all. He’s just bland. And Scott takes the story in a more romantic direction with the character of Rachel, which suits the film’s noir aesthetic with the femme fatale figure. And it also created a key figure that turned out to be pivotal in setting up the storyline for Blade Runner 2049, another classic. You might have seen me talking about it every once in a while. By overhauling the original text of ‘Androids’, Scott created a vastly superior work of art. Other filmmakers managed similar feats by adapting other Philip K Dick works into superior offerings (see: Minority Report, Total Recall).
Northern Lights/The Golden Compass
Oof, this was a weak adaption. And I mean weak. Northern Lights remains one of my favourite books of all time, so you could play the ‘It’s just not how I imagined it’ card in regard to heavily preferring the book, but that’s no excuse here. Especially considering that HBO managed to create an infinitely superior product of the whole His Dark Materials trilogy a number of years later. First, you need to take a good look at the director: Chris Colombus. You may remember that name fondly from American joints like Home Alone and Gremlins. You might remember him less fondly from the first two Harry Potter films and the more recent Netflix version of The Thursday Murder Club. Oof. Yeah. That guy. It seems like any British product he touches turns to ash. And the Golden Compass is no exception.
Two key components that he removed from the source material? Philip Pullman’s critique of organised religion and the sad ending. Two elements that made the crux of the book, or at least what made the conclusion so powerful. The fact that a children’s book can have a sad ending was pretty darn important and powerful. But no, let’s replace that with a ridiculous happy ending that would’ve made it impossible to do the second film without going through with the sad ending because…reasons. It was just soul crushing. It made sense from a financial point of view to take out all of the religious commentary, but that ultimately destroyed the spirit of the source material. And it just felt too cheesy to go for that happy American-style ending, beyond the narrative incompatibility. That’s not how it goes down, Chris. You soiled it. Soiled it. Soiled it (those who get the SpongeBob reference, I appreciate you). Luckily HBO did Pullman justice with their version, though.
So, the most successful transition from book to film in this selection by editing the original text? Blade Runner. And the least? The Golden Compass. Sure, this year’s Wuthering Heights effort wasn’t exactly stellar, but at least it didn’t twist the original book out of all recognition. Speaking of which, I still haven’t watched the Artemis Fowl film, but I really don’t want to. Anyway, that’s an issue for another time.