Art is anything
you can do well. Anything you can do with Quality.
- Robert M. Pirsig
You know how it is – in an awful display of preciousness, you are put off something which is linked in any way with a piece of art you value greatly for fear of disappointment. It's that fear that keeps us away from revisiting childhood wonders in case they implode and crumble like a tissue meeting a candle flame. This fear was part of the reason why it took me so long to get around to reading the novel which was adapted into the best Vampire film of all time. Namely 'Let the Right OneIn'. Of course, this goes to show how very silly I can be – surely the sire (to borrow the phrase so buffyfied in my brain) to the amazing film couldn’t be anything other than special?
Sadly, being a man of my room (as opposed to a man of the world), my language skills are limited, so when writing about this novel, I feel I can't comment too much about the language. But rest assured, anyone reading the English translation should be happy.
The general story, for those of you unfamiliar with book or film, goes like this - A young boy lives a rather bleak life in which he is constantly bullied. He meets a pale child of his own age. The friendship which develops encourages the boy to value himself and fight back against the bullying. Of course, things are never that simple...
The Pirsig quote, although apt when looking at the story and translation, was actually something which came to my mind when I was pondering the job of adaptation. In this case, the novel was adapted into the screenplay by the original author, John Ajvide Lindqvist. Lindqvist seems to have a natural grasp of the best way to cut down a story to make a successful film narrative. I've not sat there with a stop watch checking, but I'm pretty certain the entire film falls neatly into the Syd Field plot paradigm.
- Robert M. Pirsig
You know how it is – in an awful display of preciousness, you are put off something which is linked in any way with a piece of art you value greatly for fear of disappointment. It's that fear that keeps us away from revisiting childhood wonders in case they implode and crumble like a tissue meeting a candle flame. This fear was part of the reason why it took me so long to get around to reading the novel which was adapted into the best Vampire film of all time. Namely 'Let the Right OneIn'. Of course, this goes to show how very silly I can be – surely the sire (to borrow the phrase so buffyfied in my brain) to the amazing film couldn’t be anything other than special?
Sadly, being a man of my room (as opposed to a man of the world), my language skills are limited, so when writing about this novel, I feel I can't comment too much about the language. But rest assured, anyone reading the English translation should be happy.
The general story, for those of you unfamiliar with book or film, goes like this - A young boy lives a rather bleak life in which he is constantly bullied. He meets a pale child of his own age. The friendship which develops encourages the boy to value himself and fight back against the bullying. Of course, things are never that simple...
The Pirsig quote, although apt when looking at the story and translation, was actually something which came to my mind when I was pondering the job of adaptation. In this case, the novel was adapted into the screenplay by the original author, John Ajvide Lindqvist. Lindqvist seems to have a natural grasp of the best way to cut down a story to make a successful film narrative. I've not sat there with a stop watch checking, but I'm pretty certain the entire film falls neatly into the Syd Field plot paradigm.
Beyond this,
however, Lindqvist has been able to revise his original story and polish a
couple of flat points. The ending, for example. The film features a
lovely bit of ring structure, whereby the actions of Eli and Oskar earlier in
the film (namely communication through morse code) reoccur in the final
scene. It's a tiny thing (the setting of the scene is exactly the same as
that in the book, it's just the addition of an action) but it made for a
pleasing feeling of completion. And is also tremendously touching (and,
for those of you familiar with morse code) a confirmation of feelings denied us
by the medium of film (i.e. we can't be certain of the thoughts and feelings
which are kept internal).
Content, which
in the novel gets a little extreme, is toned down into something more
appropriate for cinema viewing, whilst also retaining the possibility for
reading between the lines. I don’t want
to spoil the biggest ‘cut’ to the novel narrative (*cough*) which was given
away to me by the Great and Powerful Nick Lowe in his Mutant Popcorn film
review of the American remake (which I am yet to see and of which I am,
unsurprisingly, rather wary), but the editing does not spoil the narrative one
bit. In some ways it was nice to read
the novel and have the screen narrative expanded. I am imagine that, had I come at it from the
opposite direction, the removal of parts of the story would still have not felt
intrusive, thanks to the ambiguity left on screen. Ambiguity as a narrative device should be
used more often. It costs nothing other
than a certain degree of faith in your viewers.
So, back to
Pirsig. Quality and art really do go
hand in hand. It is the quality that
defines the art rather than the item itself.
I’d like to think that a few things I have created in my life qualify as
art. But they are all constructed from
different media – the words that fuel my writing, the wood I craft into
objects, the light that I collect and form into a photograph. Lindqvist has managed to create two pieces of
artwork, separate to each other, crafted from words but becoming something
more. The revision of one does not
lessen the other.
