September marks the last of the year’s cinematic exhbitions with the Toronto International Film Festival. Films by North American and international directors are showcased during the event’s ten-day run. Remarkably, despite the difference in theme and genre, a third of the features from this year’s lineup have one thing in common: they are book-to-screen adaptations. Hollywood is infamous for churning out mammoth productions of bestselling novels and comics under the generally correct assumption that pandering to popular culture will positively affect their revenue. However, the growing interest of independent production companies in adaptations of lesser known works indicate that perhaps adaptations have more to offer than profit.
Some of the most exciting adaptations from this year’s TIFF lineup include two gangster films, Black Mass and Legend, as well as Septembers of Shiraz, based on the critically acclaimed debut novel by Dalia Sofer. Each film is bound to do well for the same basic reason: good storytelling can only be heighted by aesthetic appeal. Take The Dressmaker, for instance, an Australian film about a woman who returns to her village to care for her mother (an unstable woman who may have murdered a child) and pacifies the pitchfork-wielding horde of villagers with her haute couture dressmaking in the process.
The book on which the film is based has done reasonably well both critically and commercially, and the film adaptation has all the potential to ride on its source’s coattails and garner attention. Set against the unforgiving and stark Australian outback, the film stars Kate Winslet and features an atmospheric soundtrack and wardrobe to boot. The story itself is smart and charming in a gothic mystery sort of way, and to see it expressed with added visual and aural details will only intensify and beautify what is already present within the text.
From a merely economic point of view, novel-to-film adaptations are an obvious and often safe choice for studios to produce. Regardless of what the creative types in the industry may preach, filmmaking is first and foremost a business. Movies cannot be made without money, and a director’s success is directly linked to the millions that their movies rake in at box offices. Releasing a film based on a novel or comic book will, at the very least, ensure that the franchise will come with its guaranteed audience and fan base. Readers of the original work are bound to see the film, even out of sheer curiosity, and there is nothing like pre-existing success and recognition to generate excitement.
As consumers of media, we have a seemingly insatiable appetite for mimesis. The characters, morals, and storylines from ancient mythology, religious texts, and canonical literature have been reshaped and repurposed in innumerable ways to create new pieces of literature, theatre, and cinema. Something about exposure to the same basic story through various outlets is appealing, perhaps because there is a certain thrill in dispelling familiarity and allowing our preconceived notions to be overthrown by a creator’s vision and personal relationship with a publicly available tale.
We find excitement in the visualization of material that previously only existed in our heads. Through music, design, and camera work, not to mention performance, films have the ability to conjure emotions and responses without the need for literary interpretation. It only seems natural that we should want to see our favourite stories brought to life with aesthetic appeal. So whether it be a new installment of The Avengers or a filmic rendering of an obscure, nihilistic manifesto, adaptations will always find their audience.
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