Okay, I’ll bite…
A glaring example of a movie being superior in every way to a book would be Bresson’s final film,
L’argent, based on Tolstoy’s
The Forged Coupon. The latter, a novella, lacks the magic, rigor, and forward momentum of the former. It’s not an arduous read, but the translation I read, at least, is slight, whereas I would count the film as one of the most accomplished things someone has made while an octogenarian. Haven’t read the source material of
A Gentle Woman,
Four Nights of a Dreamer,
Diary of a Country Priest,
Mouchette, or
A Man Escaped, but those are all certified bangers as well.
If we can include TV shows here, the three seasons of
Mr. Mercedes, based on Stephen King’s Bill Hodges Trilogy, are a curious example. Because . . . the first season, based on the first book, is comparable, or about as good of a match as one could probably muster for TV. It doesn’t include the horribly racist/sexist/homophobic internal monologues of the antagonist (for obvious reasons), so it’s somewhat less gritty/alarming, but the plotting is good and the characterization is mostly congruent with the book (the characters look and behave much as how you’d imagine they would while reading it). The second season, based on the third book (
End of Watch), though, represents quite a drop from the source material, in my view. The "cat and mouse" isn’t as taught, the conclusion isn’t nearly as pulse-pounding and electrifying, and overall, it’s just not set up as well. After finishing it for the first time, it seemed to me the third season, based on the second book (
Finders Keepers), would follow suit, but as something of a curveball, it’s actually better than the book! Has cameos from Bruce Dern as the shady/cranky old author, and they inserted a new character, a sociopathic “battle ax” of sorts who seduces the loser dirtbag antagonist and lets loose a lot of funny one-liners. What’s more, a lot of what did work with the book is conveyed well in the show, including a scary climax you wouldn’t think they’d be able to pull off for mid-budget TV.
The David Simon book that
Homicide: Life on the Street was based on is very good, but there are points where I think the show exceeds it. Yeah, sometimes there are less than stellar musical choices (just watch the show, and you’ll know what I mean). And yeah, it can wear its morality on its sleeve a bit much during contentious episodes, and entertain distracting subplots that aren’t so fruitful. But the interplay between the more headstrong detectives can be cooler and more developed than in the book, often extending through multiple episodes, over which personal quirks of the characters and the actors playing them become more apparent. Some A-level banter there from the show’s writers.
Can’t say this conclusively, as I didn’t finish it, but as much as I admire some of Philip K. Dick’s work, I think the film
Total Recall is a good deal more engrossing than what I read of
We Can Remember It for you Wholesale.
Bruno Schulz’s story
The Street of Crocodiles is strong, but I think the Brothers Quay film takes it to another level. Just some really earthy, elegant depictions of disrepair, very eastern European in scope, that have been referenced in a number of films since, even showing up in pop culture. And the overall rhythm between gestures and scenes is air tight, like a post-apocalyptic ballet.
Without stewing on it for a hours (I do have
some things to do), here are some films I’ve seen, based on books/stories/writing that I haven’t read, that I consider, at the very least, fine watches . . . someone else would have to duck in and say how they stack up again the source material . . .
The Friends of Eddie Coyle (1973)
The Man Who Sleeps (1974)
Seconds (1966)
The Emigrants (1971) and
The New Land (1972)
Dragon’s Return (1968)
David Golder (1931)
The Hustler (1961)
Come and See (1985)
The Intruder (2004)
Jerichow (2008)
The Human Condition (1959-1961)
The Breaking Point (1950)
The Goalie’s Anxiety at the Penalty Kick (1972)
Stalker (1979)
. . . basically a lot of the same old titles I’ve been banging on about for a while, like a broken record. There are plenty of others.
