Here’s more or less how my plans to see The Hobbit began.

Roommate: “Want to go to the midnight premiere of The Hobbit?”

Me: Sigh “I suppose. The Lord of the Rings movies are always kind of exhausting for me with all the battles and the orcs. I’ll probably be sleeping with my light on.”

Roommate: “I don’t think there are orcs in The Hobbit.”

Me: “Really? Awesome. I should probably read it before the premiere.”

And I did.

I WAS PROMISED NO ORCS!! By my LOTR superfan roommate and by the man Tolkien himself!

I think I can move on from that now. Emotionally, anyway. But I’m going to keep talking about it.

I read the book less than a month before the movie … I remember it being a lot cuter. However, the darker changes help it fit in well with the rest of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. Originally The Hobbit wasn’t meant to be a prequel to the trilogy. It was a stand-alone novel. The film felt much more like a prequel to The Lord of the Rings than an adaptation of The Hobbit. Frodo even makes a cameo as a young boy. When the story opens, Bilbo is preparing to disappear at the party as he does at the beginning of The Fellowship of the Ring. This was an addition from the book that I thought worked very nicely in connecting those stories and framing the current one.

Strangely, the parts that were true to the book were exactly like the book: the dwarves invading Bilbo’s home, his reluctance to answer the call the adventure, and then his subsequent running from his house with such enthusiasm that he forgets his handkerchiefs. It was downright inspiring. Oh, and the trolls, the goblins, eagles, and Gollum are all straight from the book exactly as I and the rest of the world pictured them.

Although I almost threw up just looking at the Gorkil the Goblin King. Sooo, well done with that. And Gollum is surprisingly hilarious. The dwarves looked just how I imagined they would – except for Thorin. I almost laughed a few times at how dramatically he was filmed; he doesn’t look like a dwarf. He looks like a human – a very manly, warrior human who seems to constantly have flames and destruction going on behind him – who is just a little taller than the other dwarves. Enjoy, the array of images.

To me, a sign of a good adaptation is when messages and themes from the original work come through in new, interesting, and/or deeper ways. This is why I’m not as picky about the details in an adaptation. At one point Bilbo feels shamed into leaving the group because Thorin is being a meaniehead and tells Bilbo he doesn’t belong with them. When one of the dwarves tries to stop Bilbo from leaving, Bilbo argues  that he doesn’t belong with them; he belongs in his hobbit hole, not with rootless dwarves who belong nowhere. This pains the dwarf trying to stop him. Later, Bilbo returns and explains that he’s staying because he wants to help them reclaim their home so that they will have somewhere to belong. I liked that this theme was brought out because in the book it seemed that Bilbo’s only motivation in going on the adventure was to…go on an adventure. And survive. This gave a higher meaning to his striving with them for so long and through so much.

As I said, and I say every time, I’m not usually one to nitpick over how every detail compares to the book. But half of this movie was unrecognizable from the book. This is not to say that it is a bad movie. On the contrary, it’s pretty fantastic, funny, inspiring, exciting, adventurous, and all the things a Lord of the Rings movie should be. But, frankly, it doesn’t replace the cartoon version of The Hobbit. Especially since it’s going to be broken into three movies – despite the fact that it is the shortest book in the series. To wrap up, it is a great movie, but if someone ever wants to just sit down and watch The Hobbit, this isn’t going to enable that. If I want to watch The Hobbit after reading it, I’m probably going to watch the cartoon. Peter Jackson created an awesome movie, but that was only half of the job. Someone could still come along and create a single faithful, all-inclusive film version of The Hobbit; which goes to show, that in this respect, the filmmakers lost sight of what this is all for.

I can’t believe it has taken this long for a musical film adaptation of Les Misérables. Without the music you might as well just curl up in a dark corner and think horribly tragic thoughts until you run out of tears. The music in this story is what snow is to winter: it makes the cold bearable and beautiful. I have seen Les Misérables twice on the stage so I thought I was adequately prepared to see the film version.  And by prepared I mean I knew that I would be ripped apart from the inside out. I wanted to bring the same stuffed animal that I took to Hunger Games, but I couldn’t fit him in my bag this time. So I clung to my coat for nearly three hours. I also made sure I sat on the end of the row because, despite being dead inside to most emotion, I have never made it through this production without crying, and that was an act I wanted made obvious to as few people as possible.

When I first heard rumblings of this film I had misgivings about the appropriateness of how star studded the cast was shaping up to be: Hugh Jackman as Jean Valjean, Anne Hathaway as Fantine, Russell Crowe as Javert, Eddie Redmayne as Marius,  Helena Bonham-Carter and Sacha Baron Cohen as the Thénardiers and Amanda Seyfried as Cosette. Taylor Swift was originally cast as Eponine, and as big a fan of hers as I am, that would have been a terrible mistake. She doesn’t have the right singing voice, and based off of the caliber of acting that is demonstrated in this film, she would have been an embarrassment. Eponine was played by Samantha Barks, a young woman who performed the part at Queen’s Theatre in London for a year before appearing in the film. But anyway, back to my misgivings. They were unnecessary. I feared that the big names and faces would be distracting and a mockery to the tragedy of one of the most powerful stories ever written. However, the opening scene soon dispelled that fear when I could hardly recognize Hugh Jackman as a beaten down prisoner. That was one thing I respected about the film makers: they didn’t shy away from making the actors look disgusting and miserable. I often felt like I could smell the scene as well as see and hear it.

Helena Bonham-Carter is of course the obvious choice as Madame Thénardier. Mm. Thénardier is essentially Mrs. Lovett from Sweeny Todd and who Bellatrix Lestrange would have been if she had been born a muggle. (It’s hard to believe that she’s ever played a role where she looked like a normal person but allow me to recommend her performance as Lady Olivia in Twelfth Night.) I didn’t realize that her husband was Sacha Baron Cohen until the credits rolled. He is certainly making himself diverse doing both Dictator and Borat followed by Oscar nominated films like this one and Hugo. What I liked about them is that they managed to retain all the cartoonish hilarity that comes innately with these characters, while also making them seem like people – who you almost kinda like – but not want to be within a fifty foot radius of. Their chemistry together is endearing. I liked the feeling that these characters actually like each other and that the actors seemed to have a lot of fun shooting together.

And Eddie Redmayne who plays Marius  is just a beautiful man with a voice that makes you want to pee your pants. I wanted to cry along with Eponine at the tragedy that he loves someone who isn’t me. But in all sincerity, I don’t see why he wasn’t nominated along with Hathaway and Jackman.

Many of these names were people who are not known as singers. Hathaway was the most surprising casting decision for me. I was aware of Jackman’s musical theater career but many I spoke to about the film were not. Both actors were fantastic though. (ButIthinkI’veseenbetterinstageproductionswheresingingabilityisvaluedaboveacting. Shh!) The biggest disappointment was Russell Crowe. His acting as always was wonderful and his singing was nice considering that he is certainly not known as a musical actor. But he was friggin’ Javert, people! He’s supposed to have a voice to rival Jean Valjean’s! He is supposed to make the audience stand up in awe when he performs “Stars”. But his voice sounds – muffled. Like the sound is fighting through a wad of cotton in his throat. Which is just a style and there is nothing wrong with it – but it’s not worthy of Javert. My criticism is not stemming from him having a poor singing voice, but from how incredible I have known Javert’s voice to be.

As moving as the stage production is, this is powerful on a whole other level. Despite conscious effort, I have been unable to stop reliving scenes from the movie in the 18 hours or so since I left the theater.  An interesting device was used that at first I found tiresome and then once I understood it I found it beautiful; during the signature solos of the each character there weren’t cutaways. Few angles were used. It was just a single straight on close up of the character’s face. I think it was during Fantine’s solo “I Dreamed a Dream” that I realized what they were doing. They are showing, in a way they couldn’t as effectively on stage, Les Misérables. The Miserables. This isn’t just one epic French story. They are showcasing each of the miserables by telling their story individually and giving the audience a glimpse into the raw emotion and point of view of each character separately and how the era was affecting all these different people in such different ways. Interestingly, this included Javert. I hadn’t seen him as much more than a nemesis until now.

Another way that the film is more powerful than the play is during the battle. In the play they just shoot back and forth until they’re all dead. With a film they could show them moving through buildings and – I can’t really talk about it much more. I teared up during Fantine’s and Eponine’s solos, but if you read my review of War Horse you know that I completely lose it during war scenes. Just know it’s more emotional than anything I’ve ever seen on stage.

One thing I have noticed about adaptations is that, if done well, they find a way to bring themes to life with more clarity than they were in the book or the play. And it was done very well in this film. I’d always been a huge advocate for Eponine and felt that Cosette was just a sheltered blonde soprano who Marius fell for immediately because she was pretty –just like all those girls who the guys fall for instead of the scrappy, brunette tomboy. So her ending up with her man at the end did not feel like a happy enough ending for me. But this time I got it. It wasn’t about this pretty little thing being protected at all costs by first her mother and then Jean Valjean. She would have ended up as miserable as everyone else if it weren’t for him. Jean Valjean improves the life of everyone he encounters. A task that would be overwhelming in that time when everyone is poor and sick and dying or wish they would die. Fantine doesn’t die a whore in the street racked with anxiety over her daughter. Thanks to Jean Valjean she dies respectably in a hospital with the knowledge that he will take care of her daughter. Cosette is saved from the Thenardiers. Marius is the only survivor of the barricade. Jean Valjean runs a factory providing respectable work for hundreds of people. He can’t save everyone, but he doesn’t use that as an excuse to not save anyone. And he doesn’t just help them if it is convenient. He risks his life and freedom, climbing walls and running through alleys and sewers. It’s not about the lifting up of this one little girl. He ends a cycle of poverty and misery for this one person and her posterity. And it wasn’t about saving one person. Her happy ending was the result of him helping and saving many others around her. She is the product, not the sole mission.

Lastly, the ending which is essentially a curtain call, is not just Fantine and Eponine coming to usher Jean Valjean into the next world as it is in the play. It is everyone and more. It is hundreds of people singing “Do You Hear the People Sing” in the streets of Paris in the dawning of the tomorrow that they didn’t see on earth. It’s an ending that will make you believe in God.

Perks of Being a Wallflower is a great reminder of how wonderful and incredibly sucky high school was. It also reminds you that you haven’t felt anything as intensely as you did as a teenager in a long time – and how that is both a relief and a little sad.

The film is based on the novel by Stephen Chbosky who also directed, produced, and wrote the screenplay. It is told through letters from the protagonist named Charlie written to an unknown person.

Charlie is a wallflower, urged at the beginning of the story by his English teacher to “participate.” Charlie’s goal throughout is to move out of his position as observer and join the living. Doing so means making friends.

Enter Patrick and Sam. Patrick is gay and Sam is Emma Watson. With an American accent. Sort of. And Charlie is in love with her from the moment he meets her. They introduce him to the world of “good” music, Rocky Horror Picture Show, girls/dating, parties, drinking, drugs, and what it feels like to live your life and how once you start living you inevitably start making mistakes.

For those of you who have read the book (probably because I have shoved it into your hands and pestered you until you did) I will declare it to be a fairly faithful adaptation. Not much was changed or left out. The actor playing Charlie is just perfect. The perfect combination of teenage boy and surprising innocence. Patrick is a bit more flaming than I had originally pictured. Sam looks totally bad ass with her pixie cut and amazing wardrobe. I also got to play one of my favorite movie games: listen-closely-for-the-Brit-to-pronounce-things-oddly-as-she-tries-to-sound-American. Charlie’s awesome English teacher who gives him extra books to read, played by Paul Rudd, was de-hippie-fied from the character he was in the book. Oh well. Also, I was very glad to see that they not only didn’t try to modernize the story from the early 90s setting that the book was set in; however, they also didn’t make too big a deal about it being the 90s. The only real indication of the era was the use of cassette tapes and the lack of iPods and cellphones.

One problem that I’ve noticed with a really faithful adaptation from a book is that it loses something in the translation. And what it usually loses is comedy. This was no exception. Some of the same lines that made me laugh while reading fell kind of flat in the movie. Particularly in the banter between Sam and Patrick. And I hate to say it because after what she did in Harry Potter, Emma Watson will always be like family to me, but she’s not funny. She can do the dramatic parts well. But when the situation is lighthearted, she’s kind of awkward. Like she’s trying too hard to be casual. However, have no fear those of you who have read the book; the tunnel scene (you know the one I’m talking about), it lives up to what you imagined. It’s beautiful. And so is she.

What the film lacks in comedic ability it makes up for in the dramatic. I don’t mean it’s overly dramatic – in fact I mean the opposite. I mean that it is handled well. It’s emotional but not schmaltzy. The weight of the moment is portrayed fully without going too far and making the emotions inaccessible. The events feel like they are happening to real people instead of to characters who are removed from your real life by both fiction and unbelievability. In a nutshell, the drama feels real and the comedy does not. Except for when Charlie has to play Rocky in Rocky Horror. That was pretty funny.

The plot runs very similar to the book for all those purists out there. The first place we are introduced to is District Twelve where the heroine Katniss Everdeen is leaving her threadbare house early in the morning to sneak past the district borders into the forest where she hunts with her best friend Gale to supplement their virtually nonexistent food supply. This is an almost daily activity and her weapon of choice is a bow and arrow. That’s going to be important. The atmosphere of the district is kind of a creative venture on the director’s part. District Twelve is the coalmining district so the set and costumes are designed to look and feel like a 1940s Appalachian coal mining town. I enjoyed this interpretation because it made the transition into the hyperfuturistic, grotesquely luxurious Capitol that much more powerful.

Jennifer Lawrence playing Katniss meets my approval. To her credit, this is not her first time playing a hardened teenager who is driven by stalwart protectiveness of younger siblings. She played the lead in the critically acclaimed Winter’s Bone in 2010. She is so real as Katniss that on the drive home from the theater at 2:45 in the morning I felt as if she was sitting beside me in the car. She manages to strike a balance between femininity and toughness. She doesn’t have to vacillate between the two demeanors. She is both simultaneously. If the character had been played flatly, which it could easily have been done, Katniss would have just been a tough broad who every once in a while exposes surprising vulnerability. But because she is played as such a real person, it doesn’t come as a surprise when she can brawl with a knife wielding tribute and then appear scared and beautiful in an evening gown. It is entirely believable that she is a full person capable of this wide spectrum of behaviors.

One reason that I love adaptation is that they bring to light or illuminate further the themes and symbols that can become buried in the subtlety of books. While watching Katniss mount the steps to the platform after volunteering as tribute in the place of her sister I realized how like an execution the staging of The Reaping was. And then when she and Peeta and the rest of the tributes arrive in the Capitol where they are sumptuously fed, cleansed, and pampered I realized that they were being prepared just as human and animal sacrifices are. They must be perfect and beautiful for the recipient of the sacrifice – in this case, the clamoring crowds of the Capitol citizens crying for a good show.

One aspect that was added to the film that wasn’t present in the book was the glimpses into what was going on behind the scenes of the Hunger Games. We see Haymitch, District Twelve’s mentor and only victor of the Hunger Games, negotiating with sponsors and the gamemaker in order to aid Katniss and Peeta. We also get to see the arena control room, a place never even mentioned in the book. It shows them manipulating and playing God with the lives of the tributes. When Katniss is two kilometers away from the nearest tribute and closer to the edge of the arena then they would like, they send a firestorm to drive her into the path of other tributes. When they are down to the last three or four tributes they create what Katniss calls “the finale” which is another element to drive the hidden and scattered tributes into the same area to bring the battle to a close. They reminded me of the gods on Mount Olympus as they decide with the wave of a hand who will go home and who will perish. I appreciated this added aspect because as a film it was needed in order to understand how the Games worked since we couldn’t have Katniss’ narration explaining everything to us as we do in the novel. And I understand why it isn’t given in the novel because Suzanne Collins wanted to emphasize the confusion and isolation of being in the arena. It is moves like that on the part of a director of an adaptation that touch me because it shows courage to present an intensely loved story into a slightly different light in order to illuminate new ideas rather than sacrificing them on the altar of the novel. Movies are different than books. Shocking, I know. But even if a novel is adapted word for word it is not going to be the same experience.

My overall feeling as the credits rolled and I eased my grip on my stuffed animal, was relief. The creators and actors had not disappointed and as I drove home I was filled with a strong sense of satisfaction: I was willing to follow these people into a revolution.

This may feel more like a plug for everyone to read one of my favorite books The Girls’ Guide to Hunting and Fishing. Let me begin by saying it’s not as girly as it sounds. However, the movie adaptation – that fortunately no one has heard of – is. The film version is called Suburban Girl after one of the chapters in the novel called “The Worst Thing a Suburban Girl Can Imagine.” The novel reads like several more than loosely connected short stories; the first being when she is a sarcastic, smoking thirteen-year-old in New Jersey, and then the rest being when she is a sarcastic, smoking twenty-something year old in New York. At first glance it could be dismissed as chick lit even though, the cover does not sport the cartoonish and colorful, head cut off body of a stick figure which seems to be the only design chick litters can come up with. (I may have the slightest bit of disdain for such writing. Although I greatly enjoyed The Nanny Diaries and The Devil Wears Prada years before the films were announced.) While it certainly isn’t Faulkner it also isn’t Meg Cabot. The writer, Melissa Bank, knows something about literature beyond storytelling. She goes into the complexities of human nature and relationships (including family relationships as well as romantic) while also maintaining great economy with her words. Every line has meaning and sometimes what she doesn’t write has meaning as well. On top of which it is dang funny and very sharp in every sense of the word. Which is why I have a standing affair with this novel every year during spring break since I was eighteen.

Since I’m so madly in love with this book I checked to see if there was some obscure film adaptation I’d never heard of. There was, and I immediately saw why I hadn’t heard of it. The cover was as colorful and fluffy as all my chick lit nightmares. There’s even the head-lacking body. Marc Ryan (Serendipity) passed up a prime opportunity to create a much needed substantial, cerebral romantic/comedy, but instead produced another shiny chick flick for the masses. Dying Sarah Michelle Gellar’s hair brown does not make her more down to earth. I’m sorry, but she is just not woman enough to play my heroine. I was surprised to see Alec Baldwin was also involved. He actually carried his part well. Apparently Gellar requested he play opposite her.

Also, the filmmaker’s version of New York was too shiny. It felt like L.A. Which is definitely not what you want to do to New York. Melissa Bank lives in New York, knows New York, loves New York, and that is evidenced in her novel.   

Now I’m not going to whine about everything that was left out. I understand that the plot may not work as well on film as it does on paper. That is true of many plots in literature, and this one is so episodic in nature. Oh what am I saying? It could have worked and it would have been awesome, but that is not what I am going to whine about. When I watch an adaptation I am never sitting there saying “But they left out that scene” or “they didn’t talk about that incredibly complicated and in depth yet minor situation that was in the 350 page book.” I’m looking for the same feeling and I’m looking for reasons such and such was left out: what did it enable in its place? But as I watched Suburban Girl and witnessed the dumbing down of some of my favorite writing I found myself asking, “Why did you change it? Was it too smart? Too deep? Too quick? Too multi-faceted? Every subtlety was explained to death. It felt like someone sitting behind you in a comedy club explaining why every joke is funny.

On some bright notes, I did like how many literary references were in the film. I think there may have been more than were in the book. Also, the lack of subtlety worked out well in one scene in which Gellar’s character explains why Baldwin’s character prefers being with younger women.  She says “It’s safe. He’s already lived my life. There’s no problem I can bring home that he doesn’t have the answers to.” That was the extent of my insight gained from this movie.

What I mostly hope is that this straight to dvd movie doesn’t mean that no one else will make the attempt to really recreate this wonderful novel.

First of all, let’s clear up the name situation. The children’s novel by Roald Dahl is called Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. The 1970 film version with Gene Wilder is called Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. One theory as to why the name was changed is that at the time the word Charlie was a derogatory term for a black person. (Did not know that.) Another is because Quaker Oats, believe it or not, is the company who funded the project and was planning on releasing a line of candy under the name Wonka – making the movie title inherent advertising. The remake in 2005 with Johnny Depp (bless his sexy little heart) is called Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. And the name is not the only thing they got right that Willy didn’t.

Yes, everyone loves the 1970 version because it’s happy and chocolate-covered and non-creepy. (I have to admit that sometimes I just watch the opening credits, turn it off, and go make brownies. Or at least brownie batter.) As a film and as a part of my very early childhood, I also treasure the film. However. How it holds up as an adaptation is another story.

Anyone who has read the book has to (grudgingly) admit that the uber-creepy 2005 film is a more faithful reconstruction. And I don’t just mean in terms of plotline. Roald Dahl is a creepy dude, folks. Have you read The BFG? The friggin‘ giants are eating people!! I was in college when I read it and I was a little disturbed! That’s not a judgment against creepiness. He does a fantastic job with it. As did my lover Johnny Depp. That’s one of the things I love about Roald Dahl. Things don’t work out perfectly in the end. They just work out. Mike Teevee has insanely large feet at the end of the book because of the taffy puller. It’s not ideal, but he’s alive. There are no placid geese laying golden chocolate eggs or whatever they were. There are, however, vicious little squirrels doing stuff with nuts. (Shut up. There is no nondirty way to use the word “nuts” anymore.)

This is not just my idle, militant English major opinion. While Dahl wrote the screenplay and is the only one credited for it, the producer had Daniel Seltzer (The Omen) rewrite the script. Dahl was furious with the end product because it “it focused too much on the Wonka character and not enough on Charlie, and it had sweetened his story’s dark tone. He refused to allow the movie to be remade again in his lifetime or to sell the film rights to the sequel, Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator” (MovieFone). He died in 1990.

I will now say what I will say in every article about an adaptation: a good adaptation is not about following the original author’s plot perfectly; it is about preserving the author’s intention. Willy Wonka (1970) is a great little film that will be present in my own childrens‘ lives. But it is a philandering version of the novel. Charlie (2005) is the most faithful not just in plot but also in mood, vibe, and original authorial intent.       

 In 2004, Tommy O’Haver directed the adaptation of Gail Carson Levine’s Newberry Honored novel Ella Enchanted.  Anne Hathaway was cast as Ella opposite Hugh Dancy playing Prince Char. With such strong leads, Minnie Driver as Ella’s fairy godmother, and Levine’s superb novel as a foundation one would expect this motion picture to be a wonderful creation. Granted, the actors did a fine job with what they had to work with. Levine had given the filmmakers no shortage of storyline, complex characters, and many complicated themes and emotions to work through, all set in a magical yet believable realm. There is no identifiable reason for the shallow interpretation distributed to the public. The creators of the film committed the cardinal sin of movie adapting: not staying true to the writer’s intention.

The bare plot tells of Ella receiving a “gift” of obedience at birth from a short-sighted fairy. When the story opens Ella is a young woman who has had to struggle her entire life with her “gift.” In line with the Cinderella plot, Ella’s mother dies and her father marries the wicked stepmother with the wicked stepsisters in tow. Unable to bear her situation any longer, Ella sets out to find a cure for her condition – a journey that will leads to her acquaintance with Prince Charmont.

Levine’s version combines the complexities of personal choice with the traditional agency-robbing magic spells of fairy tales and teaches that, while it may require tremendous sacrifice and strength, one’s power and determination to choose will ultimately be stronger than any outside influences – magical or otherwise. In addition to this profound theme, Levine creates a fairy tale world without the hokeyness that fantasy has the propensity to fall into. Her characters are just as real and complex as the characters in literary fiction.

The movie, however, removes the key component of the spell: Ella has no power over the spell. There are no moments of struggle against it. Her body simply takes over. The hokeyness that is absent in the novel, immerses the film. Rather than embracing Levine’s intricate and ingenious magical world, the film fights against it with a chaotic selection of cheap-looking modern and Renaissance costumes and contemporary cover songs instead of an original score. The most charming and imaginative elements of the novel are excluded from the movie and in their place are numerous inane gags with Ella’s curse – something the novel never does. It always treats Ella’s situation with respect. Levine understood that the loss of agency is no laughing matter.

An interviewer asked Levine how involved she was with the film. She replied, “Not very.” She explained that she had “consulting rights” meaning the producers had to send her the script but had no obligation to consider her feedback. She admitted that “the script is very different from the book, and so is the movie. My comments about plot weren’t acted on.” When asked her opinion about the film she said, “The movie is so different from the book that it’s hard to compare them.” When asked if her favorite part of the book had also been her favorite part of the movie, her reply revealed her opinion of the adaptation:

“I loved writing the letters Char and Ella exchange when Char is in Ayortha, but they’re not in the movie at all! I loved writing Ella’s flirtation with the Earl of Wolleck when Ella’s under the influence of the torlin kerru, but that’s not there either.”

She ends the interview with the plea “regard the movie as a separate creative act.” She clearly wants to separate her own work from that of the filmmakers, and then cryptically and diplomatically concludes with the suggestion that, “You might want to think about the choices the screen writers made and why they may have gone in the direction they did.”

Possibly the novel was adapted in this way to dumb down the complexity of the story to appeal child viewers. However, every quality writer for children knows that young people know when adults patronize them and understand more than adults often realize. Levine set out to tell a story of the weight and significance of personal choice. She did not intend to produce a comedy about what happens to a person in this situation. Which may be why Levine received a Newberry Honor for the novel and the film generated over $12,000,000 less than the cost of production.