Movies Part II: With Thin Man, Watchmen, and The Three Musketeers’ Spoilers

Thin Man
This one is particularly complicated for me. On the one hand, I absolutely love the film version to death. I can re-watch this one at any time. Nick and Nora are such a wonderful, hilarious, couple; they show that you can have a film/film series about a married couple that is truly in love without having it be at all dull/have their relationship be at all dull. Mona Loy and William Powell have amazing chemistry (and Mona Loy looks so beautiful). The second one is almost as much fun as the first (the Nick/Nora interactions are as fun, and the twist is excellent, but the overall story is not as good or well plotted); they go a bit off the rails after that, but still fun.

On the other hand, I have a passion for the book as well. It is darker, more noir. Dorothy in particular is less of an innocent victim, and has her own instabilities with which to grapple. The non Nick and Nora characters ring more true, and the psychology of the novel is more complex. I would love to see a remake of the film that emphasizes the darkness of the book (though it can leave out the cannibalism excerpt; still not sure what to make of that).

Watchmen
Sigh. I actually enjoyed the movie of this, which I saw before I read the graphic novel. I wasn’t at all familiar with the source material, and I particularly enjoyed the Laurie/Daniel romance, perhaps in part because of my love for Patrick Wilson. I remember I had an absolutely horrific headache after seeing it (which is not unusual for me; I spent more time recovering from the headache I got at Atlantis than I did watching that unfortunate piece of cinema), but all in all I had fun.

But, after reading the graphic novel, I can see why a) critics/fans were disappointed, and b) Moore thinks you can’t really adapt his works for film. The power and the pain of the graphic novel seemed to be missing in the movie somehow. It’s been awhile since I saw it, but the movie doesn’t capture the raw despair of the novel nor the desperate hope that keeps propelling the novel forward.

In the novel, every little cruelty seems to matter, you can see how Dr. Manhattan is shattered by those around him and how he is unintentionally cruel beyond words to those he claims to care about; the film doesn’t capture that. For example, I was most struck by his relationship with Laurie in the novel (not Daniel’s, though again, that may be a Patrick Wilson issue), and the incredible pressure he places on her to be all of humanity for him, even when he chooses to save the world. So, yeah, the film disappoints. The graphic novel doesn’t.

The Three Musketeers
Okay, I’m a terrible person, but I still really enjoy the Disney film version. Yes, it is not really The Three Musketeers at all, but I still love it, all right?

Maybe it’s because the King and Queen have such a sweet, adorable relationship. It certainly is not historically accurate at all, but I’m not really looking for that in this movie. They are just too cute, particularly at the end when they finally connect; yes, it is an overly rose-colored glasses version of arranged marriages, but hey, I’m cool with that because I ship them.

Similarly, while Athos is a better character, with more depth and complexity in the novel, I prefer Sabine in the film. This may because the women get modernized in the movie, but again, I can live with that. She is a more compelling ,interesting character when she is not pure evil from the beginning but really was betrayed by Athos, and it makes him have a certain depth as well (which is so ironic, considering that he is more complex/interesting in the novel; I can’t explain that).

On the other hand, the Cardinal is a much more interesting character in the novel; I appreciate that it is not as black and white, and it makes significantly more sense. The novel manages the difficult task of not having one main story arc but several little ones while maintaining momentum. The friendship among the four is better developed, and d’Artagnan is less shallow/less of just a pretty-boy hero.

I do think it is interesting that the male characters in the novel are more interesting/complex/three dimensional, while the women are much more interesting/complex/three dimensional in the film. Whether this reflects a better ability to portray women, or the fact that I can just more easily identify with these modernized women is an interesting question.

Still need to see Cider House Rules, Dr. Zhivago, and The French Lieutenant’s Woman. And I’m excited to see Never Let Me Go when it comes out this fall, so there will be another movie post soon.

I Know What I Like, and I Like What I Know

The same Salon article I mentioned in my post about recommending books briefly discusses one way to evaluate what makes you enjoy a book/what you look for in books, with the idea that knowing that can help you select other books with those characteristics and thereby improve your ability to choose books you’ll enjoy. The method involves thinking of your favorite books, and then selecting various phrases that apply to why you like that book. Some relate to the prose, others towards having a gripping plot, etc.

I never thought of myself as someone who likes a book because of the prose. Perhaps this is because I’m not a fan of some of the authors most renown for the “language” of their works (cough Austen cough). However, when I think of many of my favorite books from the list, many are ones where I found certain passages or quotes to be incredibly beautiful (The Ground Beneath Her Feet, The House in Paris, and God of Small Things in particular). I don’t mean flowery prose, so much as prose with a certain intensity to it, prose that I have to stop reading because it’s touched me on some level and I need to step back.

When I think of my favorites, I also tend to gravitate to ones that have unique or unusual characters, and even more so ones that have interesting relationships among characters. Wings of the Dove, the only Henry James I’ve liked thus far, stands out because of those interesting relationships; one main strength of The Forsyte Saga is the different relationships between men and women/the different relationships within marriages that it explores. The Idiot and The Robber Bride don’t rank among my favorites per se, but the main reason I liked them was because of the relationships in the stories (and in general I do not mean romantic relationships at all; in The Idiot I mean the relationship between the two leading ladies, and in The Robber Bride I mean the trio’s friendship).

I do think of myself as a plot person, but in general works on the list don’t stand out because of their plots (exceptions to that would be Count of Monte Cristo, noir novels, and anything by Le Carre). World building is also important to me, but like the right shoes or the appropriate bra, it has a bit of a thankless role. You notice if it is off or shoddily done, but when done right you don’t necessarily notice or give it credit.

The next post that I’ll write in this vein will focus on some of the different reasons/ways that a book’s presence on the list is justified in my mind (in a general way, rather than the justification of specific works, which I’ve already undertaken).

You Look Approachable or It's Watchmen All the Way Down

“Reading anything interesting?’ The elderly gentleman on the metro asks me.
Now, I am not only engrossed in the novel in my hands, I also have headphones in. Yet, apparently I seem approachable. I couldn’t begin to tell you why.
I respond by showing the cover of The Three Musketeers.
“Now, that is interesting,” he says. “Not many young ladies read that one anymore.”

This conversation felt odd while I was in it, since I tend to have these out-of-body conversation experiences where I see myself having the conversation. That being said, recapping it makes it seem even odder. I mean, did many young ladies used to read The Three Musketeers? Do young men read it now, or did he really mean young people? Gah, I’ve got nothing.
Anyway, I sort of smile dubiously. I’m not really sure what to say to that.

“Are you reading it for a seminar?”
Now, this would be the point to tell all about my exciting list project, right? WRONG. I merely say that I thought it would be fun and that I’m enjoying it. And I breathe a sigh of relief that my metro stop is here.

This experience was in no way as awkward (and uncomfortable!) as when I was walking home from the library (again with headphones) with a large stack of books, and some creep in a car pulled over to try to use my books as some sort of entry pick-up line. That was really awkward. I have a low trigger threshold, though, for being hit-on or for street harassment.

In other news, I actually really did enjoy The Three Musketeers. Young ladies may not be reading it anymore, but they don’t know what they are missing out on. It was a super fast read (about two days for 600 pages), since it just moved so quickly. I was a bit disappointed by Lady de Winter, but other than that I thought it was excellent. Athos was easily my favorite character (which is interesting, considering how I felt about the Milady situation). It feels modern in many ways, and stands the test of time quite well, though overall the female characters are a bit thin. In all, I prefer The Count of Monte Cristo, but for fun, it’s hard to beat The Three Musketeers.

I finally finished Watchmen as well. Graphic novels aren’t easy for me, so I was glad that I knew about the plot ahead of time. I had forgotten some of the pieces for how it fit together, but it came back to me as I read it. I found it hard to read, though. I do not think of graphic novels as childish, per se. I’m not one of those people who sees superheroes as juvenile.

At the same time, for me, they are tied in many ways to my childhood. I think of them in terms of watching the Batman animated series in our house in Germany or in Phoenix growing up. I think of the ridiculous X-Men talking game Sarah, Josh and I played. I don’t necessarily want them to be dark and dystopian; I want them to have that nostalgia (no joke intended there, really) of childhood memories. Of course, Watchmen ultimately has a (fairly) happy ending, but it still rips at the security of superheroes.

My favorite quote is from Dr. Manhattan (who wasn’t always blue!): Come...dry your eyes. For you are life, rarer than a quark and unpredictable beyond the dreams of Heisenberg; the clay in which the forces that shape all things leave their fingerprints most clearly. Dry your eyes... and let's go home.

Sense and Sensibility, The Moor's Last Sigh, The House in Paris, and Fingersmith

Well, I am extremely behind. Since my last post, I’ve read several. My run down n each will be short and sweet. It also won’t be chronological, since I want to save Fingersmith for last, given that it’s the most spoilerable one. As always, spoiler alert for the works mentioned in the post's title.

So, with that, let’s start with that, let’s start with Sense and Sensibility, since it’s not at all possible to spoil it. If you have read any Jane Austen, seen a movie based on any Austen novel, or heard a good joke about an Austen novel, you already know what happens. If you are a young, overly charming, and too good to be true male, you are a cad who will break the heart of one of our heroines on her path to getting with the wiser, quieter, older male who at first may appear rude. Like The Woman in White, my ships got off with this one. I would have had Elinor get with Brandon (and I guess put Marianne with Ferrars or given her a few years to grow up a little, since Ferrars was sort of a non character anyway).

I don’t know why, but I still have a minor fear of Rushdie. This is completely irrational, since once I start reading, I remember that I love his writing. It is so incredibly rich; every page is just overflowing. I don’t think you could ever describe his works as derivative, per se, but The Moor’s Last Sigh definitely re-explored similar territory to some of his other novels (particularly Midnight’s Children, I thought). That being said, the character of Aurora is probably one of my favorites of Rushdie.

The House in Paris had the most beautiful quote in it. “Good-byes breed a sort of distaste for whomever you say good-bye to; this hurts, you feel, this must not happen again. Any other meeting will only lead back to this. If today good-bye is not final, some day it will be.” Karen is an absolutely amazing character with such conflicting desires and loyalties. She certainly isn’t completely likeable, but she feels completely real. The quote captures the essence of the story’s themes, or at least the themes that struck a chord with me.

And now for Fingersmith. This novel had a number of twists, where you think you know what’s happening, and then the perspective shifts and you have to reevaluate what you thought you knew and understood, and the picture changes. In many cases multiple twists don’t work too well (not a high-brow example by any stretch of the imagination, but Titan AE anyone?), but in this case, they do work, mostly because Susan and Maud are excellent.

I guess the theme of this post would be, amazing female characters. I’ll save Persuasion, Watchmen, and The Three Musketeers for the next one (technically, I’m still reading that last one, but it moves super quickly).

What do you recommend?

One danger of this project is that people seem to think that I should be a good source for book recommendations. This is very unfair, in my opinion. I don’t even like giving restaurant recommendations! I recently read an interesting article on Salon that argued that there are two different kinds of book recommendations, which I argee with wholeheartedly.

The first springs from the book review. Here, the reviewer offers her/his opinion of the work, perhaps recommending it in an abstract sense. The review is targeted at a general audience, however, not a specific individual, and more presents the reviewer’s thoughts and less tells the review reader that he/she should go out and read the book.

I can get behind that sort of recommendation (I give my thoughts on the various works in this blog, after all). It’s the second type of recommendation that makes me nervous. I liked The Sound and the Fury and The Idiot, after all.

This second type is the personalized recommendation. When someone asks e to tell her/him what to read based on what I’ve read, the person isn’t actually asking for my personal opinion, per se, but rather my thoughts on what he/she might think/like. This is a lot of pressure, particularly since I think people expect me to have a different taste in books than I do.

My love for God of Small Things, for example, has caused a number of people to read it. Most have told me they found it depressing and violent. Which it is, of course; I find it so beautiful, so painfully exquisite, that I have a hard time intelligibly discussing it. The repeated phrases! The way it mirrors a Kathakali dance! The unflinching pain! But it’s not for everyone, and you have to understand that I like that sort of thing.

Similarly, while no one has ever taken my Forsythe Saga or The Ground Beneath Her Feet recommendations seriously, I think there’s a not minuscule chance they’d be disappointed if they did. It took me a bit to start appreciating Rushdie, and if you just jump into The Ground Beneath Her Feet, you might feel like I felt about The Satanic Verses – I appreciated that one, but didn’t love it.

For people that I know well, I volunteer recommendations if after reading a book I think the person would like it (and I did succeed in getting people to read The Count of Monte Cristo and The Red Queen, among others, but they weren’t the same person, and I wouldn’t cross recommend). I’m still trying to find the right person to whom I should recommend Under the Net.

If pressed, I tend to just cite my favorites, but the art of recommending books is complicated, particularly if you don’t understand why I like what I like (my movie taste is similarly unexpected for most people, as I have been told by multiple individuals). I’ll try to write a post explaining my literary tastes in a bit.