Anyone who knows me will tell you I’m somewhat of a technology geek.
Look behind the shiny black gloss of my minimalistic audio-visual units and you
will see enough wires to hog tie a sumo wrestler and a quantity of multi-plug
adapters that would throw a fire warden into the depths of a nervous breakdown.
Sadly, the dream of my dedicated cinema room – a projector powered
monstrosity complete with iPhone controlled roller blinds, reverb dampening
panelling, reflection reducing wall-coverings and speakers so loud they blow
women’s clothes off – was put on hold by a recent lack of moving house (yep,
still bitter). Instead, I upgraded my old 42’’ Panasonic Plasma to a 55’’
Samsung D8000 LED. Technically it’s just an LCD display with LED edge lighting
– but the marketing machine wants idiot customers to believe it’s a new and
improved technology. In fact, it’s not. Colour uniformity is not as strong as
my plasma and there is some “banding” on the screen but the contrast and blacks
are outstanding. More importantly, it’s really thin and pretty and the only way
the missus would let 55’’ of televisiony goodness dominate our living room!
But enough of the geekery. The point I was trying to get to is that I
love anything that involves screens. From gaming to sport to Neighbours (the
reason Sky+ was invented) to films, I am happiest when my feet are raised and
my eyes and ears are filled with audio-visual goodness.
The only problem that this causes me is that I simply now cannot cope
with even attempting to go to the cinema. It’s just an infinitely more
pleasurable experience in the comfort of my own home.
Deluded cinema chain CEOs and marketing directors claim that despite
monumental improvements in the quality of the home cinema equipment and content
available to all at an ever depreciating cost, people will keep coming back to
the cinema for that “big screen experience”.
Really? What exactly do you mean by “big screen experience”? Perhaps
you mean paying vastly inflated ticket prices (dreamed up by your overly zealous
private equity investors in an attempt to milk their recently acquired
cash-cow) whilst supporting a failing industry that not even the studios care
about by buying post-mix Pepsi and god awful popcorn with a gross margin of
well upwards of 90%? Or perhaps you mean the “experience” of listening to the
local yoof compete to see who can swear the loudest on their mobile in a
bastardised attempt at English consistent with their sub-80 IQ endowment?
I realise that the above is just one end of spectrum but the other end
is just an infuriating, perhaps even worse. Encircled by a “so different yet so
identical” troupe of skinny jean & thick rim glasses wearing rahs with hair
exhibiting more volume than even the winner of the previously mentioned
swearing contest I can’t help but visualise a Tarantino-esque massacre starring
the majority of my neighbouring Shoreditch cinemagoers1
However, my biggest gripe with the rest of the film watching population
has nothing, in fact, to do with the cinema. Instead, one simple sentence can
serve to fill me with such rage that the hijinks of the multiplex yoof and the
artistic integrity of my East London brethren pale into insignificance. A
sentence so powerful that when uttered within earshot leads me to break free
from the shackles of my lethargy and desire not to be an opinionated cockbag
and rant (often at length) in the direction of its deliverer.
“It’s not as good as the book”
My muscles tense, my teeth grind and my face goes a shade closer to
aubergine – and that’s just my reaction to typing those words.
In my opinion very few phrases, actions, concepts or ideologies serve
to portray such a damning combination of pretention, flawed logic and an inability
to discern opinion (let alone valid opinion) from fact.
To quote my fab fiancée (albeit slightly out of context) “it’s not what
you said, it’s the way that you said it”. More specifically it’s why you
said it.
So if you ever find yourself about to utter the unthinkable, stop and
ask yourself “why am I saying this?”.
For reasons I will come on to:
“because the film is better than the book”
is not a valid reason. Ever.
In 100% of cases.
In fact, you are not even really thinking that at all. What you are actually
thinking is:
“I believe that society considers books to be a more intelligent
pursuit than watching a film and by asking this question I am letting everybody
know that I read and am therefore better than them”
If this is in fact what you are thinking, then congratulations, the
high-beams of my rage are shining right in your beady little lifeless eyes. In
my experience, approximately 99% of you have been thinking this exact thing
when delivering the evil phrase in my presence.
A couple of days ago, I experienced the 1% - No, not the 1% we would
all love to be a part of, not the 1% the more liberal tax dodgers amongst us
decide to protest about rather than working harder with the aim of joining the
1% - the 1% of book advocates devoid of sinister motives (or at least relegating
these motives to a secondary “fringe benefit”).
I watched Moneyball. Moneyball is an absolutely brilliant film where a
fascinating story (especially to an ex-economist baseball fan like myself) is
complemented by superb dialogue and a great performance from Brad Pitt (who
despite every fibre in me wanting to dislike through jealousy, I think is
brilliant). As soon as the end credits began to roll, I relayed my enjoyment to
Twitter, Facebook and via text message to some select recipients. It was by the
return of text message that it happened:
“It is awesome, but the book is a lot better (less Brad Pitt and his
family moments)”
The next day when I saw the culprit, I sternly asked him to explain his
actions. He explained (quite well in fact) that he was purely interested in the
story – the details of the historical events that formed the basis of the film
and the statistics and maths behind the concept of exploiting market
opportunities in baseball to win without an enormous bank roll2. The
book provided more of these details. Was the book better at providing the
information he needed to fulfil his intellectual curiosity? Absolutely. Was the
book better than the film? Heck no.
I have been making a mental note of all the people who have told me
“it’s not as good as the book” and I am quite tempted to let them know how
wrong they are in as unnecessarily public and ass-holish a manner as possible.
Picture the scene, friends cook dinner for two or three other couples.
They spend hours preparing everything from scratch, seek out expert advice on
the best wine accompaniment and painstakingly prepare the requisite iPod
playlist.
The food is fantastic, the conversation witty and erudite, the
atmosphere refined yet relaxed – an excellent evening. The hostess asks:
“How was the food?”
“Not as good as a moonlight stroll along a deserted beach”, I reply.
Instantly I become and asshole. More importantly I am completely wrong.
Here lies my point. These two things are completely non-comparable so
saying one is better than the other is just stupid. It’s like asking whether Lionel
Messi, Matt Kemp, Kobe Bryant, Tiger Woods or Phil Taylor is the best
sportsman. Actually, that’s a bad example because in my opinion (notice the
correct use of an opinion rather than assertion here) Woods and Taylor take
part in hobbies not sports, but the point remains.
When I watch a film, I switch my brain off. I let the sights and sounds
communicate the director’s interpretation of a story, usually confined to a 2
hour window. When I (rarely, I must admit) read a book, the onus is on me to
paint the pictures in my head from the words on the page, for tens of hours
over a number of days. There’s nothing similar about the two activities save
that they both involve a story. Saying one is better than other is stupid, it
does not make any sense.
So, if you’ve bothered to read this epic, I just ask one thing of you. By
all means tell me the book is more detailed, tell me you prefer the pictures
you form in your head to what’s on screen, tell me you dislike the fact that
the film misses out some plot points. Just don’t tell me the book is better, because
you’re wrong.
1 Ironically, it is exactly this Hollywood style action
sequence that would be met by the derision of my Shoreditch compatriots
2He did then go on to try and explain how well read he was
on the subject by telling me about how the theory has since been discredited,
so the “look how great I am for reading books” agenda was still in the
background
