King Lear begins with an aging king who decides to split his kingdom between his three daughters. Before he does this however, he asks each woman in turn how much she loves him. His oldest daughters, Goneril and Regan, express themselves with much fawning, eloquent language which he enjoys, but in reality they desire only their shares of the kingdom and think him an intolerable dotard. The youngest, Cordelia, expresses her true love for him in plain language without flattery, angering Lear enough to banish her and split his kingdom in half between his remaining children. Goneril and Regan prove to be inhospitable, eventually forcing their father out into the wilderness where he goes mad with the realization that he has exiled his true daughter. Lear and Cordelia are reunited in the end, but only briefly before she is killed and the king expires. Alongside the main story is a second, which sees more sibling rivalry between the two sons of the Earl of Gloucester, Edgar and Edmund. Edmund is Gloucester’s illegitimate son, and plots against the legitimate Edgar for his inheritance. Edgar is banished, Gloucester has his eyes plucked out Kill Bill style (the stage directions even suggest stepping on the eye!), and Edmund instigates a competition between Goneril and Regan that leads them to kill one another. Not everyone is dead, but of the original core cast of nine, only three survive. King Lear is an excellent example of the destruction caused by greed for power and influence.

In Ran we sees that the equivalent of King Lear (Lord Hidetora) has three sons (Taro, Jiro, Saburo) instead of daughters and lives in sixteenth-century Japan. Saburo is exiled in the first scene for disagreeing with his father’s decision to divide the kingdom. A beautifully poignant scene, it gives the viewer a chance to see how each son reacts to his father’s failing health and get a glimpse of their personalities.

A character worth mentioning from Ran is Lady Kaede, who is wife to Taro. However, do not assume for a moment that because she is a woman or a wife that she has no significance. Kaede is an essential member of the cast, and her greed for revenge is a driving force of the plot. When she was sent away from her family to marry Taro, her father and brothers were killed by Hidetora in battle and her mother committed suicide as a result. Kaede’s actions may at first be perceived as power grabs, but they are actually machinations in a plot to destroy the entire family. There are no characters in the film who directly hold the place of Gloucester, Edmund or Edgar. Rather, their characteristics are scattered about within other persons of the movie. If anyone is to take the place of Edmund, it would be Kaede. She has a natural affinity for evil and a definitive idea of how exactly she will carry out her revenge. After Taro is killed in battle, Kaede seduces Jiro and convinces him to take her as his concubine. At the film’s end the entire clan is dead. While most of the violence can be considered the direct consequence of Hidetora’s poor diplomacy, in hindsight you can see the intricate web that Kaede weaves. Her influence is so great and so complete that no man dares refuse an order. They can only watch restlessly as she tears the clan apart from within.

Ran is a really spectacular view of cause and effect. The viewer is made acutely aware of the horror of Hidetora’s reign, and it only makes sense that such a violent end would compliment the violent beginnings. The film and play are both so full of death and destruction because we need to feel the way the characters descend into moral depravity once they choose the path of power. Although some details may be changed, this theme and the others (love of parent and child, old age, madness, homelessness, regret, forgiveness) remain intact from King Lear to Ran, and that is what makes the movie a really fantastic adaptation.

Speaking of cowardly, I was so tired of the voice of the unnamed author by the end of the novel that I didn’t even want to read the last chapter. It wasn’t just his paranoia or melodrama, but his whole personality. I simply wasn’t a fan of the ghostwriter and his shrinking first-person narration, which is part of the reason why I enjoyed the film so thoroughly. The Ghost Writer was recently released by infamous director Roman Polanski, and I have to say that it was a pretty phenomenal adaptation, even though there were some clearly deliberate changes. But honestly, I much preferred the movie to the book. The most effective alteration in the film was in the ending. The writer discovers the clues in the original manuscript that reveal Ruth Lang’s true identity and instead of literally running scared, he confronts her – in a way. At the book release party, as she is giving a speech, he passes a slip of paper up to her that alerts her to his new found, secret intelligence. When she looks up in shock, he raises his glass in acknowledgement. A few minutes later, after leaving the party, the writer is killed by a speeding car. Of course it is unfortunate that he dies, but at least he goes out with a bit of dignity, and not skulking about his apartment or living in fear, moving from hotel to hotel.

On a final note, The Ghost takes place during a fever a bombings in London, probably taking its climate from London in July 2005. I would say that Robert Harris was simply cashing in on subject matter on the minds of people everywhere (or at least in Great Britain and the U.S.), but in an interesting turn of fate, the book sees Adam Lang assassinated in a suicide bombing, facilitated by a fellow countryman – a Caucasian, British bomber. I thought this was significant because it is a demonstration of terrorism in its multiple forms, especially in this case the expected vs. unexpected attacker. Lang actually walks toward the man to shake his hand because he recognizes his accent. Both Polanski and Harris adapted the screenplay, but the London bombings were kept out of the film, and Lang was killed by a bullet to the head (although still by an Englishman). While I think the bomb would have created a more surprising and compelling death, I’m satisfied that the writers kept it consistent. Compared to Shutter Island, reading and seeing The Ghost Writer was a much more positive experience. And there was just enough information to make it understandable to non-readers. I felt that it was a beautiful film; very well-crafted and intelligent.

Shutter Island is written by Dennis Lehane and was published in 2003. It is a New York Times Bestseller, which immediately makes me suspicious, because there are many books that make it onto that list, and most of them are no good. The mild strength of Shutter Island lies in the story. Even though the issue of the missing patient Rachel Solando is settled halfway through the novel, there are many loose ends that need tying up, and many questions that readers desire to find the answers to. And while the ending is not as surprising or perhaps as finely crafted as it could be, Shutter Island was still an enjoyable read.

I found that there was a weakness in the writing. I understand that not every contemporary author is going to be a stickler for language like James Joyce, but I felt at times that this novel seemed unedited. Things like diction and strong sentence structure were really lacking. I shouldn’t be reading a book and come upon a sentence that is so poorly written it makes me think, “Hm. I could have written that better.” This author is probably making millions, not to mention the multiple movie deals he has now made (Mystic River, Gone, Baby, Gone). If Lehane is able to make Executive Producer on a Scorsese feature film, I’d say he’s doing okay. Having said that, the best parts of the novel were the main character Teddy Daniels’ dream/hallucination/flashback sequences. They were presented in truly beautiful language. Lehane appears to have an acute sense of longing and loss, allowing the reader to feel those emotions as the character is experiencing them.

Put simply, I was disappointed with the movie. When re-reading, there were four things I knew I wanted to see onscreen – both for their hilarity and importance: Cormac McLaggan, the second Quidditch game, the Felix Felicis episode, and Voldemort’s ancestry. Of course, two of these were explored. McLaggan was priceless, and Daniel Radcliff was also surprisingly funny in ultra-confidence mode. I just really wanted to see Tom Riddle’s family realized. I wanted to see what actors would be chosen, what these people would look like apart from how I imagined them. The Quidditch game would have utilized Luna (as the commentator) so that she needn’t have been used to find Harry in the train, a role that was supposed to be occupied by Tonks. McLaggan is also in this game, taking Ron’s place after he is accidentally poisoned. He bosses the team around, gets into fights with Harry during the game, and eventually ends up knocking Harry out with a Bludger. Poor Tonks and Lupin were relegated to a scene that didn’t even occur in the novel (Burrow on fire), or any of the novels, for that matter. And for people who don’t read the books, all of a sudden Tonks is calling Lupin “sweetheart.” I think I would be confused.

There were other, little inconsistencies, but the one that bothered me the most, and that seems a glaring mistake is the end. The cave is a terrifying scene, as it should be. But when Harry and Dumbledore got back to the castle, it was so quiet. Silent. In my mind, the action should only become more intense. For God’s sake, these are Dumbledore’s last moments. A battle is supposed to be waging at this point, no matter if it parallels the much larger battle of the seventh book. There is plenty of time for silence in the next two movies where it will serve an ominous and disquieting purpose. Hogwarts should not have gone down without a fight. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna, not to mention a few Aurors and professors are attempting to defend the castle as best they can against the dark magic of the Death Eaters. And by the way, there is not a chance, even remotely, that Harry would have just stood by while Dumbledore died defenseless. Dumbledore knew this, which is why he froze Harry directly before being disarmed by Malfoy in the book. Harry has hated both Snape and Malfoy from the very first, and was suspicious of them throughout the entire novel/film, so why would he give them a chance in the end? He is “Dumbledore’s man through and through,” and it simply isn’t plausible that such a usually impetuous, courageous boy would watch his last powerful ally overcome in such a manner.

The movie itself was not bad. I do feel that the climax happened in the wrong part of the plot, and a little too early, but as much as was wrong with the film as an adaptation, there are some redeeming moments. There were wonderful scenes that came directly from the book, when I felt that my imaginings were visualized onscreen. The narration could have been used to describe these parts. There were also lines that came verbatim from the book. As a reader, all of these conditions are really gratifying. I can’t say that I didn’t enjoy most of the movie. I felt the beginning (the bridge and Ollivander’s shop, after Harry and Dumbledore) to be really excellent. We see what is only really discussed in dialogue as the goings on since the last book. Now, when a novel is made into a blockbuster, it has to be assumed that non-readers will be in the crowd. Explanations have to be thoroughly thought out. So although Harry, Ron and Hermione only ever saw Malfoy alone poking around in Borgin and Burke’s, the moviegoer must eventually understand his intentions in the Room of Requirement. I thought this very well done, and so I won’t fault the screenwriters or David Yates. All in all, it was only ok as far as adaptations go. I’m reviewing The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring next! Reading LOTR again is like cozying up in a soft blanket. I know and love the characters so well that the experience is just so comforting (although I must also undergo the terror over again). I’m excited…look for it in the coming weeks.

Also not impossible is that humanoid robots will one day be a part of our society. To my knowledge, they are not currently prevalent, but who knows? They could be out there somewhere. And as they become more advanced, why not more advanced than ourselves, capable of just about anything, and without the one thing that separates adjusted humans from sociopaths - empathy? Especially if they are chafing in their position of slavery and unwilling to part with their lives. Dick presents a terrifying future, one which is scarily realistic.

A little ways into Blade Runner I found myself thinking, “This is a pretty good adaptation….” I was impressed. Sure, there is a lot that is incorrect, but the feeling, the atmosphere, of the film is very appropriate. Now, the version I watched was Ridley Scott’s director’s cut. According to the back of the DVD case, this is slightly different from the 1982 release: “This new version omits Deckard’s voiceover narration, develops in slightly greater detail the romance between Deckard and Rachael (Sean Young) and removes the ‘uplifting’ finale”. From what I am told, there is still another version, and I am unsure as to how this differs even further.

Now I must address the problems – maybe not problems, but inconsistencies with the novel. As I said, I find Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? to be rather believable science fiction. And I feel that the movie goes a bit far at times. It feels like someone tried too hard to make it look futuristic. Especially with things like fluorescent umbrella sticks and strange costumes like the one Zhora (equivalent of Luba Luft in book) wears before she smashes through about fifteen glass windows. The amount of neon lighting is overpowering, which I find odd because I imagined a place more desolate and gray, not so shiny or crowded. I imagined a city lived from rooftop to rooftop, without the bazaar-like ground level where we first find Rick Deckard, the bounty hunter who is to kill the androids. But I must say that the opening shot (one that reminds me of the opening of Alien) is just absolutely breathtaking. Somehow, everything large just looks even more grand in Scott’s movies. He also seems to do well with these enormous settings dark and dripping with water.

The differences in human names and places are not so significant, although they do exist. There is no Iran Deckard – Rick’s wife in the book. Maybe she existed at one time. Photos (as physical manifestations of memories) play a rather important part in the film, especially for the androids with implanted pasts. Deckard also seems to have an obsession with photos (those of his victims and possibly his own). There is also J.F. Sebastian (J.R. Isidore in novel) who is not a chickenhead, or special, unable to pass an IQ test and unable to emigrate to Mars, but a genetic designer for the Tyrell Corporation (Rosen in book). Unfortunately though, he has some kind of growth or aging defect, which still renders him unable to move to Mars like any ’normal’ human. His sympathies for the humanoid robots still exist, but the importance lies in the fact that he has had a hand in their creation, and not because they are simply outcasts like himself. His character is more intelligent but is still taken advantage of – although such is the consequence of the androids being more advanced.

The androids are quite different, specifically Roy Batty (Roy Baty) and Rachael Tyrell (Rachael Rosen). Batty is not nearly as clever or deadly in the novel, where he only exists toward the end and is quickly killed by Deckard. In Blade Runner, he is terrifying from the beginning. In the end, he dies of his own accord; I suppose his time just runs out (android lifespan = four years). And before he gives up the ghost he clearly overpowers and outsmarts Deckard. In fact, Batty saves Deckard’s life. In the movie, where it is not so apparent in the book, humans are completely dominated and are out of their minds with fear of the androids. Rachael Tyrell, an android with an implanted past, is in my opinion a much less compelling character. The awkward love scene of the film is nowhere to be found in the book. In one of the greatest gets I’ve ever read, Rachael sleeps with Deckard so that he will have trouble retiring Pris, an android who is supposed to be the same type as Rachael. Of course, he has fallen in love with her. The Rosen Corporation hopes that his seduction will swear him off of the further bounty hunting of their robots. Instead, Rachael Tyrell is soft and helpless, not at all what the other androids are like. She and Deckard attempt to run away together in the end, and although we don’t see what actually happens, we have an inkling that she will probably die.

Dick, Philip K. Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? New York: Ballantine Books, 1968.

Eliot, T.S. “The Hollow Men.” The Norton Anthology of American Literature. New York: Norton & Company, 2007, 1599-1602.

It’s not all so bizarre and questionable. The first half of the movie is very good. I suppose it’s possible that as the film progresses, so every soldier loses a little more of his sanity. The first scene in particular is in my opinion the best, which is funny because Coppola claims it was a completely serendipitous. It begins with the sound of helicopter blades and a still shot of a line of palm trees being tossed about by their wind. The Doors’s ‘The End’ begins playing as a haze of napalm blocks our view of the trees. Captain Willard (Martin Sheen) is introduced, smoking in his hotel room, gazing upwards, probably at the blades of his ceiling fan, which eventually are linked to the blades of the helicopters. There is a montage of images, what we can only assume is Willard’s memory. He loathes being in the jungle as much as he loves it, as much as he needs to be there. He is trapped, physically and mentally, waiting for an assignment. Coppola says that as the making of the film progressed, it became less of what he originally planned – a spectacular war film, a real Hollywood hit – and more a surreality of war.  He also said that for him, Apocalypse Now is really about a conflict of morality. There is a quote from Kurtz toward the end of the film that clearly explains the contradictory actions of the American military: “We train young men to drop fire on people, but their commanders won’t allow them to write ‘fuck’ on their airplane because it’s obscene.”

Because I am sort of stumped by this film, I watched the commentary, as I have already mentioned. Coppola was really, truly concerned with the character ‘Willard’ rather than ‘Marlow.’ Also important was the forward action, the moving toward Kurtz. And as the men get closer to Kurtz (and start dying off one by one), Coppola describes what he saw as a movement back in time, from the present to a time existing before history: from ‘civilization’ to the ‘primitive.’ As they travel further up the Mung River and into Cambodia, the situations become more bizarre – not to mention more dangerous – and every soldier descends a little further into insanity. Speaking of the evolution of characters, the shooting of the film coincided with the actual progression of the film from beginning to end. As the actors took the same journey as the characters, their experience became a bit more real.

If you’re expecting a nice, faithful representation of the novel, Apocalypse Now is not what you’re going to want to watch. There are other adaptations out there – movies like Madame Bovary that are lower budget and what I have classified as ‘educational’ (I believe there is a tv movie [maybe a BBC production?] starring Tim Roth and John Malkovich that I am particularly interested in seeing, although I couldn’t get my hands on it for this posting). But just because Apocalypse Now is not a film you might show to a class full of students who have just read the book, does not mean it is completely unlike Heart of Darkness or that it lacks merit. When Willard passes into Cambodia (where Kurtz has stationed himself) he remarkably begins to experience almost exactly the same circumstances as Marlow and his crew: the heavy fog, arrows (although fake) from unseen archers in the dense forest and spear that kills his captain. And as a movie about Vietnam, its aim will be slightly different than the book. There are the extra characters of Kilgore and all of the sailors on the boat plus extra events such as the USO show and the “asshole of the world.” It is darker in a different way: the occasion of Vietnam makes for a much more vicious story.

I also want to acknowledge the use of T.S. Eliot’s “The Hollow Men.” How could I not? It’s always delightful to discover well-read, intelligent directors. Kurtz, who is known for reading poetry aloud, recites a portion of the poem while Willard is being held in his quarters. I suppose it is rather appropriate, seeing as how a quotation from Heart of Darkness headlines the poem. These hollow men are the same in the Belgian Congo as they are in Vietnam: “We are the hollow men / We are the stuffed men / Leaning together / Headpiece filled with straw. Alas! / Our dried voices, when / We whisper together / Are quiet and meaningless / As wind in dry grass / Or rats’ feet over broken glass / In our dry cellar” (1-10). Traveling into a wilderness uninhabited by what could be called civilized man, whether trading for ivory or fighting an unknown enemy, these men are nameless ghosts fighting for a cause unrelated to them personally: “The eyes are not here / There are no eyes here / In this valley of dying stars / In this hollow valley / This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms” (52-56). In Heart of Darkness Marlow begins his tale by musing on the Romans, and how each man, maybe just some civilian, must have felt as they encountered and conquered territory after territory: “Land in a swamp, march through the woods, and in some inland post feel the savagery, the utter savagery, had closed round him- all that mysterious life of the wilderness that stirs in the forest, in the jungles, in the hearts of wild men. There’s no initiation either into such mysteries. He has to live in the midst of the incomprehensible, which is also detestable. And it has a fascination, too, that goes to work upon him. The fascination of the abomination” (4). This is the very center of the Heart of Darkness, and of Apocalypse Now – the fascination of the abomination.