On Film Adaptations
Posted by Robin Hemley on April 7, 2009 5:03 PM
On the way back from the Philippines, I saw YES MAN, starring Jim Carey. I was interested mostly because I like Danny Wallace's book, and it's another Immersion Memoir, and I'm always interested to see how Hollywood transforms a novel, memoir, play, etc. I was a film studies major at Indiana University, and took screen writing, though my main interest and the specialty in Film Studies at Indiana University, was Film Crit. So of course, I've seen Psycho about a hundred times, the shower scene in particular slowed down to analyze excruciatingly the technique, the mise en scene, whatever. I've seen Luis Bunel's surrealist masterpiece, Un Chien Andalou at least as many times, and when I was a teaching intern in my teacher Claudia Gorbman's class, I enjoyed the little thrill of watching Freshman squirm as they watched the famous razor blade over the eye shot.
I remember Claudia chiding me for wanting to become a writer. "Film is THE art form," she told me. "Writing is old-fashioned; no one will be reading soon."
I've thought about those words over the years, and at times have thought, Claudia was right. I should have become a film maker.
But seeing YES MAN reaffirms my decision to be a writer. Using my high brow vocabulary as a one-time film critic, I can say that "It's pretty bad." Or to break it down further. Thumbs down.
Of course, I would welcome an equally bad movie made of Do Over, I have to admit. The film option has been purchased, which of course means very little. Few books that are optioned actually make it to the screen, and one thing I learned in college was that film is a translation. That was drilled into me.
I've had one piece made into a film previously, my short story "Dropping the Baby," from my first short story collection, ALL YOU CAN EAT. The person who made the film was a young (at the time) Brit studying at The National Film and Television School, who adapted my story, "Dropping the Baby." It was kind of like my story, but not really. It had some of the same dialogue anyway. But I loved it. Part of me loved it because I felt flattered that someone wanted to make a film of my story, even though it had hardly anything to do with my story, but still RIGHT THERE on the screen after everyone else was given credit, including "Best Boy" and "Fish and Chips Delivery Boy" "A special thanks to Lila and Dad," right there in tiny script were the words, "Based on a story by Robin Hemley."
Yeah, well maybe I should have followed Claudia's advice, but is the film industry any better than publishing? I'm not sure. At least four or five times I've had very excited and enthusiastic people call me and say they wanted to make a film of something or other I've written. There was this guy from Star Trek, the Next Generation (forgive me if I can't remember what his role was), who wanted to make a movie of THE LAST STUDEBAKER. He transported to another galaxy after two phone calls. Then there was some guy in Charlotte whose wife was supposedly a bigwig at MGM - he was WILD for the book, except the ending. He had misplaced his copy and asked for mine, so I gave it to him and of course never heard from him again. And on and on . . .
The writer E.L. Doctorow was once convinced by my cousin, then his literary agent, to say yes to a movie deal for his first book., Welcome to Hard Times. Doctorow was reluctant but my cousin Sam said, "Look, they're offering you ten thousand dollars [This was back in the early sixties when ten thousand was a lot] and the house you want to buy in New Rochelle has a down payment of what?"
"Ten grand," Doctorow said.
"There you go!" Sam said. "Take the money and when the movie comes out, just don't see it."
So that's what Doctorow did. He took the ten grand, bought the house, and two years later when the movie came out (starring Henry Fonda), he saw that it was showing in his little town and so he couldn't resist. He walked inside, bought some popcorn, started watching, and nearly choked. As soon as the film was over, he went to a pay phone, dialed my cousin's number, and fired him.
Well, they were still friends. A year or so later, he invited Sam over and asked if he wanted to take a look at his new novel. The novel was based on the house that Sam had urged him to buy. One day, stuck on the novel he was writing, he decided to engage in a little exercise to unblock himself. He thought about the people who had first lived in the house, back at the turn of the century. He wrote and wrote and wrote, forgetting about the novel for which he had a contract and instead writing the "exercise," which became his most famous novel, Ragtime.
So there. But of course, that wasn't such a great movie either.
Leave a comment