A woman in black ... ish.

I went to the cinema this weekend to watch the new release of The Woman In Black. I had made a particular effort to ensure that I had read the book before watching the film.

Well, we were supposed to watch it last week, but my friends apparently came down with a bug. Or a hangover as it is conventionally known. I received the book on Monday and had dispatched it by the end of Wednesday, ready for the Friday. But then had to wait a week. And even then it was slightly disappointing: whilst I was expecting a full Friday night out, my friends decided they were going home straight away, abandonning me to the ravages of the local nightlife on my own. Fortunately I have a considerable number of other friends who I ran into who provided me with a lovely occasion. I do thank goodness for those friends, but can't help but think that they only ever see me when I am abandonned.

Anyhow. The Woman In Black. The film is quite considerably different to the book.

I wonder whether reading the original first is the right thing to do. I spent a lot of the film contrasting, critiquing and contradicting the book. Whereas had I done it the other way round I may have been much happier - I would have just have accepted the film as good; but on reading the original, merely smiled and said 'so that is what should have been done' and it would not have so greatly affected my enjoyment of the film.

But I hadn't done that.

And so I sat, being irritated, grated, and plain affronted by the deviations, embelishments, and plain wanton detractions. But each time the film diverted from the written text I asked myself why.

Afterall, the director or scriptwriter must surely have made a conscious decision to aver from what is written? And there were some decisions that, purely on cinematic and literary licence can be accepted - that the book doesn't specifically state how something must happen, just that it happens, and so the director can make a decision that it is shot from this way or that, or lit in any particular manner, or accompanied by any particular manner of music.

And there was quite a bit of that. Whilst in the book, the presence of the woman in silent, insipid, almost insignificant. It was so subtle. Yes, she is there, she exists, but almost without announcement - purely as an incedental, accidental glimpse out of the corner of the eye. Whereas the film starts in such a manner, suddenly she becomes a full character - someone who demands attention, either by being more than simply supplementary, or being directly affective. Whilst the book has her as a silent, unsettling attendant, the film has her screaming full shot into the camera on occasions. It loses the subtlty of a psychologically heightening thriller for a far more overtly shocking moment of a shlock horror film.

So maybe in future I should watch the film (or remake) and then the original. Or maybe things would be reversed, and I would spend my time watching the original thinking  "why did they change that..."