With the Wicked movie coming out, it'd be nice to see an analysis of how wildly different the Broadway musical is from the novel it's loosely based on. Compare characters and their arcs. For example, Fiyero in the musical is like a Disney prince, while the book version was much more serious. Compare plot details. The musical's ending is quite different from the book's. Compare themes. The book goes deep into political and ethical questions; does the musical do these ideas justice?
Analyse Hayao Miyazaki's use of picturesque European-inspired aesthetics in his movies. Think "Howl's Moving Castle", "Kiki's Delivery Service", and "Porco Rosso" – all are either inspired by 19th and early 20th century Europe, or in the case of "Porco Rosso" use real countries such as Italy in the 1930s. How does Miyazaki draw on these elements of aesthetic to create beautiful and magical settings? How does the source material, British author Diana Wynne Jones' novel "Howl's Moving Castle", and the real world influences of the time period, World War 1 etc, influence Miyazaki's renditions? What does he include, what does he exclude? What is the affect of these renditions on Japanese and international audiences especially when considering Japan's relationship with the West? You can also compare these European aesthetic/story films with the Ghibli films set in Japan, such as "My Neighbor Totoro" and "Spirited Away". Plenty of questions to ask yourself when doing this article. I recommend potential narrowing down the subject to certain aspects of the aesthetic, such as subject, technology, colour etc.
You could also include the set design for the live stage play of "Spirited Away" and if that is catered to the audience or true to the source material. – yoderamy171 year ago
Uglies on Netflix brings back the dystopian genre, but the trend has been out of the spotlight for a while now. Shows like Snowpiercer and others have thrived by taking advantage of the TV series format, which allows for deeper world-building and character development. In contrast, dystopian films often struggle to fit complex narratives into limited screen time. Could Uglies have benefitted from being a series instead of a standalone movie? Let’s explore how dystopian stories are evolving and why the TV format might be their best future.
The Heads of Cerberus by Francis Stevens is one of those early speculative gems that somehow slipped under the radar, despite its daring blend of dystopia and parallel worlds, predating the genre's mainstream appeal. Written in 1919, Stevens’ work subtly tackles themes of oppression, identity, and resistance—issues that still resonate today. This article could reexamine The Heads of Cerberus through a contemporary feminist lens, making comparisons to modern dystopian and speculative fiction. By doing so, it could highlight how Stevens paved the way for today’s narratives of power and rebellion, and why her work deserves a fresh critical spotlight in our current literary landscape.
Book-to-movie films (and—more regularly, now—shows) are especially common in young adult franchises such as The Maze Runner, The Hunger Games, and Divergent. The first three Harry Potter films are some of the most beloved book-to-movie adaptations in history. The latter movies, while successful in other regards, were criticised (especially by book purists) for cutting out, altering, or ignoring large chunks of the source material. I have heard several fans say that they would watch a Harry Potter reboot if it was a high-budget streaming show that adapted each chapter into an episode, with the dialogue and plots and sub-plots remaining exactly the same as the books. Whether this would ever be done remains to be seen,
Movies face an issue in that they are limited in run-time. While there are long movie adaptations out there (The Lord of the Rings is a prime example), more commonly, they are cut to fit at a little over 2 hours. They prioritise entertainment and a streamlined story. Books can vary in length to a great degree—the first Harry Potter book was around 77,000 words while the fifth (the longest) was around 257,000. Yet the fifth movie (2hrs and 18 minutes long) was actually shorter than the first (2 hours and 32 minutes long). The movie arguably benefited from cutting much of the meat of the book, at least from an entertainment perspective, if not from a story and world perspective.
How important is it for the plot to be accurately represented in films, given that they are, indeed, adaptations of the source material and not direct translations? Is it enough for the characters and world to be represented with care and detail? Are fans right in complaining about inaccuracy and missing scenes in book-to-movie adaptations? What are some examples of book-to-movie adaptations done well, and done poorly?
The different approaches to book adaptations and the merits or detriments of shifting the medium of a story would definitely be an interesting topic. Another possible aspect of the topic would be the question of whether a movie or an episodic show is the most effective format, whether this is case specific, and what sort of plots and subplots lend themselves to short or long form cinema. – Quodlibet2 years ago
Movies and books are two extremely different mediums with unique characteristics, potential benefits, and potential barriers. Consider this example: In the book Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, there are several significant internal monologues. In my opinion, one of the most substantial ones is Alice's internal monologue while questioning her own identity (inside the rabbit hole); however, I was unable to locate a single movie that featured this internal monologue. In a novel, a character could typically have an internal monologue for a whole chapter, or even more, but in a movie, it would be disastrous. In light of this, I believe the questions to be asked are: Which elements should be removed in order to make room for the new medium? What elements need to be modified to take advantage of the new medium's potential? etc. The issue is not whether there should or shouldn't be disparities between the two - because there will always be disparities between the two; rather, it is how to implement these contrasts without compromising the book's basic concepts and takeaways. – Samer Darwich2 years ago
The benefits of a series format compared with that of a film would definitely be an interesting topic. In my opinion one of the interesting examples to explore would be the adaptation of philip pulman's series 'his dark materials' and how the movie compares to the HBO series. Whils both effectively translate the novels into another format, both fail where the other succeeds. For example the HBO series is more detailed and has better pacing whereas the movie has a tone that is similar to that of the books. Another example is all quiet on the western front which has been adapted into a television sereis and two different movies, the most recent havign been released this year. I'm sure some interesting comparisons can be drawn between the different adaptations that would help furthere develop this topic. – Matilda2 years ago
The debate of making a successful book to movie adaptation is great to engage in. There first needs to be an acknowledgement that there ate two different mediums and depending how abstract or explicit, its down to directors' and writers interpretation the book. – ml223702 years ago
I think that books do more intense and detailed descriptions of the story. But the adaptation of a book to the movie is really good as not all can read books but most people watch movies tho! – dancingnumbers2 years ago
I think the recreation of famous stories in film can be a really beautiful thing and gives more options of accessibility for a wide range of audiences. Although I can agree that film adaptations can be missing the "spark" of the novel, there will always be different versions that exist. A recording of an audiobook with a different voice actor than the original recording will have nuances and tone that transform the story, just as a movie will create a slight variation of the original tale. Within these changed adaptations we can add new, modern factors to elevate relatability and relevance to modern society, such as increasing diversity (which is always a good thing). – tayloremily292 years ago
A lot of this has with the personal connection to the material. I remember hating the Watchmen film when it came out. I was not familiar with the material and I remember not feeling invested in any of the characters - I left the cinema about half way through (the only other time I did that was in Batman and Robin). Friends of mine who I trust and are familiar with the source material loved it and it felt to them like a very accurate representation. There is also the nature of time passing to consider. Perhaps a piece of literature is twenty years old (or more!) and has key elements that need to change to reach a contemporary audience - these might not be the core or 'the message' of the story, but they might be things that seem essential to some readers of the original material. If there were a way to judge the access of the new audience to the original authors intent, that might be something to look at. – ggmills5 months ago
I would argue the best adaptations sit along their source text or are in dialogue with them rather than being carbon copies. Dune the novel is not the same as Dune the film (2021 and 2024) but both can exist side by side and their themes and ideas are have overlap in many ways. How a film or tv show diverges from a source text and why is as interesting as how they remain faithful. Many readers and fans of novels/book franchises need to be more aware/conscious about the necessity of changing a text when adapting it to another medium. Fundamental structures/narrative techniques of a novel or short story may not translate to a visual medium. The more beloved the text, and the more strictly constructed the text, the more potential for criticism there are from fans of the property. The Rings of Power is a fascinating case study in the process of adapting texts for tv. House of Dragons is another fascinating case study. – Sean Gadus2 weeks ago
Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom are newer Legend of Zelda games that feature open world mechanics and the return of the collectathon, in a sense. A collectathon is a type of video game where there are items and objects to collect in order to either progress in the game or obtain an upgrade. An older example of a collectathon would be Banjo-Kazooie or Jak and Daxter. In Breath of the Wild, the collectathon element of the game is Korok seeds, except there are about 900 to collect in the game. Tears of the Kingdom increases that number.
The topic taker should see if this newer collectathon element is too much to do for the player. The topic taker is free to examine other newer forms of collectathons than the two mentioned in this topic. Research points to include:
– The time it takes to do these collecting elements
– The reward for completing the entire collection
– Player feeling about the collecting element in the chosen game or series
– The topic taker is free to also include an element of the psychology behind why collectathons work, if they wish.
Uglies on Netflix explores a dystopian society obsessed with physical perfection, a theme that resonates beyond sci-fi. True Beauty, both as an webtoon, anime, and K-drama, also tackles beauty standards, but in a contemporary setting. While Uglies critiques the extremes of cosmetic enhancement in a futuristic world, True Beauty addresses the pressures of social media, self-image, and societal expectations in today’s world. This article could explore how dystopian narratives and modern K-dramas approach the same topic from different perspectives, highlighting the ongoing conversation about appearance and self-worth.
The rapid advancement of artificial intelligence has brought forth a myriad of ethical questions, particularly concerning AI relationships as portrayed in media. "My Wife Has No Emotion" serves as a compelling case study to explore these concerns. The anime delves into the complexities of emotional relationships between humans and robots, raising significant issues primarily centered on consent and the nature of companionship. AI entities lack consciousness and free will, challenging the authenticity of their participation in relationships and questioning whether true consent is possible. This dynamic also prompts ethical considerations about creating beings solely to fulfill human desires, potentially leading to a decline in human-to-human interactions and fostering isolation. The societal implications are profound, as traditional concepts of love, built on mutual understanding and emotional depth, might be redefined by the artificial nature of AI relationships. Moreover, the authenticity of emotions simulated by AI blurs the lines between reality and simulation, forcing us to reconsider our perceptions of genuine emotional connections. "My Wife Has No Emotion" highlights the need for ongoing ethical dialogue as we integrate AI into personal lives, urging careful evaluation of the impact on our understanding of love, companionship, and the essence of human connection.
