Adaptation Is Too Smart for Me

/major spoilers

Basically, I just wanna say the ending of Adaptation and my thoughts, alright? If you haven't seen the film, please don't read this.

Charlie Kaufman's script about the Orchid Thief was going nowhere, so his twin brother, Donald (his other half! Ha!) began helping. Donald's screenwriting style was in great contrast to his brother's, employing by-the-book techniques and eye-rolling cliches. Charlie, in an autobiographical sense, writes deep, mind-bending films that contain no easy answers and kind of screw with you. He can't write the Orchid Thief, Susan Orlean's bestseller, in a straightforward way.

Yet, Charlie's deadline is approaching and he just needs to have something on paper. So, Donald, gets his ideas, cliche-ridden.

At this point, the author, Susan Orlean, has become suspicious in the eyes of Charlie and Donald. The two soon discover that Orlean is a drug-addict, getting high off a chemical in Ghost Orchid flowers. She also is sleeping with John LaRoche, the man whom The Orchid Thief is based on.

The two screenwriters must confront Orlean, in hopes of helping her. When they do confront her, though, she threatens to kill them both if they write about her sexual relationship and drug abuse in their script. A hot-pursuit car chase ensues. Donald, as a result, is killed brutally.

Later, though, Charlie falls in love with a girl with whom he used to go out. Things appear to be better for Charlie as his depression and self-loathing seem to have subsided. He drives off into the bright sunset, and the credits soon roll in.

Kaufmanesque? Well, yes. Totally. Because, of course, it's all satire and far more complicated than meets the eye.

First off, Donald is an extension of Charlie's mind. That's a given. We see this as Donald takes over the script. The Donald side of Charlie's brain invades as the deadline approaches.

With this, the film shifts. What had been a cynical, creative film had turned into a Hollywood thriller. Orlean never really was a suspicious person and all these drugs, violence, sex and deus ex machina were simply incorporated by Donald. All of these cliches that come with it are an ode to modern Hollywood. These themes come into the script (and therefore, the film) as Donald takes the reins. Isn't that incredibly clever? Kaufman took the feelings and actions of his characters, had that influence the screenplay, which went on to influence the actual film.

Yet, I have some reservations. Twisting the film on itself, as was done during he last fourth of the film, and making a whole different tone and premise makes me wonder. Was it all worth it? I mean, yes, it was and that was the film Kaufman wanted to make. It displayed the whole film's theme of how Hollywood...sucks. It was satire! It was a very creative way of telling the story. But did I 100% enjoy this last fourth of the film? Maybe not.

Breakdowns, Blood, Bowling Pins and Milkshakes

This is an entry into JD of Valley Dreaming's blog-a-thon about our favorite endings in film. So, thank you JD, for (giving me something to write about!) letting me, in a way, relive one of my favorite endings.

In the childish theme of "There were no films made before 2001," I have to say that There Will Be Blood's manic ending is certainly one of my favorite endings ever. I'm watching a replay of it on Youtube. It has been uploaded a bunch of times. You see Daniel Plainview, an older man, now, explaining an analogy to Eli Sunday, his rival. He talks about his oil and how it reaches to other places, getting more oil. He compares this situation to having a milkshake and using his straw to drink up other milkshakes.

And, um, then Kelis's "Milkshake" song keys up and this uploader messes with rewinding and fast-forwarding so it looks as though Daniel is dancing in the bowling alley. Which brings me to the first reason this ending is great:

1. It sparked a cultural phenomenon: Despite being "An Important Film", There Will Be Blood's meaningful ending became an ongoing joke throughout the media. Youtube has, like, hundreds of parodies of the ending. SNL did a skit of it. People who don't follow Oscar season ardently (like us!), were drawn into this baity film. Simply, because of the supposed, goofy ending.

2. Daniel Day-Lewis's Brilliance: Daniel Day Lewis pulls this scene off spectactularly. It's a testament to a great actor, one who can nail a scene so oddly-written.

3. This is a model of 2007's cinematic dominance: You don't see this kind of scene every year. This ending may go down in history. And...history doesn't happen every year.

4. PTA's genius and guts: A director who can film this scene perfectly, a writer who can write the dialogue and outcome of this scene so outrageously. We're lucky to have a young director like P.T. Anderson. Love him or hate him, he'll be making ambitious and unique films for years to come.

5. A question: We learn so much in this scene. Yes, it's in-your-face and kind of fun, but it also raises a question about the two characters in this scene. Daniel is the one mainly pissed. Obviously he dominates Eli...you know, with the bowling pin and all...but you wonder: who's worse? These are clearly two vile men. Yet, a casual viewer will think Daniel is worse because he's a tad insane. Eli is more smug and could probably hide his feelings of self-contempt.

I saw two main things in this scene: Eli is very, very scared of Daniel and insecure about himself, alone. That's a given. But, I also saw that he is a total hypocrite and lacks any passion in his life. He's Daniel. But he hides what Daniel willingly expresses. Therefore, I believe he's the more awful individual.

Dances With Wolves School Essay

So, for school, I had to write about a book that has been made into a movie. I then had to summarize and compare the too.

I liked 'Dances' (as you'll read) and its worthy of a strong three stars, bordering on three and a half. Recommended if you haven't seen it. The book is also good, too, if a bit draggy.

~~~

Dances With Wolves by Michael Blake is the epic story of one man’s unexpected transformation. The reader met Lieutenant John J. Dunbar, an American soldier who slowly met and befriended the Indians who shared the frontier he currently called home. Soon, Lieutenant Dunbar embarked on this journey of discovery as he moved into a tipi among the Comanche Indians. With Dunbar’s new home and family, came great self-discoveries and awakenings for the lieutenant.

The story began with Lieutenant Dunbar living alone, except for his gentle buckskin horse, Cisco. He had just been released from serving in the Civil War. His life at the time was simple and ultimately boring. Dunbar found basic jobs such as washing his dirty clothes in the nearby river, adjusting the awning of his sod hut and slowly acquainting himself with a friendly wolf native to the woods, whom Dunbar names Two Socks. Yet everything changed for the lieutenant on the fateful day on which he was spotted by a local Comanche Indian.

Soon various, high-ranking Comanche came to see this mysterious white man. Little interaction occurred among the Indians and Dunbar, until the day Kicking Bird came to see the white man. A formal sit-down was organized yet the language barrier between Kicking Bird and Lieutenant Dunbar was evident. Though, through sign language, the two different men unexpectedly earned one another’s trust.

The Comanche’s acceptance of Lieutenant Dunbar was gradual, but as Dunbar grew friendly with various Indians, such as Wind In His Hair and Stone Calf, things began to seem more normal. Dunbar soon had a tipi of his own, with a fire pit and just a few belongings. His skin grew deeply tan and his hair was soon down to his shoulders. After only a few months among the Comanche, Dunbar’s transformation was clear. The way Dunbar’s life changed was further evidenced by the new name he was given by Kicking Bird: Dances With Wolves.

Dances With Wolves later fell in love with a fellow Comanche whose name was Stands With A Fist. Their love had to be kept a secret for many months, yet they found it difficult to conceal the affection they felt for one another. Eventually, though, their love is announced to the tribe as the two wed. Yet following the wedding, came a striking event. The Comanche enemy, the Pawnee attacked, and during this event, Dances With Wolves proved to his new family that he was a worthy Comanche warrior.

Only about a year prior, Lieutenant Dunbar was a lonely soldier, unaware of what life held for him. Yet through entering the unknown and joining the Comanche, he discovered something completely alien to him that ended up changing his life forever.

Michael Blake created a whole world, full of complex characters and frequent, subtle details that made the story seem very true. This fact is mainly a good thing, though the unrelenting detail that consumed every page, at times, took some enjoyment out of the story. Then again, these frequent details also contributed into making every scene in this story seem as if it actually happened. I suppose you could say I had mixed feelings about Dances With Wolves.

One thing I enjoyed about this story was Lieutenant Dunbar’s, or Dances With Wolves, transformation as the story developed. This story is truly a model of how a character can seem completely different to a reader from when the reader first read the book to when they turn the last page. Dunbar sincerely became a new man. This change was very realistic and gradual, as the story took its time.

I found the beginning of Dances With Wolves to be pretty dull. The story took awhile to really plunge into some action or conflict. The first hundred pages of the novel dragged at times as the reader was introduced to the main character’s past, personality and surroundings. The best part of the story, which was Lieutenant Dunbar interacting and befriending the Indians, was approached slowly and did not occur until the second half of the book. Lieutenant Dunbar would see the Indians, and then have a brief confrontation, yet nothing dramatic happened between the two parties until deep into the book.

The research and authenticity of the story impressed me, as you felt the author really knew a great deal about the customs and daily life of Comanche Indians. The daily worries of these Comanche, such as concerns about not having enough game to feed the family or the dangers of impending severe weather, were true and reflecting in the characters of Dances With Wolves.

Throughout my reading of Dances With Wolves, I had a definite idea of how the scenes described in writing would translate into the film version of the story. Yet, the film had many differences from the story. The pace of the film was faster and the central focus of the film was mainly on Dunbar, opposed to the Indians. Even the first scene of the movie, which involves Lieutenant Dunbar being operated on due to a severely bleeding foot, was far more dramatic and heart-wrenching than in the novel. The scene was accompanied with poignant music and Dunbar, played by Kevin Costner, shrieking in pain.

A scene that I thought was brought to screen masterfully was a scene in the beginning in which Dunbar rides across a battlefield acting as an open target to enemy snipers, intent on killing himself. If Dunbar had been shot dead in this beginning portion of the film, would there really be much of a film at all? Of course not, so Dunbar rides his horse by the shooting enemies, unintentionally dodging every bullet, and coming off the battlefield unscathed. This is a perfect cinematic scene, blending suspense and action along with the beautiful landscape of the frontier.

The characters in Dances With Wolves were done justice by a variety of great actors and actresses, and were actors that I would definitely choose to play the parts. Kevin Costner’s tall, lanky frame and long hair was just how I envisioned the gritty Lieutenant while reading the book. Mary McDonnell plays the frightened, grieving Stands With A Fist perfectly, with each mannerism and line reading reflecting the character that Michael Blake created. Graham Greene, who plays Kicking Bird, displays the serious, gentle man who shows great concern for his fellow Comanche.

Overall, I enjoyed the film very much and see it as a worthy winner of the Best Picture Oscar in 1991. The acting was great all around and the sweeping landscapes that are displayed in the film are genuinely beautiful. This was certainly a film I would like to see on the big screen someday for it is so epic and large in scope. The running time for the film was over three hours long, so at times, the story inevitably dragged. Scenes of just panning over the expansive frontier and aimless horse riding could be cut slightly. Yet, this immense length works in the films favor in most areas. In the three and a half hours, the characters develop, and, by the end, you feel as though you know them. Lieutenant Dunbar’s transformation into becoming Dances With Wolves was gradual, so inevitably, the film had to be gradual in its storytelling.

I believe that I enjoyed the film more than the book, yet both had specific positive attributes that the other lacked. In the novel, the visual beauty that the film offers is obviously absent. The visual splendor of the film unleashes a whole new dimension to this narrative. Various, brilliant elements of the film like the score and the set pieces are impossible to convey in a book, yet in a movie, they bring the story to a new level. The story in the novel is certainly enhanced from the technology you can utilize in a film.

An expression of the character’s feelings is something that the book did better than the movie. The narrator in the book told the thoughts and feelings of the characters simply and accessibly. Yet in the movie, the viewer must rely on the actors’ facial expressions and dialogue to tell how the character truly feels. I felt as though I knew the characters better in the novel, than in the movie.

In the end, after experiencing Dances With Wolves in two impressive mediums, I felt I gained a complete understanding of the complex story and characters. Both the film and the novel offer different pieces of the story that contributed to my understanding. After both reading the book and watching the movie, I felt closeness to the landscape and to the people of the Western Frontier.

[I think its "A-worthy", don't you?]

"Red Rum!"

It's amazing to me that Danny Lloyd has not a single credit to his name since his unforgettable turn as Danny Torrance in "The Shining". When filming the role, Danny was only a little older than five years old. When I was five I was...watching Sesame Street or eating sand in the playground. Danny was playing a chilling, possessed little boy opposite one of the great actors of all time, and my favorite actor, Jack Nicholson. He was under the direction of Stanley Kubrick, a man many think is the greatest director to walk the Earth.

Danny played the role with such sophistication. I mean, could a five year-old even understand the plot, the meaning, the significance that film carries? It must have been traumatic, really. A role far beyond his years. But it worked. It worked oh, so well. While watching The Shining (between underpants changes), my friend, who was watching the film with me, said that Danny gave one of the best performances he had ever seen. Stretch? Not totally.

He had the perfect blend of childish innocence and disturbing loss of mind. Freaky. One scene, he was hearing Jack and Wendy talking about him (through the Shine; see the movie) and he had this tortured expression. So sad and disappointed in himself for being so screwed up. He sat on the foot of his bed, looking into the camera, his lip quivering in sorrow. Then in, practically, the next scene, he was running around the bedroom screaming in that robotic, faraway voice, "Red Rum! Red Rum!", smearing the word on the walls with lipstick, driving poor Shelley Duvall to madness.

The voice. Whoa. The voice he would give to Tony, the imaginary character that lives in his mouth, was startling. When he was possessed. Boy, that voice stayed in your head for awhile. Even though it's been nearly months since I saw the film, I can remember that voice meticulously. You know what that is? That is the definition of unforgettable. Literally.

And it's that simple. Danny Lloyd is unforgettable in the way he plays a role so beyond his years, it's scary.

This essay is for my buddy Michael's Rug Rats Blog-A-Thon, which I think is a great idea. See Michael's fun blog...
here.