When adapting a novel into a film, how much leeway should writers take? Is the point to stay as close as possible in plot and tone to the original work? Most readers agree the book is usually far superior to the movie. A few reasons: with a novel, the reader is immersed in a world he or she can only imagine, based on the details provided by the author. In other words, the reader is meeting the writer halfway. How many times have you seen a movie based on a book, and thought, “What a terrible choice for the main character!” It makes sense, considering readers spend upwards of a 100 pages imagining the way a character sounds, looks, gestures—and then a casting agent has picked his or her own version, often based on blockbuster marketability, or a number of other variables.
And what about plot and tone? Let’s take a current example: Tina Fey's upcoming film "Admission," based on a novel of the same name, by Jean Hanff Korelitz. The movie is slated to come out on March 22, and according to previews, the tone is lighthearted and breezy, tried and true markers of the romantic comedy format.
Korelitz’ debut novel follows Portia, a college admissions officer, working as a Princeton recruiter. Through a few movie-style (or maybe soap opera worthy) coincidences, Portia reunites with a fellow college classmate who teaches at an alternative high school in the New Hampshire woods. A fraught love story ensues, complete with flashbacks to Portia’s college years, in which she was suffering from (soap opera worthy) inner turmoil. By the end of the novel, we discover the dark secret embedded in her adolescence—which bares down on her present life suddenly and with alarming force. Is the whole thing a little far fetched? Yes. But what isn’t far fetched is Korelitz' nuanced rendering of the college admissions process. The author worked as a part-time reader for Princeton, an experience enacted in her writing: each chapter begins with a college essay presumably written by a Princeton hopeful, and each is written in the earnest, heart-breaking voice of a different teenager, convincing the committee why he or she deserves admission into the famed Ivy League. The novel shines in its portrayal of current college politics—the changing face of freshman demographics and the replacement of the “well rounded” student in favor of the “super star.” The plot and the love story—they’re the weakest parts. Regardless, in tone, the novel was neither lighthearted nor breezy. In fact, a reviewer called it “over-wrought,” and the execution much too “heavy-handed.”
In previews for the film, however, the movie seems more like a vehicle for the two main stars to do what they do best. I know I'll buy a ticket to see Tina Fey’s appealing brand of goofy awkwardness, along with Paul Rudd’s nebishy hot guy persona—a recipe for romantic comedy gold. Is it necessarily a bad thing that a novel can morph into an altogether different beast in the name of entertainment? Probably not. It certainly might throw readers of the original work for a loop. Maybe audiences will be encouraged to buy Korelitz’ novel and judge for themselves. Of course, after the film, they’ll be picturing Paul Rudd’s dimples—but who can blame them? In this writer’s opinion, any publicity is good publicity.
