In a Darwinian sense, that which best adapts to change will persevere. But I’m a fantasy author, not a dead naturalist, so let’s get into book adaptations to the screen and hope for the best!
Most such movies and series I’ve seen came either from literature I had no idea existed at the time or from stories that spawned so much content that hardly anyone discussed the books, like Dracula and
Frankenstein.
But medieval fantasy is a genre too close to many a heart, so let’s focus on that and try to figure out what the recent fuss is all about.
For novels to find their way into the seventh art, they must be adapted. Elementary, my dear Watson.
However, common sense is neither common nor universal, so while some demand that one stick to the lore, others would rather see the setting, period, or storyline adapted to the times.
That call befalls the people we ignore when we like the outcome and hate when we don’t, called producers. In order to release a profitable movie or show – and thus keep their jobs – they need to identify a target audience, gauge their interest, and go for it, all without a crystal ball.
One adaptation to rule them all
Now, let’s dip into hotter waters. Oof! LOTR is a genre-defining work, appreciated even by those immune to the spell of epic fantasy. Its adaptation to the silver screen was a comparable landmark, praised by critics and audiences – and raked in truckloads of money.
I’ve read and adored the trilogy, then watched and loved the movies. And because no one lives forever, I’m going to throw it out there: Peter Jackson improved the storyline. But before the Tolkienian legion darkens the skies with beer bottles aimed at my head, let me elaborate on my meaning.
According to Mr. Chekhov (the one from Chekhov’s gun, not the Enterprise’s navigator), for an optimal narrative, elements that are not necessary for the story should be removed. Exit Tom Bombadil. Ok, I can see you guys setting your phasers to stun. Phew!
So, could you do something about that endless epilogue, Peter? Well… Enter the producers. Having watched the original and the director’s cut (several times), I can confidently say that the deleted scenes added nothing to the film and that killing Saruman at Isengard was the right movie call, so kudos!
Writer’s block is coming
Let’s thicken the sauce. A Song of Ice and Fire was a very popular saga until Game of Thrones took TV series to the next level. Catapulted under bone-crushing g-forces to the top of fantasy author’s hall of fame, George R. R. Martin had to bend himself backward to feed creative coals to HBO’s demand furnace, only to end up in a bit of a bind.
Clearly, you can’t soar with literary eagles after hooting with the show-running owls, and the series’ finale pooped on what was otherwise a fantastic eight-year party.
What would I have done differently? Probably nothing. Despite the mighty rumbling of fans’ stomachs starving for Winds of Winter, I can’t think of an author who would not make the same choice every day of the week and twice on Sunday.
Well, I’ve gotten my will written and notarized, so it is time to go bellyflopping into the fiery chasm of adaptations motivated by political correctness. Yes, precious!
It’s evolution, baby!
On this Earth, unlike the middle one, everything is constantly changing and evolving, or we’d still be trilobites. Yesterday’s dreams are today’s reality, and every once in a while, we check the rear view mirror to make changes and course corrections.
We learned that throwing virgins into active volcanos didn’t do much to end prolonged dry spells and dropped that shit. Further down the road, humanity woke up to the fact that slavery was frigging God-awful, and we quit that, too. Where would we (still) be if human science and morals had not evolved? Scary, eh?
Do we get it right at every turn? Of course not. We’re human… And so are producers, writers, directors, and the guys who thought the Segway was going to revolutionize transportation. But if we did not take the risk of dropping the ball here and there, only white dudes would star in movies, women couldn’t be more than Bond girls, and people of color would keep playing the bad guy.
Beyond the inherent moral wrongness of it, we would have never met Ellen Ripley, Axel Foley, or Ser Loras Tyrell.
Somebody had to believe that women could nail action leads, that people of color could
become superstars and that a character’s – or a performer’s – sexuality would not be a hindrance at the box office. Somebody had to take that chance before they knew everything was going to be all right, or it never would.
And the Razzie goes to…
Now that we’ve dotted the i’s, let’s cross the t’s. Diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI), vital as they are, offer no guarantee of an Oscar. Stories need to be compelling and original, characters must be complex and relatable, and the storytelling has to bring it all together.
Are those just details? I beg to differ. And on that note, details are what make the ordinary special. Even the least noticeable ones, like Legolas in The Hobbit, add up to a rich plot, protagonist, or villain.
Ripley is not one of the most popular characters in cinema because she’s a girl boss. In Alien, she’s all about minding her own business until it becomes eat or be eaten – well, implanted with an embryo that eventually bursts out of your chest, but you get the point – then puts on some serious big girl paints in the most insanely sexy way.
In Aliens, she’s reliable and a team player. She’s kick-ass but motherly to a scared little Newt and allows Bishop to earn her respect despite having been previously betrayed by his fellow synthetic, Ash. And the guy is a robot!
We appreciate flawed protagonists because we’re flawed, too, and if they can overcome their
limitations and rise to the occasion, then maybe so can we. Making a character imperfect, whether they’re female or belong to a minority, is not to diminish them but to layer and thus elevate them.
Even when it comes to bad guys, we’re turned off by one-dimensional, unemotional zealots lacking even a tinge of humanity. We need to see ourselves in them as well. To understand that we’re often one wrong move away from infamy, from being paraded around naked under the shame bell.
Humans are their own measure, their best friends and worst enemies. We love dogs because they love us almost like we do. We’re mean to sharks for not distinguishing between us, sea lions, or coq au vin.
Well, let me go back to fantasy before you think this is the Discovery Channel.
The Screenplays of Power
And now, for this article’s grand finale – and perchance that of my writing career – I’ll give a holler to the good people at Amazon. My dears, I never wanted to like a series as badly as I’m trying to get into The Rings of Power. But you have to help.
I’ve been around the fantasy and role-playing game scene for nearly four decades, and trust me, we’re an overwhelmingly good-hearted bunch, not the military-industrial complex. Yes, we can be nerdy and picky about the lore, but ultimately, we just want to read, watch, or hear a good story.
The plot holes, disappointing or entirely lacking character arcs, and lackluster writing are overburdening the breathtaking visuals, careful production, and cast efforts.
Fans are not enriched Plutonium, guys; they’re demanding because they care, but only for as long as they can be bothered to. Listening to your critics could save season three, and I truly hope the show, like Darwin’s favored, will persevere because it would be a crying shame if it didn’t.
So that’s it, bigwigs. If you don’t like the source material, don’t use it. If you do, use it wisely. By all means, take chances, but if you find the original too steeped in old-fashioned, stale values and traditions to bear, do it as I did – write new stuff.
No one can call my characters of color DEI hires or accuse me of turning others non-cisgender to appease the woke. My story is my own. Critics can love it or hate it, but they can’t say I betrayed the source material.
There are thousands of great writers out there with fascinating stories to tell if only someone would dare break free from the shackles of the franchise. Peace!
Guest post written by Alex Brandon
About the author
Alex Brandon has been writing short stories, articles, and role-playing game adventures since the ’90s. He is the author of the D&D-compatible Ananthia Campaign Guide, and out of that universe comes the epic fantasy saga, A Drying World.
Book I of this trilogy, Eastlanders’ Fall, will be available on Amazon Kindle, with pre-sales starting in mid-November.
