I’ve been thinking a bit lately about movies that are adaptations of books. For example, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen opens tomorrow, and it’s based on a series of comic books, which I’ve read. (Thanks, Mitch!)
Now, there was a time when irreverent or less-than-100%-faithful adaptations caused me to lapse into apopleptic fits, froth at the mouth in pure, unbridled rage, and fall into seizures. (Damn, I gotta quit reading Twon before I post.) I’m more sanguine about them now, however, my occasional rants about Arwen notwithstanding.
It’s a strange place to be in, however, since my own personal opinions tend to come in either borderline-noncaring or super-ultra-mega-passionate strengths. There’s not a lot of middle ground when it comes to my take on things unless I make a real effort.
Thus, I was able to rant about the changes they’ve clearly made to the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen at a party on Tuesday, with slightly raised voice, emphatic hand gestures, and the rest of it – and then lapse into a calm discussion of how it really doesn’t matter that much as long as it’s still a good movie.
I suspect that my overall level of intensity about an adaptation’s quality and faithfulness really depends on how attached I am to the book. I’m very, very, very attached to The Lord of the Rings, so it pisses me off to no end that PJ made such gratuitous and horrible changes. I’m not particularly attached to the Harry Potter books, with the exception of anything at all to do with Professors Lupin and Snape, so it didn’t really bother me that they snipped stuff out of the story for the movies. I am hardly attached at all to the League, so I suspect that my actual take is going to be that I don’t really care, but I’ll still be able to rant about the changes on demand.
Yep, that’s me: Ealasaid, the Opinionated Girl Who Makes No Sense.
