I have strong feelings about many things in life—welcome to this month’s soapbox.
I believe using the Oxford Comma is non-negotiable; stories need to have purposeful side plots; adults should be able to communicate effectively; not using a turn signal is a citizen’s arrest offense; and page-to-screen adaptations must be faithful.
My unyielding feelings become especially emboldened when the conversation veers to the latter, or, as I refer to them 95% of the time, Frankenstein amalgamations. Most of the time, I’m grossly disappointed in adaptations, but once in a while I’m pleasantly surprised.
Adaptations, you love ‘em or hate ‘em; there’s not a lot of in between. Our reactions are so visceral—an extreme high or an extreme low—due to our already having fallen in love with the story, characters, setting, and plight. We relate to and identify with the leads and secondary characters; we wish to live in these places and know these people. Certain lines and quotes transport us, make our hearts soar, and get inked onto our bodies. When these stories get messed with for the sake of creative license or a director’s ego about making something “theirs,” I get testy.
Many authors say their book or story is no longer theirs once it’s published and out in the world, being interpreted by all kinds of readers, but I disagree. The story or book is always the author’s, and I find it criminally disrespectful when showrunners, screenwriters, or directors decide to change things without a true purpose.
I understand and accept the necessity of combining or removing characters; cutting scenes that don’t move the plot forward, etc. But when new scenes, characters, plot lines, motivations, and agendas get added, my hackles rise.
An existing story isn’t a director’s story to tell—it’s their privilege to showcase it in a visual format, honoring and respecting the author’s work. Society is so worried about copyright, trademark, consent, approval, and permission, but that doesn’t always seem to be the case when authors’ words get butchered for the sake of overinflated cinematic egos or perspectives/opinions that don’t jibe with the established story that readers-turned-viewers already love.
Of course, circumstances arise where rights are signed away, or authors agree to wild adaptations, but even in those situations, the words, the work, must be respected.
The following few rant paragraphs briefly detail some page-to-screen adaptations that missed the mark for me. No doubt others will disagree, or say that worse adaptations exist in the ether. That’s their right, as is my opinion, mine.
A Wrinkle in Time (2018)
A few years back, I watched A Wrinkle in Time and took copious notes, citing the egregious changes that went against the book. Some of my biggest issues with the film are the removal of Meg’s twin brothers, making Charles Wallace an adopted sibling, the oversimplification of Camazotz, and the valuing of visual experience over quality and depth of story.
Having Meg and Charles Wallace be biological siblings was crucial to the family dynamic, to how Meg saw herself, and to the ultimate bond between the two when facing IT. There is something to be said about familial bonds of birth that the movie neglected in this alteration, and it was a disservice to the story.
Other changes include turning the Happy Medium into a man, removing the nurturing Aunt Beast, replacing the original Christian ideology with a hyper-focus on self-love, changing the ending to more of a “happily-ever-after,” and having Papa Murry choose to leave his family for science rather than participate in a science experiment that ended up going awry. In my opinion, Ava DuVernay’s adaptation was an injustice to Madeleine L’Engle’s beautiful story. And I won’t get into why I think the casting of Oprah, Reese Witherspoon, and Mindy Kaling was poorly done.
“Wuthering Heights” (2026)
I’ll come out of the cage swinging on this one—I didn’t see Emerald Fennel’s soft-core porn rendition of Emily Brontë’s dark, supernatural tale of Gothic horror, but I’ve read enough reviews and watched enough rants to know this one was nowhere near hitting the mark.
An abysmally poor adaptation, from the over-sexualized tension and visuals to the casting and lack of care for the characters, this film has no game compared to the 1939 adaptation with Sir Laurence Olivier, Merle Oberon, and David Niven. Jacob Elordi and Margo Robie are big names with beautiful faces, but neither they nor the captivating visuals could save a flat, dud of a script. As if framing the title with quotation marks could free Fennel of criticism because it’s her “take” on Brontë’s story. At times like this, I often wonder whether the director or screenwriter even read the book. I read Wuthering Heights in college and am fairly confident that reading the book is required when crafting a film adaptation.
With HBO’s upcoming regurgitation of the Harry Potter series, I am haunted by the quote from writer/producer Andy Greenwald admitting he’s not read all the books. Greenwald also said that a faithful “text-to-screen” adaptation didn’t thrill him because he’d prefer to explore other “creative possibilities.” Wow. How about you write your own story, then, and let the “creative possibilities” flow rather than messing up an already written, cherished fictional world with a massive following. Sounds like someone just didn’t want to do their homework…
Honorable Mentions
Honorable mentions for bottom-of-the-barrel adaptations include The Dark Tower (2017), a cataclysmic, misguided attempt to encapsulate Stephen King’s eight-book series in one film. Another example of trying to rely on big names—Matthew McConaughey and Idris Elba—to carry a truncated tale. I remember walking out of the theater, utterly disappointed, having truly enjoyed the wild reading journey.
Another disappointment is Eragon (2006). Again, we have a strong, albeit miscast cast that couldn’t make a DOA script fly. Christopher Paolini’s first book in The Inheritance Cycle series was a joy to read for middle and high school students and young adults alike, but the film lacked the excitement, energy, and heightened tension found in the pages.
Now, moving on to successful page-to-screen adaptations—these are hills I will die on.
The Lord of the Rings (2001, 2002, 2003)
For me, Peter Jackson’s original trilogy is filmmaking at its finest. Are the three films perfect by the high standards of Tolkien purists? No. Are there things I would’ve loved to see included? Yes, namely Tom Bombadil, Goldberry, and the Barrow-wights. And even though it’s a deviation, I agree with Jackson’s decision not to include the Scouring of the Shire. I believe that everyone involved in this huge project was passionate about the story and about honoring Tolkien’s Middle-earth, even if from a cinematic perspective.
The essence of Middle-earth is alive and well, with core themes and philosophies reigning supreme. The casting was top-notch—I don’t think I’d change a thing, especially Viggo Mortensen, my king, Aragorn, son of Arathorn. And can we note that Howard Shore knocked these three soundtracks out of the park? Cue chills at each listen. And don’t get me started on Weta Workshop’s amazing craftsmanship and all the practical effects—be still my heart. Moving, beautiful, and impervious to the passage of time, these three adaptations are cemented at the top of my list.
The Chronicles of Narnia (1988, 1989, 1990)
Widely considered to be the most faithful adaptation of C.S. Lewis’ seven-book series, the BBC’s made-for-television The Chronicles of Narnia is a diamond in the rough of 1980s low-budget effects that, to me, are worth their weight in gold. Using direct quotes for dialogue, recreating scenes with high fidelity beyond those of the Disney/Walden Media films from the early 2000s, and strong casting.
Recommended by purists, these page-to-screen adaptations expertly mirror the plots of the first four books in The Chronicles (The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, Prince Caspian, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and The Silver Chair—order matters, especially when the author set it up that way). I have little hope reserved for Greta Gerwig’s take on The Magician’s Nephew, coming to us via Netflix this November. Why am I concerned? Gerwig has shifted the setting from early 1900s London to the 1950s, which completely alters the entire trajectory of the series, and producer Amy Pascal has described the film as being “a very new take” and “all about rock and roll.” ‘Nuff said. This is a project not even the casted Daniel Craig or Carrie Mulligan can save.
Honorable Mentions
An honorable mention for well-executed adaptations goes to Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein (2025), which was visually stunning and well-acted. It’s been quite some time since I’ve read Mary Shelley’s novel (high school), but from what I recall, this film stayed much closer to the words on the page than other adaptations.
Finally, Andy Weir’s Project Hail Mary (2026) was a successful adaptation of the likes I haven’t seen in many a year. Well-paced and visually captivating with well-placed humor that complemented the story being told. It’d give it a solid 9.75/10. There were minor changes throughout, but none really impacted the overarching story. My quarter-point markdown is only because a brief scene was added that didn’t need to be; otherwise, this film was practically flawless. The only thing that could’ve made the cinema experience better is if the popcorn machine at the Lyric Theatre hadn’t been broken.
All this reasoning, ranting, and rationalizing to say that I love seeing page-to-screen adaptations of beloved books and stories. I don’t believe in disrespecting an author’s work so that a director or screenwriter can take ownership and make the story their own.
Maybe, as a writer, I’m biased and protective of what I create, but mad props to Pierce Brown for buying back the rights to his Red Rising series so that no production company could shift the focus from Mars to Venus and make Sevro a female, among other things. Whoever made those suggestions should go straight to jail. And congratulations to Sarah J. Maas on reacquiring the rights to her works, insisting on being heavily involved in any future adaptations of her stories, characters, and the worlds she created.
If my novel ever makes it off my computer, I pity the fool who suggests altering my story for their personal or societal agenda. No one is f*cking with my story. Full stop.
Next Post:
Monday, April 27