The Real Problem with Emma (2020)

Posted on September 9, 2023 by stationmaster

Back in 2022, I did a blog post about the three movie adaptations of Emma by Jane Austen. I had a middling reaction to the one from 2020. I admired what a good job Eleanor Catton’s screenplay did of compressing and restructuring the novel to work as a movie while retaining so many great lines from it, but I found Autumn De Wilde’s direction and many of the acting choices off putting. Still, that screenplay was good enough that I gave it an honorable mention in a later blog post about which classics-inspired movie scripts available to read online are the best. That may well have been solely because of my affection for the original book though.

Recently, I was struck “with the speed of an arrow,” to use a phrase from the book, by the biggest dramatic problem with the adaptation. It was one that had been under my nose and relates to criticisms I’ve always had but only now do I really comprehend it. While the acting made it worse than it had to be, this was an issue that was baked into the screenplay. I wrote before of how the movie reimagines Austen’s ending to make it more egalitarian in its message and I had a fairly open mind about that. In theory, the revisionist ending is quite heartwarming. But, as I intend to show with this blog post, the movie made none of the other changes necessary for it to make sense.

This post is going to be full of spoilers for both the book and the movie, so consider yourself warned. For what it’s worth, I’m only going to be focusing on a few of the main characters.

What sets the plot in motion is wealthy 18th century gentlewoman and antiheroine Emma Woodhouse (Anya Taylor-Joy), bored and lonely after the marriage of her longtime governess, befriending Harriet Smith (Mia Goth), a “parlor boarder at a common school,” of unknown but certainly illegitimate parentage. What induces her to cross class boundaries in such a way? Well, here’s what Jane Austen writes about Emma’s interest in Harriet and Harriet’s reaction to visiting Hartfield (Emma’s home) for the first time.

She was a very pretty girl, and her beauty happened to be of a sort which Emma particularly admired… Emma was as much pleased with her manners as her person, and quite determined to continue the acquaintance. She was not struck by anything remarkably clever in Miss Smith’s conversation, but she found her altogether very engaging—not inconveniently shy, not unwilling to talk—and yet so far from pushing, shewing so proper and becoming a deference, seeming so pleasantly grateful for being admitted to Hartfield, and so artlessly impressed by the appearance of everything in so superior a style to what she had been used to, that she must have good sense, and deserve encouragement…Harriet certainly was not clever, but she had a sweet, docile, grateful disposition, was totally free from conceit, and only desiring to be guided by any one she looked up to.

In other words, Emma likes Harriet because Harriet flatters her ego. But as exploitive as their relationship is, there’s still a sense that Harriet has real virtues which attract Emma or at least some kind of charisma. The 2020 film portrays Harriet, far from being “not inconveniently shy, not unwilling to talk,” as petrified at being invited to Hartfield and bumbling and fumbling her way through her first conversation with Emma. Certainly, Emma’s continued interest in Harriet in the book is based on her ignoring her lack of sophistication. But here there doesn’t seem to be anything in Harriet’s behavior besides humility to make Emma want to pursue a friendship with her. Being intrigued by the mystery of her birth seems to be her main motivation. In a scene from the script that was deleted from the movie, Emma argues that Harriet’s parentage must be good on the grounds that “if her origins were very low, there would have been no need for secrecy, for there would have been no shame.” Keeping this scene would have made the transition from Emma missing her governess to her having tea with Harriet much smoother but apparently it had to be cut for time unlike the scenes of Mr. Knightley (Johnny Flynn) bathing and changing and of Emma hanging around in her underwear, which were highly essential to the story.

The first thing we hear Emma say to Harriet is “The misfortune of your birth, Harriet, ought to make you particularly careful as to your associates. There can be no doubt of your being a gentleman’s daughter. You must support your claim to that station by everything within your power.” This may sound incredibly snobby to modern audiences, but it can also be seen as kind. No one has probably ever told Harriet that she could be of high birth. Emma is complimenting and encouraging her to think well of herself. It’s noteworthy though that in the book, Emma says this to Harriet after they’ve been friends for some time and she has allowed Harriet to ramble on about her lowly friends, the Martin family, for a while. Having it be the first thing we hear her say risks making Emma sound more like a prissy lecturer than someone who wants Harriet to be her friend and equal. The fact that Harriet, in an awkward attempt at conversation, brings up the Martins and starts praising them right after this rather than before also makes her seem even more clueless than her literary counterpart. These potential problems could have been alleviated by some real warmth on the part of the actress playing Emma and a certain sweetness from the actress playing Harriet. Anya Taylor-Joy’s brittle, icy performance however and Mia Goth’s perpetual deer-in-the-headlights expression during the scene make matters worse.

The first time in the movie we see Emma reacting to the real Harriet, as opposed to the imaginary Harriet in her head, is in a scene at the local haberdasher’s shop. Harriet is taking forever to choose between two ribbons of nearly identical colors and Emma is bored out of her mind. It’s perfectly legitimate and in keeping with the book to have Emma be annoyed by Harriet sometimes. But this movie has less time to develop the relationship between them than the book has and unlike the book, in which, despite their continued affection for each other, Harriet and Emma’s friendship ultimately proves too unhealthy, and they go their separate ways, the movie wants their relationship to be salvageable. And, for all that she’s frequently annoyed by other characters, Emma is capable of tolerating irritating people out of love.[1]In the novel’s equivalent of this moment, “Harriet, tempted by everything and swayed by half a word, was always very long at a purchase; and while she was still hanging over muslins and … Continue reading Witness her relationship with her selfish, hypochondriacal father (Bill Nighy), one of the most heartwarming parts of this adaptation. Ironically, if the movie were building up to the book’s conclusion, this being the first time Emma really reacts to Harriet would be excellent foreshadowing.

In both versions, Emma emotionally blackmails Harriet into turning down a proposal from Robert Martin (Connor Swindells) since such a marriage would put her forever below Emma’s station.[2]The official screenplay gives an additional reason, describing Emma as “a little envious of Harriet’s patent crush- which is more than she has ever felt for anyone.” An interesting idea … Continue reading Instead, she tries to set Harriet up with Mr. Elton (Josh O’ Connor), the local vicar. If she succeeded in that, it would bring her closer to Emma’s station though still not quite there. (Let’s not get crazy or anything! Emma wouldn’t really want them totally on the same level.) Of course, this plan backfires spectacularly. Harriet, under her misguided patroness’s influence, becomes besotted with Mr. Elton but he interprets Emma’s matchmaking as her being interested in him for herself. In the movie, the scene of Emma breaking this bad news to Harriet begins with her angrily denouncing Mr. Elton for seeking to “aggrandize and enrich himself” by marrying a woman at the top of the local social ladder. This is what Emma thinks in the book too, but it’s a questionable way to begin the scene of her apologizing to Harriet. Our first impression is that Emma is largely angry for her own sake.[3]Perhaps it’s significant that in the filmmakers’ audio commentary for the scene of Mr. Elton’s proposal, they describe Emma’s discomfort as due to him being a sexual threat. … Continue reading Still, apologize to Harriet she does, and Harriet doesn’t blame her for misleading her. In this adaptation, Harriet’s next act is to try to burn the portrait Emma painted of her with the frame that Mr. Elton got. “Burn the frame if you like but you must keep the likeness,” says Emma and when Harriet can’t seem to bear the sight of even that, she agrees to keep it herself and “treasure it as a picture of my friend.” Doubtless, the script intended this to convey that, for all her faults, Emma is basically a good friend. But Taylor-Joy’s bossy line delivery makes this feel like just another example of Emma dictating Harriet’s life for her. The scene would have benefited greatly from an emphasis on Emma’s genuine remorse, her gratitude for Harriet’s forgiveness and her desire to make everything up to her. At this point in her version, Jane Austen writes that Emma thought “that Harriet was the superior creature of the two—and that to resemble her would be more for her own welfare and happiness than all that genius or intelligence could do.”[4]Of course, being Jane Austen, she also couldn’t help but add that “It was rather too late in the day to set about being simple-minded and ignorant.”

In the next scene of the two women together, months have elapsed, and Harriet is still talking about Mr. Elton who has left the neighborhood after Emma’s rejection. “Enough about Mr. Elton!” Emma snaps. I don’t want to be too hard on her here. Since it’s gone from winter to spring and Harriet is still talking about the same thing, I can’t blame Emma for feeling less guilty at this point and more exasperated. Still, we’ve only had one scene showcasing Emma’s repentance and not a very powerful one, so it’s hard to avoid the impression that she’s a jerk. At this point in the book, Emma is so desperate to distract Harriet from her romantic regrets that she takes her to visit the annoying Miss Bates. Eleanor Catton’s script has a nod to this, describing Emma as “almost relieved to see” Miss Bates (Miranda Hart) run up to her. But Anya Taylor-Joy conveys this relief so subtly, I’m not convinced she conveys it at all. (Her sigh can be interpreted as irritation or relief.)

To be fair to the film, while Harriet fades into the background during much of the second half as other subplots take over, there are subtle indications that she and Emma are good friends. Harriet encourages Emma when’s she nervous about her piano playing. Emma allows Harriet to sit with her in church, which is implied to be an honor she rarely bestows. There’s a brief scene of Harriet having a sleepover at Hartfield and she and Emma practicing dancing for an upcoming ball.[5]And even before Elton’s proposal, Emma visits Harriet when she’s ill. But all this is in the background. It’s never really the focus of a scene. Even the dance practice is more about showing Emma’s excitement over Frank Churchill (Callum Turner.) None of it is enough to overcome the general impression the movie conveys that Emma just uses Harriet as a sounding board for her complaints about others[6]To its credit, this works well as a way for the movie to give us access to Emma’s thoughts. and that Harriet goes back and forth between being terrified of offending Emma and obliviously annoying her. To get around that, there needs to be more friendly chemistry between the actresses.[7]According the audio commentary, Mia Goth and Anya Taylor-Joy are actually best friends in real life, so I’m not sure what went wrong here.

If we do start to get a sense of that, it’s toward the end when Harriet confides in Emma that she’s in love again. Emma assumes that she’s fallen for Frank Churchill, in whom she herself has lost interest, and heartily endorses the match. Later, she’s horrified to learn that Harriet means Mr. Knightley whom Emma has just realized she loves.[8]In the book, it’s at this moment that Emma realizes it. In the movie, it’s before, which isn’t a bad change. In an interesting departure from Austen, Harriet realizes the reason Emma isn’t responding to her news more positively, berates her for wrongly raising her hopes and causing her to reject Mr. Martin and then storms off. When Mr. Knightley proposes to Emma in the book, she immediately accepts and rejects “any of that heroism of sentiment which might have prompted her to entreat him to transfer his affection from herself to Harriet, as infinitely the most worthy of the two—or even the more simple sublimity of resolving to refuse him at once and for ever, without vouchsafing any motive, because he could not marry them both.” She pities Harriet and regrets unintentionally encouraging her feelings for the upper class Knightley but maintains that a marriage between them would be “most unequal and degrading” for him. The 2020 movie brazenly ignores this, having Emma tearfully refuse Mr. Knightley’s hand, saying that she can’t be responsible for breaking Harriet’s heart twice.

In the book, Emma writes to Harriet, apologetically telling her the news, and she replies “without reproaches, or apparent sense of ill-usage; and yet Emma fancied there was a something of resentment, a something bordering on it in her style, which increased the desirableness of their being separate.” Emma arranges for Harriet visit her (Emma’s) relatives in London to distract her from her disappointment and avoid awkward interactions between them. There Harriet falls in with Mr. Martin again and Emma is delighted to hear that she accepts his second proposal. Their next meeting is a friendly one but upon learning that Harriet’s father is a mere tradesman, Emma is horrified to think of “what a connection had she been preparing for Mr. Knightley—or for the Churchills—or even for Mr. Elton![9]Keep in mind, this is long after she has dismissed Elton as a worthless jerk.—The stain of illegitimacy, unbleached by nobility or wealth, would have been a stain indeed.” With Harriet’s marriage, the books tell us “The intimacy between her and Emma must sink; their friendship must change into a calmer sort of goodwill” but that, according to Austen, was as it should be. None of that plays well with mainstream audiences nowadays and every adaptation softens it to some extent. The 2020 movie really takes the cake on that score though. Its Emma visits Robert Martin of her own initiative and apologizes to him for ruining his relationship with Harriet, encouraging him to renew his pursuit of her. (In an amusing touch, Emma brings a dressed goose as a conciliatory gift when the Martins have a whole flock of geese in their yard.) Harriet is the one who delivers the news of engagement to Emma in a rather defiant tone. She retains that tone even after Emma has given the couple her blessing as she tells her that her father has revealed himself to be a tradesman and that he’s coming to visit her. “I hope you will bring him to Hartfield,” says Emma humbly. Only then does Harriet melt and the two friends embrace each other, closer than ever.

I’m modern enough in my thinking to find this new climax heartwarming in theory and I like the idea of giving Harriet more depth and dignity in the end than the book grants her. I love it when characters seem at first like they’re sheer comic relief and then turn out to be dramatic. Well, I love that when it’s well done, that is. But the movie and Goth have portrayed Harriet as even more broadly ditzy than the book earlier and it feels less like she’s undergone character development or that we’re being shown a new side of her than like she’s suddenly transformed into a different person.[10]To be fair, there are a few subtle hints earlier that Harriet has the potential for intelligence. She notices a discrepancy in Frank Churchill’s excuse for missing his father’s wedding … Continue reading What’s more, the movie has done too little too late to get me invested in Emma and Harriet’s friendship. At least, not invested in the sense that I think it’s worth preserving. Most of it has seemed to be setting up the same thing the book does, that the bond between Harriet and Emma has ultimately been bad for both and they need to grow apart. If anything, I think I’ve demonstrated above that the movie passes up opportunities the original text gives to show a more positive side to their relationship.[11]It’s instructive to compare this movie to the web series Emma Approved, which transplanted the story of Emma to modern day corporate America. It also made Harriet a more positive, competent … Continue reading A lot of this I’ve blamed on the actresses, but I should clarify that I think Anya Taylor-Joy and Mia Goth were just doing what the director wanted them to do. It’s just that I don’t think what she wanted them to do served the story she wished to tell.

Having written all that, I still like this adaptation better than Clueless.

Bibliography

The Project Gutenberg eBook of Emma, by Jane Austen

Emma_Script.indd (focusfeaturesguilds2020.com)

References

References
↑1 In the novel’s equivalent of this moment, “Harriet, tempted by everything and swayed by half a word, was always very long at a purchase; and while she was still hanging over muslins and changing her mind, Emma went to the door for amusement… she knew she had no reason to complain, and was amused enough; quite enough still to stand at the door. A mind lively and at ease, can do with seeing nothing, and can see nothing that does not answer.”
↑2 The official screenplay gives an additional reason, describing Emma as “a little envious of Harriet’s patent crush- which is more than she has ever felt for anyone.” An interesting idea though not one that you can pick up from Taylor-Joy’s opaque performance.
↑3 Perhaps it’s significant that in the filmmakers’ audio commentary for the scene of Mr. Elton’s proposal, they describe Emma’s discomfort as due to him being a sexual threat. They don’t focus on how his proposal upends all her plans and reveals her blindness to her.
↑4 Of course, being Jane Austen, she also couldn’t help but add that “It was rather too late in the day to set about being simple-minded and ignorant.”
↑5 And even before Elton’s proposal, Emma visits Harriet when she’s ill.
↑6 To its credit, this works well as a way for the movie to give us access to Emma’s thoughts.
↑7 According the audio commentary, Mia Goth and Anya Taylor-Joy are actually best friends in real life, so I’m not sure what went wrong here.
↑8 In the book, it’s at this moment that Emma realizes it. In the movie, it’s before, which isn’t a bad change.
↑9 Keep in mind, this is long after she has dismissed Elton as a worthless jerk.
↑10 To be fair, there are a few subtle hints earlier that Harriet has the potential for intelligence. She notices a discrepancy in Frank Churchill’s excuse for missing his father’s wedding that Emma ignores, and the script’s stage directions imply that she pities Miss Bates when Emma publicly insults her. (It’s not certain in the book that Harriet is one of those whom Mr. Knightley says would be entirely guided by Emma’s treatment of Miss Bates but it’s possible.) However, the movie’s broad cartoony style doesn’t encourage viewers to pay attention to subtleties and I doubt anyone not prejudiced in its favor would notice these things.
↑11 It’s instructive to compare this movie to the web series Emma Approved, which transplanted the story of Emma to modern day corporate America. It also made Harriet a more positive, competent character and made the themes more egalitarian, but it did a much better job of those things.
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You’re On the Big Screen, Charlie Brown! Part 3

Posted on August 11, 2023 by stationmaster

Show the World What You Can Do: The Peanuts Movie (2015)

When the news that Blue Sky Studios would be making a computer animated movie based on the Peanuts characters was announced, it was met with some skepticism. Blue Sky’s output (Ice Age, Rio, etc.) was notable for its broad cartoony animation and humor. The visual style of Peanuts was simple, though hard to replicate as any fan who tried to draw the characters can attest, and while certainly not realistic, hardly lent itself to broad cartoony reaction shots or slapstick. Even aside from that, would the flat simple look of Peanuts translate well to three-dimensional animation at all? Wouldn’t the effect be rather grotesque?

On a visual level, Blue Sky Studios and director Steve Martino gave us a happy surprise with The Peanuts Movie. Every character design and pose in it could have come from the comic strip yet everything is subtly more rounded apart from everyone’s eyes and eyebrows which look like the same old dots and squiggles we know and love. Hair, skin, clothes and other surfaces all have texture yet not quite as much as in your average computer animated movie of this vintage. It’s a perfect compromise: enjoyably different from traditional Peanuts visuals yet pleasingly faithful to it as well.

The movie is also blessed with the best voice cast of any Peanuts film since A Boy Named Charlie Brown. As in the Bill Melendez-Lee Mendelson produced Peanuts specials, all the kids are voiced by no-name child actors, and they have the same pleasingly anonymous, innocent sound while also being more polished in their delivery with fewer flat line readings. Special credit goes to Noah Schnapp as Charlie Brown who has to carry the movie on his vocal cords, as it focuses more firmly on his character than any Peanuts film since the first one and who succeeds beautifully. Small wonder he went on to do Stranger Things.

It’s just a shame that the script by Cornelius Uliano, Craig and Bryan Schulz, the son and grandson of Charles, doesn’t give the voice actors funnier things to say. As far as the characters’ personalities go, Charlie Brown, Linus (voiced by Alex Garfin), Lucy (Hadley Belle Miller), Schroeder (Noah Johnston), Sally (Mariel Sheets), Peppermint Patty (Venus Omega Schultheis) and Marcie (Rebecca Bloom) are very true to their counterparts in the funny papers.[1]Though Snoopy is portrayed as a much more loyal friend to Charlie Brown than the selfish beagle of the comic strip and previous Peanuts animation, one who spends most of the movie assisting him in … Continue reading But didn’t anyone involved with the script remember that Peanuts was known for its elaborate verbal humor? A Boy Named Charlie Brown began with someone asking Linus what shapes he could see in the clouds. He replied that he could make out “the profile of Thomas Eakins, the famous painter and sculptor” and “the stoning of Stephen.” It’s around the seven-minute mark when The Peanuts Movie gets to its first verbal joke and it’s nothing as inspired as that. In fact, the film plays better if you interpret it as a drama about a perpetually unsuccessful grade school student than a comedy.

The movie’s biggest laughs come from its slapstick and other visual gags. The character who lends himself the best to Blue Sky’s style is the mischievous, mercurial Snoopy (whose sounds are derived from archival audio of Bill Melendez as the character.) He’s easily the most entertaining thing here. The Peanuts Movie‘s most inspired idea was to combine his two most famous imaginary personas, the world-famous author, typing atop his doghouse, and the World War I flying ace, pretending to fly on his Sopwith Camel AKA that same doghouse. Interspersed with Charlie Brown’s plotline are scenes from the novel Snoop is writing about the flying ace and each story acts as a commentary on the other. Just as Charlie Brown seeks to impress his beloved Little Red-Haired Girl (Francesca Capaldi), the flying ace seeks to impress a beautiful female pilot named Fifi (Kristin Chenoweth who played Sally in a production of You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown.) And just as Charlie Brown has to struggle against his incompetence and bad luck to do this, the ace has to rescue Fifi from his notorious nemesis, the Red Baron. The fictional hero’s fortunes rise and fall with the confidence of his creator’s master. These fantasy sequences are arguably too elaborate for Peanuts and would fit better in a Calvin and Hobbes movie, but they’re pretty great in their own right.[2]I’d argue there’s something of a precedent for them in the animated specials, most famously It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown. The final showdown between Snoopy and the Red Baron is particularly inspired.

To really discuss how this movie adapts Peanuts, I’m going to have to describe the broad outlines of not only its plot but those of A Boy Named Charlie Brown and Race For Your Life, Charlie Brown, so if you don’t want any of those spoiled for you, please skip down to the last few paragraphs of this post.

The Peanuts Movie‘s biggest departure from the general spirit of Charles Schulz is how it sands off the edges of Charlie Brown’s comedically tragic existence. Not that he doesn’t fail often in it. Nor is the idea of him developing real skills or even having an occasional victory completely heretical.[3]Check out this link to read about some surprising wins for his baseball team. In A Boy Named Charlie Brown, desperate to change his fate, he buckled down and really honed a talent that looked like it was going to make him a celebrity, only to trip at the metaphorical finishline. The Peanuts Movie repeats that formula, more or less, four times! Sheer repetition makes the losses frustrating, but it also gives the impression that Charlie Brown is more competent than the comic or the other Peanuts movies and specials do. Reinforcing that impression is the fact that two of those four near victories are lost partly because of his clumsiness but also due to plain bad luck, which, to be fair, has always been a factor in Charlie Brown’s failures. In the other two instances, however, he sacrifices his wins by taking the moral high ground,[4]One of these plot points I distinctly remember seeing on an episode of The Brady Bunch. something not impossible for the pathetic, wishy-washy character of the comic strip but not likely. And then there’s the feel-good ending which fulfills Charlie Brown’s fondest wishes.

What’s wrong with that, you may ask. Don’t you want that? Well…yes, in a way. There’s always going to be a part of me that wishes A Boy Named Charlie Brown ended with him winning the national spelling bee. But another part of me would find that anticlimactic and unsatisfying in the way that getting what you want sometimes feels.[5]It would also be a questionable victory to end with Charlie Brown being beloved by his peers solely because he won. As it is, the ending of A Boy Named Charlie Brown lets Linus’s loyalty shine. … Continue reading There are plenty of sympathetic fictional underdogs whose stories end with them triumphing. Those can be cathartic for real-life underdogs who aren’t ever going to triumph themselves and I never wish for them to go away. But there’s also something cathartic for those real-life underdogs about a fictional underdog who will always be like them or worse off and that’s rarer for mainstream American entertainment. Ultimately, the brutality of the Peanuts universe is just as much part of its appeal as the kindliness of the Phineas and Ferb universe is for it.[6]It’s also worth noting that the cruelty of Peanuts doesn’t seem to have influenced its fanbase to be more meanspirited. When Charlie Brown received no trick-or-treat candy in It’s … Continue reading Race For Your Life, Charlie Brown found a good compromise if you ask me. Charlie Brown doesn’t win the race the way convention and our hearts would dictate but he displays a non-wishy-washiness that earns him the respect of his peers and of himself. The same thing basically happens at the end of The Peanuts Movie but it’s a lot more indulgent and on the nose with the moral than I’d prefer. Still, I’d be lying if I claimed the climactic line, “it must feel pretty great being Charlie Brown right about now,” didn’t make me grin.

The upshot of all this is that this Peanuts Movie is less an example of Peanuts magic than a fond tribute or homage to it. It’s frustrating because it didn’t have to settle for being that. Recently, Kaboom comics has produced some marvelous original Peanuts comic books, ones which are humorous in a Schulzian way while also doing their own thing.[7]Though the quality of these comic books has been sadly on the decline. Their take on Race For Your Life was far too sanitized for my taste. It’s too bad Vicki Scott or Jeff Dyer couldn’t have written this movie. Still, as far as tributes go, the 2015 Peanuts Movie is an enjoyably elaborate, lovingly made one. It’s packed with fun references to the comic strip and the old, animated specials. It even manages to work Schulz’s favorite novel, War and Peace, into the plot.[8]Too bad they couldn’t do the same with Citizen Kane. Even the sentimentalizing of the main character feels like the work of a fan wanting to see their favorite character be a hero. The very end credits are full of Easter eggs for Peanuts lovers. For many children, this movie was probably their introduction to the characters. I don’t think it works very well on that level. It may give me joy to hear Linus say he hopes his new neighbor will have an open mind about the Great Pumpkin, but I don’t know what the uninitiated make of it. A Boy Named Charlie Brown is what I would recommend as an introduction to Peanuts for newcomers. The Peanuts Movie I would recommend for nostalgic fans of the franchise who can keep their expectations reasonable.

Conclusion

So, which of these four movies do I consider the best? That’s hard to say. A Boy Named Charlie Brown encapsulates what Peanuts is all about to me the most but Race For Your Life, Charlie Brown is the one I have the most fun watching. That’s a wishy-washy conclusion but that feels right for a series analyzing movies about good ol’ Charlie Brown.

References

References
↑1 Though Snoopy is portrayed as a much more loyal friend to Charlie Brown than the selfish beagle of the comic strip and previous Peanuts animation, one who spends most of the movie assisting him in his quest for self-worth. For what it’s worth, this benefits the movie in that it allows it to include plenty of Snoopy without contrivance. Patty (Anastasia Bredikhina)’s crush on Pig-Pen (A. J. Tecce) is also original to this movie though there was a time in the comic strip’s long history when Pig-Pen and Peppermint Patty were romantically linked. Could the screenwriters have confused Patties? Anyway, I don’t mind since the idea of anyone being besotted by Pig-Pen is hilarious.
↑2 I’d argue there’s something of a precedent for them in the animated specials, most famously It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.
↑3 Check out this link to read about some surprising wins for his baseball team.
↑4 One of these plot points I distinctly remember seeing on an episode of The Brady Bunch.
↑5 It would also be a questionable victory to end with Charlie Brown being beloved by his peers solely because he won. As it is, the ending of A Boy Named Charlie Brown lets Linus’s loyalty shine. Only he is friends with Charlie Brown throughout the whole thing, both when his star is rising and when it falls.
↑6 It’s also worth noting that the cruelty of Peanuts doesn’t seem to have influenced its fanbase to be more meanspirited. When Charlie Brown received no trick-or-treat candy in It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and no valentines in Be My Valentine, Charlie Brown, the original kid viewers sent him their own and a look at the comments section for Peanuts on GoComics.com shows that the average fan hates the bullying Lucy.
↑7 Though the quality of these comic books has been sadly on the decline. Their take on Race For Your Life was far too sanitized for my taste.
↑8 Too bad they couldn’t do the same with Citizen Kane.
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You’re on the Big Screen, Charlie Brown! Part 2

Posted on August 4, 2023 by stationmaster

Free as Running Water, Fresh as Morning Dew: Race For Your Life, Charlie Brown (1977)

The first line of this movie’s opening song is “it’s a new day,” and that’s appropriate since the third Peanuts film represents a lot of firsts for them. It was the first to be produced by Paramount Pictures rather than Cinema Center Films. It was first to have two directors, Bill Melendez and Peanuts animation veteran Phil Roman. It was the first to introduce antagonists who weren’t from the comic strip[1]Well, Snoopy Come Home did have Clara but she was only in one scene. and the first to have life and death stakes. The story puts the Peanuts kids on a bus to a remote wilderness survival camp with Snoopy and Woodstock in tow on a motorcycle. There they are pitted against a trio of bullies (voiced by Kirk Jue, Jordan Warren and Tom Muller) and their fearsome cat on a dangerous three-day river rift race. The bullies have a ridiculously high tech “raft” compared to those of their competitors and absolutely no qualms about cheating or even about endangering people’s lives. (And, no, they don’t receive any discipline. Whoever runs this camp really believes in letting kids rough it.)

If you’re wondering why their boat is so beat up, this image comes from late in the movie after everyone in the race has faced considerable setbacks.

Another first is that while the comic strip had sent the gang to summer camp many a time, the entire of story of Race For Your Life and nearly all of the jokes are original to it. A Boy Named Charlie Brown and Snoopy Come Home, by contrast, had taken storylines from the comics and expanded on them, making them more dramatic. But while more dramatic, they were still arguably the exact kind of stories you’d expect from Peanuts. I’d argue that was exactly what they should have done for their debut on a new medium. But after two movies, it was time for something new and Race For Your Life delivers with a much more adventurous and suspenseful tale, one that’s not as good of an introduction to the characters for newcomers but is arguably more fun for longtime fans.

Like Snoopy Come Home, this movie marks the big screen debut for some characters who had only appeared in the newspaper and on television. Peppermint Patty (Stuart Brotman)’s foil, Marcie (Jimmy Ahrens), is a highly welcome presence here. There’s also Franklin (Joseph Biter)[2]Well, technically, his big screen debut was a wordless cameo in Snoopy Come Home. though he only has one line of dialogue and basically exists to even out the girls’ cabin and the boys’ cabin.[3]I’d call Franklin the token minority but that wouldn’t be fair since when he was introduced in the comic strip, having an African American character actually was kind of daring, though … Continue reading Actually, Schroeder (Greg Felton) doesn’t get much to say or do either.

This film was released toward the end of the Golden Age of Peanuts animation.[4]That’s not to say the specials that afterwards were bad, just that they weren’t as consistently high quality. At first glance-first glance, mind you-it seems like a stepdown from Snoopy Come Home and A Boy Named Charlie Brown. There are some nice touches in the backgrounds, mainly the mountains and the trees, but the visuals aren’t as attractive as in the previous two movies. I know that to the casual viewer’s eye all Peanuts animation looks the same and they’re probably laughing at me right now, but what can I say? I rewatched Race For Your Life a few days after rewatching Snoopy Come Home and that’s the impression I got.

The soundtrack by Ed Bogas isn’t quite as great as those of the first two Peanuts movies either, though that opening song is a favorite of mine. And the voice acting isn’t as consistently great either.

But somehow this movie is more fun, if not, strictly speaking, better than its predecessors. I can’t quite put my finger on what makes that so. It just is. I mean, one of the first things that happens in it is Snoopy doing an Evel Knievel impression. How does that not convey fun?

This was also the first Peanuts movie to really utilize Sally Brown (Gail Davis) to her best advantage. I’ve criticized Davis’s performance as Sally in the past, but I don’t mind her here. The character’s constant carping throughout the movie is a hoot.

I also love the running gag of the girls’ cabin voting on everything, which actually gets a satisfying dramatic payoff. Speaking of drama, emotions don’t run as high in this movie as they do in A Boy Named Charlie Brown or Snoopy Come Home. That’s part of what makes it fun. But Race For Your Life does have a quiet heart beating in its metaphorical chest. Early on, Charlie Brown (Duncan Watson) confesses that he came to camp because he “never felt like much of a person” and he hoped that the experience would make him more of a leader. The race gives him his chance and…well, I’m not going to tell you.[5]Not in this post anyway. The movie is great enough that I don’t want to spoil it for newcomers.

I Want to Remember This: Bon Voyage, Charlie Brown (and don’t come back!!) (1980)

In many ways, the fourth Peanuts movie follows in the footsteps of the third one with another story that’s more adventurous than typical for the franchise and one that takes the characters even further out of their comfort zone-right, out of the country in fact. True, A Boy Named Charlie Brown and Snoopy Come Home also had the characters leave their neighborhood to go on journeys, but those movies spent time in that familiar neighborhood first, showing the characters doing familiar Peanuts things. When the journeys began, it was more of a contrast. With Race For Your Life and Bon Voyage, Charlie Brown, the journeys are the main dish.

In other ways, Bon Voyage, Charlie Brown maps out its own territory. The first three entries in this series began with peppy music and eye-catching opening credits that showcased the beloved Peanuts characters.[6]Well, technically, A Boy Named Charlie Brown began with a dreamy romantic scene that quickly became a farce and then had the eye-catching credits scene. Bon Voyage, by contrast, opens at night somewhere in the French countryside. As rain falls, a shadowy figure in a car leaves the local cafe and returns to a gloomy chateau. The only light in the house comes from a room where a little girl (Roseline Reubens) is writing a letter. It’s a very moody atmospheric beginning that rouses your curiosity.

Then we cut to America where Charlie Brown (Arrin Skelley), Linus (Daniel Anderson), Peppermint Patty (Patricia Patts, one of the few actual girls to voice the character) and Marcie (Jimmy Ahrens again) have been selected to go to Europe as foreign exchange students with Snoopy and Woodstock tagging along as usual. Before he leaves, Charlie Brown receives a letter. That in itself is unusual for him, but what’s really mysterious is that the letter is written in French. (If you’re intrigued already and want to wait until you watch the movie to find out more, skip the rest of this paragraph.) On the plane, Marcie translates the message for Charlie Brown. It’s from someone named Violette who claims she’s heard all about C.B., is eager to meet him and invites him to stay at the Chateau du Mal Voisin e.g. the Chateau of the Bad Neighbor.

This setup recalls Lila’s letter from Snoopy Come Home but in that movie while everyone else was at a loss as to what was going on, Snoopy clearly understood. What’s more, fans who had been following Peanuts in the newspaper would have known her identity. With Violette and her letter, we’re totally in the dark and once the gang reaches France, the mystery and suspense deepen. This movie introduces a villain, the Baron (Scott Beach who voices all the offscreen adults in the film), who’s far more intimidating than the three bullies from Race For Your Life, Charlie Brown or even their cat. The fact that we don’t get a good look at him, though a better look than we usually get of adults in Peanuts, initially serves to make him even creepier.

Unfortunately, it also backfires in the end, making a final confrontation between him and our heroes impossible. While the mystery of Violette and why she invited Charlie Brown are resolved in a satisfactory way, the resolution of the conflict with the Baron is a disappointment. It involves a climactic action scene that’s exciting in that it’s far more dramatic than typical for Peanuts but not very exhilarating or well staged when compared to cinematic action scenes in general.

Not helping is that this movie is a good candidate for being the least funny Peanuts movie. Fortunately, there’s a difference between being the least funny Peanuts movie and not being funny at all. Humorous highlights include Charlie Brown’s panic attack having to show his passport, Snoopy’s John McEnroe impression at Wimbledon, the announcer’s outraged response to his tantrum[7]This film has an unusually large amount of intelligible dialogue from adults for Peanuts. and Peppermint Patty thinking her host, Pierre (Pascale de Barolet), is attracted to her when he’s clearly interested in Marcie.

Most of this movie’s French characters have pointy noses. Was that a stereotype back then?

Bon Voyage, Charlie Brown is worth a look for completists and the curious but there’s no escaping the feeling that its premise had potential to which it frustratingly does not fulfill.

Next Time: Charlie Brown and Company are Animated by Computer. Good Grief!

References

References
↑1 Well, Snoopy Come Home did have Clara but she was only in one scene.
↑2 Well, technically, his big screen debut was a wordless cameo in Snoopy Come Home.
↑3 I’d call Franklin the token minority but that wouldn’t be fair since when he was introduced in the comic strip, having an African American character actually was kind of daring, though less so by the time this movie was made.
↑4 That’s not to say the specials that afterwards were bad, just that they weren’t as consistently high quality.
↑5 Not in this post anyway.
↑6 Well, technically, A Boy Named Charlie Brown began with a dreamy romantic scene that quickly became a farce and then had the eye-catching credits scene.
↑7 This film has an unusually large amount of intelligible dialogue from adults for Peanuts.
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You’re On the Big Screen, Charlie Brown! Part 1

Posted on July 28, 2023 by stationmaster

In the past, I’ve lamented on this blog that of all the Peanuts specials, only A Charlie Brown Christmas and It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown are beloved when there are so many others just as great or greater to my mind. The five full length Peanuts animated movies to be released in cinemas have arguably suffered an even sadder fate. None of them is really well known outside the Peanuts fandom. Of course, the person writing this has a hard time comprehending the mindset of anyone outside that fandom. But with the court’s permission, I’m going to make the case that you should consider checking out at least a few of these films.

Something to Make the Fourth Column Headlines: A Boy Named Charlie Brown (1969)

The 1960s were when Peanuts was arguably at the peak of its popularity. It must have been a thrill for fans to see their favorite characters on the silver screen, doing what they did best and at the exact point in Peanuts animation history when most of the best voice actors for those characters were available. The script by series creator Charles Schulz works in just about all of the most famous Peanuts tropes. We get Charlie Brown (voiced by Peter Robbins for the last time) failing to fly a kite, he and his hapless baseball team losing a game, Snoopy (director Bill Melendez)’s suppertime dance, Snoopy imagining himself as a World War I flying ace, Lucy (Pamelyn Ferdin)’s psychiatry booth, Linus (Glenn Gilger)’s security blanket addiction and more. But the movie does more than reproduce what fans had already seen in the comics and in the five television specials that had been made at this point. It goes much bigger. There are several nifty visual flourishes that were new for the franchise.[1]That’s an ugly word, franchise, but an accurate one.

There are even a few Fantasia-esque psychedelic scenes, most notably for when the gang plays the American national anthem before their baseball game and for Schroeder(Andy Pforsich)’s performance of Beethoven’s Pathetique Sonata.[2]Ingolf Dahl did the actual performance.

There’s also a fantasy sequence of Snoopy at an ice rink, imagining himself as alternatively a world-famous hockey player or a world-famous figure skater, which isn’t as pretty but is a lot of fun.

At a first glance, the backgrounds for the “normal” scenes are rather nondescript in keeping with the deceptively simple art style of Peanuts. But at a second glance, they have a subtle beauty lacking in the backgrounds for the specials that came before them.

The academy award nominated musical score by Vince Guaraldi and John Scott Trotter is an overlooked gem. Most of it is highly pleasant and laidback, in keeping with the movie’s relaxed pacing, but it also packs a punch in the emotional moments, in keeping with the story’s melancholy themes. Not as much use is made of Guaraldi’s classic Linus and Lucy theme as I might have expected or preferred but when it’s used, it’s used well, mostly notably for a joyously silly cathartic moment near the climax. I’m not familiar with songwriter Rod McKuen but maybe that should change because the three songs he contributed to this movie are wonderful. All of them look at the title character from a different angle. Failure Face savagely mocks him for his incompetence. Champion Charlie Brown celebrates him for a rare victory. And the film’s title song celebrates him for simply being a likeable everyman character. There’s also a song about spelling, I Before E, by John Scott Trotter, which doesn’t fit into the pattern but is still fun.

Some fussy viewers/critics may object that this movie feels like a collection of related jokes from the comics. But that’s the part of the movie’s appeal for me, especially since they’re such hilarious jokes. I’d argue it’s perfectly right for adapting the comic to a new medium for the first time and I’d argue the movie does have a story, just one that it takes time to set up. It also takes its time to set up punchlines, something that is also part of its appeal for me. I consider Phineas and Ferb, a more modern cartoon about which I recently blogged, and its typically modern two-jokes-a-minute pacing to be brilliant. But rewatching A Boy Named Charlie Brown after rewatching a bunch of Phineas and Ferb episodes, I was struck by how refreshing it was to have to wait for the laughs, especially since they were so big when they came. This movie trusts its characters charm enough to relax and spend time with them without the need for everything to get an immediate laugh or further the plot somehow. I pity any unsophisticated modern kids who find this a turnoff.

But I was supposed to be explaining that plot, wasn’t I? Well, after a leisurely first act that sets up Charlie Brown’s character, the movie adapts a 1966 storyline from the comic strip about him entering a spelling bee, but it takes this storyline in a much more dramatic direction with much higher stakes than the Peanuts norm.

As you may have gathered, the story centers around Charlie Brown, probably the most emotionally compelling Peanuts character, and his many failures. It’s probably the most piercing exploration of him in any bit of Peanuts media. Linus also plays a major role, trying to encourage Charlie Brown. Throughout most of the movie, his maxims, such as “winning isn’t everything” and “we learn more from losing than we do from winning” provide Charlie Brown with no comfort and even make him feel worse by putting pressure on him. (Lucy meanwhile deliberately discourages him with a hilariously cruel “therapy session” and later latches onto him for nakedly selfish reasons.) But Linus’s final line, while it might sound equally trite out of context, proves to be just what the old blockhead needs and is the character’s finest moment since the climax of A Charlie Brown Christmas.

A Funky Sparkling Wonderland: Snoopy Come Home (1972)

The second Peanuts movie is almost as great as the first. I’m not sure why I don’t consider the two movies equal. Maybe it’s because this one focuses on the second-best candidate for the franchise’s main character rather than the first.[3]I’d argue that the comic strip didn’t really have a main character but never mind that. Don’t get me wrong. Snoopy is a great character. While the animated version lacks the sarcastic wit of the comic strip character’s “thought balloons,” his adorable design could have been made for animation and Bill Melendez’s squeaky growls and guffaws bring him wonderfully to life. Yet while Snoopy Come Home has some big laughs, it’s not really the funniest Snoopy vehicle. He and Woodstock had finer hours in specials and movies where they had smaller roles.

Ah, yes, Woodstock. This movie was the little yellow bird’s big screen debut and he’s a welcome presence in it. Despite what I said in the previous paragraph, he and Snoopy are still great fun to watch here. They remind me a bit of Shawn Spencer and Burton Guster from USA’s Psych. (Snoopy is Shawn and Woodstock Gus.)

Peppermint Patty (Christopher DeFaria) had more screentime than Woodstock in A Boy Named Charlie Brown in that she appeared in the background while having no dialogue. Here she gets a major role. Well, for the first two thirds of the movie or so. She oddly vanishes for the last part, only appearing in the background of one shot toward the end. You could argue she doesn’t really fit in the story and only exists to pad it out. Still, she makes for entertaining padding, mainly her disastrous date at a carnival with Charlie Brown (Chad Weber) which goes to show that they really aren’t suited to be a couple.

The film’s plot is set in motion by Snoopy mysteriously receiving a letter from a girl named Lila (Johanna Baer) saying that she’s in the hospital and asking him to visit her. Snoopy runs off in a state of agitation, leaving his owner and neighbors bewildered. Fans who had been following the comics would already know Lila’s identity, this being adapted from a storyline that ran in newspapers four years prior. Personally, I’m thankful I hadn’t read it before I saw the movie because it’s a great mystery and the movie takes things in a much more dramatic direction than the comic did.

Snoopy Come Home‘s score was composed by Don Ralke, making it the first bit of Peanuts animation, I believe, not to feature Vince Guaraldi, and its musical numbers were written by Richard M. and Robert B. Sherman who were responsible for just about every cinematic children’s musical during the 60s and 70s. (They’re most well known for their work on Mary Poppins and The Many Adventures of Winnie-the-Pooh.) I’d argue that the Shermans were more notable for their quantity than their consistent quality, but all of their songs for this movie, both the cheery and the tearful ones, rank among their best work.

There certainly are occasions for sad songs in this movie, which is kind of infamous among the Peanuts fandom for its sadness. Before Snoopy’s departure, he’s shown to get in conflicts with Charlie Brown, Peppermint Patty, Linus (Stephen Shea) and Lucy (Robin Kohn), ones in which both parties are at fault.[4]Well, except in Peppermint Patty’s case where neither is at fault and the whole thing is a misunderstanding, making it arguably even sadder. After he leaves, they all miss him and blame themselves for pushing him away. Charles Schulz had just gone through a messy divorce[5]Aren’t they all? and the script he wrote arguably reflects that. When Linus lets go of his security blanket a couple of times, you know things are serious.

But this movie also features scenes as amusing as anything in Peanuts, such as Snoopy and Woodstock’s encounter with a girl named Clara (Linda Ercoli) who tries to adopt them against their will. Clara had appeared in the comic strip before, but this movie revealed just how hilarious she could be. It also has the most heartwarming emotional finale to any Peanuts movie. Part of me really wishes it wouldn’t proceed to comedically undermine said finale. But too many of the recent Peanuts specials that Apple has produced have focused too much on trying to be heartwarming and not enough on trying to be witty or to capture the spirit of the comic. By contrast, there’s something refreshing or at least appropriate feeling about the cynical humor of Snoopy Come Home‘s final moments.

Next Time: Charlie Brown Goes on a Treacherous River Raft Race and Becomes a Foreign Exchange Student to France. AAAUGHH!

References

References
↑1 That’s an ugly word, franchise, but an accurate one.
↑2 Ingolf Dahl did the actual performance.
↑3 I’d argue that the comic strip didn’t really have a main character but never mind that.
↑4 Well, except in Peppermint Patty’s case where neither is at fault and the whole thing is a misunderstanding, making it arguably even sadder.
↑5 Aren’t they all?
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Adaptations as Introductions vs Adaptations as Commentary

Posted on July 1, 2023 by stationmaster

This post is going to be a bit different from my usual. I’m going to be discussing a certain kind of adaptation, which I’ll call “the adaptation as commentary,” its advantages and disadvantages. As examples, I’ll be using two movies I’ve written about in the past. Hopefully, it’s been long enough that my regular readers won’t groan and say, “not this again!” While there will be some overlap with my past discussions, I will be looking at the films from a different angle. That also means I’ll be a lot freer with spoilers and my past blog posts about these movies were already pretty spoiler heavy, so if you don’t want a first-time viewing experience ruined, I advise you to skip this post.

There are many things that I want from an adaptation of a book I love, one of them is that it serves as an introduction for newcomers to the story, even though I’m not a newcomer myself. I love that I can watch the BBC’s 1999 David Copperfield, which I recently recommended, with my friends who would never read the book and be confident that afterwards they’ll understand exactly why I love it. They won’t know every reason why, mind you. But they’ll get the gist. Remember I wrote that the adaptation should be an introduction to the source material, not a complete reproduction.

But there are some adaptations that are less introductions and more commentaries on their source. Of course, you could argue that every adaptation is a commentary on some level. What the adapter chooses to leave, cut, expand on and downplay indicates what they consider the best or most important parts of the original and often tells us as much about them as about the source. But it’s considerably truer of some adaptations than others. These “commentaries” can sometimes, though not always, be very intelligent and thoughtful and are what some fans want from adaptations, but they come with distinct tradeoffs. In this post, I’ll be examining two modern(ish) movie adaptations of classic and oft-adapted works of children’s literature, the 2003 Peter Pan and the 2019 Little Women. I included both of these in my list of top five screenplay adaptations albeit only for adaptations this blog covered in its first year. I’d even argue that they’re truer to their source materials in some ways than past takes on them.[1]Peter Pan is more upfront about the violent nature of Neverland than either the classic Disney movie or the thrice filmed stage musical and Little Women is the only movie version to really give the … Continue reading I didn’t choose them to discuss because I think they’re examples of the adaptation-as-commentary done wrong. However, I’m going to argue that neither works well as an introduction to the original books.

Taking its cue from the 1953 animated movie, the 2003 Peter Pan has young Wendy Darling fly away with Peter on what her father had intended to be her last night sleeping in the nursery with her younger brothers. Thus, her flight becomes a deliberate avoidance of maturity, something latent in the original novel and stage play by J. M. Barrie, but less overt. This Peter Pan doesn’t just lure Wendy away with promises of seeing mermaids and pirates and of having all the lost boys respect her. What ultimately convinces Wendy to turn her back on her loving parents is his invitation to “never have to worry about grownup things again.”

Barrie’s attitude toward growing up in Peter Pan is hard to pin down. Like Peter, he seems to get bored and switch sides when winning a fight too easily. In the book’s last chapter, he dismisses the lost boys as “goats” for having left the island to be adopted by Wendy’s family and grow up. But he also treats Wendy’s growth positively or at least neutrally, saying that “she was one of the kind that likes to grow up. In the end she grew up of her own free will a day quicker than other girls.” Then again, the adult Wendy does regret her decision when Peter comes to take her back to Neverland and she can’t go. Barrie is very upfront about the wonders of Neverland that adults can’t enjoy, but he’s also very upfront about the consciences that adults have and children, in his estimation anyway, do not. Of course, consciences aren’t necessarily fun things to have and for some (evil) people that may be an argument in favor of eternal youth. Barrie’s Peter Pan leaves readers and audiences to come to their own conclusions. Director and screenwriter P. J. Hogan however overtly makes the case against running from adulthood. His Wendy decides to return home when she realizes to her horror that she and her brothers are forgetting about their parents. What prompted Barrie’s Wendy to do this was the idea that her parents might be forgetting her, which was arguably just more childish selfishness.[2]Though the book does describe Wendy as being disturbed by the way her brothers’ memories of home and her own were fading, but not enough to make her leave Neverland.

Something that this movie wants adult viewers to keep in mind, which the Disney movie didn’t, is the reason growing up entails Wendy no longer sharing a room with her brothers: her budding sexuality. This was always implicit in the book and the play with her crush on Peter, but the movie makes it a main theme. In the second scene, more or less, Wendy’s busybody aunt declares that she’s almost a woman and needs to start thinking about marriage. As evidence of this, she says that Wendy has a kiss hidden in the righthand corner of her mouth.[3]This language comes from the book but as is typical of the movie, its context is different. This, she tells her uncomfortable niece, is for the greatest adventure of all. In a wink-wink nudge-nudge moment aimed over the heads of young viewers, Wendy’s schoolteacher is scandalized to find that Wendy has drawn a picture, inspired by her first glimpse of Peter, which tellingly went to her mother in the original story, of a strange boy in her bedroom watching her sleep.[4]Peter’s costume also shows a great deal of skin and occasionally so do those of the lost boys. This is sort of eyebrow raising given rumors of child predators in the entertainment industry, but … Continue reading

Ironically, Wendy’s puberty is as much what draws her to Peter as it is what scares her away from her family. But though he enjoys playing father to the lost boys with her as the mother, he can’t or won’t return her feelings. At one point, he asks her for assurance that their roles are “only make believe” and when she gives it to him, he’s relieved since “it would make me so old to be a real father.” This bothers Wendy who then tries to Define the Relationship, asking Peter what his “exact feelings” are for her. All this comes from Barrie[5]Though significantly, in his version, it follows Peter and Wendy acting out a domestic scene, sitting by the fire and talking about their children whereas, in the movie, it follows a scene of them … Continue reading, but what follows is much more dramatic. In the book and the play, Peter casually replies that his feelings are “those of a devoted son.” Wendy stomps off in a huff and when Peter, more curious than exasperated, asks what it is she wants to be to him that’s not a mother, she primly says, “it isn’t for a lady to tell.” With that, the issue is dropped. In the movie, Wendy explicitly brings up the concept of love and Peter responds negatively, saying that the very sound of it offends him. His response is even more negative when Wendy argues that there’s much more to life than flying and fighting and that it becomes clearer when you grow up. Later, when Peter insists that he wants to always be a little boy and have fun, she replies, “you say so, but I think it is your biggest pretend.” Surprisingly, to me anyway, this line comes from Barrie’s stage directions for the play. However, there it was only for the director and the cast to know. The movie explicitly makes the case that refusing to grow up is a waste, resulting from cowardice.

Wendy’s not the only character to call Peter out here. The adaptation’s climax is much more emotional than the one in the original, which was a basically a lark.[6]I should note that it starts out as lark and this movie captures much more of the book’s fun than Disney’s recent, Peter Pan and Wendy, which gave the latter character an arc similar to … Continue reading Here Captain Hook taunts Peter with the knowledge that Wendy was about to leave him before she was captured.[7]It’s a pity I couldn’t give Jason Issacs’s Hook a mention in my “awards ceremony” or any of the other great portrayals of the character from other versions of Peter Pan. … Continue reading He calls Peter “a tragedy” on the grounds that he’ll never live up to his potential and be able to give Wendy what she really wants. “You die alone and unloved,” he says, “just like me.” Here the character of Hook acts as a commentator, drawing parallels between himself and his adversary. (Along similar lines, he tells Tinkerbell, a character who is obsessed with Peter in a way different from his, that by killing him, they’ll both be free.) Only when Wendy gives Peter her “hidden kiss”, demonstrating that she really does love him even if he can never be her husband, is he able to defeat Hook.

The 2019 Little Women makes far fewer changes to its source material’s story and characters than the 2003 Peter Pan does. But in some ways, the adaptation’s function as a commentary on the original becomes even more obtrusive. This is because, for better and for worse, it ends up being just as much a movie about the book, Little Women, as it is a movie version of Little Women, but we’ll get to that later.

The main way director/screenwriter Greta Gerwig comments on the original novel by Lousia May Alcott is by drawing contrasts between its first half and its second half through her movie’s nonlinear story. It begins with the March sisters as adults, having gone their separate ways for the first time. Meg is raising two children with her husband, Jo is in New York working as a governess and part time writer, Amy is in Europe studying art and Beth is still at home with her parents. All this is intercut with flashbacks of them seven years ago when they were all together. (Both the past and present storylines proceed chronologically.)[8]The 2019 movie is technically not the only adaptation to use this device. The 2018 film, which sets the story in modern times, does it too, though with less of a purpose behind it. I can’t … Continue reading While the sisters always had different personalities and goals, the emphasis in the flashbacks is on them as a unit and on the cheerful camaraderie they had between them that they miss in their adult lives. What’s also stressed is how much more confident they were in their youth about achieving their dreams. Thus, we cut from Meg happily partying with her rich friends in the past to her worrying about money with her husband in the present.[9]Though even in the flashbacks, Meg, being older, was more realistic about her dreams’ plausibility than Jo and Amy were. Visually, the scenes set in the past and the present also contrast each other with the former being all bright, warm, nostalgic colors and the latter grayer and grittier looking. This suggests the flashbacks are colored by nostalgia. We’re not seeing so much what really happened back then as what Jo remembers.[10]I’m not sure how this can be the case when some of those scenes are from the perspective of her sisters, mother and neighbors. Maybe they’re supposed to be the family’s collective … Continue reading The movie doesn’t cut any of the bad things that happen during the childhood section of the story and neither does it cut any of the good things that happen in the adulthood section, but it consistently deemphasizes them.

The most striking contrast created by intercutting is between Beth’s two bouts with Scarlet Fever. After a montage of her family taking care of her in both the past and the present[11]The nonlinear storytelling really benefits the movie’s pacing here as two such montages would be repetitive and skimping on one would make the outcome of each obvious., we see a flashback of Jo waking up to find Beth’s bed empty. She rushes downstairs in a panic to find her not dead but sitting up and eating, well on the road to recovery. Then we get the uplifting scene of the girls’ father, who has been at war and dangerously ill himself, returning home for Christmas. And then Jo wakes up in the present to find Beth’s bed empty. Slowly, she comes downstairs to find that this time Beth really is dead. Then we get the sad scene of her funeral. This is one case where the contrast explicitly isn’t the result of Jo’s nostalgia, but ironically Beth’s initial recovery was something of a wish fulfillment fantasy on Louisa May Alcott’s part. She based Jo’s personality on herself and Beth’s on that of her sister, Elizabeth, who had died before she wrote Little Women. The first half of the book, ending with the father’s return and Meg’s engagement, was originally the whole thing. When Alcott wrote about Beth’s illness, she was probably depicting how she wished it happened for her sister and when she wrote the sequel, which is now considered part of the book, she was writing something closer to what had actually happened though still probably a somewhat idealized and sanitized version.

Instead of writing a short story inspired by her memories of Beth, as in the book, the movie’s Jo expands on a short story she wrote for her about their childhood together, turning it into, well, Little Women or the first half of it anyway. This isn’t the only movie adaptation to make that change, but it’s the one that does it in the most interesting way. Jo sends the first twelve chapters to Mr. Dashwood, her editor in New York, telling him in a letter that “it could suit as a story for young people, but I think it is probably quite boring.” Privately, with a true author’s angst, she laments to her sisters that the book can never be really great because it’s a just “a story of domestic struggles and joys. It doesn’t have any real importance.” Amy argues that people don’t realize how important domestic struggles and joys are because people don’t write books about them, and that Jo’s will be the one to demonstrate it. Here Greta Gerwig makes the case in her adaptation for the literary Little Women being great literature.[12]More cynically, you could say it’s Gerwig patting herself on the back for making the kind of movies she does while pretending to celebrate Louisa May Alcott, but it’s a great scene so … Continue reading Mr. Dashwood initially rejects the manuscript but when his young daughters get their hands on it, devour it and demand more, he changes his mind.

All this is based on the real story of Little Women‘s publication, though the facts are somewhat sensationalized. Little Women wasn’t really a labor of love for Louisa Alcott. It was an assignment and one she didn’t initially like. Publisher Thomas Niles asked her to write a story for and about young girls. She preferred boys and put the task off until she really needed the money.[13]Remember my earlier footnote where I mentioned that I tire of all the critics and fans complaining about Disney’s recent and seeming endless stream of remakes? Well, I think the story of Little … Continue reading When she did write it, she used the girls she’d known best, herself and her sisters in their childhood, as the basis for her heroines’ personalities. Niles wasn’t impressed with the first twelve chapters she sent him, but he showed it to members of the target audience who loved it, especially his niece. Encouraged by her mother and sisters, Alcott warmed to her task, realizing that “lively simple books are very much needed for girls.” She would always resent though being famous for her moralizing children’s literature rather than serious adult writing.

She also resented that her publishers and readers insisted that she end the book with all her heroines, in the words of the 2019 movie, “married or dead.” This especially annoyed her when it came to the character of Jo whom she’d modeled on her contentedly single self. The film actually works this frustration into its commentary.[14]Along similar lines, both Jo and Amy lament that seemingly the only respectable way they can make money is to marry into it. This is the most boring part of the movie’s commentary since every … Continue reading Just before the romantic finale between Jo and Professor Bhaer, we cut, for the first time in the film, from the present to the future when Jo and Mr. Dashwood are discussing the ending to her book. He objects to her intention that the main heroine not marry either of her possible love interests.[15]The main difference between this and reality is that Alcott probably wouldn’t have created Bhaer at all unless she had to give Jo a husband. “She says the whole book she doesn’t want to get married,” Jo argues. “Who cares?” says Dashwood. “Girls want to read about women being married, not consistent.” If she doesn’t relent, according to him, nobody will buy the book. Reluctantly, Jo agrees and only then do we get the scene of her and Bhaer under the umbrella, implying that it’s fictional. Dashwood finds it very moving and since he represents the pulpy commercial writing Jo is supposed to avoid, this amounts to a critique of the book’s ending, though Jo herself seems pleased that he likes it.

However, if the movie’s goal was to make the case that Jo getting married was arbitrary and out of character, it chooses a strange way to do it. Clearly, there’s more going on here. Rather than emphasizing Jo’s happiness with her liberty, her loneliness and weariness of being the only single person left in her family are depicted more dramatically than in any previous adaptation or even the book. At one point, according to the official screenplay, we’re supposed to fear that Jo will jump into a river, something Alcott really contemplated at her most despondent, though I don’t think it really registers that way on film. It’s impossible not to interpret the umbrella scene as not only a concession to marketability but as Jo’s fantasy of what she wishes had happened with the implied suggestion that Alcott was also indulging in wish fulfillment when she wrote her version. Since Bhaer is present for the final scene, taken from the book, of the Marches celebrating their matriarch’s birthday at the new school Jo has opened, that is apparently fictional too. Intercut with it is the publication of Jo’s book, which is unambiguously real. The only happy ending of which we can be sure in this Little Women, for Jo anyway, is the existence of the book, Little Women, itself.

All this is great fun to analyze but I would not want either of these movies to be anyone’s introduction to the originals. Not that I think newcomers wouldn’t enjoy them. Far from it.[16]Well, I do know that many casual viewers find it a pain to keep track of which scenes in the 2019 Little Women are flashbacks. It might not have hurt it to sacrifice a little subtlety and include … Continue reading My concern is that having watched these adaptations with all their commentary, they’ll find the book versions anticlimactic and lacking depth by comparison. Well, you might say, isn’t that because they are? I’d argue not. The impression of added depth is an illusion. While the 2003 Peter Pan may explore one interpretation of him and his eternal childhood more fully than the book or the play did, it does so at the cost of every other possible interpretation latent in the text. And the 2019 Little Women, by making it so much about nostalgia, gives the sad scenes, which are presented as real, a power it denies the happy ones, which are presented as imaginary. In the book, on the other hand, both the high points and the low points are equally valid or at least the decision is left up to the reader. Earlier in this post, I mentioned the 1999 David Copperfield.[17]That seems like a good point of comparison since, like Little Women, David Copperfield is a very personal novel about the relatable life experiences of a young author. (Both even had movie … Continue reading That adaptation may not be anywhere near as creative and interesting as the two I’ve examined here, much more of a cut and paste job[18]Though I’d argue it has a few inspired, original moments, such as Betsey Trotwood’s response to Micawber’s claim that he’s not going to make a big speech. And the book is so … Continue reading, but, unlike them, it won’t hinder viewers who haven’t read the source material from choosing their own interpretation of it.

Does this mean I dislike the 2003 Peter Pan and the 2019 Little Women? No. I probably wouldn’t recommend them as introductions to the originals, but I would recommend them to openminded and curious fans of the originals, those who don’t mind an interpretation that might not exactly align with their own. I wouldn’t agree that these stories have gained rather than lost through these adaptations-as-commentaries, but I would say they have both gained and lost.

References

References
↑1 Peter Pan is more upfront about the violent nature of Neverland than either the classic Disney movie or the thrice filmed stage musical and Little Women is the only movie version to really give the characters of Meg and Amy their due.
↑2 Though the book does describe Wendy as being disturbed by the way her brothers’ memories of home and her own were fading, but not enough to make her leave Neverland.
↑3 This language comes from the book but as is typical of the movie, its context is different.
↑4 Peter’s costume also shows a great deal of skin and occasionally so do those of the lost boys. This is sort of eyebrow raising given rumors of child predators in the entertainment industry, but honestly it does strike me as more how adventurous boys, cut off from civilization and adult ideas of propriety, would choose to dress. I don’t think such boys would gravitate toward the tights of the traditional Peter Pan costume.
↑5 Though significantly, in his version, it follows Peter and Wendy acting out a domestic scene, sitting by the fire and talking about their children whereas, in the movie, it follows a scene of them dancing romantically together.
↑6 I should note that it starts out as lark and this movie captures much more of the book’s fun than Disney’s recent, Peter Pan and Wendy, which gave the latter character an arc similar to that of her 2003 counterpart, and which I found rather dull and joyless. I should also note though that Peter Pan and Wendy does have some fun moments and isn’t the worst movie ever or anything. I’m somewhat sick of all the YouTube videos my feed recommends decrying every new Disney remake or reimagining as a travesty. Not saying they’re all great but, come on, they’re not all that terrible either!
↑7 It’s a pity I couldn’t give Jason Issacs’s Hook a mention in my “awards ceremony” or any of the other great portrayals of the character from other versions of Peter Pan. But there was a lot of competition for great villains and Hook is a hard one to categorize being something of an affectionate parody of a villain.
↑8 The 2019 movie is technically not the only adaptation to use this device. The 2018 film, which sets the story in modern times, does it too, though with less of a purpose behind it. I can’t resist mentioning that, on the whole, I actually enjoy watching the 2018 Little Women more than this one, though I know that’s not a popular opinion.
↑9 Though even in the flashbacks, Meg, being older, was more realistic about her dreams’ plausibility than Jo and Amy were.
↑10 I’m not sure how this can be the case when some of those scenes are from the perspective of her sisters, mother and neighbors. Maybe they’re supposed to be the family’s collective memories.
↑11 The nonlinear storytelling really benefits the movie’s pacing here as two such montages would be repetitive and skimping on one would make the outcome of each obvious.
↑12 More cynically, you could say it’s Gerwig patting herself on the back for making the kind of movies she does while pretending to celebrate Louisa May Alcott, but it’s a great scene so let’s not be cynical, OK?
↑13 Remember my earlier footnote where I mentioned that I tire of all the critics and fans complaining about Disney’s recent and seeming endless stream of remakes? Well, I think the story of Little Women proves that being made for profit doesn’t doom a piece of entertainment artistically.
↑14 Along similar lines, both Jo and Amy lament that seemingly the only respectable way they can make money is to marry into it. This is the most boring part of the movie’s commentary since every modern adaptation of a classic book about women does it, so I only mention it in a footnote. Lest that sound too dismissive, I think there’s a case to be made that a modern adaptation should include that since it’d be unfair for storytellers from the 21st century to condemn Amy for being a gold digger in her pursuit of Fred Vaugn without acknowledging the realities of her historical situation. Alcott, being a single woman in the midst of those historical realities, could do so without hypocrisy.
↑15 The main difference between this and reality is that Alcott probably wouldn’t have created Bhaer at all unless she had to give Jo a husband.
↑16 Well, I do know that many casual viewers find it a pain to keep track of which scenes in the 2019 Little Women are flashbacks. It might not have hurt it to sacrifice a little subtlety and include more title cards.
↑17 That seems like a good point of comparison since, like Little Women, David Copperfield is a very personal novel about the relatable life experiences of a young author. (Both even had movie adaptations directed by George Cukor.) And, like Peter Pan, it’s partly about the relationship between someone who basically wants to grow up and someone who wants to never do so, though the genders are flipped.
↑18 Though I’d argue it has a few inspired, original moments, such as Betsey Trotwood’s response to Micawber’s claim that he’s not going to make a big speech. And the book is so inspired itself that even a cut and paste job is pretty awesome.
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The Greatest David Copperfield but Not the Greatest David Copperfield

Posted on June 9, 2023 by stationmaster

When I was writing my post about two movie adaptations of Charles Dickens’s David Copperfield, my original plan was to do a quick summary of my thoughts on my favorite adaptation, the BBC’s 1999 two-part miniseries. Maybe something along the lines of “it has great production design, courtesy of Roger Cann, some beautiful locations, mainly in Hampshire for the Dover residence of Betsey Trotwood (Maggie Smith), an excellent musical score, courtesy of Rob Lane, and a cast to make fans of the Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings movies weep.” But by the time I reached the end, I decided that the post was so long that it needed to end as quickly as it could without being anticlimactic. And why should I devote paragraphs and paragraphs to adaptations of David Copperfield that weren’t my favorite and only one to the adaptation that is?

Well, one reason was that I feel like the works of art or entertainment that I completely love or completely hate don’t make for the most interesting posts. The ones that have some good and some bad make for more interesting reading if you ask me. But, on reflection, there are enough things about this generally wonderful miniseries that aren’t great to keep this a bit interesting. One thing in particular.

But I’d like to lead into it with something about this David Copperfield that is the best of any adaptation. That’s young Daniel Radcliffe as the protagonist during most of the first episode which focuses on the character’s childhood. This might not seem like high praise at first. When he’s a kid, David’s character[1]By the way, I feel a bit uncomfortable calling him David. You see, basically ever character in the book calls him by a different name in keeping with that character’s social status, personality … Continue reading is mainly defined by being cute. But that’s harder to do in a movie or a play than you’d think. It works great in the book but for a young actor to mainly try to be cute for long can easily fall flat.[2]Another issue is that what makes young David’s characterization so great in the book is so how well Dickens gets in the head of someone so young. A movie or a TV show can only show the … Continue reading Radcliffe, however, never feels like he’s trying to be cute. He just naturally comes across that way, and it works wonderfully.

It seems to be kind of a tradition with movies or series where a character is played by one actor in his youth and another in his maturity that one of those actors be much better than the other. Sadly, this David Copperfield is a case in point. Ciaran McMenamin is easily the worst adult David Copperfield I’ve seen with his inexpressive face and his dull line readings. I’m honestly baffled as to why he was cast, especially when everyone around him in this series is so great. Maybe part of the fault lies with the script, which always seems to have him saying to the other, better cast characters, “oh, Character X, don’t have this interesting emotion. Be boring like me.” OK, not really, but that’s how it sounds.[3]Harry Lloyd also makes more of an impression as the younger version of David’s false friend, James Steerforth, than Oliver Milburn does as the older version, but the gap between the two is … Continue reading

How can this possibly be my favorite David Copperfield adaptation when it has my least favorite David Copperfield?[4]Not only are Frank Lawton and Dev Patel better than he is, by the way, but so is Hugh Dancy from the 2000 made-for-TV movie, which I won’t be reviewing. And so is…well, let’s not … Continue reading Well, that has to do with the story’s structure. It’s really a collection of subplots seen through the eyes of the main character. It doesn’t feel like his own problems are more important than that of his friends. For many major scenes, he’s an observer, a supporting player, a chronicler[5]Though it’s worth noting that in Dickens’s version, unlike the 2019 movie, David never intended his memoir with all its potentially unflattering information to be published., not the center of the action. He’s not as important as the title character of your average Dickens story. That’s how I feel anyway. Other fans may differ in their opinions.

There are actually three actors who portray David Copperfield in this series. Besides Radcliffe and McMenamin, there’s also Tom Wilkinson who provides voiceover narration as an older David looking back on his life. He sets exactly the right tone, communicating warm nostalgia and regret for whichever the scene requires, sometimes both at once.

If I were to criticize anyone in the cast besides McMenamin, it’d be Amanda Ryan as David’s ultimate love interest, Agnes Wickfield-which says awesome things about the cast since even she does a great job at conveying the pain of her unrequited love. (Unrequited until the end, of course.) The problem is she doesn’t really convey much else. Again, this might be the fault of the writing. Watching the series, you get the impression she was screenwriter Adrain Hodges’s least favorite character from the book, at least of the ones included in this adaptation, and that he struggled to find what to do with her. To be honest, I get that. Agnes is my least favorite of the A-list David Copperfield characters, but I’ve seen her come across as having greater emotional range and charm in other adaptations. I wish this one could have found the time to show her friendly teasing of David over his many crushes[6]David Copperfield is the Dickensian protagonist with the highest number of love interests. Apparently, he takes after his father who, according to his aunt, “was always running after wax dolls … Continue reading or her misplaced guilt over her father (Oliver Ford Davies)’s problems or her stubborn faith that “real love and truth are stronger in the end than any evil or misfortune in the world.” As it is, her character is pretty much defined by being sad.

Most of the casting is superb. Even some people I’ve encountered who don’t like Dickens will admit he knew how to write villains you love to hate, and David Copperfield delivers on this. Trevor Eve is chilling as the abusive stepfather, Edward Murdstone and Zoe Wanamaker is perfect as his equally sadistic sister, Jane. I’ve seen a lot of great Miss Murdstones, but Wanamaker really takes the cake and eats it too. The way she takes the household keys from David’s mother (Emilia Fox-a little too old for the role but, granting that, she’s great), puts them in her hard steel purse like she’s taking them prisoner and snaps it shut convinced me that I was seeing the literary character in the flesh.

Also perfect is the raspy, nearly inaudible voice that Ian McKellan gives the abusive schoolmaster, Mr. Creakle. Incidentally, the character of his wife is cut, and he gets her role of trying to break bad news gently to young David in one memorable scene. This was probably done to save the expense of another actor rather than to add humanity to Creakle but it works for me.

As Uriah Heep, Nicholas Lyndhurst is stiff and cold, delivering his character’s insincere groveling like he’s reading from cue cards, rather than slimy and serpentine as Dickens describes him. But he’s just as palpably creepy and monstrous.

On to the good guys. As David’s great-aunt, Betsey Trotwood, Maggie Smith isn’t as awesomely over-the-top as Edna Mae Oliver was and the scene where she tells the Murdstones what’s wrong with them isn’t quite as satisfying. But she shows more of the character’s subtle but unmistakable character arc as she grows more tolerant and easygoing through her relationship with her great-nephew. She doesn’t get as much depth as in the book, of course, with so many subplots to juggle and only three hours, but she gets more of it than in several other adaptations. And Smith gets to have fun too, most notably in the character’s unforgettable introductory scene.

Betsey Trotwood at the beginning
And Betsey Trotwood at the end (See a difference?)

In my last David Copperfield post, I lamented that the subplot of Dr. Strong and his wife is always cut by adaptations, including this one, not so much for its own sake as for the depth it gives to Betsey Trotwood’s mentally disabled friend, Mr. Dick (Ian McNeice.) Here he’s once again reduced to a goofy supporting character. Still, McNeice brings more humanity to the role than Lennox Pawle did in 1935. If only the miniseries gave him more opportunity to show it.

Another thing I lamented in that previous post was how both the 1935 and 2019 movie adaptations reduced Mrs. Micawber (Imelda Staunton here) to a pathetic comic figure. That’s not so here. She gets as many dramatic moments as you’d wish with the time limitations. So does Bob Hoskins as her kooky husband, Wilkins. But that doesn’t mean they don’t get plenty of humorous moments too, most notably the bit where Micawber fails to commit suicide and then cheerfully inquires about breakfast.[7]If you’re not familiar with the character, you may be wondering if that’s normal for him. Yes. Yes, it is. Sorry, I’ve still got Phineas and Ferb on the brain.

I don’t know why of all the minor comic relief characters in the book, this miniseries insisted on retaining David’s alcoholic landlady, Mrs. Crupp (Dawn French.) But I’ll be forever grateful to them for it. French is hilarious and she and Maggie Smith do a great job of playing off each other in the one scene they share.

My proofreader has told me before that the reviews where I list practically every member of the cast and state my opinion on their performance are among my more boring ones. But I really couldn’t resist doing that for this miniseries. There are so many great actors and characters that I haven’t gotten to yet!

Pauline Quirk as Clara Peggotty
James Thorton as Ham and Alun Armstrong (whom Dickens fans may recognize as Squeers from the 1982 Nicholas Nickleby and Inspector Bucket from the 2005 Bleak House) as Daniel Peggotty
Aislin McGuckin as Emily
Clare Holman as Rosa Dartle and Cherie Lunghi as Mrs. Steerforth

With the court’s indulgence, I’d like to treat one more of them individually: Joanna Page as David’s ditzy first wife, Dora Spenlow. Watching her, you both totally buy that David would be infatuated with her cuteness and that actually living with her would drive him crazy.

It helps that McMenamin’s David is more expressive when he’s exasperated by Dora than at any other point.

I wish the series had shown the couple having a fight and then making up, as the 1935 movie did, to really flesh out their relationship. But it’s amazing how much depth and nuance the miniseries gives it even without that.

Depth and nuance are what I really appreciate about this adaptation. More than your average Dickens book, a major part of what makes David Copperfield compelling is how so many of its characters turn out to be more complicated than they seem when we first meet them. Too many retellings of the story focus solely on capturing the characters’ memorable quirks without properly developing their emotional journeys or retaining their moments of self-awareness. This one might not be able to include every bit of character development or nuance from the book, but you can tell that character development and nuance were the main goals of Adrian Hodges and director Simon Curtis, and they focused on them without skimping on humorous character quirks. And while not every subplot from the book was included and the ones that were included sometimes feel a tad rushed, none of them feel more rushed than others. Each one is given equal weight.[8]Contrast this with the 2000 TV movie that underdeveloped the storyline of Steerforth and the Peggotty family and the 1969 one that underdeveloped everything else.

Another thing about the book, David Copperfield, that this adaptation prioritizes is how much of it is about life itself with its ups and downs. It shows a lot of cute babies[9]They’re cute in this miniseries, I mean. I don’t remember them being described that way in the book., representing birth, and a lot of scenes of people grieving for lost loved ones, representing death. Not that this story has as high of a body count as some Dickens books. In fact, the ending has been quite reasonably criticized for indulging in wish fulfillment. The ultimate fate of the improvident Micawber family, in particular, has been described as unbelievable. But this adaptation creates a heartwarming moment between the husband and wife that reconciles me to the ending. (I’d include an image, but I don’t want to spoil too much.)

When it comes to heartwarming ways to waste three hours in front of the TV, I’d rank this David Copperfield right up there with The Sound of Music.

Remember what I said about some beautiful scenery?

References

References
↑1 By the way, I feel a bit uncomfortable calling him David. You see, basically ever character in the book calls him by a different name in keeping with that character’s social status, personality and relationship to him. David is what his evil stepfamily calls him, and I don’t want to sound like one of them. But none of his nicknames (Davy, Doady, Daisy, etc.) feel natural to me. I’ve thought of coming up with a nickname for him of my own. (D.C.?) But I haven’t come up with one I really like yet and David falls naturally from my tongue.
↑2 Another issue is that what makes young David’s characterization so great in the book is so how well Dickens gets in the head of someone so young. A movie or a TV show can only show the character from the outside, so to speak.
↑3 Harry Lloyd also makes more of an impression as the younger version of David’s false friend, James Steerforth, than Oliver Milburn does as the older version, but the gap between the two is narrower than between Radcliffe and McMenamin.
↑4 Not only are Frank Lawton and Dev Patel better than he is, by the way, but so is Hugh Dancy from the 2000 made-for-TV movie, which I won’t be reviewing. And so is…well, let’s not compare him to every other actor I’ve seen in the role. That might just be depressing.
↑5 Though it’s worth noting that in Dickens’s version, unlike the 2019 movie, David never intended his memoir with all its potentially unflattering information to be published.
↑6 David Copperfield is the Dickensian protagonist with the highest number of love interests. Apparently, he takes after his father who, according to his aunt, “was always running after wax dolls from his cradle.” In the modern vernacular, she would probably have said “barbie dolls.”
↑7 If you’re not familiar with the character, you may be wondering if that’s normal for him. Yes. Yes, it is. Sorry, I’ve still got Phineas and Ferb on the brain.
↑8 Contrast this with the 2000 TV movie that underdeveloped the storyline of Steerforth and the Peggotty family and the 1969 one that underdeveloped everything else.
↑9 They’re cute in this miniseries, I mean. I don’t remember them being described that way in the book.
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Animation Station: The Amazing Balancing Act That Is Phineas and Ferb

Posted on June 2, 2023 by stationmaster

For a brief interval, (theater) enables us to become gods. Stripped of all nonessentials, that, I think, is the ultimate nature of the theatrical passion, and that is why in one form or another, practically everything that goes on in the theater is based on something misunderstood by some or all of the people on the stage that is at the same time clear to the people that are watching them.-Harold Goddard, The Meaning of Shakespeare.

The animated series, Phineas and Ferb, which ran on the Disney Channel from 2007 to 2015 is responsible for an entire generation being unable to hear the phrase, “tri-state area” without busting a gut laughing. Actually, it also made it impossible for them to hear the word, “busting,” without doing that. Phineas and Ferb is also one of the few, possibly the only, Disney Channel show of its vintage to have real cross generational appeal. I only discovered it as an adult, years after it was cancelled, and I consider it brilliant, something that works wonderfully as a turn-off-your-brain Saturday Morning cartoon and that holds up to serious thematic analysis. I was not particularly thrilled however to hear that it’s going to get a revival on Disney+. I’m not saying said revival will be terrible; it might be quite fun. But I doubt it will be as consistently great as the franchise was in its glory days.[1]There was a spin-off movie released on Disney+ in 2020, Candace Against the Universe. While a great movie in many ways with some of the best songs to emerge from the franchise, many of its dramatic … Continue reading I want to write about it while the show can still be seen as sort of pristine and perfect. There are already a lot of articles celebrating the series, but I believe I’ve found a different way to approach it.

First, some background information.

The goal of the series creators, Dan Povenmire and Jeff “Swampy” Marsh was to create an animated show that would have the sophistication of the adult ones on which they’d worked, like The Simpsons and Family Guy, but without the crudeness and cynicism, one that adults and kids could both enjoy. In this, they succeeded. Phineas and Ferb is wonderfully witty yet also ridiculously innocent and wholesome. I’d call it ironically wholesome but how genuinely emotional it can get belies that description. And both the sophistication and the wholesomeness are integral to the show’s appeal. Like the titular characters, neither would work as well without the other.

The premise of Phineas and Ferb is both simple and complex. Juvenile stepbrothers Phineas Flynn (brilliantly voiced by Vincent Martella-all the voice acting on this show is briliant) and Ferb Fletcher (voiced by Thomas Brodie-Sangster though he seldom speaks) are determined to have the best summer vacation ever. Every day, they build a giant theme park ride or a time travel machine or a robot or a spaceship or what-have-you in their backyard. And every day Phineas’s older sister, Candance (Ashley Tisdale) tries to show this to their mom (Caroline Rhea.) But just as Mom is about to see it, events remove the invention and all evidence of it from the yard, leaving her none the wiser.

This is a fairly standard premise. In particular, the whole character-keeps-trying-to-show-people-fantastical-thing-but-it-disappears-every-time is a sitcom cliche that dates back to at least the 60s. The complex part comes from the fact that there is another storyline happening right alongside it. Phineas and Ferb’s pet platypus, Perry (whose animal noises are provided by Dee Bradley Baker), is really a Gromit-esque secret agent for OWCA (The Organization Without a Cool Acronym.)[2]If you know what Gromit-esque means, reward yourself with some cheese. Each day, he battles Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz (aforementioned series creator Dan Povenmire), an evil scientist who spends his days building doomsday devices to get revenge on those whom he perceives as having wronged him or to take over the entire tri-state area. These devices include an underwear-inator to demoralize everyone by turning their clothes into underwear, a chicken-replace-inator that replaces whatever its beam hits with a chicken, a rain-inator to rain out a soccer game which would otherwise preempt a big episode of Doofenshmirtz’s favorite TV show[3]I see nothing evil about that last one. Perry was clearly in the wrong there. and a bring-0ut-the-dessert-inator, which even he admits was kind of desperate. Perry always wins, of course, and at the end of the day, Phineas and Ferb are none the wiser as to his true nature.

Again, this a fairly generic premise for a cartoon. But something about the intertwining of the two standard plotlines makes them special. And even apart from that, well, sometimes standard plots become standard because they work, and these ones work here.

Of course, Phineas and Ferb is primarily a comedy, and the greatness of any comedy lies in, well, its comedy. But comedy is also the hardest thing to analyze without ruining it. Suffice to say, it uses many of the standard tropes of modern self-aware comedy and it uses them to their best advantage. I will say that one thing I love about it is that it’s gloriously, outrageously silly without being too silly. Too often when cartoons and other comedies, especially those aimed at kids, aim for maximum wackiness, the result feels forced and tiresome to me. But the idea of a secret agent platypus battling an evil scientist bent on tri-state area domination perfectly hits that sweet spot.

One of the things about which the show is self-aware is its formulaicness. Not only does the average episode follow the outline I described to the letter and there are a host of catchphrases that each character says. I don’t mean that as criticism. As I’ve written before, sometimes I enjoy something being formulaic. There are joys to be found in recognition and anticipation. For kids, there’s something comforting about watching Phineas and Ferb, knowing that by the end of each episode, the stepbrothers will have had the best day ever, Candace will have been reduced to sputtering impotence and Doofenschmirtz reduced to impotent cursing. This can even be part of the show’s appeal for adults. And the aforementioned self-awareness helps a lot. Even as early as the first season, Candace realizes her the hopelessness of her fate and tries to beat the system by, say, bringing Phineas and Ferb’s invention of the day to Mom rather than bringing Mom to it. (Naturally, this backfires on her.) Of course, there’s a price to be paid for all of this. So much of the show’s humor depends on the viewers being familiar with the formula and the catchphrases and the details of previous installments[4]It’s particularly necessary for episodes like Hail Doofania and Phineas and Ferb Interrupted. that a newcomer won’t really get most of the jokes if they just sample a few random episodes. But since the show is good, why would you want to limit yourself to a few random episodes?

One of the limits Povenmire and Marsh imposed on themselves in making the series was that none of the characters would be a jerk or an idiot.[5]But what about Doofenshmirtz? We’ll get to him. I would have told them they were shooting themselves in the foot with this goal. Pretty much every great comedic character in the history of fiction has been a jerk or an idiot. But the balance it creates between all the characters is actually brilliant. Most commentary on the show has, reasonably enough, focused on the “no jerks” part, but the “no idiots” is just as remarkable. (Remember when I wrote that I think I’ve found a new way to approach this?)

It’s not so much that no Phineas and Ferb character is stupid or incompetent as that none of them are completely stupid and incompetent. For that matter, none of them are entirely competent either. It’s true that Phineas and Ferb regularly do the impossible with ease, but they’re completely oblivious to obvious things like Candace’s animosity toward them or the fact that the neighbor girl, Isabella Garcia-Shapiro (Alyson Stoner), is besotted with Phineas.[6]Well, Phineas is oblivious to these things. I suspect the stoic, inscrutable Ferb picks up on far more than he cares to mention. Isabella herself is the highly competent leader of the Fireside Girls, a girl scout troop that awards patches for things like moving mountains and wrestling alligators, and easily keeps up with Phineas and Ferb yet is incapable of either moving on from Phineas or openly declaring her feelings to him.

Candace can never prove Phineas and Ferb’s exploits to her mother, but with determination worthy of a better cause, she usually comes close, managing to drag Mom away from whatever she’s doing and bring her to the scene of the “crime” just a second too late. And when she’s called upon to take part in the action scenes, she typically saves the day.

The more you think about it, the harder it is to see whether Candace or her mother is the butt of their plotline’s humor. On the one hand, Mom remains unflappable and calm while Candace is frequently frazzled and winds up looking ridiculous. Yet Mom has the most limited knowledge of all the show’s characters. We know that everything Candace claims that she dismisses is completely true and so do most of the cast.[7]A similar dynamic exists in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Theseus is the character who gets humiliated the least, but the audience is clearly shown that his skepticism of the supernatural is … Continue reading

While Perry is an ultracompetent agent who always thwarts Doofenshmirtz and destroys his inators, he also always walks right into the traps that Doofenshmirtz sets for him.[8]More seriously, he’s shown to have trouble working with others though this only comes up a few times. And, for all their goofiness and the fact that Doofenshmirtz always deliberately puts a helpfully labeled self-destruct button on them, it’s rare for any of his inventions to simply not work. He proves to be quite competent in his way and, as I wrote above about Candace, in a serious crisis often ends up being an asset to the good guys.

I wrote above that I think no character being completely a jerk is a part of the show’s dynamic that has been sufficiently discussed. But it’s such a striking aspect of Phineas and Ferb that I just have to write about it! Imagining a version of the franchise in which the viewer would despise Candace for being a killjoy or, less desirable but more likely, a version in which the viewer would start to pity her and resent Phineas and Ferb is far too easy. But neither really happens. The brothers are such sweethearts that it’s impossible to want them to get in trouble and however dangerous their activities would be in real life, they’re shown to be totally harmless in the cartoony context of the show. But before the first season is through, we understand the insecurities behind Candace’s pettiness, and she shows herself to be capable of admirable behavior. It helps that Phineas and Ferb themselves love Candace and always leave the door open for her to join in on their fun. Some of their inventions are made specifically for her benefit, such as the giant citywide version of her favorite boardgame. In at least two episodes, they actually try to help her bust them to their mother. (Naturally, these are among the few times Phineas and Ferb fail to achieve their goals.)[9]The pilot episode does imply that Phineas is trying to hide what he’s doing from Candace and Mom, but the show abandons this so quickly I’m inclined to declare it noncanonical. What’s both heartwarming and sad about Candace is that she actually has a lot of great things in her life: loving, supporting parents notwithstanding Mom’s sarcasm and disbelief, little brothers who adore her and can bend the laws of physics to their will, an incredibly tolerant and loving boyfriend (Mitchel Musso), a best friend (Kelly Hu) who points out her worst tendencies to her, and, though she doesn’t know it, a secret organization of highly trained animal agents protecting her tri-state area from evil scientists. She could be a very happy person if she’d only give up her pride and her vendetta against her brothers. In fact, the episodes when she does just that and joins in on Phineas and Ferb’s activities are the ones when she is happiest.

Much the same could be said of Doofenshmirtz. Initially, the fact that he’s unloved by his parents (Dee Bradley Baker and Cloris Leachman in flashbacks), unsuccessful in his career, estranged from his wife (Allison Janey) and despised by his teenage daughter, Vanessa (Olivia Olson) makes him the object of the viewers’ contemptuous laughter. But the longer the show goes on, the more we sympathize with him and so does Perry. As one character says in the series finale, he’s not so much evil as a nice guy who tries to be evil. Whenever he turns out to be doing something innocent, Perry supports him in it and whenever it looks like his schemes are going to backfire on him, Perry rescues him. For Doofenshmirtz’s part, as the show goes on, he starts to sound less upset when Perry shows up to thwart him and more pleased. Before long, one of the series’s running gags is that their enmity is more like a romantic relationship. It’s actually rather shocking to rewatch early episodes and see Doofenshmirtz try to kill Perry or Perry try to arrest him. Such a thing would be unthinkable later. Phineas and Ferb‘s great achievement is that we don’t root against Candace or Doofenschmirtz but neither do we root for them to succeed. We root for them to be converted.

Much the same can be said of the other characters who start out as antagonists and of the other relationships that start out as negative. Doofenshmirtz’s aforementioned aloof daughter mellows out considerably over the course of the show, especially as she becomes friends with Phineas, Ferb and Candace.[10]Without discovering Perry’s secret identity, of course. In one of the series’ most popular specials, Summer Belongs to You, her complaint about her dad is actually that he doesn’t spend enough time with her. Buford Van Stomm (series writer Bobby Gaylor) is introduced as a bully but before too long becomes just another member of Phineas and Ferb’s friend group albeit an unusually abrasive one. It’s as if he has been transformed by entering the magic circle of Phineas and Ferb’s backyard. To make a list of the recurring antagonists who don’t undergo some kind of redemption would probably be easier.[11]There’s Doofenshmirtz’s parents, Suzy Johnson (Kari Wahlgren), possessive little sister of Candace’s love interest, Mitch (David Mitchell), an extraterrestrial villain in two … Continue reading

When the characters on special occasions do encounter real wickedness, the effect is less to sour the show’s optimism than to add a welcome dash of spice to the episode, special or movie. Usually, these instances will see Doofenshmirtz teaming up with the new villains but have him fight alongside the good guys in the climax. In most cases, this is because the bad guys will have turned against him for no longer being useful but in one of the specials in the final season, Phineas and Ferb Save Summer, he defects from their ranks of his own accord because he can’t stand what they’re doing (“I’m an evil scientist, not a crazy scientist!”), a significant step in his character development.

I can think of no better example of Phineas and Ferb‘s no-total-jerks-and-no-total-idiots rule than this. Compared to similar Disney animated series, like Recess or The Replacements, there are hardly any kids vs adults storylines.[12]That’s to say, there are some and they’re entertaining ones too but not many. It’s true that the main antagonist, Doofenshmirtz, is an adult and (seemingly) incompetent and, it turns out, an amazingly embarrassing parent, but he’s typically pitted against Perry, another adult, rather than the kids.[13]An adult secret agent platypuses is still technically an adult. Unlike other child empowering characters like Tom Sawyer, Peter Pan or Pippi Longstocking, Phineas and Ferb having nothing of the rebel in their natures. One of the franchise’s running jokes/catchphrases is some adult or other, typically a deliveryman, asking the boys whether they’re not a little young to be doing whatever they’re doing, upon which Phineas will reply, “Yes. Yes, we are,” and said adult will shrug it off and leave them to their devices.[14]My favorite variation on this is in one episode when the questioner’s fellow delivery man says, “Yes. Yes, he is. Sorry, Phineas, he’s new.” The show has no wish to empower anyone at anyone else’s expense.

Phineas and Ferb is all about celebrating humanity’s potential.[15]Whenever a character makes an ordinary painting or scrapbook or treehouse, the show is always careful to show it being praised. It would never want young viewers to be discouraged from doing projects … Continue reading But this humanism is tempered with an implicit acknowledgment of human limitations. Except for maybe Perry, none of the characters have a complete view of what’s going on. Phineas, Ferb and Candace know nothing about Doofenshmirtz and he knows nothing about them. Only the viewers from the godlike perspective granted them understand all. You might say that the losers of the show, Candace and Doofenshmirtz, are those who try to control everything while Phineas and Ferb, the winners, cheerfully accept that their inventions will mysteriously disappear every day and they’ll never know why. Maybe that’s why I don’t think they should try to bring back the show. Like one of the boys’ creations, it was an amazing, wonderful thing that had its moment and then was gone. Trying to force it to stay would be futile.

In many ways, Phineas and Ferb is most challenging escapist entertainment ever. The explicit challenge to viewers is to be as industrious and creative and enterprising as Phineas and Ferb. The implicit challenge is to be as kind and easygoing and helpful as they are.

References

References
↑1 There was a spin-off movie released on Disney+ in 2020, Candace Against the Universe. While a great movie in many ways with some of the best songs to emerge from the franchise, many of its dramatic beats were recycled from past episodes and it was clear the characters had all been developed as much as they needed to be already. Contrast this with the 2011 Disney Channel Original movie, Phineas and Ferb: Across the Second Dimension, which was great because it did things that the show proper would never do.
↑2 If you know what Gromit-esque means, reward yourself with some cheese.
↑3 I see nothing evil about that last one. Perry was clearly in the wrong there.
↑4 It’s particularly necessary for episodes like Hail Doofania and Phineas and Ferb Interrupted.
↑5 But what about Doofenshmirtz? We’ll get to him.
↑6 Well, Phineas is oblivious to these things. I suspect the stoic, inscrutable Ferb picks up on far more than he cares to mention.
↑7 A similar dynamic exists in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Theseus is the character who gets humiliated the least, but the audience is clearly shown that his skepticism of the supernatural is wrong. Consider these lines which could easily have been Mom talking about Candace, you know, if Mom were a Shakespeare character.

Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends…
Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear!

↑8 More seriously, he’s shown to have trouble working with others though this only comes up a few times.
↑9 The pilot episode does imply that Phineas is trying to hide what he’s doing from Candace and Mom, but the show abandons this so quickly I’m inclined to declare it noncanonical.
↑10 Without discovering Perry’s secret identity, of course.
↑11 There’s Doofenshmirtz’s parents, Suzy Johnson (Kari Wahlgren), possessive little sister of Candace’s love interest, Mitch (David Mitchell), an extraterrestrial villain in two episodes and Dr. Roddenstein (Joe Orrantia), another evil scientist and a rival of Doofenshmirtz. Huh, that was actually a longer list than I thought.
↑12 That’s to say, there are some and they’re entertaining ones too but not many.
↑13 An adult secret agent platypuses is still technically an adult.
↑14 My favorite variation on this is in one episode when the questioner’s fellow delivery man says, “Yes. Yes, he is. Sorry, Phineas, he’s new.”
↑15 Whenever a character makes an ordinary painting or scrapbook or treehouse, the show is always careful to show it being praised. It would never want young viewers to be discouraged from doing projects of their own just because they’d never be as cool as what Phineas and Ferb do. Both the characters and their creators would hate that.
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David Copperfield vs. David Copperfield

Posted on May 26, 2023 by stationmaster

David Copperfield, Charles Dickens’s beloved novel about friendship, marriage, parenthood and life in general, doesn’t necessarily lend itself that well to a movie. Not only is it long, like all of Dickens’s major novels, but it’s structured like an autobiography and rather than having one major problem to be solved, new problems keep popping up just as they do in real life.[1]Great Expectations and Bleak House also have first person narrators but they’re not structured like biographies. Its slow pacing, surprisingly complex characterizations and emphasis on the day-to-day realities of life make the book more suited for the miniseries format. But that hasn’t stopped filmmakers from trying to adapt it and I can’t blame them. Of all the films that have been made from David Copperfield, either for television or the big screen, I’m going to compare the 1935 movie, which was the first sound version, and the 2019 one, which is the most recent adaptation and also a sound version. (In case you don’t get my sense of humor, that last line was a joke.) Both have elements to make fans of the book stand up and cheer and elements to make them groan and sit down in disappointment.

David Copperfield (1935)

Clearly, director George Cukor (The Philadelphia Story, Gaslight) and screenwriters Howard Estabrook had a lot of love and respect for the original book. It’s a rare scene from this movie that isn’t brimming with fan pleasing little details, like the sheep that wander into church in an early scene. Young David’s harrowing trip from London to Canterbury on foot has seldom, if ever, been powerfully portrayed as it is here. Many of the novel’s larger than life characters feel as if they’d jumped off the page.

Of course, with only two hours and ten minutes to tell the story several memorable characters were also cut, including two of the most interesting, Mrs. Steerforth, mother of David’s false friend, James (Hugh Williams), and her companion, Rosa Dartle. A sad loss but probably better than including them without being able to do them justice. David’s stint as a student at Salem House is cut and he meets Steerforth at the academy of Dr. Strong, who is referred to but never seen.[2]In the book, Steerforth’s mother specifically sent him to a poor school so he would stand out, so this change costs a bit of development for the character. He never meets his good friend, Tommy Traddles, and his love interest, Sophy, at all. To be fair, while they’re very endearing in the book, I haven’t seen an adaptation that included them and made them really work, though I will say that one of the subplots makes less sense without Traddles. The movie completely reimagines how David meets his first wife, Dora Spenlow (Maureen O’ Sullivan), and portrays her as having been raised by her maiden aunts (Marion Ballou and Margaret Seddon), dropping the character of her father. While Mr. Spenlow in the book is a great character, I rather like this change since the aunts are fun characters who would normally be cut in shorter adaptations and even some longer ones and, again, the movie didn’t have time to do Dora’s father justice.

When the film was first released, Freddie Bartholomew’s performance as the young David was highly praised and Frank Lawton as the older version of the character was written off as bland by comparison. For me though, Bartholomew grows a little wearying, mainly because he sounds annoying when he, or rather his character, cries and he has to cry a lot. However, I wouldn’t say this makes his performance bad. After all, people do often sound annoying when they cry in real life. I enjoy watching Lawton more though.

Bartholomew isn’t the only one in the cast with whom I take issue. Young Fay Chaldecott is pretty terrible as Little Emily. Fortunately, she only has two scenes and hardly any dialogue. Florine McKinney is better as the older version of the character but not by as much as you’d hope. Maybe it’s just as well she has no dialogue at all.

Elizabeth Allan perfectly captures the personality of David’s immature mother, but with her constant posing, she feels laughably like a refugee from a silent movie. (If you’re familiar with Singin’ in the Rain, you know exactly what I mean.)

Fortunately, there are far more great performances in this star-studded movie than bad ones. As David’s ultimate love interest, Agnes Wickfield, Madge Evans feels like a holdover from the silent film era in the best sense with the way she conveys her entire character through her facial expressions. (Marilyn Knowlden plays her in the one scene of her as a child.)

Other standouts are Basil Rathbone as Edward Murstone, David’s abusive stepfather, Violet Kemble Cooper as said stepfather’s equally abusive sister, Jane, Jessie Ralph as David’s loving nurse, Clara Peggotty, Lionel Barrymore as her brother, Daniel, W. C. Fields as the lovable but perpetually in debt Wilkins Micawber, Edna Mae Oliver as David’s awesome battle axe of a great aunt, Betsey Trotwood and Roland Young as the slimy, scheming Uriah Heep. Many of them portray their characters more vividly than any other adaptation.

Well…sort of.

It’d be accurate to say that the movie captures the characters from the book at certain points better than any other adaptation, but it doesn’t really capture their character development or their hidden depths, which were a big part of David Copperfield‘s appeal. For example, Oliver is easily my favorite Betsey Trotwood when she’s in awesome battle axe mode. (The scene where she gives the Murdstones a dressing down is a highlight.)

But she doesn’t show the character growing more easygoing and tolerant as the story goes on. That might not be so much her fault as it is the fault of the script. For example, in the book, Betsey Trotwood starts out opposed to the whole idea of marriage, in part due to her own bad experience of it which this movie doesn’t even mention, but she eventually mellows out to point that she becomes downright fond of David’s aforementioned first wife, who is exactly the kind of ditz that would have driven her crazy at the beginning of the story. In this movie, she is at best tolerant of Dora but never loses her disapproving air. Still, she’s better served by this adaptation than her mentally disabled friend, Mr. Dick (Lennox Pawle), who, without the subplot of Dr. Strong and his wife, is reduced to an undeveloped comic figure. The same can be said of Mrs. Micawber (Jean Cadell), a surprisingly dramatic character in the book and one who comes across as strong and even heroic as often as she comes across as pathetic. Here she only has two scenes and is simply pathetic in both of them. The only characters who have anything like satisfying arcs are David himself, Micawber and arguably Dora.[3]The minor character of Mrs. Gummidge (Una O’ Connor) doesn’t so much undergo a character arc in the book or the movie as much as she changes her whole personality on a dime. For what … Continue reading

Still, if this David Copperfield feels more like a scrapbook of memorable moments from the book than a well-designed story in its own right with fully developed characters, it’s a pretty great scrapbook.[4]Much the same could be said of George Cukor’s Little Women and I’d say it’s less of a problem with this movie than that one, though that could be I’m just a more enthusiastic … Continue reading Even thus simplified, the characters are still hard to forget, and it would be wrong to say there’s no depth to them at all. Considering how rushed the character arcs that are included are, it’s impressive how well they work. The one scene where Steerforth shows guilt is great and I’m amazed by how much the film conveys in the short section of it that depicts David’s marriage to Dora. Not every fan of the book will completely love this adaptation but every one of them should seek it out.

The Personal History of David Copperfield (2019)

Director Armando Iannucci (The Death of Stalin) and his co-screenwriter Simon Blackwell also show a great deal of affection for the book, David Copperfield, in their adaptation. Including little details such as young David (Jairah Vasani; Dev Patel plays the character as an adult) wondering if the world can really be round when he sees the flatness of the Yarmouth landscape. A number of similes and analogies from Dickens’s prose are actually worked into the dialogue[5]Actually, the characters tend to speak in similes even when they’re not using Dickens’s language. It’s that kind of movie., mainly David’s, foreshadowing his career as an author. (“You should write that down,” he’s told more than once.)[6]As I’ve written before, the version of the screenplay published online contained a number of allusions to Dickens books besides David Copperfield, most of which were ultimately cut. They … Continue reading But this movie doesn’t capture the overall feel of the book nearly as well as the 1935 movie or other adaptations have, and it isn’t even really trying to do so. In the words one insightful reviewer, this is more of a Dickensian Iannucci movie than an Iannuccian Dickens movie. Still, there are worse things than that.

The main way this movie departs from the book stylistically is by putting more of an emphasis on comedy. Even young David being caned by Mr. Murdstone (Darren Boyd) ends up being played for laughs. So is Mr. Wickfield (Benedict Wong)’s alcoholism, though it still retains its dramatic function. To the movie’s credit, those laughs are pretty big. The early scene of Wickfield repeatedly trying to steer the conversation toward drink and Betsey Trotwood (Tilda Swinton) firmly steering it away is hilarious. Still, would it have hurt the movie to have him undergo some character development instead of still being a pathetic clown at the end?

A benefit of the emphasis on comedy though is that scenes, such as David’s fight with a butcher’s boy (Aston McCauley) or his embarrassing night of drunkenness.[7]That last scene is sped up like an old silent comedy, a stylistic flourish typical of this film’s whimsical sensibilities.

The humor doesn’t always feel like Dickens’s, being just a tad earthier and with more of an emphasis on self-consciously witty banter between the characters, but it’s often brilliant in its own way.

Still, this adaptation really doesn’t convey the book’s warmth. I know many readers feel that Dickens was too sentimental. I suppose with some of his books I can allow the validity of this criticism. But I defy anyone not to be moved by the relationship between David Copperfield and his old nurse, Peggotty (Daisy May Cooper in this version.) I defy anyone reading the book, that is. Their bond in this movie is…fine, but hardly as touching.

Compared to the 1935 adaptation, this one plays around with the book’s plot structure more, but it actually includes more characters, in part by combining them with each other. Thus Mr. Micawber (Peter Capaldi) is combined with Mr. Mell, one of David’s first teachers, and Peggotty’s brother, Daniel (Paul Whitehouse), is combined with her eventual husband, Barkis. (I mean, he takes on Barkis’s role of driving a horse and cart. Peggotty doesn’t commit incest in this version or anything.) More startingly, Steerforth’s prim mother (Nikki Amuka-Bird) and the fiery Rosa Dartle become one character, which I wouldn’t have thought would work but does.[8]Emily (Aimee Kelly) also gets one of Rosa’s lines (“When James was at his truest, he loved me”) which, again, I wouldn’t have expected to make sense but does.

Like the 1935 movie, this one eliminates Salem House and has David meet Steerforth (Aneurin Barnard) at Dr. Strong’s. But rather than lose the soft-voiced, hard-hearted headmaster, Mr. Creakle (Victor McGuire), and his loud-voiced “translator,” Tungay (Peter Singh), it has them be young David’s supervisors at the blacking factory.

Unlike the 1935 movie, this one shows David’s time at Dr. Strong’s academy, but Dr. Strong’s is no longer run by Dr. Strong but by Mrs. Strong (Anna Maxwell Martin) who has nothing in common with either him or his wife from the book. This frustrates me since those characters are so seldom featured in even the longer adaptations, but this Mrs. Strong is a very fun character in her own right and feels fairly Dickensian in her comedy.

This adaptation has David run away from the blacking factory and seek out his great-aunt as an adult instead of a child. (Actually, I think he’s supposed to be a teenager at that point and only be an adult after his graduation, but it’s hard to tell, looking at his actor.) A side effect of this is that Betsey Trotwood loses the awesome dressing down she gives Murdstone and his sister (Gwendoline Christie.) A less eloquent one that David himself gives them, more or less, replaces it. As much as I hate this idea, having David and Agnes Wickfield (Rosalind Eleazer) be older when they meet allows the movie to develop their romance earlier. It pains me to admit it, but the emphasis on witty banter makes this Agnes a more fun character than her literary counterpart and the kindness she shows to Mr. Dick (Hugh Laurie) establishes her goodness more memorably than her introductory scenes in the book where we only see her being kind to David and her father.

I do wish though that the movie had kept her kindness toward her romantic rival, Dora Spenlow (Morfydd Clark who doubles David’s mother.) Here all she has for her are a few brief snippy comments. I know Dickens’s leading ladies get criticized as sickeningly sweet, but if you ask me, Agnes not resenting-or trying not to resent-Dora her luck and even having compassion for her can be very compelling. The relationship between David and Dora is vastly simplified while still paying tribute to her character arc in the book. This saves the movie from biting off more than it can chew dramatically, but it also means losing one of the most unique and interesting depictions of a bad marriage in Dickens, one in which neither partner is “the bad guy.” That’s arguably pretty unique for storytelling in general.

The book, David Copperfield, already had an unusually low body count for its author and this adaptation makes it even lower. In doing so, it makes an ending that already felt a bit too like wish fulfillment even more so. I have to say however that I prefer this lighthearted take on the source material to the gloomy 1969 made-for-TV movie, which focused entirely on David’s regrets over Dora and Steerforth.[9]It did adapt some of the book’s other famous subplots but in such a rushed and perfunctory way as to make them seem inexplicable.

The casting is fine. The best part of it is Dev Patel, who brings both an endearing earnestness and perfect comedic timing to the lovable dingbat of a lead. And when he’s called upon to imitate his costars, in his character’s capacity as a storyteller, he does so beautifully. Rosalind Eleazer and Morfydd Clark also shine, and Peter Capaldi and Hugh Laurie have some fun though I can’t help seeing them as too thin to be Micawber and Mr. Dick. But, in general, everyone is simply adequate in their roles without making much of an impression. As Uriah Heep, for example, Ben Whishaw is nowhere near the grotesque monster that Dickens described, though that could be because the movie reimagines his character so that we start out pitying him before seeing his true colors. (Not a bad idea if the character absolutely had to be reimagined.)

Still, if this David Copperfield doesn’t boast nearly as many great performances as the 1935 one, it doesn’t have as many bad ones either.[10]I seem to be beginning a lot of sentences in this post with “Still.” These are just those kinds of movies. If anyone is miscast, it’s Aneurin Barnard, who is a little too obviously evil as Steerforth.

For all that this movie prioritizes comedy over sentiment, I’d be doing it a terrible injustice if I didn’t mention that it actually does a better job giving the characters arcs than the 1935 movie and even better than some of the longer miniseries. This isn’t true in every case. Micawber, one supporting character who did have something like a good arc in the 1935 movie, loses it here as other characters take on his role in Uriah Heep’s defeat. The movie still tries to give him serious scenes, but he always comes across as pathetic in them, never heroic. And Mrs. Micawber (Bronagh Gallagher who once played a version of Mrs. Nickleby) is again reduced to a simple comic figure.

But Betsey Trotwood’s backstory, the payoff of which is often cut in adaptations, gets a new one here. And while Dr. Strong’s subplot is cut as usual, Mr. Dick is given another way to prove his intelligence and be a hero in this adaptation. Ironically, this movie does more justice to the tragic side of his character than any of the more dramatic adaptations I’ve seen. Maybe the idea behind this David Copperfield was to draw out the comedy of the characters usually seen as serious and the seriousness of those usually seen as comic. Probably not, at least with the second half, since it’s really only Mr. Dick of whom it’s true. Ah well. Mission accomplished anyway.

Concluding Thoughts

Which of these two movies do I think is the better? I really can’t say. The 2019 one has a much less lumpy, random structure. It feels less crammed with underdeveloped subplots and it’s the one which modern audiences are more likely to enjoy. But I can’t forget all the ways in which the 1935 movie strikes me as the more faithful adaptation. I know there are going to be people saying I should judge these movies on their own merits as movies. But I’m sorry, I can’t accept that. Things like Betsey Trotwood confronting the Murdstones and David’s first marriage, are objectively great.[11]I know, I know, all art is subjective. But come on! We’re talking about David Copperfield here. How can I say the 2019 movie is better than the 1935 one when it cuts them and the latter doesn’t?

My favorite adaptation, period, is the 1999 miniseries and I’m not just saying that because it’s longer than either of these movies. It’s only a two-part miniseries. There are ones far longer that I don’t enjoy as much. What makes it my favorite…actually, I think I’ll write about that in another post. But not before I bring back “The Animation Station” to commemorate the start of Summer with a post on the best cartoon series about Summer ever. (Actually, it might be the only cartoon series specifically about Summer.) My readers will just have to wait to read about my favorite David Copperfield adaptation. Hopefully, it’ll be worth it for them.

References

References
↑1 Great Expectations and Bleak House also have first person narrators but they’re not structured like biographies.
↑2 In the book, Steerforth’s mother specifically sent him to a poor school so he would stand out, so this change costs a bit of development for the character.
↑3 The minor character of Mrs. Gummidge (Una O’ Connor) doesn’t so much undergo a character arc in the book or the movie as much as she changes her whole personality on a dime. For what it’s worth though, the moment in which she changes is a heartwarming one in both.
↑4 Much the same could be said of George Cukor’s Little Women and I’d say it’s less of a problem with this movie than that one, though that could be I’m just a more enthusiastic fan of this material.
↑5 Actually, the characters tend to speak in similes even when they’re not using Dickens’s language. It’s that kind of movie.
↑6 As I’ve written before, the version of the screenplay published online contained a number of allusions to Dickens books besides David Copperfield, most of which were ultimately cut. They probably would have been too confusing for casual viewers, but I appreciate the idea.
↑7 That last scene is sped up like an old silent comedy, a stylistic flourish typical of this film’s whimsical sensibilities.
↑8 Emily (Aimee Kelly) also gets one of Rosa’s lines (“When James was at his truest, he loved me”) which, again, I wouldn’t have expected to make sense but does.
↑9 It did adapt some of the book’s other famous subplots but in such a rushed and perfunctory way as to make them seem inexplicable.
↑10 I seem to be beginning a lot of sentences in this post with “Still.” These are just those kinds of movies.
↑11 I know, I know, all art is subjective. But come on! We’re talking about David Copperfield here.
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Digging Up Dickens With Wishbone

Posted on May 6, 2023 by stationmaster

I don’t think I could do a more entertaining job of explaining the premise of the old PBS Kids show, Wishbone, than this imagined version of the pitch meeting for it.

VISIONARY: So there’s this dog.
PBS SUITS: We’re listening.
VISIONARY: And he loves books.
[nodding, nodding]
VISIONARY: He knows all about classic books.
SUIT #1: Adorable.
SUIT #2: Like a cartoon dog?
VISIONARY: No, no. A live Jack Russell Terrier.
[…]
VISIONARY: He belongs to a boy named Joe.
SUIT #1: Nice.
SUIT #3: And Joe reads him the books?
VISIONARY: No, Joe couldn’t care less about books.
SUIT #3: Oh. Okay.
VISIONARY: Joe and his friends’ day-to-day scrapes resemble the plotlines of great novels, and Wishbone like, picks up on it.
SUIT #2: Wishbone?
VISIONARY: The dog.
SUIT #2: Oh.
SUIT #3: The name seems like more of a turkey thing…?
SUIT #1: Should we name him something literary? Something like Dogstoyev-
VISIONARY: No. His name is Wishbone. Unlike his human companion, Wishbone is a great lover of books. When Joe’s life reminds him of a masterpiece, as it so often does, our canine Virgil guides the audience on a journey into that book.
SUIT #3: So the dog can talk.
VISIONARY: Nope. Joe and his friends and Joe’s mom just think he’s a regular dog.
SUIT #2: …Joe’s dad?
VISIONARY: Ellen is a single mom. She’s a widow. This is a story about the limitless ecstasies of the imagination, but we want to respect the complex lives of our young viewers, so sometimes things are very real.
[nodding]
VISIONARY: Wishbone can narrate, though.
SUIT #1: So when we travel into the world of novel…
VISIONARY: Live actors, costumes, the works. Mini-Masterpiece Theater. Also, Wishbone is a character.
SUIT #2: Narrating?
VISIONARY: No, he is an actual character in the book.
SUIT #1: Ah, I get it. In the book part, all the characters are played by dogs?
VISIONARY: You get nothing. Wishbone plays a character, for example Romeo in Romeo and Juliet, and the other parts are played by adult human actors.
SUIT #3: But you said he can’t talk to humans.
VISIONARY: No, see, in the world of the book, nobody thinks he’s a dog and people understand him. Just not in the real world. But then what is “real,” right?
SUIT #2: Like they just never acknowledge he’s a dog?
VISIONARY: I mean he wears a costume, so.[1]The whole thing is worth reading.

Despite the satirical tone of that article, there are a lot of people who look back on this show with fondness, even admiration. I like to believe there are even cultural historians who discover it as adults and become fans. I definitely got a kick out of it growing up and heartily agree with its philosophy that the greatest stories from hundreds and even thousands of years ago are still relatable today.

Besides Romeo, Wishbone’s illustrious acting career included such juicy roles as Cyrano de Bergerac, Sherlock Holmes, Wilfred of Ivanhoe, Victor Frankenstein, Robin Hood, Mr. Darcy, King David, D’Artagnan and Hercules. I thought it’d be fun to do a blog post on the three episodes of the show that adapt books by Charles Dickens. Despite the unwieldly length of Dickens’s novels, not to mention their preoccupations with legal and financial matters and the fates of fallen women, in many ways they lend themselves to short adaptations for young children very well. Not only do several Dickensian protagonists begin their stories as children themselves, but their plots have plenty of danger and suspense and they all have clear wholesome moral messages. Shakespeare’s characters and themes, on the other hand, tend to be open to multiple interpretations and while Jane Austen’s books also have clear messages that are arguably even more relevant to kids[2]Mainly, don’t let your personal biases blind you to the truth., they lack adventure and excitement, especially for the stereotypical boy.

Besides which, Charles Dickens is my favorite Capital-C-Classic author and I love blogging about his work. Let’s dive in.

Twisted Tail

“I’m so hungry I could even eat cat food!”

In this episode, Wishbone (portrayed by a dog named Soccer and voiced to perfection by Larry Brantely) imagines himself as the poor orphan boy Oliver Twist from Dickens’s book of that name. Only the first act or so of the story ends up being retold (it begins with Oliver asking for more food at the workhouse and ends, more or less, with him being cleared of pocket picking charges at the last minute) and few of its iconic characters actually appear. No Fagin, no Bill Sikes and no Nancy. There’s a certain logic to this as not only is the beginning of Oliver Twist the part with the least adult content, but the last act is really more about Nancy than Oliver. But despite adapting a very small, specific portion of the book, this episode really does convey the essence of it, mainly the feeling of poor Oliver being at mercy of a heartless world. The visual of him being a tiny dog actually serves the story well there. In fact, in some ways, this is one of the most accurate Oliver Twist adaptations ever. Despite him being nothing but an antagonist to Oliver in the book, roughly four fifths of the adaptations I’ve seen end up making the Artful Dodger (played here by Joe Duffield, son of Wishbone creator Rick Duffield)[3]Fans of the series may recognize him for his recurring role in the “real world” storylines as local troublemaker Damont Jones. a good guy, sometimes by combining him with Charley Bates (Matt Zeske in this episode), a character in the book who is somewhat randomly redeemed in the end. Not so here.[4]Of course, this episode was my introduction to the story, so maybe what’s going on is that it blinded me to whatever it is that other readers and adapters of the book find endearing about the … Continue reading While Wishbone’s smart-alecky personality is a poor fit for Oliver’s character, this adaptation retains his obliviousness to the Artful Dodger’s criminal intentions and his horror at seeing him pick a pocket. More cynical adaptations make him more openminded about thievery although the whole point of his character in the book is that he refuses to compromise his morals despite the good reasons he has to do so and is rewarded for it in the end. As a retelling of Oliver Twist, this episode may be pretty lame, but as an introduction to it, it’s quite good. And the fact that it retells so little means that kid viewers who went on to the read the original book had plenty of surprises.

In the “real world” storyline, Wishbone’s young owner, Joe Talbot (Jordan Wall), befriends a boy named Max (Marshall Ziemanski) from a group home where, we hear, he doesn’t get much to eat, and the other kids aren’t very nice to him. Well, that’s not quite true. There is Zach (Michael Edmondson), one older kid there who seems to be vying for Max’s affection-and for whose crimes Max nearly gets blamed. This ties in nicely with Dickens’s story and his message that if society doesn’t want homeless orphans to take up lives of crime, it needs to do a better job of taking care of them. It’s true that parts of this plot are really silly. (How many teenage hoodlums would steal plastic flamingoes from someone’s yard? Scratch that. How many adults would?!) But I feel like anyone watching a show like this is expecting something a little cheesy and this episode is vintage 1995 PBS Kids cheese.[5]Can something be both genuinely cheesy and also genuinely good? I would say yes, but any examples I’d give would be highly subjective.

A Tale of Two Sitters

“Least I’ve got a nice view of the guillotine.”

Where Wishbone only adapted the first act of Oliver Twist, it only adapts the last act of A Tale of Two Cities wherein former French aristocrat, Charles Evremonde (Wishbone), who has “broken from the pack”[6]Wishbone’s words, not mine. and moved to London, is forced to return to Paris where the French Revolution is in full swing and eager to make him pay for his family’s cruelties. It’s likely that with both episodes, the motives behind the choices of what specifically to adapt were wanting to include the most iconic parts of the narrative. And to its credit, the episode does a good job of dramatizing those parts in a kid friendly way and conveying what makes A Tale of Two Cities interesting. Naturally, we don’t get all the dirty details of what the Evremondes did to Madame DeFarge (Jenny Pichanick)’s family, but it’s clear that the common people of France have legitimate grievances yet equally clear that they’re treating Charles and his English wife, Lucie Manette (Sally Nystuen), unjustly. Unfortunately, Sydney Carton (Brent Anderson)’s final sacrifice ends up not making much dramatic sense since his only role in the episode prior to it has been to stand around looking depressed for no clear reason. I understand if the show’s creators didn’t consider a man’s love for another’s wife appropriate for kids even if that love was unrequited, but this really makes A Tale of Two Cities a weird choice for the show to adapt at all.

In the “real world” storyline, it’s Saturday and Joe and his friend, David Barnes (Adam Springfield) want to test out a new remote-controlled car, but they’re stuck babysitting David’s little sister, Emily (Jazmine McGill), and her friend, Tina (Katy Price.) The girls are left unsupervised in Joe’s house and naturally wreak havoc there. This…doesn’t really have anything to do with A Tale of Two Cities at all despite Wishbone’s valiant attempts to tie it into the book’s famous opening. I guess you could say that just as the chaos in France was a result of the upper classes’ neglect and abuse of the people, the chaos in the Talbot home is the result of boys’ irresponsibility, but that feels so forced. (I’m guessing the writers came up with the episode’s titular pun first and worked backwards from it.) There’s an attempted parallel at the end with an act of nobility on Emily’s part, but it’s not a very good attempt since Emily takes the blame for something she actually did whereas Sydney Carton takes on a punishment that had nothing to do with him.[7]Though you could argue there’s justice in the substitution in that Sydney generally led a less moral life than Charles Darnay did. The fact that the girls aren’t the best actresses doesn’t help much. Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy this episode.

Groomed for Greatness

“I’m an expert on vittles.”

It’s very easy to do a modern-day story for kids that parallels Great Expectations. With that novel, Charles Dickens pretty much made the prototype for every kids’ story about an unpopular kid who suddenly becomes popular, betrays or neglects their good unpopular friends in favor of the evil popular kids, suffers a humiliating comedown and learns a valuable lesson. It’s a credit to the Wishbone writers’ creativity that they didn’t just do that.[8]That may have been because the show had already done it in an episode inspired by Stephen Crane’s Red Badge of Courage though the connection was somewhat forced. Instead, world class artist, Renee Lassiter (Shelley Duvall!) is enlisted to create a dog sculpture for the local park with Wishbone as the model. She, in turn, enlists David to be her assistant. This leads to him getting a big head and snubbing his friends. I consider it a particularly happy piece of serendipity that one of those friends is named Joe.[9]I know I’m breaking my pattern by writing about the “real world” plot first, but it feels right to me for this episode.

While Wishbone wasn’t generally a show that people watched for great acting[10]Though some of the cast members have had good careers. It was actually Amy Acker’s television debut!, this episode has an unusually good cast. Jenny Pichanick is solid as Miss Havisham, one of Dickens’s juiciest villains, male or female. While their characters don’t have anything like the depth they have in the book, Matthew Tompkins and Timothy Vhale are likeable as Joe Gargery and Herbert Pocket. If there’s a weak link, it’s Jenni Tooley as Estella who doesn’t exude the charisma to convince us that the main character, Pip (Wishbone), would fall in love with her despite her coldness. But, hey, it’s a very difficult part to play well. I can probably the count the actresses who have completely sold me on the character on one hand, though I find her and her relationship with Pip completely believable in the book. Unlike the previous Dickensian Wishbone episodes, this one gives a broad overview of its source material’s plot, not just the beginning or the end. The virtue of that is that it teaches kids a lot more about the story. The downside is that…well, it teaches them a lot more about the story, potentially spoiling the experience of reading the real book, including a major plot twist roughly two thirds of the way through. For what it’s worth, I saw this episode before I read Great Expectations, but my memories were vague, and I didn’t associate them with the book’s title, so it didn’t ruin anything for me. In fact, it’s probably my favorite of these three episodes. I’d like to conclude by mentioning something this episode gets right that most Great Expectations adaptations don’t. Forgiveness is a big theme of the original book but for whatever reason, most adaptations have Pip, in need of forgiveness himself, hold a grudge against Miss Havisham to the end or only forgive her begrudgingly. The Wishbone episode is one of the only adaptations, if not the only adaptation to have him immediately forgive her wholeheartedly.

Who’d have expected that?

References

References
↑1 The whole thing is worth reading.
↑2 Mainly, don’t let your personal biases blind you to the truth.
↑3 Fans of the series may recognize him for his recurring role in the “real world” storylines as local troublemaker Damont Jones.
↑4 Of course, this episode was my introduction to the story, so maybe what’s going on is that it blinded me to whatever it is that other readers and adapters of the book find endearing about the Dodger.
↑5 Can something be both genuinely cheesy and also genuinely good? I would say yes, but any examples I’d give would be highly subjective.
↑6 Wishbone’s words, not mine.
↑7 Though you could argue there’s justice in the substitution in that Sydney generally led a less moral life than Charles Darnay did.
↑8 That may have been because the show had already done it in an episode inspired by Stephen Crane’s Red Badge of Courage though the connection was somewhat forced.
↑9 I know I’m breaking my pattern by writing about the “real world” plot first, but it feels right to me for this episode.
↑10 Though some of the cast members have had good careers. It was actually Amy Acker’s television debut!
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The Adaptation Station’s Two-Year Anniversary Top Ten List (in Alphabetical Order)

Posted on April 25, 2023 by stationmaster

Technically, it’s no longer this blog’s two-year anniversary, but I still felt like doing this list of the top ten movies/shows/plays about which I’ve blogged. Here are some disclaimers. If you’ve been following my blog and remember the other “list” posts, you can probably guess the first two.[1]I have to keep including them because you never know which post will be the first someone reads. The third one is new.

These are the top ten movies, shows, etc. about which about I’ve blogged, not my top ten favorites ever. The list should still give you some idea of what I consider great though.

The items are listed in alphabetical order, not ranked in quality. I could probably say that a few of them are better than others, but for the most part, I regard them as equal in their different ways. Doing an alphabetical list was easier than a ranking.

When I say I’ve blogged about them, I mean that they were the specific subject of at least one post. I’m not including things I’ve just mentioned. For example, in my two-part series on Maleficent (2014), I mentioned that I’m an ardent fan of the 1959 Sleeping Beauty, but the series wasn’t about that, so I didn’t put it on this list.

Now the moment you’ve been waiting for…

As You Like It (2006)

Basically, all of Shakespeare’s comedies are about romance, but As You Like It is a particularly interesting exploration of it. It contrasts a couple, Touchstone and Audrey, whose relationship is totally based on sex with the man planning on dumping the woman as soon as he’s had his fun with her, a couple, Silvius and Phebe, whose relationship is built on poetic cliches and finally a couple, Orlando and Rosalind, whose rounded relationship encompasses the physical and the spiritual. Of course, to describe it that way makes it sound much more moralizing and censorious than it is. The play ends with all three couples, plus another, getting married and we’re supposed to be happy for all of them.

The 2006 movie captures both the magic and the humanity of this play while dealing with its narrative problems as gracefully as possible. It boasts great casting, great visuals and great music. (Actually, pretty much all of the movies on this list boast that as well as great writing. I’m going to have to be careful not to keep repeating that in this post, but I should be allowed to mention it with this first entry.) My opinion on this comfort film can best be summarized by the line, “I like this place and willingly would waste my time in it.”

Cinderella (2015)

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve been fascinated by the legend of Cinderella. Having seen several movie adaptations of it, I can say that this, despite only having come out in the mid-2010s and not having nostalgia to lend it luster, is the best of them. For me, it has the perfect blend of being daringly traditional and non-revisionist while putting subtle new spins on the characters of Cinderella, her stepmother and her eventual husband, making them feel like real people. In general, I feel that the Disney company’s recent line of nostalgia bait, while pathetic in how endless it is, gets a worse rap from some critics than it deserves. But this is the only recent Disney remakes that I believe transcends the category of nostalgia bait.[2]I’d argue it’s not a remake of the old, animated movie at all, just another adaptation of the fairy tale, except for the mice and the cat and the names of the stepsisters and the words, … Continue reading

Emma (1996)[3]This is the one starring Gwyneth Paltrow, not Kate Beckinsale. It’s probably fairer to identify them by directors than actors, but if I did that, readers wouldn’t recognize their names.

Guys, are you turned off by the first three movies on this list being chick flicks? Well, this is one romantic comedy where the leading lady is wrong about everything, and her male love interest is always right. If the woman in your life insists on you watching a “girl movie” with her, why don’t you suggest this one?

Seriously, folks, if you ask me, this is the only movie based on a Jane Austen book that anyone really needs to watch.[4]Well, OK, there’s also Love and Friendship (2016) and maybe Sense and Sensibility (1995.) As something of an introvert, I love that it caricatures people who are annoyingly friendly. But it also distinguishes between the annoying but genuinely friendly Miss Bates and Mrs. Elton whose annoying friendliness is calculated and phony. (The friendliness part, that is. Her annoyingness is quite natural and genuine.) Beneath its fluffy exterior, this movie provides a pretty scathing look at how nasty respectable people, like Mr. Elton and Emma herself, can be and shows that it’s not enough to go through the motions of charity while having a selfish heart.

Fantasia (1940)/Fantasia 2000 (which actually came out in 1999.)

OK, so this is actually a top 11 list, not a top 10 list. As I wrote in my blog posts about them, I feel like the strengths and weaknesses of these two “animated concerts” balance each other out. While there are some great moments of joy and humor in the first Fantasia, most notably in the Pastoral Symphony segment and the Dance of the Hours, they’re not as effective as the ones in second one. And while Fantasia 2000 has some great dark moments, mainly the depiction of a jobless man’s plight in the Rhapsody in Blue segment and the antagonist in the Firebird Suite, they’re not to be compared to those in the original. In a way, I can recommend Fantasia 2000 to more viewers since it’s less often boring, but on the other hand, I kind of admire Fantasia (1940) for daring to be boring and it does something for the few to whom it appeals that more crowd-pleasing movies don’t. If only the two films could be combined into one, they’d be one of my favorites. Still, as they are, both feature beautiful animation and music and provide an interesting opportunity for the talented Disney animators to do something outside the narrative norms of Disney.

Little Dorrit (2008)

I was a trifle unsure about including this miniseries since, as I wrote in my post about it, it has quite a few structural problems, probably more than anything else on this list has. But its virtues are just so great! It features some of Charles Dickens’s most scathing satire against high society and, despite its melancholy tone, some of his most hilarious supporting characters. The romance between Amy Dorrit and Arthur Clennam is also arguably one of Dickens’s best.[5]Though some would say that’s less of an achievement. Or maybe it just comes across as the best due to the lead actors’ performances. I know I wrote that every item on this top ten list features consistently great casting, so I wasn’t going to keep mentioning it, but I can’t resist gushing about this miniseries’ cast. Everyone embodies their roles so well. It might be the best cast for any Dickens adaptation I’ve seen, and I’ve seen many great ones. A messy masterpiece this may be, but a masterpiece, nonetheless.

Les Misérables (2012)

Like the Fantasia movies, this is an item on the list that I can’t recommend to everyone, not without some caveats first. Many viewers are turned off by its cinematography and its casting, as well as various other things which don’t or barely bother yours truly.[6]It also happens to be highest rated movie on this list at PG-13, though I’d argue some of the television stuff has PG-13 content. Well, those viewers can make their own top ten lists and, in some cases, doubtless have done so. I am in awe of the epic emotional powerhouse that is this movie and while my opinion may not be uncontroversial, I’m not alone in it either. As I wrote before, if I were to sum up this movie in one word, it would be, powerful. A powerful story, powerful acting, a powerful soundtrack, powerful visuals and powerful themes.

Victor Hugo’s original story, while it has plenty of cinematic elements, is also notoriously complex and difficult to do justice to in one movie.[7]More than one film concludes with the death of the main antagonist and the union of the young lovers, ignoring all the major drama afterwards. The 1985 stage musical already did a great job of simplifying the plot to make it accessible for casual viewers while still including many of the best scenes and giving most of the characters a chance to shine even if it didn’t give all of them as much depth as in the book. But if you ask me, everything from the original source material that the 2012 movie reinstates and everything it does that’s different from either makes an already amazing adaptation even more brilliant. Again, I am in awe.

Nicholas Nickleby (2002)[8]I’ve referred to this movie in the past as The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby since that’s what I remembered from the opening credits, but according to the internet, the shorter … Continue reading

If all the movie adaptations of Charles Dickens books were trapped in a burning building, rescuing this one would be my first priority. It’s classy yet unpretentious and it’s accessible to modern audiences without pandering to them.[9]As I’ve gathered that Netflix’s recent take on Jane Austen’s Persuasion does. Perhaps this was easy since so many of the elements that Dickens included in the source material still attracts people centuries later. Only the most pretentious viewers, who insist on moral ambiguity and challenge, fail to enjoy cheering for an underdog hero against a hissable villain.

I admit I may be biased in this one’s favor. I first saw it when I was around 19 and it was inspiring to have a story about someone my age standing up for his convictions, beating up bullies and saving their helpless victims. Of course, there are probably lots of stories about 19-year-old heroes doing those things. Who can say why this one specifically appealed to me? But it did and continues to do so.[10]Maybe it’s appropriate that one of the two Dickens adaptations on this list features one his best archetypally masculine heroes and the other features one of his best archetypally feminine … Continue reading

The Prince of Egypt (1998)

I’d always admired this movie somewhat, but in recent years, I’ve been drawn back to it more and more until I imagine I would include it on a list of my favorite movies period, not just that this blog has covered.[11]Maybe not a top ten list but it could make a top twenty or even a top fifteen. I think it works on a number of levels, as spectacle, as character study.[12]I know I wrote that the only really interesting characters in it were the protagonist and the main antagonist and I’ll stand by that (though, come to think of it, the old Pharoah (voiced by … Continue reading It even manages a sense of real religious awe, not something you’d expect from Dreamworks animation. Ostensibly, an affirmation of mankind’s desire for freedom, it also works as a cautionary story about human hubris. And at a time when personal bonds are often broken by conflicting political and religious convictions, its reimagining of the relationship between Moses and Pharoah is very relatable.

The Storyteller (1987-1989)

In the course of nine episodes, this show managed to include every trope you’d want to see represented in a collection of European folktales. A beautiful maiden whose father accidently promises her in marriage to an ugly monster. A wandering soldier who is magically rewarded for charity to a beggar. A sister who must take a vow of silence to save her brothers who have transformed into birds. The youngest of three sons who, in part because of his kindness to animals, succeeds in a mission where his brothers have failed. The belle of a royal ball who is secretly a grimy scullery maid. All this and more. While capturing the feel of a fairy tale, this series also gives the impression of psychological depth with little details, such as the princess in The Three Ravens missing her deceased mother whenever she’s happy, and its unique writing style gives it a personality all its own.

You’re Not Elected, Charlie Brown (1972)

Of all the underrated Peanuts specials about which I’ve written this is my favorite.[13]OK, that’s not true. I probably prefer There’s No Time For Love, Charlie Brown, but I don’t have much to say about it beyond that it’s hilarious, so this works better. It’s a great comedic look at the election process or at least the election process in the USA. With some very skewed polls, over-the-top campaign promises that can’t possibly be kept, questionable attempts to make a candidate look “homey,” a radio call in show with meandering callers who hem and haw[14]No shame. If I were to call in to a show like that, I’d get tongue tied too. and a campaign manager who is exasperated by her candidate’s insistence on bringing up his controversial religious beliefs, this will always be relevant. So will its message that candidates may mean well but you shouldn’t rely on them to fix everything wrong with the world-especially if they still suck their thumbs and carry security blankets.

Well, there you have it. One Shakespeare movie. One Jane Austen adaptation. Two Charles Dickens adaptations. One Peanuts cartoon. One movie and one TV series adapted from fairy tales. Two epic musicals. At least, two romantic comedies. One animated short and three animated movies, two of which are made up of shorts. I hesitate to say that’s the perfect representation of my tastes, but it does give you some idea of my interests and what you can expect from The Adaptation Station.com.

References

References
↑1 I have to keep including them because you never know which post will be the first someone reads.
↑2 I’d argue it’s not a remake of the old, animated movie at all, just another adaptation of the fairy tale, except for the mice and the cat and the names of the stepsisters and the words, bibbiddi bobbiddi boo-OK, fine, it’s a remake! A really great remake.
↑3 This is the one starring Gwyneth Paltrow, not Kate Beckinsale. It’s probably fairer to identify them by directors than actors, but if I did that, readers wouldn’t recognize their names.
↑4 Well, OK, there’s also Love and Friendship (2016) and maybe Sense and Sensibility (1995.)
↑5 Though some would say that’s less of an achievement.
↑6 It also happens to be highest rated movie on this list at PG-13, though I’d argue some of the television stuff has PG-13 content.
↑7 More than one film concludes with the death of the main antagonist and the union of the young lovers, ignoring all the major drama afterwards.
↑8 I’ve referred to this movie in the past as The Life and Adventures of Nicholas Nickleby since that’s what I remembered from the opening credits, but according to the internet, the shorter title seems to be correct.
↑9 As I’ve gathered that Netflix’s recent take on Jane Austen’s Persuasion does.
↑10 Maybe it’s appropriate that one of the two Dickens adaptations on this list features one his best archetypally masculine heroes and the other features one of his best archetypally feminine heroines. But that’s a bit of an oversimplification of the characters. Nicholas Nickleby is very nurturing towards the disabled Smike, one of the victims he defends, and Little Dorrit rescues other characters in her own way by tending to them when they’re ill and taking care of them.
↑11 Maybe not a top ten list but it could make a top twenty or even a top fifteen.
↑12 I know I wrote that the only really interesting characters in it were the protagonist and the main antagonist and I’ll stand by that (though, come to think of it, the old Pharoah (voiced by Patrick Stewart) is a remarkably rounded character considering the little screen time he has) but, well, those two characters are really interesting.
↑13 OK, that’s not true. I probably prefer There’s No Time For Love, Charlie Brown, but I don’t have much to say about it beyond that it’s hilarious, so this works better.
↑14 No shame. If I were to call in to a show like that, I’d get tongue tied too.
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