The Adaptation Station.com

Remember that vast stretch of whiteness at the end of the last scene? It turns out to be a sea with lilies^[1]Or lily-like flowers as Eustace the stickler for scientific accuracy insists. growing in it like a giant garden pool. In the book, C. S. Lewis describes the wonders of the Last Sea before the End of the World at some length. How the sun is so bright the sailors can’t bear it until they drink the sweet water. How the water is so clear they can see the shadow of the Dawn Treader at the bottom of the sea. The strange, dreamy state into which it puts everyone. Here all we get are lilies but to be fair, they’re nice as far as this movie’s visuals go. Caspian, Reepicheep, Lucy, Edmund, and Eustace sail through the Silver Sea, as it’s called in the source material, in a longboat. Now in the book, Caspian parts way with the others before this. I prefer that since a scene with Aslan will shortly ensue that strikes me as making much more sense as a private conversation between him, Edmund, Lucy and Eustace without any Narnians present. But, hey, this isn’t the dumbest change the movie could make.

We get some dialogue that pays lip service to C. S. Lewis’s depiction of Eustace being “undragoned.” Lip service is better than nothing, I suppose, and I’ve got to praise Will Poulter’s performance. He’s just as great here as the penitent Eustace as he was as the arrogant Eustace earlier even though that role was more fun. I love that the movie got an actor who could be both comedic and dramatic. It bugs me a bit that the dialogue eventually goes back to how awesome it was for Eustace to be a dragon. We had enough of that before.

Edmund: So what was it like? When Aslan changed you back?
Eustace: No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t do it myself. Then he came towards me. It sort of hurt^[2]That’s pretty weak compared to “it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt” which Eustace says in the book but I feel like I’ve carped enough about this part. but…it was a good pain. You know, like when you pull a thorn from your foot. Being a dragon wasn’t all bad. I mean, I think I was a better dragon than I was a boy really. I’m so sorry for being such a sop!
Edmund: It’s OK, Eustace. You were a pretty good dragon.

“My friends, we have arrived,” Reepicheep announces as the longboat pulls up to a shore from which a giant wave rises. Not a wave that’s going to crush them but a sort of permanent wave. This is a bit of a change from the book where the shore is sort off to the side of the wave. There are also initially visions behind it in the book.

…now they saw something not only behind the wave but behind the sun. They could not have seen even the sun if their eyes had not been strengthened by the water of the Last Sea. But now they could look at the rising sun and see it clearly and see things beyond it. What they saw — east ward, beyond the sun — was a range of mountains. It was so high that either they never saw the top of it or they forgot it. None of them remembers seeing any sky in that direction. And the mountains must really have been outside the world. For any mountains even a quarter or a twentieth of that height ought to have had ice and snow on them. But these were warm and green and full of forests and waterfalls however high you looked. And suddenly there came a breeze from the east, tossing the top of the wave into foamy shapes and ruffling the smooth water all round them. It lasted only a second or so but what it brought them in that second none of those three children will ever forget. It brought both a smell and a sound, a musical sound. Edmund and Eustace would never talk about it afterwards. Lucy could only say, “It would break your heart.” “Why,” said I, “was it so sad?” “Sad!! No,” said Lucy.

There are no mountains or forests or mountains or waterfalls even faintly visible behind the wave in the movie. Maybe they were too expensive. Maybe the filmmakers worried all that about blocking out the sky would come across as more intimidating than appealing. Still, the wave is pretty impressive by itself.

The voyagers disembark and walk alongside the wave. In a fairly cool reveal, the camera pans along their shadows before arriving at Aslan’s.^[3]In the book, Aslan initially appears as a lamb and gives the heroes a breakfast of roasted fish. There wasn’t really a point to that except to hammer home that Aslan is really Jesus (Christ … Continue reading “Welcome, children,” he says, “You have done well. Very well indeed. You have come far and now your journey is at its end.” Lucy asks if this place is Aslan’s country. “No, my country lies beyond,” Aslan replies, indicating the wave. “Is my father in your country?” asks Caspian. “You can only find that out for yourself, my son,” says Aslan, “but you should know if you continue, there is no return.”

As the others watch solemnly, Caspian walks over to the wave and even wistfully touches it with his hand. But then he turns back. “You’re not going?” Edmund says in surprise. “I can’t imagine my father would be very proud that I gave up what he died for,” says Caspian. Um, the last movie stated that Caspian’s father was assassinated in his sleep. He didn’t die for some noble cause. It’s bad enough these screenwriters can’t remember stuff from the books. Now they can’t even remember the continuity they themselves created! Maybe Caspian means that his father died because he wouldn’t give up the crown to Miraz. But taken out of context, that sounds petty rather than noble. This really could have been worded better. “I’ve spent too long wanting what was taken from me and not what was given,” continues Caspian, “I was given a kingdom. People. I promise to be a better king,” he says to Aslan. “You already are,” replies the lion.

Now there’s nothing about Caspian’s father in the book, apart from the seven lords being his friends. Interestingly, in another book, The Great Divorce, C. S. Lewis wrote that a person’s longing for Heaven should be primarily a longing for God, not dead loved ones. But it seems like that’s the only way these screenwriters could relate to wanting to go to Heaven. As I wrote earlier though, wanting to reunite with dead loved ones is still a potent theme. However…well, I’d better get into more differences between the book and the movie first. In the book, Caspian actually goes kind of crazy insisting that he’s going to go with Reepicheep to the End of the World while he’s still on the Dawn Treader. The crew objects, reminding him of his duties to Narnia. Then Caspian gets angry and insists that no one, not even Reepicheep, will go even though that means the last three lords will never awaken. Then Aslan gives him a stern reprimand in private and a tearful Caspian tells Edmund, Lucy and Eustace that they must accompany Reepicheep without him. I think that’s all more interesting than what the film does but it probably wouldn’t have worked without the siren-like atmosphere that Lewis created for the Last Sea in the book, something in which the movie shows little interest. I do think the idea of a scene where Caspian is given the opportunity to go to Aslan’s country and search for his father but declines out of a sense of duty to his kingdom is interesting even if it’s not as dramatic as what the book does. But it feels weird to me in context since the movie only established Caspian having this wish in one brief scene half an hour ago. It’s hard to muster up an emotional reaction greater than “oh, that’s nice, I guess.” It’s like the idea only occurred to the writers when they were almost done writing the script and they never did subsequent drafts to further develop it. Even Caspian’s line about promising to be a better king doesn’t make that much sense. How has he been a bad king recently?

Aslan turns to the other humans. Edmund tells Lucy he actually thinks it’s time they went home. “But I thought you loved it here,” she says. “I do,” he says, “but I love home and our family as well. They need us.” I’m not sure what happened to give Edmund that particular revelation. He hasn’t ever mentioned their family since the beginning of the movie. But that’s arguably realistic. There isn’t always a big moment of realization in real life as there is in a story. Sometimes you find your priorities have changed and you can’t pinpoint when that happened or what changed them. Reepicheep speaks up and bows to Aslan. “Your Eminence,” he says, “ever since I can remember, I have dreamt of seeing your country. I’ve had many great adventures in this world, but nothing has dampened that yearning. I know I am hardly worthy but with your permission, I would lay down my sword for the joy of seeing your country with my own eyes.” Reepicheep never asks Aslan’s permission like this in the book, mainly because I don’t think he ever meets him in that story^[4]You’ll recall he met him in Prince Caspian., but this speech feels exactly like something he would say, and Simon Pegg delivers it well.

“My country was made for noble hearts such as yours,” Aslan says, “no matter how small their bearers be.” Reepicheep beams and bows again. I could nitpick this dialogue from a Christian standpoint, but I won’t since this blog isn’t aimed at specifically Christian readers. I don’t want to bore secular fans so I’m just going to ignore-

Caspian: No one could be more deserving.
Reepicheep: Well, now.
Edmund: It’s true.

Twitch.

You know what? I am going to get into this! Christians believe that sinful human beings are unworthy of Heaven, but that God allows (some of them) there out of grace. There’s some nuance here^[5]Catholics and Protestant differ as to how much salvation is a matter of grace and how much a matter of good works. But it’s not like Catholics don’t believe in grace at all. but no serious Christian talks about Heaven as something someone deserves. To be fair though, it’s not like that’s a theme of the Narnia books. The only characters we see enter Aslan’s country there are heroes or at least misguided but well-meaning antagonists. It’s not much of a stretch for someone to read the books and conclude that Aslan’s country is for those with “noble hearts.”^[6]Also, to really get into Christian theology, Reepicheep’s fate in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader corresponds to those of the biblical figures of Enoch and Elijah who were taken to Heaven … Continue reading Still, it’s another example of the adaptation wanting to appeal to the Christian section of the book’s fanbase but not really understanding what would please them.

Anyway, Edmund and Reepicheep bow to each other. Then Lucy finally gets to indulge her wish to cuddle Reep. “Goodbye, Lucy,” he whispers. It’s a heartwarming moment.

Now it’s Eustace’s turn to bid the mouse farewell. “I don’t understand,” he sobs, “Will I not see you again? Ever?” See, if the filmmakers really knew how to pander to Christian audiences, they might have Reepicheep tell Eustace he can indeed see him again eventually. To be fair though, the pandering might cross over into annoying in that case. What Reepicheep does say is “What a magnificent puzzle you are!” Ugh, even this, easily one of the best scenes in the movie, has some clunky lines! “And a true hero. It has been my honor to fight beside such a brave warrior and a great friend.” With that, Reepicheep runs over to wave where a little coracle awaits him.^[7]In the book, Reepicheep picked up the coracle on Burnt Island, a location cut from the movie. I don’t blame the adaptation for cutting it since nothing else happened on that island, but I like … Continue reading “I won’t be needing this,” he says, plunging his sword in the wet sand. In the book, he flings it into the lilies which strikes me as a much more dramatic visual but oh well. With a smile on his face, Reepicheep paddles the coracle over the crest of the wave into the unknown. This is a really nice sendoff to the character. The music that plays in this scene is easily some of the soundtrack’s best. And the fact that Eustace’s relationship with Reepicheep was one of the most well developed in the movie, even if I didn’t always love it, really helps.

Yet it still suffers from not having been set up well. Unlike with Caspian, the movie thought to introduce Reepicheep’s yearning for Aslan’s country towards the beginning, not when the story was halfway through. But the problem with that is by the time, we get to the end, I’d forgotten about it. It’s not like the book brings up Reepicheep’s desire that often either. But in the book, there were no seven swords or evil Mist to overwhelm it. Again, it’s hard to muster up an emotional reaction greater than “oh, that’s nice, I guess.” All of which frustrates me since, taken out of context, this is a great, if imperfect, scene that captures the heart of the book while still doing a bit of its own thing.

Lucy: This is our last time here, isn’t it?
Aslan: Yes. You have grown up, my dear one, just like Peter and Susan.
Lucy (tearfully): Will you visit us in our world?
Aslan: I shall be watching you always.
Lucy: How?
Aslan: In your world, I have another name. You must learn to know me by it. That was the very reason you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there.
Lucy: Will we meet again?
Aslan: Yes, dear one. One day.

This dialogue is quite close to the book, and I appreciate that. But I feel like some Christian fans give the movie more credit deserves for keeping the spiritual message here. What makes the parts about Aslan having another name in the characters’ own world-the same world as the readers-and them needing to know him by it Christian is the larger context of the series. But apart from his country being the afterlife^[8]And, technically, the movie doesn’t even affirm that. Aslan tells Caspian he can only learn if his deceased father is there by going there himself. That’s not exactly Christian assurance., there’s nothing in this movie to indicate Aslan is any god, let alone the Christian God. We certainly don’t get the impression that he’s whole point of existence. It’d be far more in keeping with the movie’s overall spirit if he told Edmund and Lucy they didn’t need him anymore. As a fan of the books, I’m grateful they didn’t do that, and I can enjoy the scene by ignoring the rest of the movie and recalling the source material. But citing this scene by itself as evidence that the movie keeps the book’s Christian themes strikes me as shallow.

Aslan roars, creating a sort of passageway through the giant wave. In the book, it was more like he tore apart the sky to send Lucy, Edmund and Eustace home but I guess that was too hard to visualize. Still, I do like the visual we get.

“You’re the closest thing I have to family,” says Caspian, “and that includes you, Eustace.” Of course, Eustace is like family. Who else could be such a pain? The dialogue is a bit cliche but it’s a fair description of Caspian’s relationship to the characters in the book. They hug. Then Edmund and Lucy hug Aslan. Ben Barnes and Will Poulter are excellent as ever. Georgie Henley has some of her best moments in this movie.^[9]Not her best moments in any movie, mind you, or even in any Narnia movie. But still. Skandar Keynes…well, he isn’t enough of a focus for his performance to be too distracting. And the music for this whole scene truly is beautiful. It feels like this an ending to a totally different movie, one much better and truer to the book, that somehow got edited onto the tail end of this one! I sure wish I could find the rest of that movie. Still, my affection for the first two Narnia films and for Edmund and Lucy’s characters there, even if I haven’t been that interested in them here, helps make this farewell moving for me.

Eustace asks Aslan if he’ll ever come back. “Narnia may yet have need of you,” says Aslan. In the book, when Lucy asked if Eustace would ever return, Aslan simply refrained from answering which I prefer. The movie makes the sequel hook more obvious which is ironic considering that, unlike with the literary version, there would be no sequel. Oh well. Eustace nods gratefully. He and his cousins step into the tunnel of water then turn around. Their last glimpse of Caspian and Aslan is obscured as the opening closes behind them. They find themselves swimming up the surface. Suddenly, Edmund’s hands grip a bedframe. He and the others are back in Lucy’s bedroom at Cambridge. All the water drains into the painting of the Dawn Treader on the floor. Before long, everything is as dry as if the room had never been flooded. Man, I feel like throughout that climax at Dark Island, I was sick of the movie and begging for it to finish and now that it is finishing, I find myself calling, “Wait! Come back! You’re just starting to get really good!”

From downstairs, comes the (uncredited) voice of Aunt Alberta. “Eustace! Eustace! What are you going up there? Jill Pole’s dropped in for a visit.” Jill Pole is the name of the protagonist of The Silver Chair, the next Narnia story chronologically. Although Walden Media would never get to adapt that particular book, it gives me great joy to think she still exists in their Narnia universe and some version of her story will happen though I never see it myself. We get some closing voiceover narration from Eustace which is weird since neither this movie nor any of the other Narnia movies have had narration. Maybe it’s supposed to be another of Eustace’s diary entries, but it doesn’t feel like one. Anyway, the sentiments in the voiceover are pretty obvious but I don’t hate it or anything. “We spoke of Narnia often in the days that followed and when my cousins left after the war ended, I missed them with all my heart as I know all Narnians will miss them till the end of time.” Reverently, Eustace hangs the painting back on the wall.

As he and his cousins have a last look at the room before they exit, the water in the painting briefly comes to life again as if waving goodbye to them.^[10]Heh. Waves. Waving. Just as in the first Narnia movie, our last image is of a door closing. I love the symbolism of that, perhaps even more than in that first movie since now the door is not just closing for the viewer. Edmund and Lucy won’t be returning either until…well, read The Last Battle. This is the only Narnia movie that doesn’t end with the sound of Aslan’s roar. I wouldn’t have minded hearing it one more time, but I don’t really mind its absence either.

This movie only has one end credits song: There’s a Place for Us by Carrie Underwood. It’s kind of awkward transitioning from that quiet somber ending to this somewhat bombastic anthem. I prefer how with the other Narnia films the score for the last scene blended into the first credits song.^[11]Man, everything about this series was starting go downhill! And some of this song’s lyrics make me roll my eyes. (“We can be the kings and queens/of anything if we believe…exactly who we are is just enough.”) But I do appreciate that it’s about being made for something beyond this visible world. (“When these broken hands are whole again/we’ll find what we’ve been waiting for/We were made for so much more!”) A famous quote by C. S. Lewis is “If I find in myself desires which nothing in this world can satisfy, the only logical explanation is that I was made for another world.” Whether a reader agrees with that idea or not, it’s a big part of Narnia’s poetic appeal, one I wish the movie itself had emphasized. In a fun touch, the credits feature Pauline Baynes’s illustrations for the original book though viewers unfamiliar with it may be confused as to why Edmund and Eustace have swapped their hair.

The movie is dedicated to the memory of Peter Apted.

Concluding Thoughts

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (2010) was less of a box office disappointment the Prince Caspian movie but that was largely because less money was spent on both the movie itself and its marketing. And with fantasy movies being so costly, there would be no fourth Narnia movie.^[12]I’ve also heard reasons to believe that relations between Walden Media and the C. S. Lewis estate had been crumbling for a while, but I wouldn’t want to gossip. Prince Caspian‘s box office I can regard as tragic and argue that it would have been more successful with a different release date or a shrewder marketing campaign or even that it could have been made differently so that a larger audience could have been drawn to it while still keeping the things that I personally find attractive about it. But with The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, I feel like it got what it deserved. It didn’t deserve to be a colossal box office failure that got stinky reviews and was an embarrassment to Walden Media and it wasn’t that. Neither did it deserve to be a cultural phenomenon that got rave reviews and saved the Narnia franchise, and it wasn’t that either. This movie has some of the greatest things in any Narnia movie (the design of the magician’s book, the ending, most of the stuff with Eustace) and the some of the cheesiest things in any Narnia movie (nearly everything with the glowing swords and the Green Mist.) I must say I don’t have to make much of a distinction between a good adaptation and a good movie with this one. The things I just called great I’d also call well adapted and the things I called cheesy I’d also call poorly adapted. But what really stands out compared to the other Narnia movies is how large stretches of this one are just…meh. Not really bad and not really good either. If you’re someone who enjoys this movie’s genre or if you’re someone who liked the first two films and doesn’t mind seeing a sequel that’s not quite up to snuff or if you’re someone who likes the book and doesn’t mind seeing an adaptation that’s not quite up to snuff, then I’d recommend you rent the movie on DVD but not buy it.^[13]I date myself with such terminology but I think it’s nicely expressive, don’t you? That’s a lot of qualifiers for a recommendation but better than no recommendation. Looking at in detail, as this blog has done, makes it sound worse than if you’re casually watching it to pass the time. I should say that I probably wouldn’t get as angry with the movie as I occasionally do if I weren’t a fan of the source material. But in that case, I probably wouldn’t have bothered to rewatch it as many times as I have either.

To me, this feels like an adaptation that was made out of contractual obligation. While screenwriters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely may not have been the biggest fans of the first two Narnia books they adapted, I felt they could see the appeal of adventure stories about good armies vs. evil armies, dethroning tyrants and crowning rightful rulers. Faced with the task of adapting an adventure story about a spiritual quest, I get the impression they just couldn’t relate to it and the resulting script feels labored to me. Yet I hesitate to say they should never have worked on the movie since I love a lot of what they wrote for Eustace. It wouldn’t surprise me if he were their favorite character from the book. Maybe they should have just written dialogue for him and other screenwriters should have written the rest of the script.

On the one hand, it really saddens me that this series of Narnia adaptations never got any further. I really love the world Walden Media created in the first two movies and I’d love to see locations in that world like Tashbaan, Harfang, Charn, Underland, Anvard, Ettinsmoor, Stable Hill and the Wood Between the Worlds. On the other hand, even if put aside things like writing and acting and just focus on visuals, I wasn’t so impressed by the world this third movie created. Maybe if the Narnia movies had continued, they’d have eventually gotten so bad nobody could stand them, and I’d regret even those first two existed. And for what it’s worth, if they couldn’t adapt all seven books in the series, this was the most logical place to stop.^[14]Lewis went on record as writing The Voyage of the Dawn Treader with the intention of it being the last Narnia book. He was likely exaggerating though, given how quickly he wrote another one … Continue reading On a third hand, the obvious sequel to The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is The Silver Chair which was relatively closer to the screenwriters’ modus operandi. Maybe they would have done a better job with that and if the film also had a better director than Michael Apted, who knows? As it is, I can at least say this series of adaptations ended on a high note in the sense that the very last scene was beautiful. That may sound like damning with faint praise but when I imagine how I’d feel if the very last scene were a disaster, I really do feel grateful. And I feel even more grateful when I remember highlights from those first two movies.

I hope anyone who’s followed this entire series about the Narnia movies from the beginning, all thirty-six posts of it, has highlights to remember too. Thank you.

It’s a gray, chilly morning and the Dawn Treader is sailing towards Dark Island.

Minotaur: So what do you think is out there?
Edmund: Our worst nightmares.
Caspian: Our darkest wishes.
Drinian: Pure evil.

The dry way Gary Sweet delivers that last line almost makes it sound like he’s sarcastically mocking the others. I’d almost like to believe that was the intent because the dialogue is so cheesy. I don’t hold much hope for the possibility though. Drinian orders everyone to arm themselves for whatever dangers they’re about to encounter and we get a series of brief scenes to demonstrate that they’ve Learned Their Lessons. In their cabin, MLG tells Lucy she wants to be just like her when she grows up. “When you grow up, you should be just like you,” Lucy tells her. This is the lesson that feels the most disconnected from the main plot and even the movie’s themes in general. To be fair, the whole thing with Lucy and the magician’s book in the source material was fairly disconnected from the book’s main plot and themes too^[1]Some have argued that just as Eustace, Caspian and Edmund are tempted by the power that comes from money, Lucy is tempted by the power that comes from beauty and knowledge. but that’s why C. S. Lewis didn’t have a scene right before the climax to remind us of it. Meanwhile in the stern cabin, Caspian and Edmund have this conversation.

Caspian: In case we don’t get through…whatever this, I want you to know I think of you as my brother, Ed.
Edmund: Me too.^[2]I assume he means “likewise” and doesn’t think of himself as his brother. That’s a joke, not a serious criticism by the way.
Caspian: You gave up your sword.
Edmund: It wasn’t mine to keep.
Caspian (handing him Peter’s sword): Use this.
Edmund: But it’s-
Caspian: Peter would want you to have it.

This scene is fine. It’s not that memorable but we’ve reached my least favorite section of the film by a long shot, so I want to emphasize when anything is fine.

Reepicheep is riding on Eustace the dragon’s head. “Our battle awaits,” he says as they come in sight of Dark Island. Amusingly, Eustace then turns around and starts to fly away. Reepicheep has to pull on his horns and get in his face to turn him around. “I will not accept surrender,” he says, “A noble warrior does not run from fear. Look at me! Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Eustace’s growl and begrudging obedience here are pretty hilarious.

“I am a mouse!” Reepicheep continues. “You, you’re a dragon! You’ve got skin like chainmail! You breathe fire! Come on! Let’s meet our destiny!” OK, let me stop this movie right there. Reepicheep would never imply that being a mouse was a reason not to be brave! You could argue that since this is a very private conversation, Reepicheep is admitting something he never normally would because it’s the only way to get through to Eustace. But Simon Pegg doesn’t play it like it’s a super personal confession or anything. Reepicheep seems totally nonchalant. And I’m again tired of the movie emphasizing the awesomeness of Eustace’s dragon form. Are they implying that the only reason he should be brave is that he’s a dragon? It’d be better character development if he had to be brave as a human-which is actually what he has to do in the book in which he transforms back much earlier. To be fair, he’ll sort of have to be brave as a human in the movie’s climax too but, well, it’s going to be a weird scene.

Anyway, right outside Dark Island, Caspian gives a pep talk to the crew. It broadly corresponds to one he gives them on Ramandu’s Island in the book when it seems that many of them wish to return home and might well refuse to keep sailing east. Given the movie’s track record, you can bet its version of the speech won’t be as eloquent as the book’s.^[3]In a deleted scene from the movie, they would have briefly threatened mutiny. Maybe if that had been kept, the context would have given this speech more of an impact. But the aborted mutiny was also … Continue reading “No matter what happens here,” Caspian says, “every soul who stands before me has earned their place on the crew of the Dawn Treader. Together we have traveled far. Together we have faced adversity. Together we can do it again. So now is not the time to fall into fear’s temptations,” he says, awkwardly tying the movie’s two themes together. “Be strong! Never give in! Our world, our Narnian lives depend on it. Think of the lost souls we’re here to save. Think of Aslan. Think of Narnia.” Everyone cheers, “For Narnia!” You’d think somebody might cry “For Aslan” too-especially Lucy-but no. Caspian actually looks a little startled and surprised his words worked so well. Can’t say I blame him.

The Dawn Treader sails into the darkness. It’s not as creepy as I imagine from the book but it’s not bad.

Green Mist washes over the deck. It seems to hypnotize everyone even the rowers below. Rhince sees a vision of his wife running toward him, but it evaporates as soon as they meet. Caspian hears his father (Nathaniel Parker)’s voice^[4]Longtime fans of my blog may remember Parker as Harold Skimpole from Bleak House. saying, “You are a great disappointment to me. You call yourself my son? Then act like a king.” Edmund sees the White Witch again. Instead of just being a fear like the other visions^[5]I’m assuming the thing with Rhince represents his fear of losing his wife forever., she also represents a temptation. “Come with me,” she says. “Be my king. I’ll let you rule.”

White Witch: Come with me. Be my king. I’ll let you rule.
Edmund: Go away. You’re dead.
White Witch: You can never kill me! I’ll always be alive in your mind, silly boy!
Edmund: No!

Lucy snaps Edmund out of his trance. “Are you alright?” she asks. He answers, “yeah,” but not very convincingly. They hear a strange, mournful cry from somewhere out in the darkness. In the book, this moment happens in total stillness. I feel like having it come when characters are talking lessens the impact but oh well. The voice comes from a rock protruding from the water. It warns the ship to keep away. “We do not fear you,” calls Caspian. “Nor I you,” says the voice. Edmund shines his torch on the rock, illuminating a bedraggled man (Bruce Spence) brandishing a sword. “You will not defeat me!” he hollers. “Caspian, his sword!” cries Edmund. Caspian identifies this man as Lord Rhoop. Spence is fine as this traumatized character by the way. He’s not as intense as I imagine him from the book, but I suppose the movie could only go so far if it didn’t want a rating higher than PG.

Eustace plucks Rhoop from the rock and sets him on deck. This is hardly a good way to quiet the man’s fears, but it is efficient. “Be calm, my lord,” says Caspian as he tries to keep Rhoop from attacking his rescuers. “We are not here to hurt you. I am your king, Caspian.” Rhoop turns his wide eyes to him and strokes his face as is afraid it will vanish. “You should not have come!” he cries. “There’s no way out of here! Quickly! Turn this ship about before it’s too late!” Edmund agrees with the sentiment. “We have the sword,” he says, “let’s go!” Caspian orders Drinian to turn the ship around. “Do not think!” says Lord Rhoop. “Do not let it know your fears, or it will become them!” Edmund cringes.

Edmund: Oh no!
Lucy: Edmund? What did you just think of?!
Edmund: Oh, I’m sorry!

I’m told this little moment closely resembles one from Ghostbusters (unseen by me.) I doubt it was a deliberate homage since the Ghostbusters moment is comedic and the one in this movie is (meant to be) dramatic. Maybe the screenwriters were influenced by it subconsciously. Who knows? Anyway, Edmund looks over the side of the deck and sees what appear to be more rocks sticking out of the water but are actually giant scaly coils-coils that are slithering towards the ship.

“It’s too late! It’s too late!” screams Rhoop. MLG backs away from the railing all the way to the other side of the ship just in time for the head of a giant sea serpent to rise out of the water behind her!

The whole situation with Dark Island is different and, if you ask me, more interesting in the book. The crew sails in, not having any idea of the island’s nature but guessing it’s something bad. They find the traumatized Rhoop who explains it’s the Island Where Dreams Come True. The sailors think that sounds pretty wonderful until he clarifies that it makes actual dreams you have in your sleep come true, not wishes or daydreams. At once, everyone but the fearless Reepicheep panics and turns the ship around but however hard they row, they can’t seem to make progress. We don’t see any nightmares, but everyone hears-or thinks they hear-something different.

“Do you hear a noise like… like a huge pair of scissors opening and shutting… over there?” Eustace asked Rynelf.
“Hush!” said Rynelf. “I can hear them crawling up the sides of the ship.”
“It’s just going to settle on the mast,” said Caspian.
“Ugh!” said a sailor. “There are the gongs beginning. I knew they would.”

There is a sea serpent that attacks the ship in the middle of the book but it’s just an ordinary animal. Now I prefer having everyone’s bad dreams being undefined as it allows the reader to insert their own most horrible nightmare. But it’s true that this might not have worked as well in a movie^[6]If I were adapting the story to film, I’d have point-of-view shots slinking along the sides of the ship or flying overhead as the crew panicked, implying that something was sneaking towards … Continue reading and if they had to show one, I have to say I prefer making the sea serpent the nightmare to having it be things like Caspian disappointing his father or Edmund giving into the White Witch’s whiles. I know there are fans out there who find those things fascinating but to me, they make the worst fears boring because they’re so…understandable. Watching them we go, “Oh, of course, he wishes he could have had a good relationship with the parent he never knew” and “Oh, he feels guilty for betraying his siblings in the first movie.” Real nightmares aren’t so easily interpreted which is what makes them so terrifying. And to the movie’s credit, it does make the sea serpent quite scary. It might actually be one of the scariest things in any of the three Narnia movies.

MLG runs to Lucy for protection. Eustace swoops down and grabs onto the serpent. Reepicheep climbs off Eustace’s head and onto the serpent’s, stabbing it with his sword. The beast shakes the mouse off its head and onto the ship. Then it throws off Eustace, smashing him against a rock. He recovers though and lights the serpent’s head on fire. It douses it in the water. Panicking, Rhoop hurls his special Narnian sword that the crew came to collect at Eustace. It sticks into him, and he howls and flies away despite Lucy’s protests. Is it terrible that this made me laugh? “We are doomed, doomed!” rants Rhoop. “Turn this ship about!” He actually shoves away the helmsman and grabs the wheel himself. I believe I’m supposed to laugh at that. Drinian knocks him out and orders the crew to their rowing positions. “Oars at double speed,” he says. We hear voiceover of Lucy’s thoughts. “Aslan, please help us.” This is similar to what she prays in the book though there her wording is “Aslan, Aslan, if you ever loved us at all, send us help now.” Not sure why they made the wording less dramatic, but whatever.

At this point in the book, a beam of lights cuts through the darkness. An albatross appears in it and leads the ship out of Dark Island. First though, it whispers to Lucy, “Courage, dear heart,” implying that the bird is really Aslan. My brief summary may not sound that exciting but this is a wonderful passage from the book, one I’d resigned myself to not having in the movie since it had clearly made the story be about the heroes destroying it with the seven swords, not escaping it. So I was surprised and delighted to see and hear the albatross here and wondered what part it would play in this reimagined version of the scene.

Then we cut to the rowers below deck working as hard as they can. Then we cut to the wounded Eustace emerging from Dark Island and dropping on a convenient stretch of sand nearby. Then we cut to the sea serpent looping itself around the Dawn Treader, much as the book describes. Lucy hurries MLG below deck and I wonder when we’re going to get back to the albatross. Then it dawns on me we’re not getting back to the albatross at all. You know, as a fan of the Narnia books, there had been moments before in this series of adaptations that made me wince (like Mr. Beaver referring to Aslan as “the top geezer”) or even groan (like Susan becoming Caspian’s love interest) but this is the first time I’ve ever felt insulted by a Narnia movie. Did they really think they could totally change this scene and then keep fans happy by randomly showing the albatross for a few seconds like that? Do they really think we’re that easily pleased? And how on earth does this play for viewers who haven’t read the book? In the middle of intense action scene, we pause for Lucy to stare at a bird as happy music plays? It’s just so clumsy that I’m ready to give up on the whole movie!

Oh well. I’ve come this far. Caspian plans to use the ship to smash the sea serpent against the rocks. Seems like that would also destroy the Dawn Treader but what do I know? “I’ll keep it on the prow!” yells Edmund. Sitting in the mouth of the dragon’s head prow, he uses his torch to get the serpent’s attention. It bites off the prow and for a moment, it looks like Edmund has been swallowed but no, he’s still there.

The space between the sea serpent and the rock is diminishing but its coils are also tightening around the ship. Lucy fires an arrow at it which finds its mark but doesn’t do much against the beast. The ship succeeds in smashing the serpent against the rock. Edmund is thrown to the deck. Green mist emerges from the part of the serpent’s body that the ship hit but nothing else.

We cut back to Eustace on the sand. Aslan approaches him. Eustace randomly scratches his belly. This is another reference to the book that just confuses newcomers and insults fans by being so undercooked. In the book, Eustace the dragon meets Aslan in a scene that may be a dream, but which certainly has real effects. (We only hear about it from Eustace afterwards.) Aslan wordlessly tells Eustace to undress himself. Eustace is confused at first but then realizes he’s supposed to shed his dragon skin the way snakes’ shed theirs. He tears it off with his claws easily and painlessly, only to find there’s another dragon skin underneath just as ugly. He tears off layer after layer, never feeling any pain but never making any progress either. Presumably, Eustace scratching himself in the movie is supposed to be the equivalent of that but there’s no way anyone unfamiliar with the book would guess the idea. Sheesh, I’m familiar with the book and I didn’t understand it at first. Maybe they should have had a scene before this of Eustace tearing at his scales. “What is he doing?” someone could have asked. “He’s trying to take his dragon skin off,” another character could have said. “He wants to be human again.” Without Eustace easily removing a layer of skin only to find it did no good, this still would have lost a big part of the book’s symbolism, but it would have been something.

In the book, Aslan tells Eustace he must let him undress him. A frightened but desperate Eustace consents. Aslan’s claws tear into his body and only then does Eustace emerge as a boy. “It hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt,” he reports. “The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off.” In the movie, Aslan scratches the sand with his claws and glowing…scratches, I guess, appear on Eustace’s body. Then Aslan roars and the dragon’s body sort of explodes in a shower of sparks. (I can’t describe it better than that.) Eustace lands on the beach of Ramandu’s Island, a boy again. This totally misses the point of the scene’s imagery in the book! From what I’ve gathered, the filmmakers didn’t want Aslan’s claws to physically touch Eustace as that would give the movie too high a rating. I can sympathize with that as I don’t think a PG-13 rating would reflect the book’s content, but would it really have been so disturbing? In the first Narnia movie, the White Witch killed Aslan by stabbing him and that got a PG. (Keep in mind both Aslan and the dragon are animated creatures, not people.) It’s not like the book describes guts spilling out of Eustace’s sides. The analogies it uses are of scabs coming off and snakes shedding their skins. A movie wouldn’t even need to show Aslan’s claws penetrating the skin. The moment they started to do so, it could have cut to Eustace’s pained expression. As it is, we don’t get the idea that Eustace is surrendering to Aslan, admitting he can’t become a better person without him and neither do we get much impression that this was a painful process for Eustace since the whole transformation is so brief and generic.^[7]For what it’s worth, I don’t hate this scene as much as some Narnia fans I’ve encountered who describe it as looking like the climactic transformation from Dreamworks’s Shrek … Continue reading I guess if you look closely at the dragon’s face, it looks somewhat pained and it does roar but by that point, you’re just making excuses for the movie. The scene doesn’t feel painful to watch except maybe if you’re a fan who wanted to see a good adaptation of it.

To be fair, the movie will later have Eustace describe the scene to the other characters similarly to how the book describes it. I appreciate that but I wish you could get some of the book’s message about mankind being unable to improve itself without God, painful as God’s assistance may be, just from watching the scene itself.

Back to Dark Island. The sea serpent is really mad now. As it rises over the Dawn Treader, it pulls back a hood like a cobra’s, revealing dozens of tendrils that rattle menacingly. This makes it more over-the-top than the book’s sea serpent but by making it one of Dark Island’s nightmares, I think the movie needed for it be more over-the-top.

The serpent makes a dive for Edmund. Caspian shoves him out of the way and chops off one of the beast’s tendrils with his sword. It dissipates into smoke which encourages Caspian to believe they can beat it. Meanwhile, Eustace wakes up and realizes that not only is he human, but Rhoop’s sword is no longer sticking into his side. There’s not even a wound. The sword lies nearby. Eustace picks it up and runs to Aslan’s table, realizing what he must do. While this goes on, the sea serpent chews on the Dawn Treader’s flag.

The crew throw harpoons with ropes attached at it while Edmund climbs up the rigging. At Aslan’s table, the six swords that have been laid there are rattling and glowing blue. (It looks silly.) Eustace’s is glowing blue too but before he can set it down and unleash the blades’ full power, Green Mist billows behind him. It actually grabs Eustace from behind rather than just enveloping him. We’ve never seen it do that before, but I suppose so near the Dark Island, it would be powerful. Eustace actually uses the last sword like some kind of flyswatter to beat off the Mist. It looks about as silly as that description sounds.

Just as Edmund reaches the level of the sea serpent’s face, the White Witch appears beside him again. “What do you want to prove?” she demands. “That you’re a man? I can make you that. I can make you my king. Just take my hand.” I am so tired of her schtick. Some of the harpoons have stuck into the sea serpent by now and the crew try to use the ropes to pull it down but they’re the ones who end up being yanked around by it. Eustace manages to toss the final sword on the pile. A giant beam of blue light shoots from the swords into the sky. Peter’s sword in Edmund’s hand starts to glow too. When the sea serpent tries to devour him again, he uses the sword to stab it. The Witch dissolves and lightning shoots out of the serpent’s mouth. I guess when Coriakin said that the heroes needed to lay all seven swords at Aslan’s table, he meant “because that will make the eighth sword glow and destroy the monster of which the Mist will have taken the form.” I guess I can’t blame him for simplifying things. This all looks very silly if you ask me.

But I do like the imagery of the serpent’s body dissolving into mist as it sinks to the bottom of the sea. I like the imagery of the sunbeams cutting through the Mist as it all disappears even better. While it’s obviously different from the way C. S. Lewis depicted the destruction of Dark Island^[8]In the book, the characters just looked around after they’d gotten out of it and saw that it was gone., it feels like something he would describe. There really is the feeling that the character are waking up from a bad dream. I could have done without Lucy saying, “The spell, it’s lifting!” Thanks, we got that.

At Ramandu’s Island, the three lords are also freed from their enchanted sleep and the roots that had grown around them disappear. From the deck of the Dawn Treader, the longboats full of sacrificed Lone Islanders, all of them alive and well, can be seen. Rhince and MLG recognize their wife and mother (respectively) in one of them. They dive overboard and swim to her. Edmund and Lucy tearfully watch the reunion, doubtless thinking of their own family, and I still don’t really care about Rhince and MLG.

“We did it,” Lucy says to Edmund and Caspian, “I knew we would.” That’s the kind of line that can only work if the actor delivers it ecstatically. Instead, Georgie Henley delivers the first part calmly and the second part almost like it’s supposed to be a humorous moment, as if Lucy had been really terrified and were now trying to cover it. I’m guessing Henley was trying to do something interesting with the boring material she was given but she accidentally made it worse instead. “Wasn’t just us though,” says Edmund. Now in the book, when Lord Rhoop credits the sailors with destroying Dark Island, Lucy says, “I don’t think it was us,” the implication being that it was Aslan. I was pleased for a moment, thinking the movie might be honoring the text. But no, they seem to be talking about Eustace who apparently decided to swim all the way from Ramandu’s Island to the ship and could do so. Either that or the screenwriters just forgot where he was.

“I see your wings have been clipped” says Reepicheep and jumps into the water because why not?^[9]In the book, Reepicheep dives into the sea to fight one of the sea people, so this is a rare instance of the movie forgoing an action scene. He starts to sing his song about the waves being sweet where the sky meets the water and realizes that the water in which he swims does in fact taste sweet. I’d honestly forgotten that was supposed to be a thing in this story by now and I had read the book. I imagine a viewer who hadn’t would be even less likely to remember or be interested in that.

Reepicheep directs the others’ attention to a vast stretch of whiteness in the sea ahead of the ship.

Caspian: Aslan’s country. We must be close.
Edmund: Well, we’ve come this far.

Some fans have objected that that flippant line undermines the amazingness of sailing to Aslan’s country, making it something the characters might as well do since why not? To be fair, I’m guessing Edmund’s words were intended as humorous understatement and that’s there’s really no question of passing up on this opportunity. But because the movie itself has treated Aslan’s country as an afterthought, that’s sadly how it ends up coming across.

Next Week: Well, Once We’ve Gotten Through the Worst of the Movie, It Happily Ends on a Highnote

As the sun rises over the shore, MLG stirs from her sleep and sees something. She eagerly awakens Lucy and points out to her the elusive Blue Star hanging just above the horizon.

The Dawn Treader sets sail in the star’s direction as Eustace the dragon flies by its side. Yeah, this is something that irritates me. In the book, the crew is unable to leave Dragon Island, as they name it, until Eustace has been returned to his human form since there’s no way he could fit on board, and they can’t expect him to follow them by flying as they have no idea when-or if-they’ll reach land again. The biggest question for them, according to C. S. Lewis, is “how are we to feed him?” The movie just ignores all those realistic considerations. To be fair, I understand that Dragon Island is far from the most interesting location in the story, and I don’t blame the filmmakers for wanting to move on from it as swiftly as possible. Still, the book’s depiction feels “real” to me in a way the movie’s doesn’t.^[1]I know some would say it’s silly to expect any depiction of a dragon to feel real. Those people aren’t this blog’s target audience. I guess Eustace is just drinking some magical Narnian coffee that enables him to fly all day and all night without rest.

Anyway, as the ship departs, Lucy notices a sea nymph and smiles at her. She’s disturbed to see that the nymph doesn’t return her smile but gestures for the Dawn Treader to come back with a rather anxious expression on her face.

Cut to some days later when the oarsmen are straining and sweating to get the Dawn Treader to move. “The wind has left us,” Drinian tells the kings. “So how do we get to Ramandu’s Island now then?” asks Edmund. “My guess is something doesn’t want us to get there,” says Drinian ominously. So now the Mist can control the wind? That doesn’t really fit in with its other powers. To be fair though, the ship is getting increasingly near to the Mist’s source so it makes sense that it would be at its most powerful. Still, why does everything bad that happens in this story have to be blamed on the Mist? It’s one of those signs that the filmmakers are taking a story that wasn’t supposed to have an overarching villain and desperately try to force one on it. The crew are getting irritable. “If I get any hungrier, I’m going to eat that dragon!” one of them snarls. Eustace, flying above, glowers. “Don’t worry, Eustace,” says Reepicheep who’s riding atop his head, “They’ll have to deal with me first.” “If we don’t find land by tonight, they may well eat him,” Drinian says to Caspian or rather starts to say before the ship jolts, toppling everyone off their feet. Once Edmund sees what’s happened, he beams. “Eustace! That’s brilliant!” Eustace has wrapped his dragon tail around the prow of the ship and is now towing it across the sea. So not only can he fly all day and all night without dropping but he can also pull the ship around. That magical Narnian coffee sure is something!

The entire crew cheers for Eustace and he smiles proudly. OK, I have a criticism here that’s hard to make because it’s a complicated issue. It’s true that Eustace is a big help to the Dawn Treader’s crew as a dragon. He helps them explore Dragon Island by giving them rides on his back. He keeps them warm. He kills goats for food. He tears up a big pine tree to replace the ship’s mast which had been destroyed by a storm. This makes sense, given the situation, and is a big part of his positive character development, so it’s good that the movie is showing something similar. But the thing is all we’re seeing are benefits to being a dragon and no drawbacks. Eustace isn’t particularly ugly as a dragon. He doesn’t have many problems of communication. He doesn’t hold the ship back from its voyage. He doesn’t have that arm band digging into his foreleg. There’s barely any reason for us to want the enchantment upon him to be broken.^[2]Well, unless you count the fact that Will Poulter is the actor giving the best performance in this movie and we won’t see him until Eustace is back to normal. That’s why even though I initially liked the idea of the viewers not knowing the dragon’s identity when they first saw it, I wonder if it might not have served Eustace’s character arc better if it were otherwise. If we knew that Eustace was desperately seeking help from the crew and their response was to attack him, it might have really made being a dragon seem like a curse and brought home to Eustace, who hadn’t desired any fellowship with the crew before, that, in the book’s words, “he was a monster cut off from the whole human race.” I guess that is the implication of the movie’s scene in retrospect but I’m not sure how many viewers are likely to look back on it that way since the film generally doesn’t encourage contemplation.

We get a very brief bit of Caspian in his cabin, staring at the swords he’s collected so far. “We can’t be sure the other lords even made it to Ramandu’s Island,” he says to Edmund. Originally, this was part of a longer scene in which Edmund gave Caspian a pep talk about following the Blue Star and not giving in to temptation, etc. It wasn’t that eloquent and I don’t blame the director for cutting it. You could argue though that it would have demonstrated Edmund’s character growth.

As the sun sets, the Dawn Treader arrives at the mysterious shores of Ramandu’s Island. “You got us there! What did I tell you, Eustace?” crows Reepicheep. “Extraordinary! Extraordinary!” Again, with the overemphasis on how awesome it is that Eustace is a dragon. Still, this island is one of the more visually appealing locations in the movie.

As our heroes explore some overgrown ruins on it though, I regret to say that they look simply creepy. At this point in the book, Ramandu’s Island could be described as creepy but also as beautiful and enticing. Indeed, that was part of its (initial) ambiguity as the story had taught readers to distrust things that seem beautiful and appealing like caves full of treasure and water that creates gold. Part of the issue is that in the book, the heroes find this location when the sun is still out, making it relatively less creepy, and then stay as night falls, making it increasingly so. The fact that Eustace stayed with them during this was an example of his character development. Here it’s dark right from the start as the crew (understandably minus Eustace and less understandably minus Reepicheep) find a table with a feast mysteriously spread upon it just waiting from them.

The minotaur is eager to eat but Drinian orders him to wait. At the far end of the table, sit three unconscious men (uncredited despite their importance to the plot) who have evidently remained in the same position so long that not only are their beards overgrown but the underbrush has grown around them. This reveal is a pretty great creepy moment.

From the rings on their fingers, Caspian deduces that these are Lord Revilian, Lord Mavramorn^[3]One of my favorite Narnian names by the way. It’s so much fun to say out loud. and Lord Argoz. He’s startled to find that they’re all still breathing. “They’re under a spell,” Edmund says. “It’s the food!” Caspian cries just in time to save the minotaur from eating an apple. Edmund notices something else on the table. “Hey! It’s the Stone Knife. This is Aslan’s table,” he says. The Stone Knife was what the White Witch used to kill Aslan in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe but I’m not sure how many people who have watched the movie but not read the book remember that. This moment is probably confusing for them. Then again, maybe I’m just being a book snob and not giving movie fans enough credit. Still, the knife was never referred to as being made of stone in the film and I feel like you’d need sharp eyes to make the connection.

Caspian and Edmund retrieve the three sleeping lords’ swords from the brush and lay them, along with the others, on the table. “That’s six,” says Edmund. “Still missing one,” says Caspian. Nonetheless, the swords glow blue, which looks regrettably silly in my opinion, and something else magical happens. The Blue Star actually lowers itself to the ground and transforms into a beautiful young woman (Laura Brent) in a simple white dress. Everyone except Edmund kneels before her. “Travelers of Narnia, welcome,” she says. “Rise. Are you not hungry?” Edmund suspiciously asks her identity. “I am Liliandil, daughter of Ramandu,” she says. “I am your guide.” There’s a lot to unpack here. First, while Narnian stars are creatures in the books, they don’t beam down from the skies whenever they feel like it. They…well, I’ll explain. In the book, we see Ramandu as well as his daughter. Since the main plot function of both is to provide exposition and Ramandu’s daughter ends up marrying Caspian^[4]Her death is also a big part of another Narnia book, The Silver Chair., I can understand the filmmakers wanting to simplify things by only keeping her. But her father’s story is so cool in the book!

…the old man came on without speaking to the travellers and stood on the other side of the table opposite to his daughter. Then both of them held up their arms before them and turned to face the east. In that position they began to sing.^[5]This is the only example of a religious ritual we see in Narnia. I wish I could write down the song, but no one who was present could remember it. Lucy said afterwards that it was high, almost shrill, but very beautiful, “A cold kind of song, an early morning kind of song.” And as they sang, the grey clouds lifted from the eastern sky and the white patches grew bigger and bigger till it was all white, and the sea began to shine like silver. And long afterwards (but those two sang all the time) the east began to turn red and at last, unclouded, the sun came up out of the sea and its long level ray shot down the length of the table on the gold and silver and on the Stone Knife.

Once or twice before, the Narnians had wondered whether the sun at its rising did not look bigger in these seas than it had looked at home. This time they were certain. There was no mistaking it. And the brightness of its ray on the dew and on the table was far beyond any morning brightness they had ever seen. And as Edmund said afterwards, “Though lots of things happened on that trip which sound more exciting, that moment was really the most exciting.” For now they knew that they had truly come to the beginning of the End of the World.

Then something seemed to be flying at them out of the very centre of the rising sun: but of course one couldn’t look steadily in that direction to make sure. But presently the air became full of voices — voices which took up the same song that the Lady and her Father were singing, but in far wilder tones and in a language which no one knew. And soon after that the owners of these voices could be seen. They were birds, large and white, and they came by hundreds and thousands and alighted on everything; on the grass, and the pavement, on the table, on your shoulders, your hands, and your head, till it looked as if heavy snow had fallen. For, like snow, they not only made every thing white but blurred and blunted all shapes. But Lucy, looking out from between the wings of the birds that covered her, saw one bird fly to the Old Man with something in its beak that looked like a little fruit, unless it was a little live coal, which it might have been, for it was too bright to look at. And the bird laid it in the Old Man’s mouth.

Naturally, none of that makes it into the movie. Ramandu afterwards explains that he’s “a star at rest” and that the coal-like fruit the birds brought him is a fire berry from the valleys in the sun. He gets one every morning and it takes away a little of his age so eventually he’ll be young enough to return to the sky. Isn’t all that much more interesting than what the movie did?

While the book describes light as coming from Ramandu, I object to his daughter glowing so much in this movie. Laura Brent is a lovely woman but it’s hard to buy Caspian being attracted to her when she looks like this.

I’ve been pretty negative for a while, so let me praise this adaptation for giving Ramandu’s daughter a name. I don’t necessarily think every unnamed character in the Narnia books needs one^[6]For example, the Lady of the Green Kirtle in The Silver Chair is meant to be mysterious, so not having a name fits in with that. But considering that she marries a major character and gives birth to another, I think it’s weird that C. S. Lewis never named Ramandu’s daughter. And Liliandil even sounds like it’s from the same language as Ramandu without sounding obvious like Ramandua and Ramanduette or something. I’m impressed!

You know who else is impressed right now? Caspian. “You’re a star,” he says to Liliandil.^[7]Ramandu’s daughter isn’t necessarily a star herself in the books by the way. We’re just told “the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.” Her absent mother could have … Continue reading “You are most beautiful!” She’s a little taken aback by this and who can blame her? Talk about heavy-handed writing! The movie’s lucky Ben Barnes is such a good actor. “If it is a distraction for you,” says Liliandil, “I can change form.” Both Edmund and Caspian blurt out “No!” then give each other awkward looks. This arguably makes it seem like the movie is setting up a love triangle. Thankfully, it isn’t. Maybe the movie should have avoided that impression by having every man yell, “No!” Or maybe that would have just made the joke come across as dumber. Anyway, Liliandil politely ignores the awkwardness. “Please,” she says, “the food is for you.” She gestures with her hands and the candles on the table are lit. “There is enough for all who are welcome at Aslan’s table. Always. Help yourselves!” A word here about Laura Brent’s performance. It’s good on its own terms, probably one of the more memorable performances in this movie. But it’s really not how I imagine Ramandu’s daughter from the books. She certainly didn’t have much in the way of personality there, but she gave the impression of a stately, dignified lady. Here she seems like a perky tour guide or airline stewardess. Since I don’t love the way the character looks or sounds in this movie, how would I have portrayed her? Well, some are going to hate me for this, but I would have modeled her after the Elven women in The Lord of the Rings movies. I know detractors tend to call the Narnia movies rip-offs of those and here I’m asking them to rip off more. But what can I say? Watching the characters of Arwen and Galadriel in those films, my first thought was “yep, that’s Ramandu’s daughter.”

Many of the sailors tentatively reach for food or silverware. “Wait! What happened to them?” asks Edmund, shining his torch on the three sleepers. “These poor men were half mad by the time they reached our shores,” says Liliandil. “They were threatening violence upon each other. Violence is forbidden at the table of Aslan. So they were sent to sleep.” In the book, the explanation was a tad more complicated. One of the violent lords grabbed the Stone Knife which was “a thing not right for him to touch” and that was what set off the spell. The change is kind of ironic since this adaptation tends solve problems, like the slave trade on the Lone Islands, with violence that the book solved nonviolently. Still, violence being forbidden at Aslan’s table is still within the spirit of the book’s depiction. “When all is put right,” says Liliandil. In the book, the way to break the spell was for the Dawn Treader to sail to the World’s End and leave a crewmember behind, which fit in perfectly with Reepicheep’s goals, but the movie is much less interested in the world’s end. I’m sorry if I’m making this scene sound bad. It’s fine. It’s just that, having read the original or even just seen the first two Narnia movies, I know it could have been more than fine.

While everybody else gets to eat, Liliandil leads Caspian, Lucy and Edmund to a promontory overlooking the sea. “The magician Coriakin told you of Dark Island,” she says. There it is, within sight of Ramandu’s Island. According to Lewis, looking at the island from the outside was “looking into the mouth of a railway tunnel — a tunnel either so long or so twisty that you cannot see the light at the far end.” The movie’s version looks more like a huge cloud and, rather than being totally dark, there is a green light glowing within because of course there’s a green light.

Liliandil: Before long, the evil will be unstoppable.
Caspian: Coriakin said to break its spell we lay the seven swords at Aslan’s table.
Liliandil: He speaks the truth.
Edmund: But we only found six. Do you know where the seventh is?
Liliandil (pointing at Dark Island): In there. You will need great courage. Now waste no time.
Caspian: I hope we meet again.

She smiles warmly at him before reverting to her star form and then rocketing back up into the sky. That’s all we get of their relationship. Not a huge change from the book, I guess, since the love-at-first-sight romance between Caspian and Ramandu’s daughter was implied rather than shown there.^[8]And even played somewhat for humor. Still, I feel like there was a little more than that! Here Caspian doesn’t even mention Liliandil after this scene.^[9]In the book, Lucy reminding him of her was something that convinced him to return to Ramandu’s Island rather than keeping sailing to Aslan’s country. It feels scandalous that Caspian’s noncanonical romance in the Prince Caspian movie was more developed than his canonical one in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.

Next Week: The Dawn Treader Enters the Dark Island and I Discuss My Least Favorite Part of the Movie

Drinian orders all hands on deck and tells the archers to ready themselves against the threat that’s soaring across the water, from the island to the ship. It’s a dragon.

A weirdly cuddly looking dragon that appears to have been designed to sell bath toys. There are reasons for this to which I’ll get later but I’ve got to say the look of the creature is a disappointment to me. After circling around the ship, it lands on the mast.

“What’s it doing?” shrieks Lucy, hugging MLG. The archers fire at the beast. Their arrows don’t seem to wound it much, but they do annoy it. The dragon tries to fly away, then gets tangled up in the ropes and almost falls off. The fearless Reepicheep scampers up with his sword in his mouth and stabs the dragon in the hand. With a roar, it lets go, then remembers its wings and flies back to the island where it swoops down and grabs Edmund in its clutches. For no reason I can guess, it flies all the way back to the ship with him. “Edmund!” cries Lucy. “Lucy!” cries Edmund. Then the dragon immediately turns around and goes back to the island. (Maybe it’s trying to lure Lucy there?)

As Edmund looks down at the ground, he sees that the dragon has written “I AM EUSTACE” in giant flaming letters.

That’s right. This dragon is Eustace. In retrospect, I think the reason he doesn’t look as scary as the book described him is that the filmmakers wanted the dragon to still look a little like Eustace. A cool idea in theory but Will Poulter just doesn’t have a particularly scary, draconic face.

In the book, we see the scene of Eustace turning into a dragon from his point of view and we don’t share the crew’s fear when they see his new form. Keeping it a secret from viewers was arguably a fun idea on the movie’s part. It also arguably had some negative side effects on the story. I’ll get to those later. We cut to evening when Eustace is on the ground and Caspian, Lucy, Edmund and some others of the crew are gathered around him. Eustace is unsuccessfully trying to remove Lord Octesian’s armband from his foreleg for which it is now much too small. “He must have been tempted by the treasure,” says Edmund. “Well, anyone knows a dragon’s treasure is enchanted,” says Caspian. Eustace glowers at him. “Well, anyone from here,” he clarifies. Lucy cautiously goes forward and removes the painful clasp from Eustace’s leg. In the book, none of the crew ever does this and I’m baffled as to why the movie made this change. Not having the armband stuck to him makes Eustace’s dragon form less painful and means there’s less of an urgent need for him to go back to normal. Eustace also wasn’t able to communicate to the others who he was in the book. All he could do was convey that he understood their language and wanted to be friends. They only realized his exact identity by a lucky guess.^[1]Eustace did try to explain what had happened to them by writing in the sand in the book but this didn’t work very well as the tide kept washing his words away. This movie spends so much time stressing the benefits of being a dragon that it neglects to show its downsides.

Edmund still wants to know if Eustace can be changed back though. Caspian says he doesn’t know how. “Aunt Alberta will not be pleased,” says Edmund. “Sorry about the hand, old boy,” Reepicheep says to Eustace. “I can be a little overzealous at times.” Now Reepicheep in the book never apologizes for being overzealous^[2]Well, unless you count when he punishes Eustace for grabbing him by the tail and Eustace runs over to Caspian and his cousins. “”I ask your pardons all If I had known that he would take … Continue reading but I’m not totally scandalized by this. There are moments in the book The Voyage of the Dawn Treader when Reepicheep surprises everyone by suggesting nonviolent solutions to problems, adding depth to his character. For example, when invisible enemies are threatening to kill everyone if Lucy doesn’t break the spell on them, he advocates letting her do so as she agrees to it, there’s no way they can save her and it’s not like she’s being asked to do anything wrong. And when a giant serpent loops its body around the Dawn Treader and everyone tries to stab it, he tells them to push its coils off. Since the movie doesn’t have those moments, it’s trying to nuance his character in another way. The minotaur announces that the longboats are ready to go back to the ship but Lucy objects that they can’t leave poor Eustace alone. “Well, we can’t bring him on board, Your Majesty,” says Drinian gently. “Drinian, you and the others take one boat back,” says Caspian, “The rest of us will stay here till morning and… work out what to do.” This time Rhince objects. “But you’ve no provisions. And no means of staying warm, Your Majesty.” Eustace responds by creating a campfire with a puff of his fiery breath. Everyone laughs appreciatively and Eustace looks slightly pleased with himself. This is true to the book in which, after becoming a dragon, Eustace experiences “The pleasure (quite new to him) of being liked and, still more, of liking other people.”

At night, as almost everyone else is seemingly asleep, Edmund and Caspian stare up at the sky. “I’ve never seen these constellations before,” says Edmund. “Me neither,” says Caspian, “We’re a long way from home. When I was a boy, I used to imagine sailing to the end of the world, finding my father there.” “Maybe you will,” says Edmund. The book makes a big deal of how the sky changes the nearer the Dawn Treader sails to the world’s end. This is the first time in quite a while the film has really acknowledged that they’re sailing there. It’s a nice moment. Caspian never says anything about looking for his dead father in the book and I don’t love the idea, but I don’t hate it either. It’s reasonable since they might be sailing to Aslan’s country and in the books, Aslan’s country is where the good guys go when they die. Longing to reunite with dead loved ones is an emotionally compelling theme and if the movie wanted to use it, I’m surprised they waited this long.

Later, MLG is fingering a necklace she has. On the end of it is a little carving of her mother’s face. “I miss my Mummy,” she says. Lucy rolls over to speak to her.

Lucy: I miss mine too. But don’t worry. You’ll see her again.
MLG: How do you know?
Lucy: You just have to have faith about these things. Aslan will help us.
Pause
MLG: But Aslan couldn’t stop her from being taken.
Lucy: We’ll find her, I promise. Somehow.

I appreciate that this dialogue exchange by having MLG question Alsan’s usefulness, gives her some characterization beyond cute-little-girl-who-misses-her-mom. The question of how Aslan and by implication, God can be all powerful and all benevolent when terrible things happen is potentially compelling. It’s also something that the last Narnia movie already explored in more depth whereas in this movie, it’s just a random throwaway moment. If the filmmakers really wanted these movies to resonate with Christians, I wish both of them would have supplied answers to the question. It’s not like Christian apologists have never offered explanations or defenses beyond “you just have to have faith about these things.”^[3]I realize there are other religions that face this challenge too but I’m guessing Christians were mainly the ones the movie had in mind. The filmmakers may not agree with those counterarguments and when someone is in pain, no explanation is satisfying but they should acknowledge they exist. Then again, the fact that Lucy clearly struggles to find words to comfort MLG, suggesting she’s not completely assured in her own beliefs, does make her character more rounded and maybe lends the scene additional poignancy.

Still later, Reepicheep awakens to hear Eustace moaning and see a tear rolling down his face. I buy that here, but I would buy it even more if he had that armband still digging into his flesh. OK, I’ll stop harping on that.

“Now, now,” Reepicheep says gently, “all’s not as lost as it seems. I’ll stay up with you if you wish, keep you company. I’ll wager you didn’t even believe in dragons this morning. You know, extraordinary things only happen to extraordinary people.” That’s kind of a weird line. I’d say The Chronicles of Narnia are more about extraordinary things happening to ordinary people. Reepicheep suggests to Eustace that his transformation is a sign “that (he’s) got an extraordinary destiny, something greater than (he) could have imagined.” I’m not loving this writing. To be fair though, in this scene’s literary equivalent Reepicheep’s words of comfort to Eustace were also clunky.

The noble Mouse would creep away from the merry circle at the camp-fire and sit down by the dragon’s head, well to the windward to be out of the way of his smoky breath. There he would explain that what had happened to Eustace was a striking illustration of the turn of Fortune’s wheel, and that if he had Eustace at his own house in Narnia (it was really a hole not a house and the dragon’s head, let alone his body, would not have fitted in) he could show him more than a hundred examples of emperors, kings, dukes, knights, poets, lovers, astronomers, philosophers, and magicians, who had fallen from prosperity into the most distressing circumstances, and of whom many had recovered and lived happily ever afterwards.

However, those words were deliberately clunky on C. S. Lewis’s part. It was the thought behind them counted. (“It did not, perhaps, seem so very comforting at the time, but it was kindly meant and Eustace never forgot it.”) In the movie though, it seems like the words themselves are supposed to be profound when they’re just cheesy feelgood sentiments. In fact, it bugs me how much they’re about making Eustace feel good about himself. It’s true that his transformation ended up largely helping the crew, but it was also a punishment for him, not some sign that he was super special. The dragon’s ugliness was a reflection of Eustace’s character. It shamed him to look at his reflection. According to the book, “he was almost afraid to be alone with himself and yet he was ashamed to be with the others.” I realize such things are subjective but here he barely looks scary at all. Still, as Reepicheep begins to tell Eustace of some of his adventures and Eustace, instead of getting all grumpy, listens with interest, this is one of the movie’s better attempts at an emotional moment and not just the stuff with Eustace and Reepicheep. This whole starlit campfire scene is pretty nice. It’s been a long while since I’ve written about the film’s soundtrack since not much of it stands out to me as good or bad. But the music in this scene does stand out and in a good way.

Next Week: The Island of Ramandu

The sun rises and the Dawn Treader arrives at another island. “I doubt the lords stopped here, my liege,” says Reepicheep as he and other crewmembers head towards the shore in one of two longboats. “There’s no sign of anything living.” Indeed, this island has a very dry, rocky climate. It’s actually a combination of two islands from the book, neither of which were described that way. I sympathize with the change though. The last island we saw was quite lush and it’s nice to have a variety of environments. I do think though that the way C. S. Lewis described the islands made it more believable that the crew would be able to keep gathering supplies for their voyage, which Caspian here tells Reepicheep is their reason for landing. “Once we get ashore, take your men and search for food and water,” he calls from the other longboat. “The three of us will look for clues.” Eustace, who is in the same longboat as Caspian, Lucy and Edmund objects. “Hang on. You mean the four of us.” Everyone looks at him.

Eustace: Come on, please don’t send me back to the rat!
Reepicheep: I heard that!
Eustace (muttering): Big ears!
Reepicheep: I heard that too!

We cut to later. As the crew unloads, Eustace sneaks away from them. Elsewhere, the three royals explore the island. Caspian finds a rope tied around a giant rock, the end of which trails down into a hole in the ground. “The lords?” suggests Edmund. “Could be,” says Caspian. He drops a small stone down the hole, and they listen to the echo of it falling to ascertain the depth. Then they climb down the rope ladder to explore.

After a bit, they find a pool with a golden statue of a man in it. In the book, this pool is aboveground but, again, I sympathize with the change of location. This underground cavern, lit only by holes from the ground above, makes for a cool set. Edmund breaks off a giant root from the cave wall and dips it into the pool. Beginning with the tip that touches the water, the wood transforms into gold! Just before the gold spreads to his fingers, Edmund cries out in fear and drops the root. It sinks to the bottom of the pool. Now in the book, if you dipped something like that in the water, only the part that was submerged would turn to gold, but I guess I’m OK with the change. It does make a for a nice creepy moment here.

Our heroes bend down to examine the underwater statue which they now realize isn’t a statue.

Caspian: He must have fallen in.
Lucy: Poor man.
Edmund: You mean poor lord.

Edmund has noticed the man’s golden shield. Caspian recognizes the design on it as “the crest of Lord Restimar” and Edmund points out his sword. “We need it,” Caspian says. OK, aren’t they being kind of glib here? I get Caspian probably never knew Lord Restimar personally; he was just searching for him out of duty and, of course, getting his sword is vital to saving the Lone Islands. I don’t think the movie needed a big funeral scene for this character or even a big moment of silence, but it still feels kind of tasteless to pass over him this quickly. Couldn’t they have had a little moment of silence? Anyway, Edmund uses the sword he got from Lord Bern to lift Restimar’s sword out of the water and-oh no! There’s that Green Mist again! It feels like whenever there’s a scene in this movie that’s like the book and I, as a fan of the source material, start to relax and enjoy it, the Mist will show up and snap me out of it. Also, the quality of the scenes strangely tends to drop after the it appears even when that dropping doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the Mist itself. This bit is a case in point.

Edmund succeeds in retrieving the sword and Lucy notes that neither it nor his own has turned to gold. “Both the swords are magical,” says Caspian. Neither he nor Lucy is onscreen when they say those lines, so I suspect they were added in post-production in response to viewers of test screenings making the same observation as Lucy. It’s nice that they realized there was one confusing plot point they needed to clarify anyway. Lucy seems to agree with me that Lord Restimar isn’t getting enough respect. “He mustn’t have known what hit him,” she says as she stares at his golden remains. “Maybe,” says Edmund, “Or maybe he was on to something.” On to something? If Restimar had perished trying to dip something into the water, that line would make sense but, judging from his pose, he was cupping his hands to get a drink.

Edmund takes a nearby seashell and dips it in the pool, turning it to gold. He stares at it like he’s under a spell.

Edmund: Whoever has access to this pool could be the most powerful person in the world. Lucy, we’d be so rich! No one could tell us what to do or who to live with!
Caspian: You can’t take anything out of Narnia, Edmund.
Edmund: Says who?

That’s a good question actually. I don’t remember it being established in either the books or the movies that no one from this world could take things from the world of Narnia. The only reason to believe this is the Pevensies’ Narnian clothes being replaced with their English ones when they return^[1]In the movies, not always in the books. and I’m not sure if it makes sense for Caspian to know about that. Anyway, back to the conversation.

Edmund: Says who?
Caspian: I do.
Edmund: I’m not your subject.
Caspian: You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you? To challenge me. You doubt my leadership!
Edmund: You doubt yourself.
Caspian: You’re a child!
Edmund: And you’re a spineless sap!
Lucy: Edmund-
Edmund: I’m tired of playing second fiddle! First it was Peter and now it’s you. You know I’m braver than both of you! Why do you get Peter’s sword? I deserve a kingdom of my own! I deserve to rule!
Caspian: If you think you’re so brave, prove it!

Now it tends to bug me when critics disparage works of art by saying the artists just made it for a paycheck and didn’t really care about the quality. How do they know that? It seems to discount the possibility of artists trying to make great art and failing through a lack of taste. For that matter, does it ever occur to the critics that the works of art they love and into which they believe the artists put their hearts and souls might have actually been made by artists who were just going through the motions but had enough talent to make something great anyway? How do we know the critics aren’t just projecting their own feelings about the art onto the artists? So I try to avoid making those kinds of statements on this blog but it’s hard to resist with these Narnia movies because…I really do think Andrew Adamson, the director of the first two, put a lot of passion into them whereas Michael Apted, the director of this third one, didn’t. Mind you, I don’t consider everything about The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005) or Prince Caspian (2008) great, but I believe that Adamson thought they were great and was trying to make the greatest movies he could even when I disagree with his taste. With Michael Apted, well, I’m sure he wished to avoid making an outright bad movie. Sheer professional pride forbad him that. But I don’t get the impression he was trying to make the greatest movie possible. It feels like he just wanted to wrap up filming as quickly as possible every day so he could go home and do his laundry, and that attitude trickled down to the whole crew. Well, not the whole crew. Some people did great work on the movie, but I imagine the credit goes to those individuals, not to Michael Apted’s leadership.

And the nice thing about this scene is that it allows me to give specific reasons for this impression beyond just “I liked the other movies better.” Caspian and Edmund are supposedly going through the same experience here, but their actors portray it entirely differently. Skandar Keynes snarls and hams it up like he’s transforming into Mr. Hyde. Ben Barnes, on the other hand, gives a subtly creepy performance, making it hard to say when exactly Caspian starts going crazy.^[2]To be fair, that may just be because his dialogue is relatively less heavy handed. It feels like Apted had no particular vision for the scene and just let the actors do whatever they wanted. If you ask me, he should have been telling Keynes to follow Barnes’s example.

Caspian and Edmund start to sword fight, but Lucy gets between them. “Stop it!” she cries. “Both of you! Look at yourselves. Can’t you see what’s happening? This place has tempted you! It’s bewitching you! This is exactly what Coriakin was talking about.” OK, who would say “this place has tempted you” even if that’s what they were trying to express? To me, it feels like the screenwriters, being unable to see an overriding theme in the original book, showed admirable humility by asking some Christians they knew who told them it was about temptation.^[3]That’s not what I’d call the main theme of the story by the way but it’s not totally wrong. But they didn’t actually have anything interesting to say about temptation, besides “it sure is bad, isn’t it,” so this just comes across as a shallow attempt to appeal to Christian audiences.^[4]Along similar lines, Lucy’s subplot feels like the screenwriters heard that young girls tend to be insecure about their looks and wanted to address that without actually having an interesting … Continue reading Incidentally, in the book, it was Aslan who intervened to save Edmund and Caspian from themselves. If the movie really wanted to tell a Christian story, it probably should have kept that. Still, I can see the appeal of Lucy, having recently mastered her own temptation, being the one to snap the others out of theirs. It’s one of the movie’s few subtle attempts at character development “Let’s just get out here,” she says. They follow her advice. Before he leaves, a chastened Edmund tosses the golden seashell away. I’ve been pretty hard on this movie for the last three paragraphs or so, so I’ll say that’s a good visual way to show the magic pool no longer has power over him.

Now back to being hard on it. This is a good time to ask how come the Mist doesn’t try devouring our heroes as it did the sacrificial victims on the Lone Islands? Tempting them doesn’t seem to be working that well. I’d say that the Mist gets more powerful the closer one gets to Dark Island and the characters simply aren’t near enough yet for it to do something like that. But then how was it able to devour those people all the way back at the Lone Islands? Can it only do that to those who have deliberately been sacrificed? But then why were they being sacrificed in the first place? Yeah, this is the Narnia movie that benefits the most from not thinking about it. To be fair, there are things about the other movies and even the original books that also benefit from a lack of thought but this one really takes the cake.

We find Eustace wandering around the island and complaining about the silliness of the plot. I love it when he does that. “Oh yes,” he rants, “follow the imaginary blue star to the island of Raman-doo-doo! Lay the seven steak knives at the table of the talking lion! Hmph! Ninnies!” Just then, Eustace finds a shallow canyon, the ground of which is covered with golden treasures.

“I must be dead!” he breathes. Once he recovers from shock, he grabs a golden bowl and starts filling it with loot. His eye is drawn to a golden armband though he screams when he sees it’s on the arm of a finely dressed skeleton. “Your definitely dead,” he says before ripping the band off and putting it on his own arm. “Won’t be needing that then, will you?” A strange roaring/hissing noise is heard. Eustace looks around nervously but when he doesn’t hear it again, he goes back to collecting treasure. In the book, Eustace finds this trove in the cave of an old dragon he sees die, who may or may not have been one of the seven missing lords under an enchantment. Presumably, that’s what made the noise here though we never see it and it’s probably confusing if you haven’t read the book. Unseen by Eustace, the Green Mist surges. Now I’m really annoyed. It made sense that the Mist would want Lucy to accidentally make it so she never went to Narnia or that it would want either Edmund or Caspian to the kill the other. But how does it benefit from Eustace robbing the dead? As we’ll see, it actually makes him an asset to the Dawn Treader’s crew in their attempts to destroy the Mist.^[5]Maybe the Mist just can’t resist tempting everyone even when doing so doesn’t benefit it. That would be an interesting weakness if that was the movie’s intention. This is the kind of thing that happens when people put a villain into a story that didn’t have one. They tend to just blame everything bad on the villain even when it doesn’t make sense for them to be responsible. In the book by the way, the scene with the water that turned things to gold took place after this and Eustace was present. The fact that he was one of the only ones not to be tempted by the prospect of unlimited riches subtly showed his character development so it’s too bad the chronology was changed for this movie. Still, that’s hardly the worst bit of artistic license here.

Caspian, Edmund and Lucy return to the longboats. Rhince shows them the meagre food his party has found. “It’s volcanic, Your Majesty,” he says apologetically, “Not much grows.” (See what I mean about it making more sense in the book how the ship never ran out of supplies?)

Lucy looks around. “Where’s Eustace?” she asks. “I believe he’s out not helping us load the boats,” says Reepicheep. Lucy calls Eustace’s name. There’s no response unless you count the noise of a hot air blast from somewhere on the island’s surface. “Edmund, I’ve got a bad feeling,” Lucy says. Her line delivery makes it sound less like she’s worried something’s happened to her cousin and more like she’s going to throw up. Edmund goes to search for Eustace and Caspian, wanting to make amends, volunteers to go with him. They find the same glittering hoard that Eustace found. “Treasure?” says Edmund. “Trouble,” says Caspian. They investigate and discover Eustace’s clothes, and his diary charred.

“I’m sorry,” Caspian tells Edmund. “He was just a boy! I never should have left him!” Edmund, who was already feeling guilt stricken about his behavior over that alchemical pool, says. “What could have happened to him?” Caspian looks around warily. “In this place, anything and he wasn’t the first. ” He goes over to the skeleton. “It’s Lord Octesian,” he says, “We should find his-” But Edmund has already picked up the man’s magical sword. Again, it’d be nice to show a little more respect for the dead before taking their stuff. Just a tad.

Meanwhile, Lucy and the others are back on board the Dawn Treader. They hear a strange roar coming from the island. “What was that?” she asks Drinian. A burst of flame is visible from the crags. “Is it the volcano?” MLG asks. “Oh, no,” says Drinian grimly, “that’s no volcano.”

Next Week: A Dragon!

We transition from the magical map to the actual sea. There’s a storm brewing and within the Dawn Treader, Eustace is writing in his diary again. “For reasons beyond my comprehension,” he gripes, “we’ve taken the advice of a senile old coot who doesn’t possess a razor and dawdles around in a dressing gown.” I love that there’s a character in the movie who feels the same way about that last scene that I do. “So we’re back in this tub and lost in a tempest. Brilliant.” We see some of the crew valiantly trying to navigate the storm. This scene isn’t bad, but I’m surprised the movie isn’t trying to make this more intense. Other parts, like the scenes on the Lone Islands, seek to make the story more action-packed than it is in the book. What I imagine though reading C. S. Lewis’s description of a storm at sea is a lot scarier.

It seemed to Lucy that a great valley in the sea opened just before their bows, and they rushed down into it, deeper down than she would have believed possible. A great grey hill of water, far higher than the mast, rushed to meet them; it looked certain death but they were tossed to the top of it. Then the ship seemed to spin round. A cataract of water poured over the deck; the poop and forecastle were like two islands with a fierce sea between them. Up aloft the sailors were lying out along the yard desperately trying to get control of the sail. A broken rope stood out sideways in the wind as straight and stiff as if it was a poker.

Oh well. Like I said, this isn’t a bad little scene in the movie. Maybe it just needs some dramatic music.

“Fourteen days of being tossed like a pancake and not the slightest sight of land,” laments Eustace. “The only consolation is everyone is finally as miserable as I am. Except for that showoff talking rat. He’s one of those annoying glass-is-always-half-full types.” We see Reepicheep standing on the nose of the Dawn Treader’s dragonhead prow. I’d like to think this is meant to be a reminder of his thirst to find Aslan’s country and “the utter East.” It’s hard to tell though since that part of his character ends up feeling like an afterthought in this movie. Still, it’s possible that was the intention.

In the stern cabin, Drinian is having a private word with Caspian and Edmund. “We’re stuck here,” he says placing a marker on a map, “at half rations with food and water for two more weeks maximum. This is your last chance to turn back, Your Majesties. There’s no guarantee we’ll spot the blue star anytime soon. Not in this storm. A needle in a haystack, trying to find this Ramandu place. We could sail right past it and off the edge of the world.” “Or get eaten by a sea serpent,” says Edmund mockingly. That’s to say, I think he’s saying it mockingly. Given what happens later, I believe the subtext is that Edmund is genuinely nervous about sea serpents and is hiding it behind a show of bravado but Skandar Keynes’s performance in this movie is just too indifferent to convey anything that nuanced.

Drinian: I’m just saying the men are getting nervous. These are strange seas we’re sailing, the likes of which I’ve never seen before.
Caspian: Then perhaps, Captain, you would like to be the one to explain to Mr. Rhince that we’re abandoning the search for his family.^[1]Technically, it’s just the search for his wife but whatever.

Theoretically, I have no problem with that line. All three characters in this scene have been sailing with Rhince and MLG^[2]That’s what I’m calling his daughter, remember? for weeks or possibly even months. Of course, they care about them. But I haven’t been sailing with those characters and the line has the unfortunate side effect of reminding me that I don’t care about them, not nearly as much as the movie wants me to care anyway. Drinian ceases to argue but before leaving the cabin, he warns Caspian and Edmund, “The sea can play nasty tricks on a crew’s mind. Very nasty.”

In Lucy’s cabin, a lantern sways from the roof as the ship is rocked by waves. After making sure that MLG is asleep beside her, Lucy takes out the page she tore from Coriakin’s spell book. She reads from it as Green Mists swirls around the lantern to make sure we know this bad.

Transform my reflection.
Cast into perfection
Lashes, lips and complexion.
Make me she whom I’d agree
Holds more beauty over me.

The sound of thunder fades away. The ship is suddenly still and light pours from the windows. Lucy gets up and looks at herself in a full-length mirror. Her nightgown changes into the kind of outfit she might wear for a party back in England and she, herself, transforms into her sister. I’d like to pause a moment to credit this scene’s magical visuals. They’re some of the more fun ones in the movie.

Lucy-or rather Susan-hears big band music of all things coming from behind the mirror. It turns into a door, and she steps through it onto a sunlit porch somewhere in America. A garden party is in swing. “Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Susan Pevensie,” announces a man and everyone applauds. Susan-or rather Lucy who looks like Susan-is starting to enjoy this.

Her brothers fall in step with her.

Lucy: Edmund!
Edmund: You look beautiful, sister.
Peter (William Moseley): As always.
Lucy: Peter!
Photographer (Laurence Coy): Excuse me, Miss, can I get a photo?
Peter: Mother’s going to love this! All her children in one picture.
Photographer: Smile!
Lucy: Hang on. Where am I? I mean, where’s Lucy?
Edmund (through smile for camera): Lucy? Who’s Lucy?

A startled Lucy tries to get away, but Peter holds onto her. “Susan, what’s wrong?” he asks, also speaking through his teeth. “Come on now, Miss,” says the photographer, “nice big smile!” But Lucy isn’t feeling it anymore.

Lucy: Edmund, I’m not sure about all this. I think I ought to go back.
Edmund: Go back where?
Lucy: To Narnia!
Edmund: What on earth is Narnia?
Lucy: What’s going on?! Stop this!

The camera flashes and suddenly Lucy is back in the cabin, looking into the mirror, her old self again though rather shaken. Well, that was…a thing. I feel like the scene went by far too quickly for us to feel what Lucy felt. I mean, the final thirds of entire movies have been about such scenarios but here no sooner has Lucy been horrified by the implications of the alternate universe she created than it’s all back to normal again. Not very cathartic. I suppose a longer scene in the Lucy-is-Susan world would have taken away from the main plot but why bother with something like creating an alternate reality if you’re not going to give it room to breathe? Anyway, Aslan appears beside Lucy’s reflection. She turns around but in a nice touch, he can only be seen in the mirror. The soundtrack plays a subdued, melancholy version of the Pevensies’ theme.

Aslan: What have you done, child?
Lucy: I don’t know. That was awful!
Aslan: But you chose it, Lucy.
Lucy: I didn’t mean to choose all of that! I just wanted to be beautiful like Susan. That’s all.
Aslan: You wished yourself away and with it much more. Your brothers and sister wouldn’t know Narnia without you, Lucy. You discovered it first, remember?
Lucy: I’m so sorry!
Aslan: You doubt your value. Don’t run from who you are.

That’s the first big message we’ve gotten from this movie. I wouldn’t call it a bad message, especially if you interpret it as “be content with what you have.” But let’s compare it to those from the first two films, never mind the books. In The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, the Pevensies learn to put the good of Narnia over their own lives. In Prince Caspian, Peter learned to give up his yearning for control and let others lead while Lucy learned she should stand up for her beliefs even if it means standing alone. And here the most profound thing she learns is “don’t run from who you are?” Talk about disappointingly trite. To be fair though, the book The Voyage of the Dawn Treader is mostly concerned with basic moral lessons like don’t enslave people, don’t be greedy, don’t eavesdrop, generally don’t be like Eustace, so you could argue this isn’t too far a stretch.^[3]I’d maintain that the book has a larger spiritual theme of searching for the divine and the transcendent bolstering those basic lessons, but I digress. I’d still argue the book had more interesting things to say than just “be yourself.” In Lewis’s version, Lucy didn’t say the beauty spell, as I mentioned previously, but she did say a spell to learn what people said about her behind her back. She overheard one of her friends from back in her own world tell an enemy she had “more sense” than to be “taken up” with Lucy and was tired of her company. Naturally, this hurt, and Lucy vowed never to trust that friend again. Later, she and Aslan had this conversation.

“Child,” he said, “I think you have been eavesdropping.”
“Eavesdropping?”
“You listened to what your two schoolfellows were saying about you.”
“Oh that? I never thought that was eavesdropping, Aslan. Wasn’t it magic?”
“Spying on people by magic is the same as spying on them in any other way. And you have misjudged your friend. She is weak, but she loves you. She was afraid of the older girl and said what she does not mean.”
“I don’t think I’d ever be able to forget what I heard her say.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Oh dear,” said Lucy. “Have I spoiled everything? Do you mean we would have gone on being friends if it hadn’t been for this — and been really great friends — all our lives perhaps — and now we never shall.”
“Child,” said Aslan, “did I not explain to you once before that no one is ever told what would have happened?”

Now wasn’t that much more interesting than what the movie did?

Lucy wakes up to find the storm still going on. She crumples up the page with the spell on it and throws it into the fireplace. The smoke forms an image of Aslan’s head which roars. You’d think it would roar triumphantly but for some reason, it sounds angry.

If that whole thing was an Aslan-sent dream by the way, does that mean the Green Mist was also part of it? I don’t know why Aslan would include that since Lucy didn’t seem to notice it. Anyway, the Mist wafts its way through the Dawn Treader’s sleeping quarters, still not looking as creepy as it should. Caspian tosses and turns in his slumber. “Father! Father!” he cries. A big cloud of Mist forms above Edmund. An all too familiar voice calls his name. In a flash of lightning, he sees the White Witch (Tilda Swinton.) “Join me!” she says. On the plus side, this moment is fairly effective in its creepiness.

On the minus side, do we have to see the White Witch again? Maybe if they hadn’t temporarily brought her back from the dead in Prince Caspian, I would be more openminded about this, but they did temporarily bring her back and now it feels like overkill.^[4]Overresurrection? I wonder if the screenwriters deeply regretted that she couldn’t be the villain of every story but didn’t want to offend the fanbase by having her survive The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. As a member of that fanbase, I’m grateful for that but this compromise of having her keep seeming to return without really doing so gets lame after only two instances.

Flustered, Edmund draws his sword, but the Mist has disappeared and with it, the Witch. “Edmund?” whispers another voice. This time, it’s Lucy’s. “I can’t sleep,” she says. Edmund looks at her and at Caspian who has also awakened. “Let me guess,” he says. “Bad dreams. So either we’re all going mad or something’s playing with our minds.” Or you could you just be having bad dreams because you’re under a lot of stress, you know. That has been known to happen in life without any magical explanation. To the movie’s credit though, the Dark Island is very much connected to dreams, particularly nightmares, in the book and it’s nice that the adaptation tries to retain that somehow.

Next Week: I Take a Break from Narnia for a Halloween Post (Sort of)

As the sun rises over the beach, Caspian and Edmund awake to find giant footprints in the sand and no Lucy. Drinian notices this too and rouses the rest of the crew so they can follow the prints. Well, not all the rest of the crew. Eustace is left snoring on the shore. For some reason, Reepicheep isn’t among them. I guess he remained on the ship which is odd. Didn’t he say there was honor in turning away from adventure recently?

Meanwhile, in the invisible mansion, Lucy walks down a silent hall to a library in which a giant tome lies on a stand. In the book, her walking down the hall was a great creepy scene with a jump scare moment of her seeing her face in a bearded mirror that was made for cinema. Here it’s over in a matter of seconds. This is the shortest of the three Narnia movies. Would it have hurt it to draw this scene out a little longer? It seems like such a waste.

The literary Lucy had a moment of being unable to open the book before realizing it was shut by two leaden clasps. The movie actually gives this a nice whimsical gloss. The letters of books titled are scattered all over the cover^[1]In the book, it didn’t have a title by the way. and the (singular) clasp won’t open. Then a little wooden cherub carved into the bookstand comes to life and blows through its lips. Lucy follows its example and blows on the book. At once, the letters rearrange to spell “The Book of Incantations,” a design forms beneath them and the clasp unlocks.

Lucy pages through the book which turns out to be one of my favorite props in any Narnia movie. The detailed illustrations and calligraphy are beautiful, and it perfectly matches C. S. Lewis’s description. There’s a cure for toothache, a spell to remember things forgotten, a spell for forgetting things you want to forget and a cure for warts that involves bathing them in a silver basin by moonlight. If the movie had nothing to recommend it but the design of this book, I would still hesitate to dismiss it.

There’s also a spell that’s not in the book. Lucy comes to a page that’s completely black with white text. She reads aloud. “With these words, your tongue must sew for all around there to be snow.” I’m really not sure about the grammar of that poem. Wouldn’t your tongue be sewing the words themselves, not sewing with them? Also, shouldn’t it be sow, not sew? Anyway, a snowflake falls on the page. Lucy looks up to see snow is indeed falling from the ceiling. I really don’t know why she would read this specific page out loud and not others and I’m told this bit is a rip-off of a scene from Harry Potter. Part of me, cynically thinks the movie just did this because the more financially successful of the previous two Narnia movies had snow in it. Still, that moment when the first white snowflake lands on the black page is pretty magical.

Before long, snow has covered the book. Lucy blows it off and this triggers some kind of magical wind that rapidly flips through the pages. Lucy has to slam her hand down on a page to stop it. For some reason, she doesn’t turn the pages back to see if the spell to make the unseen seen was on one of the pages she missed but continues going through the book. Now, aside from irritating but forgiveable little things like that, I’m really enjoying the scene up to this point. It’s very true to the spirit of the equivalent scene in the book and even true to some of its details. But here we get something that’s not from the book and which I don’t enjoy. When Lucy slams her hand down a page, that silly looking green mist starts to pour out from between the pages. It doesn’t devour Lucy like the sacrificial victims in the longboat at Narrowhaven though. In fact, it’s kind of implied she can’t see it.

The page Lucy on which Lucy has stopped promises “an infallible spell to make the beauty you’ve always wanted to be.” In the book, this was a spell for “to make beautiful her that uttereth it beyond the lot of mortals,” which is way cooler, but I suppose no actress could live up to it. Ah, well. As Lucy looks at the accompanying illustration of a beautiful woman, it transforms into a mirror. Then her reflection in it shifts so that she looks just like Susan. (By the way, this is one of the most graceful special effects in the movie if you ask me.)

Lucy stares at it, entranced. “I’m beautiful,” she murmurs. I don’t really feel like the movie needed that line. I don’t hate it or anything, but the script had already established that Lucy envies Susan’s looks and the book just told us that this magic spell would makes its caster “the beauty (they’d) always wanted to be.” Those things, coupled with Georgie Henley’s performance were enough to establish that this character considers Susan better looking than herself without her saying, “I’m beautiful” at this point. I feel like if Andrew Adamson, the director of the other Narnia movies, had done this one, he would have cut the line. But Michael Apted seems to have been deeply committed to including every line in the script whether it felt right during filming or not. Lucy runs over to a regular mirror in the room to see if she’s actually transformed into her sister. She hasn’t. By the time, she gets back to the book, the mirror is already fading away. “No, wait!” she says, slamming her hand down on the illustration. She tears out the page with incantation on it. After she does, the pages start rapidly flipping again, this time accompanied by the sound of a roar. The voice of Aslan (Liam Neeson) is heard, saying, “Lucy! Lucy!” He sounds pained. “Aslan?” she calls but she can’t see him anywhere. In C. S. Lewis’s version of this scene, Lucy doesn’t tear out any pages from the book. Instead, just as she’s about to say the beauty spell, an illustration of Aslan’s face growling appears on the page and Lucy turns it in fright. Here, she looks guilty but pockets the stolen page anyway. The pages of the magical book stop turning. Again, Lucy doesn’t turn them back but that makes sense this time as they’ve actually stopped at the very spell that she sought in the first place. As in the book, the spell to make the unseen seen^[2]Or “hidden things visible” as the source material phrases it. is on a page with no illustrations (initially), only words. A lot of words actually. The incantation is so long we don’t hear the whole thing in the movie.

“Like the P in psychology,” Lucy reads, “the H in psychiatry, invisible ink or the truth in theology…”

Wait. What?

It’s no secret that much of the Narnia books’ fanbase is Christian (in America anyway) and Christians would say they do very much see truth in theology. I don’t necessarily think the filmmakers should have pandered to Christians but with the last movie having underperformed at the box office, why alienate part of the fanbase that’s already there? On reflection though, this line actually implies that there is truth in theology, but people don’t see it. Isn’t that offensive to atheists whom the filmmakers also wouldn’t want to offend? What a weird, unnecessary joke. Making it even weirder, it’ll soon become apparent the screenwriters do want to appeal to Christian fans of the books though they only seem to know how to do so in the shallowest way possible. The “truth in theology” line is one of the things that makes this movie’s script feel like a rough first draft to me.^[3]I know for a fact that it wasn’t a first draft since pages from a quite different version leaked on the internet at one point but that’s how it feels to me. The sad thing is if it were a first draft, I’d call it a fairly promising one. Much of Eustace’s dialogue is great and much of Caspian’s, Lucy’s and Edmund’s is fine if not particularly memorable. Subsequent drafts could have eliminated unnecessary lines, replaced really cheesy lines^[4]We’re getting to some of those. with more eloquent ones, and ironed out confusing plot points and inconsistencies.

Anyway, we cut to Caspian, Edmund and company searching the topiary garden for Lucy. Edmund finds her dagger. Just then, spears start to rain down in front of our heroes. “Stop right there or perish!” says the leader of the voices. The Dawn Treader’s crewmembers find their weapons snatched out of their hands. Invisible enemies knock them down.

Meanwhile, Lucy finishes the incantation. “The spell is complete. All is visible.” I’d love to know the previous line with which “visible” rhymed. I’d also have loved to have seen the illustrations on the page turn visible, as in the original book, but for some reason, the movie doesn’t do that. Instead, an old, bearded man (Bille Brown) materializes in front of Lucy. Oh no! It’s the Oppressor!

In the book, it’s Aslan whom Lucy meets at this point. The movie hasn’t exactly cut his scene with her though. It’s just moved it to later. I don’t really like the visual of how invisible things become visible in this movie by the way. Instead of fading in reverse, they sort of jerkily materialize with a gloopy sounding noise. It’s hard to explain but it reminds me of science fiction more than fantasy.

We cut back to Caspian. “What sort of creatures are you?” he demands of his opponents.

Voice 1: Big ones. With the head of a tiger and the body of a…
Voice 2: Different tiger.
Voice 1: You don’t want to mess with us.
Edmund: Or what?
Voice 3: Or I’ll claw you to death!
Voice 2: And I’ll run my tuft right through you!
Voice 1: And I’ll gnash you with my teeth!
Voice 4: And I’ll bite you with my fangs!

These threats are undermined by the creatures regaining visibility. They’re revealed to be silly looking dwarfs^[5]That’s not a criticism. They’re supposed to look silly., each with a single leg-not like they’ve each lost a leg but like they’re just naturally one-legged-and a gigantic foot. The speakers are all being upheld by others of their species to give the illusion that they’re taller.

“You mean squash us with your fat bellies?” Edmund asks. “Tickle us with your giant toes?” suggests Caspian. The leader of these dwarfs (the one played by Roy Billing) is dropped, and Edmund puts a sword to his throat. “What have you done with my sister, you little pipsqueak?” he demands. “Where is she?” After some hemming and hawing, the one-legged dwarf answers, “In the mansion.” “What mansion?” asks Edmund. Just then, the house appears near him. “Oh, that mansion,” he says. I feel like that line would be funnier if Skandar Keynes gave it a much drier delivery. Actually, I feel like it would be better if it were just “Oh.” Anyway, Eustace bursts out of the bushes, complaining about being left behind. “It’s the pig!” says one of the creatures upon seeing him. “This place just gets weirder and weirder!” says Eustace. I’m not sure if a boy in his culture would have used the term, weird, in that way but maybe he would have. I’m no expert. Lucy emerges from the mansion with “the Oppressor.” He bows to Caspian and Edmund and addresses one of them-don’t ask me which-as “Your Majesty.” This version of the reveal that he’s a good guy is different from the book’s but I’m fine with it.

Lucy: Caspian and Edmund, this is Coriakin. It’s his island.
Voice 1: That’s what he thinks! You have wronged us, magician!
Coriakin: I have not wronged you. I made you invisible for your own protection.
Voice 1: Protection?!
Voice 2: That’s oppressive!
Voice 1: Oppressor!
Coriakin: I have not oppressed you.
Voice 1: But you could have if you’d wanted to!
Coriakin: Begone.

He tosses some dust at them and the creatures bounce away in terror on their single legs, looking highly goofy. “What was that?” Lucy asks. “Lint but don’t tell them,” Coriakin replies.

Eustace: What were those things?
Coriakin: Dufflepuds.
Eustace: Right, of course, silly me.

Now in the book, the creatures were originally called duffers, duffer being an old-fashioned insult for a stupid person. Coriakin also didn’t turn them invisible for their protection. Instead, he turned them into giant-footed one-legged beings called monopods, mono meaning one, as punishment for their refusal to obey a perfectly reasonable command. Eventually, the book tells us, their old and their new name were combined into the term dufflepud. If the movie wasn’t going to do that and it’s understandable that they wouldn’t since it’s complicated, I’d rather they just had the puds be called monopods. Dufflepuds, without context, just sounds random. Anyway, in the book, they used Coriakin’s spell book to turn themselves invisible because they couldn’t stand the sight of their new forms but then they got tired of invisibility. There was this hilarious bit of Lucy trying to convince them that Coriakin’s punishment actually improved their appearances.

“And we’re extremely regrettable,” said the Chief Monopod, “that we can’t give you the pleasure of seeing us as we were before we were uglified, for you wouldn’t believe the difference, and that’s the truth, for there’s no denying we’re mortal ugly now, so we won’t deceive you.”
“Eh, that we are, Chief, that we are,” echoed the others, bouncing like so many toy balloons. “You’ve said it, you’ve said it.”
“But I don’t think you are at all,” said Lucy, shouting to make herself heard. “I think you look very nice.”
“Hear her, hear her,” said the Monopods. “True for you, Missie. Very nice we look. You couldn’t find a handsomer lot.” They said this without any surprise and did not seem to notice that they had changed their minds.
“She’s a-saying,” remarked the Chief Monopod, “as how we looked very nice before we were uglified.”
“True for you, Chief, true for you,” chanted the others. “That’s what she says. We heard her ourselves.”
“I did not,” bawled Lucy. “I said you’re very nice now.”
“So she did, so she did,” said the Chief Monopod, “said we were very nice then.”
“Hear ’em both, hear ’em both,” said the Monopods. “There’s a pair for you. Always right. They couldn’t have put it better.”
“But we’re saying just the opposite,” said Lucy, stamping her foot with impatience.
“So you are, to be sure, so you are,” said the Monopods. “Nothing like an opposite. Keep it up, both of you.”

Why couldn’t they be that funny in the movie? Oh well. It’s not like they’re unfunny.

Coriakin leads Caspian, Lucy, Edmund, Eustace and Drinian into his mansion. Lucy asks what meant about making the dufflepuds invisible for their own good.

Coriakin: It seemed the easiest way to protect them. From the evil.
Edmund: You mean the Mist?
Coriakin: I mean what lies behind the Mist.

He unfurls a giant piece of parchment on the floor. A three-dimensional map of the sea appears on it. In the margins, clips from the first Narnia movie play. I guess this installment in the series wanted to refer back to the most profitable one as much as possible.

Eustace gets another well-conceived bit of character depth, automatically saying, “It’s quite beautiful,” then when his cousins stare at him in surprise, adding snippily “I mean for a make-believe map of a make-believe world.” Coriakin’s map zooms in on a weird looking cloud of dark smoke with a green glow emanating from it.

Coriakin: There is the source of your troubles. Dark Island. A place where evil lurks. It can take any form. It can make your darkest dreams come true. It seeks to corrupt all goodness, to steal the light from this world.
Lucy: Excuse me, sir, could you try to be less vague and more specific in your descriptions? If we’re going to defeat this thing, it’d help to know its precise goals, powers and limitations.

Just kidding. All she says is “How do we stop it?”

Coriakin: You must break its spell. (pointing to Edmund) That sword you carry. There are six others.
Edmund: Have you seen them?
Coriakin: Yes.
Caspian: The six lords? They passed through here?
Coriakin: Indeed.
Caspian: Where were they headed?
Coriakin: Where I sent them.

In the book by the way, Coriakin is a really relaxed, friendly character, something that makes for a humorous contrast to the aura of fear the invisible dufflepuds had built up around him. Seeing him changed into this grim, portentous prophet of doom annoys me, especially as the justification for the personality change is a really silly plot. The magical map shifts to show another, more ordinary island with a blue star hovering over it. Look, I know I’ve dismissed some of the lines in the other Narnia movies as cheesy, but the following spiel of Coriakin’s is such a cheese-o-rama that it feels like it was written by a fantasy-loving teenager. (I’m allowed to say that because I once was a fantasy-loving teenager.) “You must follow the blue star to Ramandu’s Island. There the seven swords must be laid at Aslan’s table. Only then can their true magical power be released. But beware. You are all about to be tested. Until you lay down the seventh sword, evil has the upper hand. It will do everything in its power to tempt you. Be strong. Don’t fall into temptation. To defeat the darkness out there, you must defeat the darkness inside yourself.”

I defy any serious actor to deliver that speech with a straight face!^[6]In all fairness, Bille Brown does manage to deliver it without hamming it up too much. But unlike some actors from the previous Narnia movies, neither does he make his lines sound better than they … Continue reading That is the way people who dislike fantasy think fantasy characters speak.

In the book, by the way, Coriakin magically creates a map of the islands the Dawn Treader has discovered on its voyage in a cool little scene, but he can’t make them a map of what’s to come. C. S. Lewis obviously denied him that ability since knowing what lay ahead in the voyage would ruin the story. I guess the movie’s Coriakin doesn’t totally ruin it. He only tells the voyagers about two of the islands they’ll encounter and doesn’t give very detailed descriptions of them or even very detailed directions for finding them. But that raises the question of why he doesn’t give them those things. However much the viewer wants to be surprised, the characters would want as much information as possible. Do they even think to ask?

Also, is it just me or does the whole collect-seven-swords-before-you-reach-your-final-destination-and-defeat-the-villain thing make it sound like this movie was written to be easily adapted into a video game? I remember when this film was still in preproduction and, figuring that they’d want to add some overarching threat or ticking time bomb to the book’s plot, I resigned myself to the inevitable and tried to guess what it could be. My first thought was that Caspian would need to find the seven lords or else the Telmarines would never accept his reign as legitimate. I rejected this idea since it made Caspian’s quest more selfish than noble^[7]Well, you could argue it’s not selfish in that he’s a good ruler and it really is good for Narnia if he’s in charge. But it still feels more selfish than him just seeking the lords … Continue reading and some of the lords would be dead anyway. Then I thought that the villains from the Lone Islands could follow the Dawn Treader to seek revenge. I dismissed that idea as just being silly. Why would they risk sailing into dangerous uncharted waters on a quest for vengeance that would almost certainly fail? Oh well, I thought, surely professional screenwriters will come up with a better plot than I can.

I’m not sure my faith was rewarded.

Next Week: The Last Temptation of Lucy Pevensie

We get a montage of life onboard the Dawn Treader as it sails eastward set to audio of one of Eustace’s diary entries. Those entries are a great source of humor in the book with the delusional way Eustace presents himself as a perpetual victim and everyone else as a villain. The movie actually makes them even funnier. “Dear diary,” Eustace writes, “there’s been an extraordinary turn of events. I’ve been abducted by my cousins and set adrift in uncharted waters in some ridiculous looking boat.” As Eustace writes that part, he’s seated in his hammock in the morning and Reepicheep’s tail dangles from the hammock above, annoying him. “What’s worse is I share quarters with an obnoxious mouse thing. And I thought bunking with my cousin was bad enough! So far, every person I’ve met in this strange place suffers from the most florid delusions, chasing green mists and looking for lost lords. I can only assume that this is the result of poor diet or they’re all just barking mad.” By now, the scene has changed to daytime and everyone is on deck. Caspian and Drinian are looking at a parchment^[1]I’d say a map but they’re supposed to be in uncharted waters., Lucy is mending her clothes, and Edmund is cleaning Bern’s sword. “Cousin Edmund is no exception,” writes Eustace. “He spends every spare second rubbing that tin sword of his like it’s some magic lantern. Poor fool clearly needs a hobby.” Reepicheep however tells Edmund the sword is going to be magnificent and jokingly asks if it comes in a smaller size. “Peeving marmot!” mutters Eustace who is huddled in a corner among some supplies, journaling. “He’s even more deluded than my cousin! In England, we had mousetraps and all that sort of thing.” A seagull lands near Eustace. “Speaking of food, you don’t know where I could get any, do you?” It’s revealed that a couple of sailors are staring at him. “Uh, why are you talking to that bird?” one of them, the minotaur, asks. “Why, I just naturally assumed he could-” The sailors guffaw and one of them, the human, describes Eustace as “mad as a loon” for talking to birds. This isn’t hilarious or anything, but I do appreciate that this movie establishes that not all animals talk in the world of Narnia. Between the Pevensies riding talking horses and automatically assuming a random bear they met could talk, I was wondering how they got meat.

Below deck, a hungry Eustace, after making sure no one is looking, pockets an orange. But he didn’t look hard enough. “Are you aware stealing rations is a capital offense at sea?” demands a voice. It belongs to Reepicheep. After seeing the size of who is confronting him, Eustace clearly intends to ignore him, but Reepicheep won’t be dismissed. “Men have been keelhauled for less!” he insists. “For what?” asks Eustace. “For treason and sneakiness and general nuisancery,” sputters Reepicheep. Do you see what I mean when I describe him as sounding like Bertie Wooster? By the way, in the book, Reepicheep catches Eustace stealing water after the ship has lost most of its water in a terrible storm.^[2]There will be a terrible storm later in the movie, but it won’t have nearly as serious consequences as the book’s storm had. Since there hasn’t been any mention of food being short in the movie, Eustace stealing one orange doesn’t really seem that bad. I guess the situation is similar enough in that the crew has no way of knowing when or if the Dawn Treader will reach land and they need to save as much of their rations as possible. But talking about keelhauling and treason still feels like an overreaction on Reepicheep’s part. “Look, just hand over the orange and we’ll let the matter pass,” he says. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Eustace and starts to walk away. “Allow me to clarify,” says Reepicheep, blocking his path or rather begins to say as he’s about to block his path when Eustace grabs him by the tail. “Look,” he says, “I’ve had quite enough of you-” OK, I know I called Eustace one of the best written and best adapted characters in this series as well as the most well-acted, but nothing is perfect, and I do feel like they’re sanitizing him in this scene. In the equivalent moment in the book, Eustace sneaks up on Reepicheep and tries to swing him around by his tail for fun. Just grabbing the tail in anger, while inappropriate, doesn’t seem that mean by comparison.

But Reepicheep is certainly appalled by it. “Unhand the tail,” he says in a chilling voice, drawing his sword. “The great Aslan himself gave me this tail. No one, I repeat, no one touches the tail! Period exclamation mark!” I’ve read some fans online object that to sound more British, Reepicheep should have said “full stop exclamation mark” instead of “period exclamation mark.”^[3]At least he didn’t say “exclamation point.” I just think it’s a dumb phrase either way and I’m annoyed that the character of Reepicheep said either version. And who thought “no one touches the tail” sounded better than “a tail is the honor and glory of a mouse?” Anyway, Eustace is intimidated enough to let go of the tail. “Now I will have the orange,” says Reepicheep, “then I will have satisfaction.” He uses his tail to hand Eustace a butcher’s knife so they can duel. “Please! Please! I’m a pacifist!” Eustace protests. He was a pacifist in the book too or his parents are pacificists anyway, so credit goes to the filmmakers for including that. Reepicheep won’t be dissuaded so Eustace runs up on deck. Foolishly, he doesn’t drop the knife, not realizing that Reepicheep would be too honorable to fight him unarmed. Reepicheep swings on a rope in front of Eustace. “Trying to run away? We’re on a boat, you know,” he taunts him. “Please,” says Eustace, “can’t we just discuss this?” Reepicheep cuts a hole in Eustace’s shirt. “That was for stealing,” he says then he spears the orange Eustace was hiding. “That was for lying.” Then he strikes Eustace across the face. “And that was for good measure!” The knife in Eustace’s hand trembles but it’s because he’s now angrier than he is scared. He swipes unsuccessfully at the mouse who jumps out of the way. “That’s the spirit!” he says. “We have ourselves a duel!” He tosses the orange to Drinian whose expression is hilariously resigned.

The rest of the crew are happy to see a little boy get beat up by a mouse. I guess they’re really desperate for entertainment. Again, for the most part, I love the writing for Eustace’s character in the movie, but it hasn’t shown him being enough a nuisance for the whole crew’s delight at his humiliation to feel justified. While we’ve heard him complain obnoxiously when he was first brought on board, lately he seems to have been keeping to himself, writing in diary and not bothering anybody.

In the book, when Eustace refuses to give him satisfaction, an angry Reepicheep instead uses his sword as a switch to lay down some corporal punishment. The movie instead has him see potential in Eustace that no one else sees and take this moment to playfully teach him how to swordfight. Since it’s rather cliche to have two characters start out hating each other and then develop a deep bond, I see the appeal of this change to Reepicheep’s character though I feel like him initially hating Eustace made more sense given his personality. From what I’ve heard from the people who love this movie, the relationship between these two characters is one of their favorite things about it and I can understand that. Eustace and Reepicheep are the only characters whom I feel the screenwriters really enjoyed writing and the only ones from the book whom they found a source of inspiration. With Caspian, Edmund and Lucy, there’s a palpable sense that the book gave them no ideas and I can feel them forcing arcs for the characters.^[4]This is probably because Eustace was the only character with a major arc in the book. I don’t mean that as a criticism by the way. I don’t believe every book needs to be about character … Continue reading That being said…this scene doesn’t work for me. Partly that’s because of what I wrote above and partly it’s because I don’t like the way Reepicheep is written here. His instructions range from silly (“Stop flapping your wings like a drunken pelican!”) to vague and cliche. (“Be nimble! It’s a dance, boy, a dance!”) In another book by C. S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces, a character teaches the protagonist how to use a sword. I don’t how much research Lewis did but he really creates the impression that what the mentor character says is what an actual instructor would have said in a historical culture where swords were used.

“That shield is too heavy,” he said. “Here’s the one for you. Slip it on, thus. And understand from the outset; your shield is a weapon, not a wall. You’re fighting with it every bit as much as your sword. Watch me, now. You see the way I twist my shield — make it flicker like a butterfly. There’d be arrows and spears and sword points flying off it in every direction if we were in a hot engagement. Now: here’s your sword. No, not like that. You want to grip it firm, but light. It’s not a wild animal that’s trying to run away from you. That’s better. Now, your left foot forward. And don’t look at my face, look at my sword. It isn’t my face is going to fight you. And now, I’ll show you a few guards.”

Why couldn’t Reepicheep have been written like that in this scene?

The duel ends with Reepicheep pretending to topple overboard, sneaking up behind Eustace when he peers over the railing, tapping him on the shoulder with his tail and knocking him down when he turns. “And that is that!” Eustace knocks over a basket and someone crawls out of it. It’s the young girl whose mother was devoured by the Mist. “Gael? What are you doing here?” asks her father. I kind of despise the name Gael by the way. For the first two movies, the writers did a good job of inventing names that sound Narnian. Here they just took the name Gail and changed a letter. Same with her mother’s name, Helaine. At least the father’s name, Rhince, is from the book. (He’s the Dawn Treader’s first mate there.) When reports on the filming of the movie first mentioned this character, fans of the book were baffled as to her identity and some in the community took to calling her the MLG or the Mysterious Little Girl, so with the court’s permission, that’s what I’m going to call her. For a moment, it looks like MLG is in big trouble. Then her father, moved by her vulnerability, puts a protective arm around her.

All are silent as a stern looking Drinian approaches. “Looks like we have an extra crew member,” he says. Then he just hands her the orange and walks away. “Welcome aboard,” says Lucy with a smile. “Your Majesty,” says an awed MLG, curtseying. “Call me Lucy,” says the queen and leads her away. So… stealing one orange is a capital offense on the Dawn Treader but stowing away and giving them a whole extra mouth to feed with nothing in return is fine? Maybe the reason Reepicheep stressed the strictness of the rules was to make Drinian’s surprising tolerance as heartwarming as possible. It succeeds decently enough but it could have been a lot better. I feel that’s largely because of the casting. Not that any of the actors in this little moment give bad performances per se. But in the first two movies, every actor, even those in supporting roles, made a big impression. Hardly anyone in this film does. Just compare moments like Mrs. Pevensie bidding her children farewell, possibly for the last time, in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (2005) or Glenstorm’s wife realizing that one of her sons is dead or imprisoned, mostly like the former, in Prince Caspian (2008) to this. There’s no comparison.

I’m really not sure how MLG was able to stay hidden for so long by the way. Given how much progress Edmund has made cleaning his sword, it seems like the ship has been sailing for at least a few days.

As the crew gets back to work, Reepicheep tells Eustace, “Good match. I’ll make a swordsman of you yet.” Eustace actually smiles, grateful, before scrunching his face into its usual scowl and saying, “Yes, well…if the playing field were a little more even, it would have been an entirely different result.” Reepicheep chuckles as Eustace stalks off. “Indeed.” Throughout the first part of the book, Eustace never expresses anything but contempt for Narnian culture which he regards as disgustingly primitive compared to that of “a civilized country” such as his own. Here, it’s implied he does find Narnia cool deep down but is too proud to admit it. (Remember the impression I mentioned that Eustace’s character in the book gave the writers ideas whereas with every other character except Reepicheep, they had to force ideas?) I like the change. It makes Eustace feel more multidimensional and since the movie moves his most dramatic character development to later than it is in the book, there’s something to be said for starting to humanize him here to compensate.

The Dawn Treader arrives at the lush green shores of an island.

Caspian: Looks uninhabited. But if the lords followed the Mist east, they would have stopped here
Drinian: Could be a trap.
Edmund: Or it could hold some answers. Caspian?
Caspian: We’ll spend the night on shore, scour the island in the morning.

When the Dawn Treader reaches an island at this point in the book, Caspian won’t let the crew go on shore after dark for safety reasons, let alone sleep there. Of course, this isn’t the same island as the movie rearranges the order of events somewhat. This messes with the book’s subtle structure, something I didn’t realize it had until I’d read it several times. When the literary Edmund and Lucy first arrive on board, Drinian recaps the voyage so far to them. He mentions a tournament and a pirate attack, either of which could have taken place in a realistic story. Then we get the adventure on the Lone Islands and the storm, both of which are fairly mundane. Except for the magical painting and the talking mouse, there’s not much fantastical about the story. Then on the next island, there’s a dragon and after the crew leaves, they encounter a giant sea serpent. While those are fantastical beasts though, they’re still presented as ordinary animals.^[5]Something important does happen on Dragon Island that’s explicitly magical. The experience is kept somewhat distant from readers though. Then we get an island that contains something explicitly magical. Then we get one with even more magic. And the islands just get more and more surreal from there. The movie’s restructuring loses this the-further-east-the-crazier-the-story-gets thing. Still, that’s hardly the worst change.

As everyone slumbers on the beach, giant footprints appear in the sand around them. Voices speak but we can’t see anyone. All we can see is fog coming from invisible mouths. This has the potential to be such a scary scene and it’s frustrating that the movie is too fast paced for it to register that way, especially since the changes it makes to the story make it seem like a goal of the filmmakers was to make it more suspenseful and action packed than the book was. Anyway, one of the voices says, “It seems they’ve brought a pig” in response to Eustace’s snoring. “This one,” says another voice, looking at the sleeping Lucy, “It’s female.” A footprint appears next to MLG. “So’s this one,” says a voice. The pages of a book lying next to Lucy turn. “This one reads!” says the previous voice. Now in the book, only a little girl has the power to free these invisible creatures from their spell, but this is never mentioned in the movie, making their specific interest in “females” kind of odd and even a little creepy. Maybe the idea is they think a girl would be easier to capture.

“Let’s take her,” says the voice we heard first. Invisible hands are clamped over Lucy’s mouth, and she’s dragged away through the brush. Since I just criticized the first part of this scene for not being as creepy as it should have been, I’ll praise this part for doing a relatively better job on that score. Lucy is plopped down somewhere in a garden full of fanciful topiary. She draws her sword, but the unseen enemies knock it out of her hand then knock her off her feet.

Voice 1 (Roy Billing): There is no escape.
Voice 2 (Neil G. Young)^[6]Trying to match the dialogue to the right actors is kind of a lost cause. This is the best I can do. Sorry for any miscrediting.: Well put!
Voice 3 (Greg Poppleton): Scary.
Voice 4 (Nicholas Neild): Yeah!
Lucy: What are you?
Voice 4: We are terrifying invisible beasts!
Voice 1: If you could see us, you would be really intimidated.
Voice 2: You forgot to mention that we are very large.
Lucy: Well, what do you want?
Voice 1: You. You’ll do what we ask.
Voice 2: She will!
Voice 4: Very clear!
Voice 3: Well put.
Voice 4: Yeah!
Lucy: Or what?
Voice 1: Or death!
Voices (chanting): Death! Death! Death! Death!
Lucy: Well, I wouldn’t be much use to you dead now, would I?
Pause
Voice 1: I hadn’t thought of that.
Voice 2: No, you hadn’t.
Voice 3: Fair point.

That’s pretty funny though I’d maintain these characters were even funnier in the source material. One of the voices tells Lucy if she doesn’t comply, they’ll just kill her friends. She cringes in defeat.

Lucy: What do you want with me?
Voice 1: You will enter the house of the Oppressor.
Lucy: What house?
Voice 1: This one.

An invisible door opens before Lucy, revealing the interior of a house. Actually, this building isn’t so much invisible as it has a cloaking mechanism. If it were really invisible, either we would see all the furniture and everything inside it or when the door opened, Lucy would still see nothing. But enough quibbling.

“Upstairs you’ll find the Book of Incantations,” explains the chief voice. “Recite the spell that makes the unseen seen.” Lucy hesitates and the voices, all of them, remind her of what will happen to her friends if she disobeys. “Why don’t you do it yourselves?” Lucy asks suspiciously. “We can’t read,” says the first voice. “Can’t write either as a matter of fact,” says the second. “Or add,” says the third. In a nice touch, the movie implies they didn’t need to threaten Lucy to get her help. as she responds by saying, “Why didn’t you just say so?” The voices warn her to beware the Oppressor (“He’s very oppressive!”) and Lucy steps through the door. It ominously closes behind her. This scenario is slightly different from the book. There, the invisible enemies didn’t kidnap Lucy. They just confronted the Narnians and refused to let them leave alive unless Lucy went upstairs and worked the spell for them to which she agreed. I don’t mind the simplification though. Perhaps it helps the pacing.

Next Week: The Book of Incantations