The wilderness years are over: How ‘Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason’ compares from book to film

It’s the Sex and the City sequel effect. Step one: make a brilliantly funny movie that resonates with masses of women the world over. Step two: in the inevitable sequel, make everything bigger and better.

Well, at least better is the intention.

From the moment that Renee Zellwegger reappeared on our cinema screens as Bridget Jones – plunging from a plane and landing face first in a pigsty – it was obvious that the filmmakers were upping the ante.

In Helen Fielding’s 1999 book version, Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason, the equivalent scene saw Bridget partake in a horse-riding misadventure. A skydiving news report did feature in the book, but Bridget was not required to do the jumping, or to release her own parachute.

In my last published review, of the original Bridget Jones’s Diary and its film adaptation, I gushed at how faithful the filmmakers were to the original story. Every change was for the story’s cinematic benefit, and all the most important elements remained in tact.

The same cannot be said for The Edge of Reason.

The most obvious deviation is with the Rebecca storyline. In the book, Rebecca is the ‘jellyfish’ character who makes Bridget’s life miserable, and who determinedly and ruthlessly pursues a relationship with Mark. In the film, the ‘jellyfish’ is a new and only briefly mentioned character named Jeannie Osbourne, while Rebecca is a sweet colleague of Mark’s who, it turns out, actually has a crush on Bridget.

In the film, by making the competition with Rebecca imagined, and by rendering the threat of losing Mark to nil, the Bridget had more opportunity to dither her way into embarrassing (and funny) situations. It also lightened up the story and paved the way for an on-screen lesbian kiss.

Reading The Edge of Reason, I was surprised to discover some familiar lines and anecdotes that featured in the first movie. The “ghastly, huge scary pants”, for example, (which I mentioned in my last review were not present in book one) were actually borrowed from book two. The boiled egg peeler that you see Bridget’s Mum demonstrating in the shopping mall in film one also originated in book two.

Several of the story lines from The Edge of Reason were slightly altered or omitted for the film sequel:

• In the book, Jude marries Vile Richard. In the film, the wedding is for Bridget’s parents to renew their vows.
• In the book, Pam and Una take a trip to Africa and bring back with them a tribesman named Wellington.
• Mark and Bridget have a bust-up in the book when Bridget walks into his bedroom to discover a naked boy holding a rabbit on the bed.
• There is no pregnancy scare in the book, nor any argument about whether Mark and Bridget’s future children would be sent to boarding school.
• Bridget goes to Rome and records a hilarious interview with the real Colin Firth, in which she dwells far too much on his wet shirt in Pride and Prejudice.
• ‘Gary the Builder’ cuts a hole in Bridget’s apartment wall and sends her a death threat in the mail.
• Magda – Bridget’s married friend – had a larger role to play in the book. In the film, she is downgraded to only two shot appearances and is introduced as the wife of one of Mark’s colleagues.
• Daniel only makes a brief appearance in the book, and his career has not transitioned to television.
• The ‘Smooth Guide’ television program did not have its origins in the book and Bridget’s tragic trip to Thailand did not originate as a work trip, but as a holiday with Shazza.
• Although (alike the first film adaptation) Mark and Daniel do not have the occasion to brawl in the streets, in The Edge of Reason Mark does get the chance to give Daniel a single punch o the nose.

In my review of Bridget Jones’s Diary, I noted that the film left out an entire saga about Bridget’s Mum getting caught up in a timeshare apartment swindle. By leaving out this element, the film was missing a crucial element of its literary parallel with Pride and Prejudice.

Happily, the film adaptation of The Edge of Reason allows this to be rectified.

The storyline about Bridget’s imprisonment in a Thai prison, and Mark’s heroic attempts to free her, allowed him to pull off the Lydia and Wickham-style save the day that was missing from the first film.

Just as it can be so often generalized that the book is always better than the film, it is so often believed that sequels rarely reach the heights of the original.

In this case, the generalization is correct. The film and the book versions of The Edge of Reason were ever so slightly inferior to their original counterparts – but they were still a hell of a lot of fun!


The verdict:

How does the film rate? 3.5/5

How does the film rate as an adaptation? 4/5

Total score: 7.5/10


Book or Big Screen? Big Screen

There will be no peace for us: How 'Anna Karenina' compares from book to film

For anyone who loves a good period drama, Anna Karenina is an unavoidable rite of passage. It is the ultimate story all-consuming, bodice-ripping love affair, complete with ballrooms, gowns and marriage proposals.

The central characters of the Leo Tolstoy’s 1873-7 novel (originally published in instalments) could outwit and out-rival any of the other great literary love stories. In comparison to Anna and her Count Vronsky, Elizabeth and Mr Darcy appear devoid of passion; Catherine and Heathcliff sensible and sane; and the fate of Romeo and Juliet seems somewhat incident-free.

Anna and Vronsky have an “oppressive love” that takes over their entire lives. It is a desperate, intense, self-sacrificing, unsettled, self-conscious and uncertain love.

The parallel love story within the novel could not be more opposite. Levin and Kitty are sensitive, tender, genuine and considerate. Where Anna and Vronsky fall, Levin and Kitty rise above, and they provide the novel with a much-needed reality check whenever Anna and Vronksy become too exhaustively dramatic.

What I loved in Tolstoy’s novel was its willingness to take the reader beyond the rooms of the ladies and into the lives of the men – inside the regiments, the private meetings, and the business deals, where the full opulence of Russian Imperial society is in plain view.

The vodka is flowing, the oysters are in abundance, the weather is unforgiving, and the characters are more cunning and daring than any Austen villain would ever dream – or any Bronte for that matter.

Everything in Anna Karenina is lavish, opulent, decadent and dripping with excess. I suppose it was with this in mind that Joe Wright decided to turn the novel into a full-scale, over-stylised theatrical production.

Each scene of the film takes place on a literal stage, with the camera constantly zooming in and out to reveal landscapes and steeplechases, sitting rooms and boudoirs. The film looks as though it could be the fourth instalment in Baz Luhrmann’s Red Carpet Trilogy with its deep red hues, drawn-back curtains and Moulin Rouge style dancers.

Visually, the colour and style of the film was impressive, but I found it difficult to immerse in the story when its characters were either frozen like statues or popping in and out of the frame like marionettes.

Tolstoy’s novel states:

“The role of a man who attached himself to a married woman and devoted his life to involving her in adultery at all costs, had something beautiful and grand about it and could never be ridiculous.”

I’m afraid to say, that’s exactly what Wright did with this film. He made it look ridiculous.

I wanted to be taken over, and to feel just a fraction of Anna and Vronsky’s desperation to be with each other – but it was difficult to take them seriously when everyone and everything was twirling around like a scene from Strictly Ballroom.

Actually, speaking of ballroom, the dancing scene was the only time that I became completely engrossed in this film.  The choreography was incredible. It was entrancing the way the arms of the lovers twirled and entwined, in a beautiful, complicated, swan-like manner.

Keira Knightley was acceptable as Anna, but I feel as if she has done one too many period dramas. Compared with her performance in prior roles such Pride & Prejudice, Atonement, King Arthur and The Duchess, all I could see that was different in Anna Karenina were the unruly curls in her hair.

Aaron Johnston did pull me in as Vronsky – those blonde curls next to a sky blue coat that brought out the same colour in his eyes was all very dapper. And Jude Law was barely recognisable as the snivelling Karenin.

The size of Tolstoy’s epic novel can be intimidating, but all I can say is pick it up and give it a go. The chapters are short and digestible and before you know it, you will be hooked.

There is so much in Anna Karenina that is superfluous – the excessive farming, and the politics, and the intellectualisations – which, thankfully, Wright saved us from. However, there was one essential part of the story that I felt was missing.

Essentially, Tolstoy’s novel is about the meaning of life – and equally, the lack of meaning in life. There are constantly questions of existence and purpose, existence and purpose, as Anna and Levin and Vronsky and even Karenin struggle to understand the meaning of their own existence.

In the film, all that we are offered is Anna’s selfishness and insanity, without even a glimpse of what happens to Vronksy in the end. When the credits rolled, it all seemed rather pointless really.



The verdict:

How does the film rate? 3/5

How does the film rate as an adaptation? 3/5

Total score: 6/10


Book or Big Screen? Book

All alone, half eaten by an Alsatian: How ‘Bridget Jones’s Diary’ compares from book to film

It feels strange to be doing this review process the odd way around… To be reading a book that is based on a film that I love – and have been watching ritualistically for years (alternating with Love Actually) every time I feel a little down and need a pick-me-up.

I must admit, I braced myself to be disappointed. I didn’t think that Helen Fielding’s 1996 book, no matter how brilliantly funny, could possibly meet my expectations. Renee Zellwegger’s paunchy, pouty Bridget Jones face was just too firmly engrained in my mind.

So it was with a sigh of relief that I read the first page, and laughed out loud. Already it was clear: here is the story that I love, here are the characters, just in the bound-paper form!

From Bridget’s lamentations about “emotional fuckwits” and “smug marrieds”, to her mother’s insistence that the Japanese are a “very cruel race” – it was all there, and all so familiar.

Sure, the film did take make some small, creative tweaks: Mark Darcy’s reindeer jumper, for example, originated in the book as a “v-neck, diamond-patterned in shades of yellow and blue”; Bridget is not forced to dress like a carpet at Una Alconbury’s Turkey Curry Buffet; and Bridget’s Mum’s foray into television is not on the home-shopping network.

In a larger and more significant sense, Bridget’s relationships are slightly different in the book. For one, she has much more time to be duped by Daniel’s “emotional fuckwittage.”

Tin the book they had a first date debacle, where she walked out and left him high and dry; their much-famed mini-break was achieved after much complaining on Bridget’s behalf; and they spent many boring Sundays watching cricket, and even meeting some of Daniel’s friends, before it all ended when she found the other woman sprawled naked on a sun lounger on the rooftop terrace.

The parallels with Pride and Prejudice are also much more apparent in the book. For starters, Bridget makes this very obvious comparison:

“It struck me as pretty ridiculous to be called Mr Darcy and to stand on your own looking snooty at a party. It’s like being called Heathcliff and insisting on spending the entire evening in the garden, shouting ‘Cathy’ and banging your head against a tree.”

The film left out an entire saga about Bridget’s Mum getting caught up in a timeshare apartment swindle, which led Mark Darcy to rush over to Portugal and stage a Lydia and Wickham-style save the day. But in its place, the film introduced Mark’s back-handedly complimentary speech (which is reminiscent of Mr Darcy’s first proposal to Elizabeth) and the Wickham-like confusion over whose fiancée/ wife slept with who. (Although Daniel’s betrayal did originate in the book, Bridget only learns of it from Mark on page 236).

Some sections of the book are played out perfectly in the film. The blue soup, for example, was almost word-for-word Fielding. No wonder then that Bridget Jones’s Diary turned into such a hilarious film, with many of its funniest lines just waiting to be lifted from the page.

Fielding brilliantly gave Bridget the habit of leaving out the A’s and I’s – which makes it feel more authentically like you are really reading her diary, which was at times only shoddily half-written as she was running out the door, or when drunk. Watching the film back, it’s obvious now that the filmmakers carefully replicated this feature in Zellwegger’s narration.

In comparison to the book, Zellwegger’s Bridget does come across a little more lovable. She is softer, and perhaps fluffier around the edges than Fielding’s Bridget, who can at times be very bitter and cynical.

On the whole, though, the film is very faithful. And, despite how biased I may seem, I would even go so far to say that any changes in the film only served to enhance the original.

Hear me out!

First of all, how perfect was the decision to cast both Colin Firth and Hugh Grant when BOTH are referred to by name by Bridget in the book?!

Secondly, it is my firm belief that a good adaptation should be respectful of the original, but not be a slave to it. Through the wonders of cinema, the film Bridget Jones’s Diary was able to introduce some new and exciting elements, which took the author’s perceived intentions and gave them a little pizzazz!

These new additions, which I see as improvements to the original, include:

• Bridget’s drunk, mimed rendition of ‘All by myself’ in her pyjamas.
• The decision to make Tom the 80’s pop icon who “sang that song”.
• The montage of Bridget flouncing around the office in her succession of mi-skirts and see-through tops.
• Reciting poetry with Daniel in the rowboats.
• The soundtrack – in particular ‘R.E.S.P.E.CT’ when she storms out of the office.
• Mark’s fight with Daniel, again with the help of the song ‘It’s raining men’.
• The pants-less kissing of Mark in the snow, and the will-they-wont-they drama right at the end.
• And last, but not least, Bridget’s “scary stomach holding-in pants”.

The verdict:

How does the film rate? 5/5

How does the film rate as an adaptation? 5/5

Total score: 10/10


Book or Big Screen? Big Screen

I believe in happy endings: How ‘The Silver Linings Playbook’ compares from book to film

So here’s the process: You read a book, and fall in love it with. The plot, with all of its peaks and troughs, is exciting and suspenseful. You identify with its characters; they speak to you, and you find something within each of them that is human and real.  And you think, that would make a great movie.

A scriptwriter comes on board and the adaptation process begins. Part and parcel with this process is that certain plot points have to be let go. It’s understandable, inevitable. After all, a film does not have the luxury of exponential time – it is not possible to explore every nuance that is presented on the page. But you can make up for any loss in character development by providing the audience with new and powerful visual messages.

I get all of this. I understand the process. Film is an entirely different medium, and so things much change. What I don’t understand is the decision to change EVERYTHING.

Silver Linings Playbook is a terrific film. It is powerful, and emotional, and funny. It shows all the sides of humanity that a majority of the population prefers to ignore. The performances of the actors are fantastic – it is clear for anyone to see why Jennifer Lawrence is receiving so many accolades. She is brilliant.

In a standalone sense, this film is infallible. But as an adaptation, it is… disappointing.

When I picked up Matthew Quirk’s novel, I found Pat Peoples – a 35-year-old former history teacher who, due to suffering an immense trauma, was forced to live in a mental institution.

Pat was kind, and endearing. Despite his age, his innocent stream-of-conscious tone of voice was immediately reminiscent of a number of books that I had reviewed recently; books such as Life of Pi by Yann Martel (2002), Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer (2005) and The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky (1999) – all of which had extremely bright, albeit extremely troubled and unreliable, narrators.

Pat Peoples could have been a grown up Charlie from The Perks of Being a Wallflower. Like Charlie, Pat found the occasion to read The Catcher in the Rye, and admitted that he identified Holden Caulfield – yet another famously unreliable literary character.

The character played by Bradley Cooper in the 2012 film Silver Linings Playbook is no Pat Peoples. He has been renamed Pat Solitano. (I suspect the name was deliberately Italianised, to allow Robert De Niro to play the role of 'Patricio', Patrick's father.)

Beyond the name, is the feeling that you get from this character; he has a similar past and a similar future to Pat Peoples, but none of the same emotion. Where Pat Peoples is naïve and innocent, Pat Solitano is angry and bitter. Where Pat Peoples cries with Tiffany on the street, Pat Solitano shows no empathy. Where Pat Peoples is hopeful about his silver lining, Pat Solitano lectures about the benefits of positive thinking while putting none of it to practice himself.

And its not just Pat – the motivations and perceptions of EVERY SINGLE CHARACTER in the movie have deviated from their original source.

In the book, Patrick Senior's passion for the Eagles is not motivated by money, or by OCD-like obsessions. He genuinely loves the Eagles, and his very happiness depends on their success.

When Tiffany deceives Pat in the film, it comes across as if it was a spur of the moment, acting on opportunity kind of thing – whereas in the book her actions were deliberate and calculated.

In creating this film, Director and Screenwriter David O. Russell took a book that succeeds in gripping you on the very first page and strips of it everything but its bare bones. The original story is still there, it is still recognisable – but there were SO MANY times that I sat in the cinema and shook my head and thought ‘that’s not right!’

The Silver Linings Playbook is the kind of novel that makes you Google the author to find out what else he’s written – just in case there are any other gems out there, waiting for you to pick them up. (I’ll save you the inevitable trouble: Matthew Quick has also written Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock; Sorta Like a Rockstar; and Boy 21.)

The film Silver Linings Playbook is also brilliant. Go and see it. But if you have already read the book, be prepared – this film will not provide an opportunity to relive all of your beloved characters in a bout of divine escapism. You will probably be sitting there like me, making a mental checklist of all the things that have been changed.


The verdict:

How does the film rate? 5/5

How does the film rate as an adaptation? 1/5

Total score: 6/10


Book or Big Screen? Book



Coming up soon: A review of Anna Karenina. (Really. It’s coming. Just waiting for the film to be released here in Australia!)