TV vs. books

The more I write and read, I realize that I have been fully disillusioned when it comes to adaptation for screen. As a former member of the pure bibliophile club, I scorned at television and movie adaptations of books, bemoaning how the adaptors felt this need to "translate" the story into a "different medium". The book was perfect how it was, there's no need to change it!

Alas, no more. I've watched more movies and television. I've partially written screenplays based on books. I've written novels. I've tried writing original screenplays. And unfortunately—they were all right. All those writers and directors? They were right, I'm telling you.

What do you get in the novels and oral tales, in the good ones? You get narrative description, character thoughts and introspection, and opportunity for stylistic turns of phrase in other places than the dialogue. You don't get chapters and chapters of pure dialogue, but you learn more about the characters through what they say and do than how they move or look.

What do you get in television or movies or theatre, the good ones? You get dialogue, action, subtle visual clues, and opportunity for stylistic tricks with camera movement and other audio-visual gags. You don't get the characters' thoughts or a narrator to explain the history of everything, but even the smallest second of emotion on a person's face and the lighting or sweeping move of camera will tell you more than a thousand words could.

You can't take a verbal and mental medium like literature and translate it word for word into film—it's like trying to translate an idiom literally. Take a book like The Lord of the Rings: the story revolves around using words in poetic and beautiful fashion to set mood and atmosphere, using the thoughts of the characters and the point of view of the narrator to explain the story, with dialogue only when really necessary. Can you take that and turn it to film? Yes. Will it be good? No.

How do you take the Battle of Pelennor Fields and turn it into film? If you take the written words and the dialogue and translate them directly, you'd end up with a play-by-play battle with confusing character interaction. Can we understand simply from actions and words what motivates Merry, Eowyn, Eomer, and Theoden? Not really—the text relies on the narrator and the God's-eye perspective into their minds. In film world, we have to see what they're thinking on their faces—the dialogue could stay the same, but the narrator has to come in the form of acting, camera work, editing, and music. It can be surprisingly effective, but takes just as much work as trying to convey the same messages with words without it appearing forced.

And unfortunately, you don't understand how this works until you've tried to analyze why exactly you were crying at a certain scene in a movie (when you had no previous attachment to the story or characters), and even then, until you've tried to faithfully adapt one of your favorite books to screenplay form. Even if you aren't good at either, the simple act of trying opens your mind to how complex an art film is, separate and apart from writing.

"The movie's not as good as the book." What is that supposed to mean? If it means you liked the book better—sure, that's a valid criticism. If it means that the movie is different than the book, though, then that is not the way to say it. Different does not mean better or worse. There are good books that have made terrible movies, and there are terrible books that made good movies. (And some stories were just meant to be told in one form: not every great movie would have made a better book and not every book would make a good movie.) When one is adapted to be another, they may have the same story and characters, but storytellers for millennia have been borrowing from each other and weaving new stories from old ingredients. The separate stories can and often should stand on their own, and while comparisons are sometimes useful, often they are harmful.


As much as you scoffed when they said it, film and literature are two different mediums that serve two different purposes. Paintings are not the same as songs; books are not the same as movies. They shouldn't be compared as if they were apples and apples. So the next time someone makes a movie out of your favorite book—remember that it will be different. It has to be. When someone translates a German piece to English, no matter how faithful the translation, something will be lost and perhaps something will be gained. It's inevitable, and it serves no purpose to worry and complain about it.