Adaptations. Sometimes we love them, and sometimes we don't. But to just complain that a movie isn't like its book, or a television show isn't like its graphic novel is intellectually and artistically lazy. I always find it much more stimulating to analyze how and consider why certain changes have been made (the word "adaptation" implies change, guys, especially when the material changes medium). And that process often makes me appreciate the work more anyway, so it's win-win.
I have to say that James Franco's Child of God fully keeps the spirit of Cormac McCarthy's novel as I read it. It's not necessarily plot-driven -- neither is the novel -- because it concerns itself more with character and theme. In case you didn't know, our protagonist is Lester Ballard, a murderer and necrophile who haunts rural Appalachia. Expelled by society, he eventually lives in caves populated by his decomposing trophies. Even though the movie isn't strictly plotty, Franco's control of Lester's descent into degradation is a wonder to witness, so much so that his increasing madness almost makes sense to us.
Of course, full credit for Lester's realization has to go to Scott Haze. I can't even imagine his process for becoming Lester, but the result is truly incredible. He turns the character into a horror that rivals most we ever see on screen, while also making him a sort of pitiful everyman. Haze throws his whole body into Lester, morphing his face into a wraithlike sneer and worming his way through bramble and mud with agility and haunting grace. Haze hasn't shown up on many big screens yet, but he probably will after this picture; if Child of God had mainstream producers, I'm convinced Haze would have been a social hot topic and big award contender.
Some of the more difficult and expensive scenes of the novel have been omitted (e.g., the boy eating a bird's legs, the flood that forces Lester to move), but their absence allows us more time to dwell on the realities of Lester's isolated life. For example: The first scene shows Lester attempting to defend his house from being auctioned off, and being regarded as dangerous and deserving violence. In the second scene, we see him defecating in the forest. These are the realities of Lester's life, and we are shown them without pomp and ceremony. As to the fickle fecal moment (which is graphic, but brief), there's a first time for everything, folks! This shows how far we've come from toilet-flushing in Psycho, am I right?
Franco seems completely satisfied to ignore any "reason" or "cause" as to why Lester behaves as he does. He wisely scraps McCarthy's enlightening (and, in this case, limiting) flashbacks into Lester's past: This, I suspect, works better for our more literally-minded film audiences. Franco retains, however, the episodic structure of the novel as well as its three distinct movements. I don't particularly like the two(ish?) quotes used as title cards in the early minutes of the film; they are too few to be aesthetic, and seem to be forcing the viewer to accept the film as a product of McCarthy's making, not as its own artistic endeavor. But thankfully, there are only the couple incidents.
Besides the imposed text, I do like the voiceover during probably half of the film; it reflects the complicated narrative device McCarthy uses to estimate social commentary on Lester's degraded existence. I also quickly enjoyed the active camera, held at or below eye level: We are literally looking up to Lester for most of the movie, at least until the end. These are brave artistic choices, and ones that fully grappled my attention and wonder.
I have a few extra thoughts about the ending. I love McCarthy's comparison of Lester's body being dissected and the bodies of his victims being unearthed. But I also love that Franco ends with a simple, lovely, and distinctly chilling image of Lester wandering free through the mountains. My acceptance of this ending (and much of the film) largely comes down to this: McCarthy imbued so much metaphysical suggestion into his narrative (so intensely focused on one man's journey), that I often think of the novel as a parable or myth of sorts. Franco, in my opinion, mastered this technique in making this picture: he uses enough "reality" to let us believe what we see, while making scenes brief and vague to let us consider all the implications of the proceedings, rather than dictating our reactions to us. That's a damn skilled filmmaker for you.
I have to say that James Franco's Child of God fully keeps the spirit of Cormac McCarthy's novel as I read it. It's not necessarily plot-driven -- neither is the novel -- because it concerns itself more with character and theme. In case you didn't know, our protagonist is Lester Ballard, a murderer and necrophile who haunts rural Appalachia. Expelled by society, he eventually lives in caves populated by his decomposing trophies. Even though the movie isn't strictly plotty, Franco's control of Lester's descent into degradation is a wonder to witness, so much so that his increasing madness almost makes sense to us.
Of course, full credit for Lester's realization has to go to Scott Haze. I can't even imagine his process for becoming Lester, but the result is truly incredible. He turns the character into a horror that rivals most we ever see on screen, while also making him a sort of pitiful everyman. Haze throws his whole body into Lester, morphing his face into a wraithlike sneer and worming his way through bramble and mud with agility and haunting grace. Haze hasn't shown up on many big screens yet, but he probably will after this picture; if Child of God had mainstream producers, I'm convinced Haze would have been a social hot topic and big award contender.
Some of the more difficult and expensive scenes of the novel have been omitted (e.g., the boy eating a bird's legs, the flood that forces Lester to move), but their absence allows us more time to dwell on the realities of Lester's isolated life. For example: The first scene shows Lester attempting to defend his house from being auctioned off, and being regarded as dangerous and deserving violence. In the second scene, we see him defecating in the forest. These are the realities of Lester's life, and we are shown them without pomp and ceremony. As to the fickle fecal moment (which is graphic, but brief), there's a first time for everything, folks! This shows how far we've come from toilet-flushing in Psycho, am I right?
Franco seems completely satisfied to ignore any "reason" or "cause" as to why Lester behaves as he does. He wisely scraps McCarthy's enlightening (and, in this case, limiting) flashbacks into Lester's past: This, I suspect, works better for our more literally-minded film audiences. Franco retains, however, the episodic structure of the novel as well as its three distinct movements. I don't particularly like the two(ish?) quotes used as title cards in the early minutes of the film; they are too few to be aesthetic, and seem to be forcing the viewer to accept the film as a product of McCarthy's making, not as its own artistic endeavor. But thankfully, there are only the couple incidents.
Besides the imposed text, I do like the voiceover during probably half of the film; it reflects the complicated narrative device McCarthy uses to estimate social commentary on Lester's degraded existence. I also quickly enjoyed the active camera, held at or below eye level: We are literally looking up to Lester for most of the movie, at least until the end. These are brave artistic choices, and ones that fully grappled my attention and wonder.
I have a few extra thoughts about the ending. I love McCarthy's comparison of Lester's body being dissected and the bodies of his victims being unearthed. But I also love that Franco ends with a simple, lovely, and distinctly chilling image of Lester wandering free through the mountains. My acceptance of this ending (and much of the film) largely comes down to this: McCarthy imbued so much metaphysical suggestion into his narrative (so intensely focused on one man's journey), that I often think of the novel as a parable or myth of sorts. Franco, in my opinion, mastered this technique in making this picture: he uses enough "reality" to let us believe what we see, while making scenes brief and vague to let us consider all the implications of the proceedings, rather than dictating our reactions to us. That's a damn skilled filmmaker for you.
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