So recently, I went furniture shopping. I needed a couch. The problem was, I hated all the couches.
But then I found this couch and I loved it.
This is my soul-couch. It is the couch of my heart. It’s like the great bed of Ware, but a couch. It’s like I had a dream, and in that dream I said, “I want a couch that looks like a pirate would fuck on it” and then I woke up and the dream was made manifest upon the world.
And it was on CLEARANCE? This is emblematic of everything that’s wrong in the world: That this couch would exist and yet not have a home where it was loved and cherished. I mean, there are so many bullshit couches out there. Hollow, horrible corporate things. Ugly. Uncomfortable. Couches with no heart. Couches with no panache.
And then there is this vasty beautiful beast. I mean, just looking at this couch I gave it a fucking backstory. Figuratively AND literally. It belonged to a pirate captain who looted it from the wealthy merchant vessel he raided. That’s why it’s scratched up in places. It was marred in the heat of battle, and rough sorts that they are, the pirate crew wasn’t gentle bringing it onboard.
Luckily, it’s a sturdy piece of furniture. And it was put to hard use over the years by Captain Fuckbeard. Lo, there was much carousing conducted in its vicinity. And yay, many a buxom lass and laddie was swivved thereon after giving enthusiastic verbal consent. And yes, much aftercare was also conducted upon thereto.
So I bought this couch.
And they brought it to my house.
And… I don’t know how to say this. It wouldn’t fit through the front door. We tried every way.
We took it around and it wouldn’t go through the back door, either. It just. Wouldn’t. Go.
And now I’m going to be sad and angry forever.
Goodbye beautiful pirate fuck-couch. I’ll never forget you.
So the other day a friend forwarded me a link to the very first-ever film adaptation of the Hobbit.
It’s only about 10 minutes long, and worth your time. I’m embedding it here as an example of why I’m extremely leery of anyone ever making a movie out of The Name of the Wind.
Isn’t that an absolute trip? They added a princess to the story and everything.
Now it turns out there are good reasons for why this adaptation was bizarrely short and startlingly off-script. But rather than summarize them, I’ll just link over to a post where the guy that made the film explained why it turned out as it did. It’s actually a really interesting story.
After watching it on youtube, I saw a link and followed it over to watch the trailer for the Hobbit movie.
I won’t deny that I got a bit of a tingle watching it. But honestly, my response was half-tingle, half anticipatory dread.
A dread-tingle. Or dringle, if you prefer.
You see, the first video I posted up there was bad enough to be good in a funny train-wreck sort of way.
But the trailer makes me think that the Hobbit movie is going to be good enough that big pieces of it will make me want to vomit pure bile.
“But Pat,” I hear you say, “Why the concern? The Lord of the Rings Movies were good!”
Yeah. They were good movies. I won’t argue that. They were also moderately okay adaptation of the books.
And yes, I’m aware that referring to something as ‘moderately okay’ is the very definition of damming with faint praise.
Without going into it in any detail, (that would be a whole separate blog’s worth of post) my main problem with the Jackson adaptations is that they lose the subtlety of the original stories.
It’s like this: Tolkien’s books were full of subtle tension, drama, action, good characters, and a world of startling and immersive richness.
Jackson’s adaptations had some brilliant action scenes, great special effects, some pointless action scenes, drama, melodrama, a lot of panoramic cinematography, good casting, and an inexplicably Scottish dwarf with all the character depth of a Disney animal sidekick.
So I’ll say it again. Good movies. Ah hell. I’ll even admit that they were great movies just for that fight scene with the rock troll in Moria. But only moderately okay adaptations.
In the Hobbit trailer, I see the same thing happening. The Hobbit was a lighthearted story about a slightly bumbling average-Joe who goes off on an adventure and discovers hidden resources inside himself. (Spoiler alert.) It was fun. If the book came out today, it publishers would probably market it as YA.
While it had action and drama, it was not an action-packed Hollywood-style dramapalooza where Gandalf and Galadriel have emo makeouts.
I can tell in my bones that the movie is going to be chock full of scenes that were never in the original story. I’m not talking about a little extra dialogue here and there. I’m talking about completely invented cutaway scenes that stuff more action in, and subplots that were only barely alluded to in the book. My off-the-cuff prediction? At least 20 minutes worth.
It will be a good movie. Maybe even a great movie. But it will also be, at best, a moderately okay adaptation of the subtle, sweet book that I grew up loving.
You know that it’s going to be like? It’s going to be like wandering onto an internet porn site and seeing a video of a girl I had a crush on in high school. You probably knew someone like her. The smart girl. The shy girl. The one who wore glasses and was a little socially awkward. The one who screwed up the curve in chemistry so you got an A- instead of an A.
She was a geek girl before anybody knew what a geek girl was. And that was kinda awesome, because you were a geek boy before being a geek was culturally acceptable.
You liked her because she was funny. And she was smart. And you could actually talk to her. And she read books.
And sure, she was girl-shaped, and that was cool. And she was cute, in an understated, freckly way. And sometimes you’d stare at her breasts when you were supposed to be paying attention in biology. But you were 16. You stared at everyone’s breasts back then.
And yeah, you had some fantasies about her, because, again, you were 16. But they were fairly modest fantasies about making out in the back of a car. Maybe you’d get to second base. Maybe you could steal third if you were lucky.
And maybe, just maybe, something delightful and terrifying might happen. And yeah, it would probably be awkward and fumbling at times, but that’s okay because she’d be doing half the fumbling too. Because the only experience either one of you had was from books. And afterwards, if you make a Star Wars joke, you know she’ll get it, and she’ll laugh….
That’s the girl you fell in love with in high school. You didn’t have a crush on her because she was some simmering pool of molten sex. You loved her because she was subtle and sweet and smart and special.
So you stroll onto this porn site, and there she is. Except now she’s wearing a thong and a black leather halter top. She’s wearing fuck-me red lipstick and a lot of dark eye makeup. Her breasts are amazing now, proud and perfectly round.
Someone’s taught her to dance, and she does it well. She’s flexible and tan. She has a flat midriff and walks like a high-class Vegas stripper. Her eyes are dark and smouldering. She has a riding crop, and she likes to be tied up, and her too-red mouth forms a perfect circle as she sighs and moans, and tosses her head in a performance designed to win any number of academy awards….
And what’s the problem with this? Well… in some ways, nothing. What you’ve found is perfectly good porn. Maybe even great porn.
But in other ways the problem is blindingly obvious. This girl has nothing in common with your high-school crush except for her social security number. Everything you loved about her is gone.
We loved the sweet, shy, freckly girl. We still remember her name, and after all these years she lives close to our heart. Seeing her in lipstick and stiletto heels dancing on a pole is like watching Winnie the Pooh do heroin and then glass someone in a bar fight.
It just isn’t something that I look forward to seeing….
And that’s how I’m going to feel when I watch the Hobbit.
I’ll be one part entertained, two parts nostalgic, two parts irritated, three parts outraged, and one part oddly titillated.
And I’ll watch it, and I’ll enjoy it, and afterwards I’ll go home and feel more than slightly sad….
