The unlikely-ly named Willing Davis has penned a screed for Slate which boils down to “the book is better”. In fairness, the author notes the triteness of the very premise, but he endeavors to explain the reasons in terms of plot versus story.
Well, hell, Joe Bob Briggs has been saying that for years: “Too much plot gettin’ in the way of the story!”
It’s usually true that the book is “better” than the movie, for some definition of “better”, but I like to point out the mystery that is Silence of the Lambs. The book is almost identical to the movie, yet it’s one of the greatest movies of all time, where the book is … not. (Not that it’s a bad book or anything of the sort.)
But you can smell the sentiment coming. You may know which one I’m talking about if you’re a regular reader:
It was released in 1985, and the great run of 1970s American film culture was just coming to an end.
You just knew it had to be one of those guys who loved nihilism and avocado green, didn’t you? (I did!) It makes me completely suspicious of his recommendation of Schrader’s Mishima, the virtues of which he is extolling. (Though one should always be wary of Schrader films.)
David follows up with:
Ironically, it was partly Lucas’ Star Wars franchise that proved how lucrative giving the people what they want, repeatedly, could be.
That’s not ironic: Spielberg and Lucas are movie lovers. That means they don’t just love arty flicks or popcorn flicks. It means they love movies. How could it be otherwise?
If not for L&S’s popcorn fare–or something similar in its place–moviemaking would be a complete niche that few cared about.
(H/T Instapundit, the Himbo.)