Adaptation

HOUSEKEEPING (1987)

March 17, 2021

(VOD) I didn’t realize this going into HOUSEKEEPING, but it’s an adaptation of Marilynne Robinson’s first novel of the same name. If you aren’t familiar with Robinson, she’s probably better known for her series of GILEAD novels, which examines the small but sprawling matters of a family.

(I’ll note I’ve only read the second novel in the series, HOME, so I may be misrepresenting the series a bit.)

In any case, Bill Forsyth (writer/director of BEING HUMAN and LOCAL HERO) adapted Robinson’s novel, which is a story of two sisters who are abandoned by their mother, then looked after by their aunt, an eccentric with more than a few issues, but not in the cute AUNTIE MAME way. It’s quietly, but mannerly, handled, feeling more like a prestige picture as opposed to an indie piece, but never loses sight of the characters, all of whom are unique and grow and brush against societal and cultural norms in their own way.

I’ll note that the trailer most certainly positions the film as a sort of unconventional wacky comedy. It is not that at all.

ELEMENTARY (2012-2019)

February 15, 2021

(Hulu/VOD) The year is 2012. A well-received modern adaptation of Sherlock Holmes — SHERLOCK — from the beloved writer/director of classic DOCTOR WHO ep -Blink- was already on its second season. CBS announced ELEMENTARY, which was squarely positioned as a CBS procedural with Johnny Lee Miller as Holmes and Lucy Liu as Watson, positioned in modern day New York City. Most folks scoffed, wondering how it could possibly compare to SHERLOCK.

Jump ahead to today, and I found ELEMENTARY to be the superior show for many reasons, but here are a few that stand out:

1) ELEMENTARY let their characters grow naturally, as opposed to solely saddling them with sensational baggage like -some- Holmes adaptations.

2) ELEMENTARY humanized Holmes without detracting from his superhuman facets. He’s an addict, he’s a brilliant asshole, but here he does care about people, especially not hurting folks in his orbit. His arc with Watson is one of the most mature partnership and friendship arcs I’ve seen portrayed on network TV.

3) Liu is the best Watson, and it’s not just because she’s so well-dressed. She has her own voice and place alongside Sherlock, although it takes a bit for the writers to get her there. She’s also one of the few Watsons shown to properly exist independently of Sherlock.

4) It provides the freshest, most interesting take on Moriarty. To say anymore would spoil matters.

While I found the show to have peaked in the second season — if you’re pressed for time, watch the first two and leave it there — all -seven- seasons are extremely watchable, partially because of the reasons listed above, but also because of the strong supporting and guest cast, which included Aidan Quinn as Holmes’ staple Captain Gregson, Steppenwolf regular Jon Michael Hill as Detective Marcus Bell, and Fringe’s John Noble as Sherlock’s father.

Lastly, the title sequence was absolutely lovely, and I would always take the time to watch it.

THE THIN MAN (1934)

February 14, 2021

(VOD/Every other week on TCM) THE THIN MAN is based on the Dashiell Hammett detective novel of the same name but, while the pre-code film adaptation retains the same narrative bones as the book, it backgrounds the murder mystery in favor of the boozy, flirty interplay between spouses Nick & Nora Charles, resulting in one of most winsome on-screen couples.

Like the book, Nora (Myrna Loy) is a rich socialite, and Nick (William Powell) is a man who gave up his detective badge to marry her, and they have a dog in lieu of children. They spend their copious recreational time running around night clubs, garnering hanger-ons and hangovers, making each other laugh with witty banter and, in general, having one good time after another, at least until Nick gets roped into investigating a murder. What makes them such a great on-screen couple is that, yes, Nick is the investigator, but Nora is often the instigator, has just as much insight and deductive powers as Nick, she takes no shit, and Nick is always willing to indulge her. They both push-and-pull each other with an endless amount of quips and gazes, and love each other for doing so.

While it’s always worth watching Loy & Powell together, what really makes the film resonate is the sparkling script penned by married couple Frances Goodrich and Albert Hackett, who had an amazing tandem career both as playwrights (they won a Pulitzer for their stageplay of THE DIARY OF ANNE FRANK) and screenwriters (they also worked on FATHER OF THE BRIDE, IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE, and SEVEN BRIDES FOR SEVEN BROTHERS). They were not shy about admitting that they poured much of their relationship into the screenplay, and it shows, as they feel like a real forever-love couple — doting, a bit combative, occasionally prickly, always respectful — but never in a cloying way. It’s a delightful watch, a film I never tire of.

  • If you’re interested in reading more about Goodrich & Hackett, I suggest the combined biography of the two in THE REAL NICK AND NORA by David L. Goodrich.

NAKED CITY (1958-1963)

February 11, 2021

(Pluto/Roku/tubi/VOD) NAKED CITY was a long-running TV show adapted from the 1948 film THE NAKED CITY, bringing a more grounded police procedural to the small screen, ten years after the film, and seven years after DRAGNET made the leap from radio to TV. While show creator Stirling Silliphant (THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT writer, creator of the previously mentioned ROUTE 66 which was spurred into existence by an episode of NAKED CITY) had nothing to do with the original film, he took to heart the intent of putting NYC and its citizens on display.

The first season features John McIntire and James Franciscus inhabiting the same THE NAKED CITY roles as Lt. Detective Dan Muldoon and Detective Jimmy Halloran although John McIntire quickly grew tired of New York City and the show, so he was written out in a -jawdropping- way, then NAKED CITY was recast and turned from a half-hour show to an hour long, and recast again — this with Paul Burke as the lead detective — and with him it finally found some legs.

The show’s fumbling worked though, as the delay allowed NAKED CITY to capture a completely different New York City than the one portrayed in THE NAKED CITY, a NYC with counterculture, where the youths had started to distrust the police, as opposed to the fantasyland of 60s DRAGNET. (I’ve watched far too much DRAGNET: https://tvannotations.tumblr.com/post/60116769951/dragnet)

Like its modern day companion LAW & ORDER, it made the most of the NYC theater scene and booked a number of extraordinarily talented guest actors who hadn’t been discovered yet, including Cicely Tyson, Peter Falk, Bruce Dern, Suzanne Pleshette, and many more. Even if you ignore the adept location shooting, brisk plotting and deft character work, the show’s worth a watch simply for the faces that pop up.

“There are eight million stories in the naked city. This has been one of them.”

TERMINATOR: THE SARAH CONNOR CHRONICLES (2008-2009)

January 31, 2021

(Hulu/VOD) It may be blasphemy, especially since I haven’t seen any of the TERMINATOR films since TERMINATOR 3, but THE SARAH CONNOR CHRONICLES is by far my favorite slice of the TERMINATOR franchise.

It took a bit for the show to find its footing but, once it did, it was blisteringly inventive. One of the closing scenes of first season features creator Josh Friedman and the episode’s director Mike Rohl taking a very big swing, making the most of the show’s limited budget while still serving up a visually arresting — and very memorable — closing number. (You can see the entire scene here. Despite the fact that it is part of the season finale, it doesn’t spoil much. Yes, that’s the scene as it aired — not a fan video.)

The cast is overstuffed with well-known talent and future heavy hitters, including Lena Headey as Sarah Connor, Thomas Dekker as John Connor (I imagine they partially cast him because of his last name), Summer Glau as a terminator ally, prolific character actor Richard T. Jones as an FBI agent, Garret Dillahunt, THE SHIELD’s Catherine Dent, James Urbaniak, Brian Austin Green, Beeper King Dean Winters, GARBAGE’s Shirley Manson, the list goes on.

While the show could have lived longer, the two available seasons are extremely entertaining, and some of best network sci-fi in years. One note: the series ends on a cliffhanger so, if that bothers you, you may want to abstain.

SPONTANEOUS (2020)

January 25, 2021

(epix/Hulu/Paramount+/VOD) In a year of unnervingly prescient pandemic screenplays, this one stands out. Based on Aaron Starmer’s young adult novel, senior-year high school teens start spontaneously exploding and are quarantined while scientists race to find a cure.

Brian Duffield’s (writer of both UNDERWATER and JANE GOT A GUN) adaptation takes a number of notes from THE LEFTOVERS, such as uniforms similar to the ‘Guilty Remnants’ and referring to the ‘exploded’ as ‘departed’. They even leave the ‘act of departing’ in the visual gutter — you never witness it occur, you only witness the aftermath. It’s a nice touch by Duffield, and it leads to more than a few gleefully shocking moments.

While you will laugh while watching this — especially at the playful insults bandied about by acerbic smartass Mara (Katherine Longford, KNIVES OUT and LOVE, SIMON) with her best friend Hayley Law (RIVERDALE), boyfriend Dylan (Charlie Plummer, LEAN ON PETE), and ‘cool dad and mom (comedy mainstay Rob Huebel and COYOTE UGLY’s Piper Perabo) — it’s a much more downbeat and thoughtful, occasionally distressing, look at teens reckoning with their mortality on the cusp of beginning their adult lives. It’s not exactly the thigh-slapping dark rom-com the trailer pitches, which is a relief because the end result resonates far longer than a more flippant approach to the material would.

MILDRED PIERCE (2011)

January 24, 2021

(DVD/HBO MAX) I love Curtiz’s adaptation of James M. Cain’s MILDRED PIERCE — he certainly knew how to work the material to fit Joan Crawford — but it’s Todd Haynes’ (CAROL, FAR FROM HEAVEN) version that is truer to Cain’s novel. Yes, most of Cain’s works are lurid and pulpy crime tales, sensational enough to be banned, but MILDRED PIERCE is the exception. Cain paints a detailed portrait of a difficult mother with an even more difficult daughter, both of whom get wrapped up with a exploitative cad. It’s an epic character piece that deserves every minute of the approximately six hours that Haynes gives it.

Haynes enlists Kate Winslet who plays the role with a muted air — not quite the hysterical, over-protective mother that Crawford portrayed — while Evan Rachel Wood brats it up as her daughter, and Guy Pearce gleefully tears into inhabiting a genuine shitheel playboy. As you’d expect from Haynes, the cinematography is lush, the production design department spared not one piece of patterned wallpaper, and everyone’s stitched to the nines.

Most importantly, Haynes knows how to let scenes breath. Cameras track contemplatively, gazes wander, and characters sit with themselves, processing the ramifications of their actions. While it may not be as fondly recalled as the initial adaptation, or even any of Haynes’ prior works, it’s a mini-series that merits the extra time.

BREATHLESS (1983)

January 21, 2021

(hoopla/kanopy) I last watched Jim McBride’s (DAVID HOLZMAN’S DIARY, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE) remake of BREATHLESS many moons ago, back when I could walk down the street to my cult video store and rent a VHS copy. Despite not thinking much of it at the time, I have vivid memories of the film’s neon spills, as well as one terrible joke:

“You know Frank Lloyd Wright? This is Frank Lloyd Wrong.”

Watching it recently, after years of scrutinizing adaptations, I realized I was far too tough on it.

Structurally, McBride’s film is the same as Godard’s, he just inverts the locale and the protagonists’ countries of origin; instead of taking place in France with a French cad (Jean-Paul Belmondo) and American love interest (Jean Seberg), it’s an American cad (Richard Gere) with a French love interest (Valérie Kaprisky).

McBride, and screenwriter L.M. Kit Carson (TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSCRE 2 -and- PARIS, TEXAS) are aware that trying to recreate the verve of 60’s BREATHLESS would be futile, so they ramp matters up a bit. Their BREATHLESS is a sleek, neon-soaked affair that wants nothing to do with jump cuts. Gere’s no longer an admirer of Bogart, but instead idolizes Jerry Lee Lewis. He doesn’t have the cool collected air of Belmondo, but instead is a ball of energy, constantly moving. As opposed to the erotic tête-à-tête between Belmondo & Seberg, they lean into full-blown sex scenes.

Is it a good film? Arguably, yes, it’s a gripping erotic thriller. Is it on par with Godard’s BREATHLESS? Oh, no, please. Godard’s BREATHLESS is a genre masterpiece, stitched together by sheer reactionary inventiveness and the vibrant performances from the leads. McBride’s BREATHLESS is a fascinating flip side, shining a spotlight on American appetites that falters mostly because both Gere and Kaprisky, and American culture in general, lack the enigmatic allure that makes the original film work.

One last note: BREATHLESS (1983) leaves Hulu on February 28th!

ORLANDO (1992)

December 7, 2020

(Prime/VOD) Somehow, I knew next-to-nothing about ORLANDO when I cracked open Virginia Woolf’s book roughly two years ago. Since then, it’s become a book I’ve extolled as brilliance I wish I’d encountered far earlier in my life.

Similarly, I came to Sally Potter’s adaptation only recently and, it too, is fantastic. However, it’s very difficult to discuss the particulars of its plot without divulging certain facets that make the book truly special, but here’s my attempt:

First and foremost: Swinton is absolutely perfect in this, and I love the audacity of how sparsely she’s adorned (except, of course, when she’s not). Obviously, it’s a role that rightly put Swinton in the limelight.

Second: Potter’s adaptation is more succinct, almost obscenely so as she could have given the scenes a bit more room to breathe, but instead she often races through the plot to the point where it feels more like a fever dream, as opposed to the lackadaisical pacing of the novel. The impact of which is felt nowhere harder than in Potter’s final act, which also bestows its own ending which, fair, it’s her film and all, but it’s -a lot-, and left a unique taste in my mouth.

Third: The gazes! They’re all amazing and all so wound with meaning, especially those that break the fourth wall.

Lastly: The cinematography and score. It has the formalistic trappings, portraiture stylings and sturdy tracking shots of a Greenaway film, but still engages with the action, as opposed to mannerly setting a tableau. Potter herself composed the music, which has a Nyman-esque minimalist flair that, yet again, engages more with the material than you’d expect.

In case you needed more coaxing: it’s Toby Jones’ first role and, despite that, if you’ve seen Toby Jones in anything, you know immediately that yes: that’s Toby Jones.

Trailer (a perfect three-act teaser):

THE FRONT PAGE (1974)

December 4, 2020

(DVD) I love adaptations. Give me an adaptation of a work I’ve previously seen or read, and I’ll always glean something interesting from it. Consequently, I was curious about Billy Wilder’s THE FRONT PAGE, which has its roots in the 1928 stage play of the same name about a Chicago newspaper writer trying to escape the business and get married and the boss who tries to thwart him, all under the umbrella of a hanging. THE FRONT PAGE became a reasonably successful film in 1931, but then Howard Hawks and Charles Lederer gender-swapped newspaper writer Hildy Johnson, threw away half of the script and let the cast riff, and created the classic screwball rom-com HIS GIRL FRIDAY.

Wilder’s FRONT PAGE is a glossier, overtly bluer, more expansive Cinemascope version of the original 1931 film — as you can immediately tell from the gorgeously crafted title sequence https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jwuo9NjflGs — and that is not a compliment. The tightly-wound anarchic feeling of both the original FRONT PAGE and HIS GIRL FRIDAY is what made them feel vibrant, and that’s missing from this production due to its over-produced adherence to the initial film.

While there are a few grander comedic moments and set-pieces, Wilder’s version often feels hum-drum and sluggish, completely antithetical to what one should expect from a FRONT PAGE adaptation. However, it includes one notable bit of interplay between boss Walter Matheu and writer/Wilder regular Jack Lemmon: Lemmon says ‘Cigarette me!’ and Matthau obliges by popping a cigarette into his own mouth and lighting it for his favored employee. He then slips it into Lemmon’s mouth, all while Susan Sarandon — Lemmon’s fiancée — watches. It’s is a cute Hays Code callback back to when swapping cigarettes was shorthand for fucking, but it doesn’t resonate nearly as much as Wilder thinks it does.

While I wish Wilder had extended himself further, he’s never wasted my time. Sure, it’s the lesser of the three major versions, but it has its moments and worth a watch if you’re into scrutinizing the machinations of adaptations.

THE FRONT PAGE’s (1931) opening scene:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WlsW0qbbcjs

HIS GIRL FRIDAY trailer:

THE FRONT PAGE (1974) trailer: