It’s Summer Reading Time!

Now that I have time to partake in summer reading, I’ve been working on sorting through my giant to-read list to determine what will take precedence this summer.

General Reading

I’m close to (finally) finishing J.K. Rowling’s The Casual Vacancy, and when I finish that, my next non-project read will be Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game, which I can’t believe I’ve never read.  I also hope to complete the next read for my From the Film Back to the Book reading project, Oscar Wilde’s play The Importance of Being Earnest, as well as Diana Setterfield’s The Thirteenth Tale, about which I’ve heard nothing but good things.

5 Reasons Why I’m Excited for the New Rebecca Film

Screenshot of Anderson and Fontaine from the Rebecca trailer (public domain – I really don’t know why it’s inverted) – via Wikimedia Commons

News broke a year ago that someone was eying a new version of Rebecca, and it seems as though the project is indeed moving forward.  Two days ago, it was announced not only that a script has been drafted but also that Danish director Nikolaj Arcel is attached to the project.

Inevitably, backlash against “remaking a Hitchcock film” started anew.

The timing of the announcement in particular struck me.  Not a week ago, I used the new version of Rebecca as an example in my defense of readaptations.

I won’t rehash all my arguments from that post, but the main idea is this: Hitchcock did not create the story; it began as a novel by Daphne du Maurier.  Why shouldn’t we see a new adaptation?

That said, here are five reasons why I, as a fan of both the book and the 1940 film, am terribly excited about the prospect of a new film.

A Defense of Readaptations

Remakes have a bad reputation among movie lovers, who claim that they at the least are unnecessary and at the worst somehow ruin the original.

I agree that it would be folly to remake something like Citizen Kane or Sunset Blvd., whose claims to fame are the films themselves.

Some would argue that it would be the same folly to try to remake Gone with the Wind.  But many people do not acknowledge that you can’t remake something like Gone with the Wind unless you plan to completely do away with its source material.

Remake vs. Readaptation

People throw around the term remake far too loosely; a lot of the time, the term readaptation would be more appropriate.

From Book to Film: Anna Karenina

The Story: In imperial Russia, the wife of a prominent politician begins an illicit romance with an army officer, while a philosophical landowner courts a princess.

The Book: If the above description sounds a tad boring, rest assured that Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina defied all my expectations.  Anna Karenina is considered one of the greatest novels ever written, and this is no exaggeration.  But if you think this means that the book – which weighs in at over 800 pages – is dry and dull, think again.  From the very first line, Tolstoy assures us that this is going to be as enjoyable a read as he can make it.  Though there are parts in the middle in which not a lot happens, Tolstoy intertwines the story of Anna and her illicit love of Vronsky with Levin’s courtship of Kitty to give the novel balance.  It’s too great a book to pass up.  You can read a few more of my thoughts on Anna Karenina here.

The 1927 Film (Love): This is the second of four films that Greta Garbo and John Gilbert made together.  If this film’s main characters weren’t named Anna and Vronsky, I don’t think I would have caught on that this was meant to be an adaptation of Tolstoy’s novel.  Levin is not featured at all, and the American version changes the ending – though the version I saw from TCM noted this and also showed a European ending to the film that maintains Tolstoy’s vision of what happened to Anna.  Only recommended for classic/silent film fans or those interested in Garbo and Gilbert.

Garbo in the 1935 Anna Karenina (public domain) – via Wikimedia Commons

The 1935 Film: Garbo’s second turn as Anna Karenina is more famous – and arguably, a lot better – than her silent version.  Beautifully directed by Clarence Brown, this is often considered the best film made out of Anna Karenina.  Compared to the book, however, it falls a bit short.  Garbo has excellent rapport with Freddie Bartholomew, who plays her son in the movie, but has a lot less chemistry with Fredric March, who plays Vronsky, which hampers this film’s efforts.  One plus is that Levin gets some screen time, though his arc is given little attention.

The 1948 Film: Critically panned, this version of Anna Karenina holds up fairly well now.  I found its treatment of the story to be better than either of the Garbo versions.  If anyone played “tragic heroine” better than Garbo, it was Vivien Leigh, and if Leigh’s resume weren’t as formidable as it is, I think her performance as Anna would be considered better.  She receives great support from the incomparable Ralph Richardson as her husband.

The 2012 Film: Much has been said about director Joe Wright’s decision to situate most of the action of this move in a theater, but the effect works surprisingly well.  The choreographed movement and characters moving furniture around takes a bit of time to get used to, but it makes for a very meta viewing experience.  This version is also notable for giving the Levin and Kitty storyline a decent chunk of time.  Keira Knightley’s performance as Anna has ups and downs, and Aaron Taylor-Johnson seems miscast as Vronsky, but the rest of the cast, particularly Jude Law, does a fantastic job.

The Bottom Line: Each of the versions I’ve seen has its strengths and weaknesses.  See Love for Garbo and Gilbert, the 1935 film for Garbo and Brown’s direction, the 1948 film for Leigh and Richardson, and the 2012 version for its artistry and handling of Levin.  But the book tops all.  Read it first, for sure.

I know that there are several versions I haven’t seen, so feel free to share thoughts about any other versions you may have seen.

From Book to Film: Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca

The final section of this post contains major spoilers for the book and film of Rebecca, so stop reading after “The Bottom Line” if you don’t wish to be spoiled.

The Book: I wrote up my detailed reactions to Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca for my Classics Club post, but suffice to say that it became one of my all time favorite books.  The eerie mood gripped me from the beginning, and the nameless heroine was the perfect narrator through which to experience this haunting story.  It becomes a fascinating exploration of character and point of view through her narration.  And du Maurier’s prose makes it even more gripping.  Rebecca is one glorious Gothic novel.

Screenshot of Anderson and Fontaine from the Rebecca trailer (public domain – I really don’t know why it’s inverted) – via Wikimedia Commons

The 1940 Film: In the hands of producer David O. Selznick and director Alfred Hitchcock, Rebecca received the Hollywood treatment in 1940.  In fact, this was Hitchcock’s first American film.  At Selznick’s bidding (or, more truly, demand), Hitchcock retains much of the plot of Rebecca, hardly changing the story, save the ending, which I discuss – with major spoilers! – at the end of this piece.  The Master of Suspense brought his trademark touch to the story, successfully translating du Maurier’s Gothic elements to film.  The strength of the movie, however, is in its casting.  Much has been said about Judith Anderson as Mrs. Danvers, and she is quite brilliant (though I wish she were taller like in the book).  But, to me, the standout is Joan Fontaine, who appears to have been born to play the second Mrs. de Winter.  I admit that I had known Fontaine played the nameless narrator before ever picking up the book, and I couldn’t help imagining a Fontaine-like person as her.  But when I saw the film, she not only looked the part – the hair, makeup, and costume people really must be applauded as well – but she also fully embodied her meek persona.  I distinctly remember a scene in which Fontaine, with a haunted expression on her face, seems to shrink into a chair; more than any piece of dialogue, that image shows how insecure and scared the character felt.

The Bottom Line: Rebecca is a compelling story in either medium.  Since it’s the mood that makes it, Rebecca makes for a fine comparison on how literature and film portray mood.  Due to changes in the ending, however, I would recommend reading the book first.

For those of you who are familiar with the story, feel free to read ahead for my thoughts on the ending of the book versus that of the movie.

Thoughts on the Ending: When I closed my copy of Rebecca, I thought the ending was sheer perfection.  All of its power is in what is not shown: you know that Manderley is gone forever, that Mrs. Danvers burned it to the ground, and that life is going to be very different for Mr. and Mrs. de Winter.  Instead of leaving it to the imagination, the movie shows this – and even shows Mrs. Danvers dying climactically in the fire.  Apparently, this was done because the Hays Code could not allow wrongdoers to get away with evil – thus, Mrs. Danvers could not get away with the destruction of Manderley.  Likewise, Maxim didn’t kill Rebecca according to the movie because the Hays Code wouldn’t let a character get away with murder, so the movie makes Rebecca’s death an accident.

But, even in the book, did Maxim really get away with murder?  After all, he lost his home – really lost everything except his wife.  The book makes it seem as though Rebecca does have her revenge in the end.  I think that an argument could have been made to view the destruction of Manderley as Maxim’s punishment. But the Hays Code probably wanted a more traditional (read: legal) form of punishment for Maxim, so that likely explains why the changes were necessary.

For those of you who have experienced Rebecca in both forms, what do you make of the changes in the ending?