I once read a funny article about books-turned-movies and the anxiety that comes with it. The article pointed out that once the first trailer is released with the phrase “based on the [best-selling] novel,” there is a mad rush to get your hands on the book and tear through the pages in time for the movie’s release. You can then be entitled to the greatly concerned “I just hope they stay true to the book” prior to the movie’s release, and, of course, the knowing “well, that part was different in the book” after.

Yes, we all know this smug viewer. Probably most of us have once been this smug viewer once or twice, myself included. In fact, I refuse to watch any of the Harry Potter movies with other people, because I think I would lose friends. With the increasing number of books turned movie, it is becoming more and more frequent that the car ride home from the theater is spent discussing casting choices (“It’s just not how I pictured her looking. She’s not supposed to be that pretty.”), plot holes (“well, they go into much more depth in the book.”), and of course, emphasizing again and again, that “it was good, but the book was still better.”

Still, there is something positive that comes from this process: people are reading. In my opinion, this can only be seen as a good thing. Especially looking at the number of young adult books that have recently transitioned to the big screen: The Hunger Games, Jane Eyre, The Adventures of Tintin, Twilight (ok, we could probably do without the last one). I think everyone can agree that it is extremely important to keep young audiences reading for obvious reasons, so hopefully these recent releases have attracted the younger crowd back to the books. In fact, according to an article in the New York Times, young readership is much higher now than it was 20 years ago (the growing popularity of e-readers could have something to do with this, but that is a whole other topic).

I don’t mean to say that I think every movie should be made into a book to get people to read it. Of course there are those who pick up a book, consider reading it, but ultimately decide that they will just “wait for the movie.” That is the real travesty. The thought of someone bypassing the experience to read The Great Gatsby in favor of just seeing the movie makes me sad. Yes, I know I sound like that smug viewer, but I don’t mean to be. I’ve read it three times, twice for school, and once for pleasure, and I loved it more when I read it for school, because it’s fascinating to pick apart sentence by sentence. And the director they have working on it kind of weirds me out. Also the Where the Wild Things Are movie was just a disaster. Like, way to taint my childhood by turning a simple, beloved book into some weird, maybe-political–or-maybe-social–I-couldn’t-tell statement that just went over my head and bummed me out. The only thing true to the book was the monsters’ appearance, which as actually spot-on.

But overall, I’d say I’m pro books-turned-movies. Anything that keeps people reading is fine by me. Plus, I’m a very visual person. And, ok, yeah I definitely will go see The Great Gatsby in theaters the day it comes out.

After a rainy day viewing of Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction for the umpteenth time, I’ve decided the movie is ripe with blog material.  In particular, the last scene, where a pleasant breakfast shared by hit men Jules and Vincent is interrupted by amateur crooks “Honey Bunny” and “Ringo.”  Jules stops the would-be robbers in their tracks, and in the ensuing standoff he recites the same lines of scripture (Ezekiel 25:17) that he does before an execution:

“Blessed is he who in the name of charity and goodwill shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother’s keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee.”

This scene differs from those preceding it because Jules readily admits, “I never gave much thought to what it meant.”  In previous instances he uses the lines merely to intimidate the victim, but after experiencing what he calls “divine intervention” and narrowly avoiding death, he has a change of heart:

“See now I’m thinkin’, maybe it means you’re the evil man. And I’m the righteous man. And Mr. 9 Millimeter here, he’s the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could mean you’re the righteous man and I’m the shepherd and it’s the world that’s evil and selfish. Now I’d like that. But that shit ain’t the truth. The truth is you’re the weak. And I’m the tyranny of evil men. But I’m tryin’, Ringo. I’m tryin’ real hard to be a shepherd.”

Now, after a drawn out introduction, here are the questions I have.  How much of what we read is open to interpretation, and is there always a correct one and others are incorrect?  In this case the book is the Bible, and Jules thinks he has finally zeroed in on the truth; but is there a single truth to be found or just different opinions held by different people?  I’m not sure what the answers are, but if you haven’t seen Pulp Fiction you should get on that.  And if you have seen it, take a look at today’s forecast and watch it again.