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Screengrab Presents: The Best Stage-To-Screen Adaptations Of All Time (Part Five)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 11 Dec 2008 23:00:00 GMT

DEATHTRAP (1982)

One set, five characters, a couple of twists and a few good, juicy murders: that’s the formula for success in Ira Levin’s puzzle box of a murder mystery about a struggling veteran playwright desperate for a hit. Add a nervous spouse with a weak heart, a gay lover, a weird psychic, a cagey agent and a wall full of handcuffs, pistols and crossbows and you’ve got one of the few stage plays with the power to make audiences scream and jump like a creature double-feature. The movie version wisely sticks to the basics, letting the cat-and-mouse triple-double-cross plotting speak for itself while sticking mostly to the confined but never claustrophobic Long Island home of the plotting protagonist (Michael Caine at his very Michael Caine-iest, having a helluva time). And though certain naysayers here at the Screengrab may say nay, I also give kudos to Christopher Reeve’s performance in the film, which tweaks his goody-two-shoes Superman image while letting him exercise the underutilized mischievous side of his (admittedly limited) range. Meanwhile, Dyan Cannon gives good scream as the wife, and if all that doesn’t win you over, the movie has at least one immortal line, delivered by a snarky critic (Joel Siegel) after Caine’s playwright Sidney Bruhl premieres a hackneyed whodunit nowhere near as clever as Deathtrap: “I'll tell you who done it. Sidney Bruhl done it. And he done it in public."

THE RULING CLASS (1972)

Adapted for the screen by Peter Barnes from his own deeply subversive play, The Ruling Class was sort of a last gasp for the British “Angry Young Man” movement. But its demise was also its salvation: the play – and the subsequent and very successful film – kept in place the elements of class warfare, generational conflict and family drama and turned them on their heads. It replaced rage with whimsy, a tone of rebellion with a sense of absurdity, and an overall tone of Pythonesque lunacy that proved the movement wasn’t entirely devoid of humor. The story of an upper-class family of British aristocrats forced by fortune into restoring as its head a deranged son who thinks he’s the second coming of Christ (played with delightfully silky craziness by Peter O’Toole, in one of his greatest roles), The Ruling Class is, even today, as vicious as it is hilarious. It expands on the play by adding a few memorable characters and trading up in the players (most especially Nigel Green as McKyle, “the Electric Christ”, and the unforgettable Alastair Sim as the bewildered Bishop Bertie Lampton) as well as taking the sets out-of-doors, but what made the stage version so great was its devastatingly funny and fiendish dialogue. Barnes and director Peter Medak are wise enough not to change a bit of that.

SWEENEY TODD: THE DEMON BARBER OF FLEET STREET (2007)

Tim Burton’s first full-blown attempt at a musical is so successful, it’s a wonder that he never tried it before. Without sacrificing the elements that have made him famous – the gloomy atmospherics, the high gothic sensibilities, the manic pace, the deft blend of dark humor and absurd violence – his big-screen adaptation of Stephen Sondheim’s notorious musical gives him the perfect format. Why? Because musicals are infinitely forgiving of the qualities that, in many of Burton’s other films, can rightly be considered weaknesses: his overblown dialogue, his clumsy grasp of the dynamics of storytelling, his slight characterization, and his love of style over emotional substance. Everything really comes together for him here, and the result is one of the most enjoyable musicals in decades. Dismissals of the lead actors (Johnny Depp as the vengeance-addled Victorian hairstylist and Burton’s wife, Helena Bonham Carter, as the vendor of unhygienic meat pies) as unable to sing at the level expected from a big-screen musical somewhat miss the point: Sweeney Todd is a fiendishly difficult production, its songs and structure much more akin to an opera than a musical comedy, and it contains precious few toe-tappers, so putting the words in the mouths of those not well-suited to the old school of musicals doesn’t sink it one bit.

INHERIT THE WIND (1960)

Almost fifty years down the road, there are a lot of problems with the Stanley Kramer adaptation of the then-controversial play (by Jerome Lawrence and Robert E. Lee, no relation) about the Scopes Monkey Trial. It’s excessively stagey; Kramer doesn’t bother to open up the set very much, and too many scenes are given no chance to work in the very different medium of film. The casting is problematic; Spencer Tracy and Frederic March are terrific in the lead roles (as stand-ins for Clarence Darrow and William Jennings Bryan, respectively), and there are some good supporting jobs, especially by Elliott Reed as the county prosecutor, but Dick York and Donna Anderson as the romantic leads are flat as pancakes, and Gene Kelly playing a thinly-veiled H.L. Mencken is one of the biggest botch-jobs in casting history. It’s unfair, imbalanced, and historically inaccurate. And in a certain sense, it’s simply not as relevant as it once was; Inherit the Wind isn’t about what it’s about, but rather a Cold War narrative about the long-faded dangers of McCarthyism. But there are still some gorgeous speeches in this moldy oldie, and since America is, astonishingly, still debating the rightness of teaching Darwin’s theory of evolution in schools some eighty-odd years after the Scopes Trial, it maintains a relevance its authors couldn’t possibly have anticipated.

WHO’S AFRAID OF VIRGINIA WOOLF? (1966)

While many directors attempt to open up adaptations of stage plays for the big screen by taking the action up and out, Mike Nichols helps make Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? a masterpiece by doing the opposite. Although he does take us outside once or twice, what makes the film so visually arresting is his camera’s perfect pace with the legendary dialogue: instead of going out, it circles endlessly in and around, like a shark. It darts in and out of scenes, whirls around like the heads of the characters after a stinging rejoinder, and creeps in for powerful closeups that reveal faces as ugly as the words they’re speaking. Who exactly gets credit for the screenplay has been the subject of endless disputes, arguments and lawsuits, but really, it’s as simple as going to the source; almost all of the hypnotic dialogue that takes place between timid, repressed college professor Richard Burton and his domineering, disapproving wife Elizabeth Taylor is present in Edward Albee’s original stage play. Not for nothing is Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? a sort of literary shorthand for viciously feuding married couples: as Burton and Taylor go for each other’s throats, the camera matches them slash for slash, portraying a couple so sick of each other – but so used to each other – that the object of their hatred fills their eyes and becomes all that they can see.

Click Here For Part One, Two, Three, Four, Six, Seven & Eight

Contributors: Andrew Osborne, Leonard Pierce

Morning Deal Report: Anne Hathaway in Wonderland

Scott Von Doviak — Tue, 07 Oct 2008 14:30:00 GMT

You probably already know that Tim Burton is directing Alice in Wonderland for Disney, and you most likely wouldn’t be terribly surprised to learn that Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter are attached (as the Mad Hatter and Red Queen, respectively). Now Burton has found his White Queen, and it’s Rachel Getting Married star Anne Hathaway. “The White Queen needs Alice to slay a creature known as the Bandersnatch,” The Hollywood Reporter reminds us. Ah, but who is frumious enough to play the Bandersnatch? We’re putting our money on Christopher Walken.

It turns out that October brings not only baseball’s playoffs, but really bad ideas for baseball movies. (I’m still haunted by the image of Jimmy Fallon and Drew Barrymore dancing on the field when the Red Sox won the 2004 World Series.) Now we learn that Kevin Costner and Ron Shelton are cooking up a sequel to Bull Durham. Our first thought is that Costner and Tim Robbins are a little old to pass for baseball players (even older than some of the current Yankees), but according to this UPI report (via the New York Post), a solution has been found. “Real-life couple and Durham co-stars Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon, who played a pitcher and a baseball groupie respectively in the first installment, are also expected to return for the second film. This time around, they will play the married owners of a Major League Baseball team Costner's character manages, the Post said.”

Tennis, anyone? Frank DeFord’s novel Big Bill is coming to the big screen. It’s based on the true story of tennis legend Bill Tilden, who “dominated tennis in the 1920s, winning six straight U.S. Open singles titles and becoming the first American to win Wimbledon. He was also a contract bridge champ, musicologist, novelist, playwright and actor. On the other side of the ledger, Tilden was famously self-destructive, going to jail twice for sexual misbehavior with teenage boys and dying penniless,” says Variety. Sounds like the feel-good sports story of the year.

Related:
When Good Directors Go Bad: Planet of the Apes (Tim Burton)
Hathaway Hotness, Rourke Smackdowns Head Venice Comp Lineup

When Good Directors Go Bad: Planet of the Apes (2001, Tim Burton)

Paul Clark — Fri, 01 Aug 2008 19:00:00 GMT

Of the marquee filmmakers currently working in Hollywood, Tim Burton’s style is one of the most recognizable. A former animator turned filmmaker, Burton imbues his best films with a look inspired by old-school horror films and classic cartoons, while reflecting a deep affection for outsiders. While Burton’s first two features, Pee Wee’s Big Adventure and Beetlejuice, won the director a cult following, it wasn’t until his third that he applied his style to a blockbuster. With 1989’s Batman, Burton demonstrated that he could apply his Gothic visuals to a big-budget franchise in a way that translated into box-office gold.

Aside from the sequel Batman Returns, Burton’s 1990s output didn’t meet with the same fiscal success, but he nonetheless became a fan favorite, and despite the public’s habitual hostility to sequels, there was a lot of anticipation toward 2001’s Burton-directed “re-imagining” of the science-fiction classic Planet of the Apes. However, much of this excitement dissipated upon the film’s release. Aside from a few supporting performances and the state-of-the-art makeup work by Rick Baker, the general consensus was that the movie was a bloated mess. Worst of all, Burton fans saw the movie as strictly a paycheck job, a cash-grab blockbuster from the director they loved. Watching the movie recently, I found it somewhat more interesting than I did on its original release, but it’s still not very good.

One of the problems is that the ape characters are far more interesting than the humans. A great deal of attention is lavished on the apes, not only in terms of the makeup, but also characterization-wise. Each ape is given a distinct and easily-defined personality, be it the ambitious General Thade (Tim Roth), the slimy “human cargo” dealer Limbo (Paul Giamatti), or the human-rights crusader Ari (Helena Bonham Carter). They’re not especially complex, but they’re fun to watch. By contrast, from square-jawed hero Capt. Leo Davidson (Mark Wahlberg) on down, the human characters are bland and unmemorable.

For a while, it feels like the film is attempting something subversive, by placing the audience’s sympathies with the apes to make them ponder their treatment of “lesser” species. However, it eventually becomes clear that Burton is painting the humans as the “outsider” characters. This might have worked had the movie given us any reason to care about the human characters, but it never does, aside from the fact that the audience will be almost invariably comprised of humans rather than apes. As a result, the film is at cross-purposes- the humans are meant to be the good guys, but the apes are far more entertaining.

Most compelling of all is Ari, who ends up torn between her nature as a chimpanzee and her desire to help humans receive “separate but equal” treatment. At one point, the film sets up a quasi-love triangle between Ari, Davidson, and loincloth-clad human Daena (Estella Warren)- a development that becomes all the more fascinating since Ari is far more appealing than Daena, ape status notwithstanding. Unfortunately, the film shies away from the possibilities of inter-species romance, and after Ari’s advances are thwarted, she attempts to appeal to Thade, who casts her out once and for all. Because she is forcefully banished from the apes, Ari’s character loses quite a bit of thematic interest that she might have kept had she freely chosen to take the humans’ side.

Most surprisingly, Planet of the Apes was Burton’s most visually uninspired film to date. Despite the inventive makeup and creative set design from longtime Burton associate Rick Heinrichs, the images in the film are largely forgettable. Part of the problem was the relatively flat studio lighting, which gave audiences ample opportunity to savor Baker’s and Heinrichs’ work but which bore little resemblance to the trademark “Burton look” of films like Batman, Edward Scissorhands, and Sleepy Hollow. Certain shots bear the Burton stamp, but for the most part the film could just as easily have been made by an anonymous studio director instead of one of the Hollywood’s most inimitable stylists.

Then there’s the ending. Burton’s Planet of the Apes took a lot of flack at the time for its finale, which confused many audience members while annoying others. Upon further review, I sort of like it, not least for how it appropriates the ending of Pierre Boulle’s original novel. However, it couldn’t possibly live up to the final scene in the original film, which was audacious in both its simplicity and its allegorical implications. By comparison, the “new” ending came off as a case of the filmmakers trying too hard to outdo the classic version. In a way, this is reflective of the whole film- despite the best efforts of the filmmakers to outshine the original Planet of the Apes, the inspiration just isn’t there.

DVD Digest for April 1, 2008

Paul Clark — Tue, 01 Apr 2008 14:00:00 GMT

In a slow week for new DVDs, there are no real world-beaters being released today. However, there are a number of solid picks for movie lovers of various stripes, and if nothing else there should be fewer flubs in this column than there were last week.

Easily the most interesting recent film to come out on DVD this week, Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (Paramount) is being released by Paramount in both single- and double-disc editions. The big difference, as usual, is one of special features, as the extra disc includes a number of new featurettes, including spotlights on the history behind the Sweeney Todd legend and a doc on Stephen Sondheim's music. But the real keeper is the film itself, a legitimately dark creation, easily the most despairing Burton film to date. Burton's vision complements the already strong material so perfectly that it more than compensates for the not-quite-up-to-snuff singing by stars Johnny Depp and Helena Bonham Carter, who are pretty great otherwise. Sweeney Todd is the filet of this week's new films on DVD, although with such competition as Alvin and the Chipmunks (Fox, also Blu-Ray) and Resurrecting the Champ (Fox), that's pretty faint praise.

Also of note is Warner's The Bette Davis Collection Volume 3, the latest in their exhaustive assembling of box sets featuring the studio era's biggest stars. Normally the selection in these sets are pretty dire, comprised largely of films that weren't ready for a standalone release. However, this set looks unusually strong. Included in the set are the Davis fan favorite Deception, 1943's Watch on the Rhine (which won Davis' costar Paul Lukas a Best Actor Oscar), and In This Our Life, a pre-Hush, Hush... Sweet Charlotte collaboration between Davis and Olivia De Havilland. Other titles in the set are The Old Maid, All This, and Heaven Too, and The Great Lie. As usual, Warner has dug into their vaults and paired each film with their "Warner Night at the Movies" programs, including classic newsreels, cartoons, and trailers. Eventually the well will have to run dry on Davis films as it does with all stars, but this collection should be worth a look.

The only other intriguing DVD release this week- that is, unless you're clamoring for Martin: The Complete Fourth Season or Murder, She Wrote Season 8- is Koch Lorber's trio of new DVD editions of films by the Italian filmmakers Paolo and Vittorio Taviani. Among the films is the American DVD debut of 1993's Fiorile and 1984's Kaos, plus a new edition of their 1982 classic Night of the Shooting Stars. Koch Lorber's DVD releases can be dicey, both in terms of variable picture quality and the lack of special features. However, for those who've been waiting for more of the Tavianis' films to get released on DVD, the wait is over.

Finally, our old pal David Huddleston has returned from his vacation just in time to voice his condolences to the following HD-DVD releases:

Appleseed Ex Machina (Warner)
August Rush (Warner)

Because nothing says "watch this on a bigass HDTV" than a box-office flop about a musical prodigy. Who's with me?