There Once Was Movie Called “Disney Doesn’t Love Us Anymore”, And It Almost Deserved It

So, last Saturday, I had a bunch of people over to make gingerbread houses. After the decorating and the gorging (one for me, one for the house – on a totally unrelated note, in case you were wondering, eating nothing but candy, cookies, and icing for two days straight is not a good idea), some of us went to the cinema on the ground floor of my building to watch the new Narnia movie: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader.

The vaguest review I can give for those who don’t want to be spoiled is that the enjoyment each of us derived from the film seemed to be inversely proportional to degree to which we were familiar with the book. More detail follows after the cut – no spoilers, but then, it’s hard for me to tell, because I could probably recite most of the book by heart.

So, my first feeling upon leaving the theatre was the same one I had upon viewing the trailer for the movie based on Susan Cooper’s The Dark Is Rising: except for the fact that characters have the same names, this book has been stripped of everything that made it what it was. The individual memorable events are there – the Dawn Treader still visits the Lone Islands, Dragon Island, Deathwater Island, Coriakin’s Island, Dark Island, the Island of Ramandu, and even the sea of lilies. But the order in which they happen is all jumbled up, on the pretext of shoehorning in a quest-type plot reminiscent of the worst kind of JRPG*: collect the x number of mystical plot coupons scattered around the world, and then fight the big boss when you have them all.

This wouldn’t be so bad — who cares about sacrificing bibliophilic fidelity for coherence and atmosphere, am I right? — if the movie didn’t drastically change the meaning of what happens. Look, I don’t mind giving characters extra motivations: sure, give Edmund and Lucy personal dilemmas, and show us Eustace’s growth. But there’s a difference between subtly shifting the story to lend the characters more psychological depth and re-writing the entire plot. Something I’m re-discovering about C. S. Lewis is his skillful and insightful ability to observe character, but I don’t think he’d recognize the journeys of these Pevensies.

First example: Lucy’s dealing with the Magician’s book. It changes who Lucy is if she succumbs to the spell to make her beautiful without a second thought. I always loved what Lewis’s novel was saying about moral fallibility with how Lucy is barely able to resist the beautification spell, how her success in doing so is the direct cause of her falling for the eavesdropping spell, and how in the end, the person who loses out because of her transgression is herself. This Lucy just learns the tired old moral lesson of… if you think something’s wrong, it’s probably a bad idea. And Aslan bails her out at the end with no consequences whatsoever.

Similarly, Eustace’s moral transformation is completely re-written. I liked the emphasis on the relationship between Eustace and Reepicheep, but otherwise, I felt the new direction of this character development missed the mark. The whole point of Lewis’s depiction of Eustace is that his becoming a dragon is a direct consequence of his inner failings, not his ignorance about magical beasts: “Sleeping on a dragon’s hoard with greedy, dragonish thoughts in his heart, he had become a dragon himself.” And what he learns by being a dragon is not how to be brave and fight evil: what he learns is that the others aren’t as bad as he thought they were, and he learns it through becoming part of the team, helping out on a day-to-day basis.

As for Edmund… enough. Seriously? The White Witch? Again? Is Tilda Swinton on contract or something? It made sense in the last film, because, yeah, there’s already a scene in the book where they almost call up the White Witch, and also it provided an awesome moment where Peter and Caspian are tempted and Edmund’s all like, *stabby stabby* “You’re welcome.” So why are we regressing in this film to an Edmund who hasn’t learned his lesson? It would make more sense if the vision of the Witch was about Edmund being worried he’s falling back to his old ways, or that he’s still a bad person at heart, but, nope, this is about her doing the same old, “Want some power? I got it. Feed me, Seymour!”

And, honestly? Just listen to the lyrics of the song played over the closing credits: “We can be the kings and queens of anything if we believe.” “…exactly who we are is just enough…” I mean, I try to interpret them positively, but I  can’t see them jibing with C. S. Lewis’s theology. No! Exactly who Eustace is not enough — that’s the whole point! He tries, but he needs Aslan’s help and mercy to take the plunge. Caspian and Lucy and Edmund need Aslan’s guidance, too. (Which reminds me — since when is Aslan all cool with letting Caspian choose to abandon his responsibilities to Narnia to check out the End of the World?)

Even these thematic changes would be fine if the new plot was blow-you-out-of-the-water amazing (no pun intended). But it’s not. In fact, it feels flimsy and poorly thought-out, a sort of any-monster-will-do mentality. As my friend Juliana pointed out, the evil enemy doesn’t even make sense. Miraz and Jadis both wanted power: what the heck does the Dark Island want with boatloads of peasants that it apparently doesn’t even touch? Is kidnapping innocents the diabolical equivalent of collecting Pokémon? And all of us, whether we’d read the book or not, noticed the weird addition of another young female character, who does nothing but talk with Lucy about how they both miss their mothers** yet is present all the time.

Now, fair is fair: there were some parts of the movie that I really enjoyed. I thought their CGI sea serpent was the scariest thing I’ve ever seen in a fantasy movie aimed at kids***. Will Poulter is an amazing, believable Eustace (it’s just too bad that he himself doesn’t actually get to act the most interesting emotional parts of the story), and it’s a pleasure whenever he’s got something to do onscreen. And the film itself is gorgeous.

But in the end, give me the stilted acting and animatronic puppets of the BBC version. Sure, the characters’ motivations are a little blunt, the visuals aren’t so astounding, and… uh, Reepicheep is Warwick Davis in a mouse costume. However, the plot’s intact, and more importantly, so are the themes, the atmosphere, and the depth that make the book such a delight to read. In 75% of the time it takes Walden, the BBC manages to cram in 110% of the story. I’ve still got high hopes for The Silver Chair, since of all the books it best fits the Hollywood fantasy formula, but, please, Walden, give us something more inspired than this.

* I would watch a movie of, say, Chronotrigger, because it would be amazing. Chronotrigger and other great JRPGs have fantastic stories. I’m talking about by-the-numbers knockoffs that capitalize on the success of these masterpieces.

** Incidentally, this movie does just an amazing job of showing what we women and girls are interested in, and how we talk together when we’re alone. When I’m not wishing I’m super-beautiful, I’m totally learning how to be the mother to a younger woman.

*** Must not… try for zinger… about someone’s acting…