Insomniactive Productions, 1630 Cullom Street #2, Birmingham, AL, 35205
Not too long ago, I wrote an article -- rather lengthy, if I recall correctly (you may notice that I am too lazy to go back and find said article) -- that pretty well blasted the movies that have been made from Stephen King's books. There's a lot of similar worry in the previews of the upcoming Lord of the Rings movie trilogy, as well as Spider-Man and Harry Potter.
Okay. No one is really worried about the Harry Potter movie staying true to the source material. I made that up. And if I didn't make it up, I really don't want to know it.
Historically, adaptations from one medium to another are a curious thing. The fans scream and scream for a movie to be made of a comic character, or fantasy series, or a sci-fi novel; as soon as the movie enters production, or even the rumor mill, the same fans begin crying foul and worrying about casting choices, writers, or budgets. Of course, you can't expect that everyone is going to be happy about the choices made by the producers, but it's so rare to find people that are optimistic about upcoming releases.
This could be, of course, because we've been burned so badly in the past. For every X-Men , there's a Punisher , a Captain America , a never-released Fantastic Four . Sure, some people liked them, but for the most part, Tank Girl tanked, AI was not terribly bright, and Johnny Mnemonic can't be forgotten quickly enough . Optimism is nice, but it can quickly cross the line into blind naivete. Frankly, too, sci-fi fans are more than a little cynical, as a whole.
There are also the casting calls. Anyone who has gotten into a book or comic -- not just read, but gotten deeply involved -- has done the casting call: you insert people of your choosing, whether famous or local, into each of the roles. You envision the places as looking a certain way, the special effects are without budget, and certainly, we all have our own soundtrack for the action. Given that science fiction adn comics fans are notoriously involved with their reading, it's really no surprise that Hollywood often falls flat in the minds and expectations of the fans.
Perhaps the trickiest part of adapting a franchise for the screen (big or small) involves the changes that take place along the way. Things get left out -- the transition from paper to celluloid necessitates that. After all, can you hope to put a 500 page novel into a one hundred and twenty page script? Is there any hope of getting thirty years of history successfully into two hours? The answer is no, on both counts, and so some creative license has to take place. In From Hell , some characters were combined, and the point of view was changed. Batman had continuity differences from the book (of course, the book has continuity differences from the book, so...). Even long mini-series, like Stephen King's IT , lose minor characters, incidents, and dialogue.
The sticking point, incidentally, being the word "minor." One writer's incidental is another reader's turning point. While a writer can afford to take liberties with word counts, a screenwriter absolutely has to limit a script, often to the bare essentials (in the case of adaptations, at least), and so something has to go; while it would be a perfect world in which King decided what got excised and what stayed, well, it's far from a perfect world, innit?
Why, then, are some franchises successful on in theaters, while others fall flat? Part of it, of necessity, is gearing the material to the general public. Much as you might scoff at the mundane world for not appreciating elves and swordplay, without the interest of the masses, Lord of the Rings will fall flat on its face. Comics face a additional hurdle: you have to somehow include the history of the character(s) in the two hour time span, as well as making it something that Joe Watercooler can't afford to miss (Richard Donner's Superman was the one exception to this rule; the character is less a comic book hero and more of an American icon). Now the moviemakers and television developers are faced with a double-edged sword: make the fans happy without alienating those who may or may not care.
In the end, though, I think it boils down to atmosphere, to instilling the viewer with the same feelings that they get reading the source material. Burton's Batman struck an excellent balance between a cartoonish feel and a grim, dark, vigilante attitude. Even the upcoming Rings trailers have a sweeping epic feel that promises to do Tolkien proud (I say this with no personal interest, having never been able to slog any further than 100 pages into the books; that's what I've heard, though).
At the end of the year, regardless of the box office success, things will keep moving like they will. Fans will complain, there will be more bad science-fiction than good, and most movie-goers will opt for Jennifer Lopez thrillers over comic properties. What can you do as a fan? While it would be nice to say that you could support the adaptations you like, avoid the ones you don't, and perhaps even offer constructive advice to creators on Internet bulletin boards, etc., the reality is this: the best thing you can do is hope.
And even that won't do too much good, especially if Roger Corman gets involved.