Movie’s Better: Part II (The Sequel!)

books_arrow_film_reelThe Movie’s Better Strikes Back!

This one’s going to be a close call. An excellent film made from a book that’s also terrific.

I speak to you of Winter’s Bone. If you aren’t hip to it, get ready to add another favorite to both your reading and viewing lists — it holds up to the scrutiny of repeated exposures.

WintersBoneCoverWinter’s Bone began its life as Daniel Woodrell’s 2006 “hillbilly noir” of the same name. The New York Times described it as “serious as a snakebite, with a plot that seems tight enough to fit on the label of a package of chew.”  After Debra Granik and producer/cowriter Anne Rosellini finished their film Down to the Bone, they contacted the author Daniel Woodrell, who knew what to expect since he was a fan of their low-budget style. He ended up liking the movie enough to attend the Oscars in support.

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Immersive and arduous in its authenticity, Winter’s Bone was shot entirely on location in the Ozarks. Jennifer Lawrence (yeah her) was discovered for this role. She quickly had to learn to fight, skin squirrels, chop wood, and breathe the role of Ree Dolly, a teen with a junkie mom, younger siblings she cares for, and a missing dad. Dad’s dead. No mystery there. She needs to produce the body to prove it. The rest of the book (and film) are devoted to this.

The reason one synopsis works for both book and movie is that Winter’s Bone is an excruciatingly faithful adaptation. There is little left out from the book in the film. And what is excised adds to the overall effect. Let’s examine one scene to pinpoint the power of film to economically communicate. Ree has been warned for about 47 minutes to stop looking for her daddy. A variety of lowlifes have tried to scare her off. She asks one final time. Coffee is thrown in her face and she is dragged by her hair into a barn.

What follows is suggested. A pregnant, lengthy shot from far away distances the viewer from the barn and the horror inside. We imagine much worse than she bears. This technique of implied action (often used in horror films) is a very effective way to make a viewer ill-at-ease and imagine the worst. The next shot is a blurry pan (from Ree’s point of view) of a variety of rusty tools hanging from the barn’s ceiling. One asks “what’re we gonna do with you.” as in the novel, she defiantly answers “kill me.” What’s left out is any indication of her fouling her pants…which the book details no less than 3 times.

What else does Granik leave out of this heavily-awarded film? She merely suggests the bond between Ree and her closest friend, in favor of painting a portrait of female strength in an isolated area ravaged by meth. But all out of respect to the story, to our protagonist: ”Ree’s a folk hero…She’s the kind you sing a ballad about.”

Alan

Movie’s Better: Part I

I stand before you, dear reader, to settle a debate that has raged since time immemorial (or, since movies immemorial anyway):

The book was better!

Yeah, yeah, yeah. In many cases it is…but not always. Lots of times, the director brings something across in such an artful, evocative, deeply affecting way, that the author (who can deliver plot and story, but can’t draw a character to save his life) was incapable of expressing.

This isn’t exactly revolutionary. Although it does at least confuse, if not outright anger, book lovers there are lots of people who prefer an adaptation to its source material. As of the writing of this post, 663 books have gotten as many as 949 votes from the folks on Goodreads passionate enough about their selected film.

The Godfather was first published in 1969, at which time, Kirkus called it a “A Mafia Whiteoaks,  bound for popularity, once you get past the author’s barely concealed admiration for the ‘ethics’ and postulates of primitive power plays.”  In other words decent genre writing, but nothing groundbreaking.

Generally considered (nearly the) best American film ever madeThe Godfather received decent praise initially – mostly in line with surprise that it was actually any good, that it didn’t ghoulishly dwell on mob murder and stereotypes nor act as a Mafia “Whiteoaks.” Here are some examples:

Jay Cocks, Time Magazine: “In its blending of new depth with an old genre, it becomes that rarity, a mass entertainment that is also great movie art.” Although he would later foolishly pan a sequel that some consider superior,Vincent Canby raved “Francis Ford Coppola has made one of the most brutal and moving chronicles of American life ever designed within the limits of popular entertainment.” Roger Ebert: “Coppola has found a style and a visual look for all this material so ‘The Godfather’ becomes something of a rarity: a really good movie squeezed from a bestseller.”

One of his great movies, in fact. A good book, a great movie. The Godfather is fine genre writing, favoring scope over depth. The book has lived many lives, spawning 2 sequels by the author and another couple by Mark Winegardner, most recently as 2007 — generally not so great. Similarly, a lot can be said for the fat a movie must trim, such as character-defining genitalia descriptions. Bottom line: The Godfather is beloved for what it spawned; the book has diminished and since become universally considered inferior pulp to the expansive, artistic films it spawned.

Alan