| Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows |
 |
 |
|
Written by Ivan Radford |
| Sunday, 22 July 2007 00:00 |
Yes, I queued at midnight. No, I wasn’t in costume. And yes, people die.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, the final book in J. K. Rowling’s series about the boy wizard, sees Harry leave Hogwarts to continue what Dumbledore started. Helped along by those most loyal to him, he faces a series of difficult decisions: confidence or humility; courage or fear; life or death; Hallows or Horcruxes.
The magical objects eventually begin to tally up, and a series of exciting set-pieces help our hero acquire the tools he needs to defeat the Dark Lord. From Ocean’s 11 to Star Wars, the realm of film permeates and influences Rowling’s universe, the elements fusing together to create this brilliant conclusion. It is interesting to note the possibly unique relationship between Rowling’s novels and cinema. The simultaneous translation of her words into pictures rebounds on to the writing itself: gone are the copious, clumsy and childish references to past events. In their place is a visually detailed prose more comparable to fantasy scribe Phillip Pullman, whose Dark Materials trilogy has long eclipsed the quality of Rowling’s writing. As the past trades blows with the present, it soon becomes clear that the characters are not the only people to have matured over the years.
The cinematic climax to this archetypal bildungsroman sees the whole of Hogwarts unite against the Dark Lord’s siege. Though the outcome is quite predictable, events are breathtakingly tense; jinxes fly thick and fast, and Rowling is unafraid of dispatching either friend or foe. Inevitably, the pace slows intermittently, bringing us the necessary exposition to comprehend the events that unfold: characters’ mysterious pasts are unfogged, and the Hallows are eventually revealed.
An arduous task at times, the series has steadily improved. Here, at the finale, it is a joy to read. A thankfully brief, albeit pointless, epilogue avoids the heavy-handed emotion of earlier books, resulting in a well crafted novel. It may be no surprise what happens during The Boy Who Lived’s departure, but as the smoke from King’s Cross dissipates, you’ll be glad it’s over. A satisfying finish, and a potentially great film.
|
|
| A Novel Idea |
|
|
|
Written by Ivan Radford |
| Saturday, 30 June 2007 00:00 |
Translating a book to the screen is a tough task. From casting to cutting, what makes a successful adaptation?
Imagine my fear when I opened a Christmas present to find a box set of the Hitchhiker’s Guide novels staring back at me; the old multi-coloured cover was gone, in its place a picture based on the recent movie. Was this a newly printed ‘novelisation’ of the film, which had changed some elements of the original and introduced many others? I hoped not...
Ever since Sidney Lanfield in 1939 directed the Sherlock Holmes classic The Hound of the Baskervilles, the conversion of an iconic story or character from word to image is a staple of the cinema industry. The decision to adapt a novel depends on many factors, from its suitability for being told visually to its reputation; a popular published work has an existing audience upon which the film’s box office can capitalise.
But this benefit has a flipside, for with an established author’s work comes expectations; the film has to appeal to two audiences, those familiar with the source material and those who are not. To straddle the gap between is a challenging feat that only a select few manage to pull off. The inevitable question that arises is what marks the elite out from the rest?
Last year The Guardian conducted a survey to determine the nation’s favourite film adapted from literature. Taking this to be a fair representation of which films constitute the ‘classic’ adaptations, perhaps the list can provide us with the answer.
On the surface it appears that being faithful to the source material is vital, as To Kill a Mockingbird and Blade Runner both rank highly on The Guardian’s list. Robert Mulligan’s 1962 transformation of Harper Lee’s classic civil rights novel stuck closely to the page, and Blade Runner was judged by Phillip K Dick (author of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?) as looking ‘exactly as he hoped’.
Look closer, though, and there’s trouble in paradise: Ridley Scott had never read Dick’s novel, and One Flew over the Cuckoo’s Nest – one place above Blade Runner on The Guardian’s chart – was disowned by its author Ken Kesey after Milos Forman’s treatment shirked the novel’s drug-addled stupor, focussing less on individualism and more on institutionalisation. Some personal favourites of mine, such as The Maltese Falcon, faithfully do justice to their sources. Others, meanwhile, depart from their textual origins; A Clockwork Orange’s positive ending was shunned for Kubrick’s cynical conclusion and Apocalypse Now re-located Conrad’s The Heart of Darkness from Africa to Vietnam. Both films were received well by audiences and critics alike.
In recent years, Brokeback Mountain’s success reminds us that a short story is not always a bad choice for conversion – legendary films such as Stand by Me and The Shawshank Redemption show that a carefully selected novella provides an opportunity to expand upon those elements which hide potential hidden depths. Other modern adaptations that have also reaped rewards include The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Though not on The Guardian’s list, I believe the trilogy to be a perfect example of literary adaptation – a category in which I also include Curtis Hanson’s transposition of James Ellroy’s hard-boiled L.A Confidential.
The Harry Potter franchise, meanwhile, is something of a mixed bag; a collection of films that are developing into a gargantuan commercial beast. The initial entries, Philosopher’s Stone and Chamber of Secrets, were bland and uninteresting, applauded only by die-hard fans of Miss Rowling. It was with the third film that this began to change; the replacement of Christopher Columbus (Home Alone) with Alfonso Cuaron (Children of Men) saw the introduction of stylistic depth and darker themes. As the books began to grow in size, the films also became more selective in the editing of the source material, perhaps a benefit given Rowling’s occasionally sloppy pen. Is the solution simply to be unafraid of editing content for the screenplay? The pathetic treatment of The Da Vinci Code, with its laboriously faithful exposition, certainly supports this theory.
In the case of Hitchiker’s Guide, the novel’s content was replaced by completely original material, direct evidence of the fact that film and literature are two completely different mediums, each requiring different structures and devices. Filmed versions should stand independently of the written work, allowing people to choose whether or not to see the end product. Complimenting the textual partner without depending upon it prevents the exclusion of anyone whilst allowing the film-maker to express themselves.
The end result often leaves the film burned into your memory, plaguing the reader’s imagination with the cast’s faces. The emblazoning of a novel with the movie’s poster intrudes in a similar manner, disturbing the peace of a library at THX-style volume. Peter Jackson judged The Lord of the Rings perfectly, thanks to careful casting (unlike the flawed choices of the Harry Potter series - John Hannah would be a better Lupin than David Thewlis) and well-chosen locations. Direct transposition of material was avoided, with a further emphasis placed upon the romantic subplot. The content differed, the films were lengthy, but they achieved the key goal of any adaptation: the overall tone of the novels remained unchanged.
The first hurdle is the script; a talented screenwriter can be selective without destroying the source material. To this end, take Charlie Kaufman’s adaptation of The Orchid Thief. He disregarded half of the novel, which was un-filmable, and wrote a screenplay about himself wrestling with the difficult task of translating words into pictures; a bizarre insight into the task of adaptation. The result, Adaptation, is one of the most original films ever written. Now that really was a novel idea.
|
| Maddy Goes to the Cinema |
|
|
|
Written by Ivan Radford |
| Wednesday, 27 June 2007 00:00 |
I went to the cinema last night to see Tell No One. After the usual spate of trailers and adverts – all part of the cinema experience – came another video, completely out of place in a theatre: an appeal for information regarding the missing child Madeleine McCann. Needless to say, I did the decent thing and immediately left the cinema, missing the film completely, in order to call the Crimestoppers helpline and inform them of all the “suspicious” things I had seen on the way to the cinema...
A young girl from Leicestershire went missing in a Portugal resort on Thursday 3rd May. Not one of us was present when parents Gerry and Kate put four year-old Madeleine McCann to bed with her siblings, Sean and Amelie. We did not witness her guardians go out for dinner in Praia de Luz, leaving the youngsters to slumber. Yet, over the past months, an unprecedented amount of media coverage has ensured that we are all familiar with the events of that evening. Virtually every day since Madeleine disappeared, Gerry and Kate have spoken to the press with the latest updates, no matter how trivial.
During that time, a total of 1,200 missing persons reports have been filed. Have the media given them all the same attention? How many could the public name? Like a parent neglecting some of their offspring, the media have overlooked other similar cases in recent months. We only hear about a small percentage of the 210,000 people estimated by the Home Office to go missing each year.
Madeleine McCann has become the highest profile missing child case since the Soham Murders in 2002. Both cases featured pretty, middle-class, white children. Indeed, if parents from an ethnic minority abandoned their kids for dinner, very different headlines would have surfaced. Though the 1993 murder of teenager Stephen Lawrence also received a large amount of attention, this was arguably due to the perpetrator’s racial motivation and the police force’s inept investigation. Madeleine has joined the ranks of such historical child losses. Adopted by the media into a family of famous victims, she is now known as “Maddy”.
There are, of course, benefits from such extensive publicity. After the first televised appeal, UK police received 15,000 calls from members of the public with possibly crucial information; the more people that are aware, the greater the chance of a potential breakthrough. Even celebrities are familiar with the McCanns’ plight. David Beckham recorded an appeal; JK Rowling, Richard Branson and others have amassed a £2.5 million reward for Maddy’s return. When compared to the £1 million offered in the Soham case, it becomes clear that even for a high-profile case such as this, the coverage of Maddy’s disappearance is not just unprecedented, but unfair.
Madeleine McCann is just one child in a thousand, yet a “Find Maddy” appeal was broadcast at the FA Cup Final and has even found its way into cinemas. Initial reports led the evening news in front of the Labour Party’s potential changeover – arguably the more important national story. The completely disproportionate media response is perhaps best represented by Gerry and Kate meeting the Pope. This would have been unlikely without the amount of media attention heaped upon the McCann family. Blazing a trail across Europe, Maddy’s parents are determined to find their child. In Spain they recently appeared on Los Mas Buscados (“The Most Wanted”). Programmes such as this and Crimewatch UK perform an important function in investigational procedure. Cases belong in this realm of the media.
Though the parents deserve credit for their efforts, they have been garnering a reaction completely out of proportion to their non-unique situation. Thanks to their team of media and legal advisors, the parents have harnessed the hunger of journalists for a human interest story with a pretty victim. With the EU Missing Children’s Day recently passed, and a slow increase in the number of missing children mentioned in newspapers, it seems that the response to Maddy’s disappearance may have established a precedent.
As the search for Maddy goes on, the coverage slowly dies out, until the next couple fortunate enough to have their plight publicised. In the meantime, the media have to follow up their behaviour. If another missing child gets the same attention as Maddy, maybe a positive can be taken from this negative situation. In the meantime, perhaps the cinema – arguably a place of escapism – can be left untainted.I went to the cinema last night to see Tell No One. After the usual spate of trailers and adverts – all part of the cinema experience – came another video, completely out of place in a theatre: an appeal for information regarding the missing child Madeleine McCann. Needless to say, I did the decent thing and immediately left the cinema, missing the film completely, in order to call the Crimestoppers helpline and inform them of all the “suspicious” things I had seen on the way to the cinema...
A young girl from Leicestershire went missing in a Portugal resort on Thursday 3rd May. Not one of us was present when parents Gerry and Kate put four year-old Madeleine McCann to bed with her siblings, Sean and Amelie. We did not witness her guardians go out for dinner in Praia de Luz, leaving the youngsters to slumber. Yet, over the past months, an unprecedented amount of media coverage has ensured that we are all familiar with the events of that evening. Virtually every day since Madeleine disappeared, Gerry and Kate have spoken to the press with the latest updates, no matter how trivial.
During that time, a total of 1,200 missing persons reports have been filed. Have the media given them all the same attention? How many could the public name? Like a parent neglecting some of their offspring, the media have overlooked other similar cases in recent months. We only hear about a small percentage of the 210,000 people estimated by the Home Office to go missing each year.
Madeleine McCann has become the highest profile missing child case since the Soham Murders in 2002. Both cases featured pretty, middle-class, white children. Indeed, if parents from an ethnic minority abandoned their kids for dinner, very different headlines would have surfaced. Though the 1993 murder of teenager Stephen Lawrence also received a large amount of attention, this was arguably due to the perpetrator’s racial motivation and the police force’s inept investigation. Madeleine has joined the ranks of such historical child losses. Adopted by the media into a family of famous victims, she is now known as “Maddy”.
There are, of course, benefits from such extensive publicity. After the first televised appeal, UK police received 15,000 calls from members of the public with possibly crucial information; the more people that are aware, the greater the chance of a potential breakthrough. Even celebrities are familiar with the McCanns’ plight. David Beckham recorded an appeal; JK Rowling, Richard Branson and others have amassed a £2.5 million reward for Maddy’s return. When compared to the £1 million offered in the Soham case, it becomes clear that even for a high-profile case such as this, the coverage of Maddy’s disappearance is not just unprecedented, but unfair.
Madeleine McCann is just one child in a thousand, yet a “Find Maddy” appeal was broadcast at the FA Cup Final and has even found its way into cinemas. Initial reports led the evening news in front of the Labour Party’s potential changeover – arguably the more important national story. The completely disproportionate media response is perhaps best represented by Gerry and Kate meeting the Pope. This would have been unlikely without the amount of media attention heaped upon the McCann family. Blazing a trail across Europe, Maddy’s parents are determined to find their child. In Spain they recently appeared on Los Mas Buscados (“The Most Wanted”). Programmes such as this and Crimewatch UK perform an important function in investigational procedure. Cases belong in this realm of the media.
Though the parents deserve credit for their efforts, they have been garnering a reaction completely out of proportion to their non-unique situation. Thanks to their team of media and legal advisors, the parents have harnessed the hunger of journalists for a human interest story with a pretty victim. With the EU Missing Children’s Day recently passed, and a slow increase in the number of missing children mentioned in newspapers, it seems that the response to Maddy’s disappearance may have established a precedent.
As the search for Maddy goes on, the coverage slowly dies out, until the next couple fortunate enough to have their plight publicised. In the meantime, the media have to follow up their behaviour. If another missing child gets the same attention as Maddy, maybe a positive can be taken from this negative situation. In the meantime, perhaps the cinema – arguably a place of escapism – can be left untainted. |
|
|
