November 6th, 2007
1. Slapstick (Of Another Kind) (1982)
It's a testament to Kurt Vonnegut's slippery weirdness—and the filmmakers' ultimate stupidity—that his novel could become this movie. The basic plot elements are the same: A freakishly large twin brother and sister seem dumb, but when they're in physical proximity, they're geniuses. The novel—which, it should be noted, Vonnegut considered his worst—explores loneliness (and belonging) with an incredibly light touch, especially considering its science-fiction elements. But the filmmakers—along with leads Jerry Lewis and Madeline Kahn—turn Slapstick into, well, Slapstick (Of Another Kind), destroying any vestige of its heart. It's soul-crushing to think that someone could have read this novel and come up with this film. Not even Marty Feldman can make things right.
2. The Bonfire Of The Vanities (1990)
It isn't that "master of suspense" Brian De Palma is incapable of directing social satire of the Tom Wolfe variety. De Palma's early films were wicked comedies, and his fans would argue that a lot of his thrillers work on satiric levels too. But as outlined in Julie Salamon's essential piece of Hollywood reportage The Devil's Candy, it took a volatile cocktail of directorial hubris and studio interference to retch up a truth that should've been obvious from the start: The Bonfire Of The Vanities is an unfilmable book. What makes the novel's analysis of New York City class politics work are Wolfe's from-the-inside-out descriptions of stockbrokers, social activists, tabloid reporters, and civil servants; even with Bruce Willis providing occasional pieces of sub-Wolfe narration, it was impossible for De Palma to get that tone and meaning right. Oddly enough, Jason Reitman's adaptation of Christopher Buckley's Thank You For Smoking out-Wolfes Wolfe, perfectly mimicking his deadpan sketches of the likeably unsympathetic and the sympathetically unlikeable.
3. Bicentennial Man (1999)
Isaac Asimov's original novella—later expanded into a novel—subtly examines what it means to be human, by telling the story of a robot with a mechanical brain so advanced that he begins to develop emotion and creativity. But big Hollywood movies don't do subtle well, especially not with Chris Columbus directing and Robin Williams starring. Columbus and screenwriter Nicholas Kazan pour on the schmaltz, while Williams bats his eyes innocently and pats little children's heads. Meanwhile, moments that are supposed to involve deep ruminations about man and machine become impassive stare-downs, accompanied by 101 Strings. Here's a tip: If you want to know what it means to be human, don't ask the creators of Mrs. Doubtfire.
4. The League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003)
Although the gap between what can go into a comic book and what can go on a movie screen is narrowing, the gap between what Alan Moore can put in a comic book and what Hollywood can put in a movie sadly isn't. Moore's wildly inventive League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen comics are a gimmicky cross between turn-of-the-century literature and Silver Age superheroes, with fictional folk like Allan Quatermain, The Invisible Man, Captain Nemo, Dracula hunter Mina Murray, and Dr. Jekyll (with Mr. Hyde, of course) banding together, Avengers-style, to save the British empire. In theory, this is perfect fodder for the movies, but in practice, Stephen Norrington's version is overloaded with plot and CGI-enhanced, rubble-strewn slugfests, devoid of any feeling for what makes the combatants unique. The grizzled, somewhat tortured figures that Moore revealed inevitably disappear, replaced by generic punchers and shooters.
5. The Scarlet Letter (1995)
Striptease is generally considered the movie that short-circuited Demi Moore's career, but as an act of commercial and aesthetic miscalculation, it has nothing on this misbegotten adaptation of Nathaniel Hawthorne's classic story of guilt, sin, and betrayal in colonial New England. Casting Moore as a stripper in a light comic caper based on a Carl Hiaasen book makes a certain amount of sense, and its obvious appeals could potentially boost it past the bad press; casting a dubiously accented Moore as Hester Prynne in a "free adaptation" of Hawthorne's book, however, is a recipe for disaster, because a prestige costume drama like this one needs the support of critics who aren't keen on Hollywood-style revisionism. Still, no one could have imagined how poorly The Scarlet Letter would turn out. "Freely adapted" apparently means adding a softcore coupling between Prynne and Gary Oldman's Rev. Dimmesdale that wouldn't be out of place on Cinemax After Dark. There's also some politically correct business involving Prynne's long-lost husband going native with the local Algonquin tribe, a voyeuristic interlude featuring a horny slave girl and Prynne furtively pleasuring herself in a bath, and a widely reviled "happy ending" for a book that pointedly lacks one.
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