On Adaptations.

When talking about any adaptation people inevitably comment on how the movie is a poor substitute for actually reading the book. Fundamental in this judgment is the differences between the mediums – in books it is natural that we’re given access to a character’s observations and internal monologues, so our relationship to the character is all the closer. Beyond that, the most powerful asset books have over movies is that they have an unlimited budget with which to tell a story. Whereas a screenwriter and/or a director has to worry about the cost of a finished product, a novelist/prose artist is only limited by their imagination and perspective. In turn, the ambiguity inherent in our understanding and interpreting of words leads to a sort of interactivity between writer and reader – ultimately every reading is a work of art, as the act of reading renders a scene in a novel slightly different from person to person. Books are much more elastic and alive – there is much more “play” involved in the act of reading than in watching a movie. These strengths that books have over movies is also precisely why the publishing business is shrinking while movies thrive; there is more work involved in the act of reading than in the passivity of taking in a fully realized film.

All of those issues aside, what followers of any given adapted work also complain about is the integrity of the adaptation. How faithful was the work on screen to the work they fell in love with on the page? Many screenwriters attempt to compensate for this criticism by remaining close to the source material, and apologize when they’re forced to stray. But, in attempting to do a service to the material, they are in many ways, hurting it. Books and movies are different beasts, and we can’t act as if those differences do not exist. Monetary constraints, film conventions, and audience expectation all have to feed into how the movie is made. It can be the difference between an exciting success, or a dull failure. It is important that we do the text service, but as with the American Constitution, it’s more important that we’re faithful to the spirit of the text than we are to the word.

Having gotten all of that out of the way, let’s discuss some of the things I know I’ll have to change from the outset:

I know that I’m going to be setting the story in present day. This is just good sense all around. It is practical in terms of production cost (nobody will have to hunt around for old cars, and clothes), and it’s more appealing to the sensibilities of modern audiences. Doing this makes the film more producible, more identifiable, and more appealing.

I’ll also likely relocate Legrasse’s entire narrative to a major city, likely Boston, to more tightly focus the narrative and production in New England.

Francis Wayland Thurston will be alive. We need a conduit into the story and it only makes sense that we’re getting it through him and not through his papers. His role as a collator and investigator will be made more prominent as he is experiencing and imaging for us a narrative, which has, at the start of the story, already happened. This gives us the ability to have an on-screen character that can reflect the arc of the narrative revelation – how is he changed from before he knew all of this to after he knows of Cthulhu dreaming beneath the waves?

I also feel the need to counteract some of Lovecraft’s eccentricities here. This adaptation will have female characters. Last I checked women make up about 51% of the population, and therefore the viewing public, so it would only make sense for there to be female representation in this world. I’m thinking here specifically of making Henry Anthony Wilcox a young female art student, and of giving Thurston a fiancée, which ups the stakes for him two-fold. Firstly, it offers up someone whom he doesn’t want to lose, and at the same time, wishes to support. The inheritance he discovers is coming his way can be the beginning of a life for the two of them.

There are a few other things I’m considering right now, but I’m going to keep them to myself until I’ve decided one way or another.