Narnia

I read the reviews (as few as possible, in order to keep images and plot turns under wraps) and did my fair share of tsk-ing at the usual suspects; the patronizing reviewers, with their usual lack of insight. They never get it, I said to myself. This film is simply another foreign concept to them, I thought. After all, They've never approved of films where pure and clean imagination (untainted by leftist-think or politization) pulls the viewer into a kingdom where only the art of God reigns. I knew the critical praise would be thin. I'm actually suspect of it when I see it aimed at a movie of this caliber.

So on opening night we shot to the theater with our Fandango tickets (30 minutes ahead of curtain), jaunted ahead of the other children, took two choice seats and settled in for our Disney-Walden Turkish Delight.

And the film rolled.

After the White Witch, the roaring Aslan, and the scarved Mister Tumnus had faded from the screen we left the theater, once more bracing ourselves against winter's bitter cold. But I didn't feel the way I'd anticipated. Why, I wondered, wasn't I more excited? Why wasn't I bubbling after seeing one of my most beloved books spring to life and dance before me upon the screen? I was expecting to be exuberant, overjoyed, fulfilled by Art. Instead, I ho-hummed across the parking lot and unlocked the car.

Putting my finger on why "Narnia" didn't work for me is knotty. Let me explain at the outset that it might simply be me. This holiday season is not shaping up to be what I thought it would. The stark joy of my first married Christmas has been marred by family bickering, social entanglements, a flagging career path, longings I cannot place and no home church to speak of. The only clear lines in my life are my outstanding relationship with my husband, my fitness routine, plotting my food journal every day, and my friends. I'm wandering in a wilderness I cannot compass and feel a bit lost -- and more frankly, scared. So perhaps I needed too much from this film. But then again...

C.S. Lewis. Just saying his name makes me want to cry out with joy. No other writer has filled me with such wonder, encouragement, kinship, contemplation, jubilation or light in dark places. I rank his work the very highest among my favorites. Research into his life (and temperament) convinces me that I am not alone, that Others have walked the Earth with me. I cannot wait to get to heaven to meet him, my love for him is so immense.

And I know, above all, that I am safe with Lewis. When he intends beauty, it is beautiful; when he plays, playful. Some of his work is ecstatically, frustratingly, thrillingly difficult. But it never leads me down a false or treacherous path. It is always forthright, elevating, dense with meaning and however imaginary -- real. Good is Good. Evil is Evil. Some Good folk can become Evil; some Evil, Good. But there is never any guess which is which. His dialogue is punchy and understated in its vigor. The causticity of his wit permeates every other paragraph, even in dialogue between children. This is the essence of Lewis. It is how he wrote and I daresay, how he spoke in everyday life.

The Children:
What the children of "Narnia" bring to the screen is much less caustic wit and more elevated whining. They argue more than pick. There is very little playfulness among them. What was characterized in the book as humorous, petty child-squabbling has morphed into a very adult pall of doom. The land of Narnia by contrast, should evoke incredible wonderment and delight. But their wonder was not wonderful. They are stiltedly desperate (and again, whiny) no matter what the situation.

The Professor:
To the former point, the part of the Professor was played all wrong as well (if you've read "The Magician's Nephew -- the book you must read last in the series -- you understand better). The Professor was clearly modeled after Lewis (bachelor scholar living alone on an estate with an aged housekeeper? The only thing "the Professor" lacks is an alcoholic brother to look after). In the book when the Professor begins leading Peter and Susan through the logical course of determining Lucy's sanity and truthfulness, he is merely acting as logician Professor, lecturing the children in a perfectly deadpan and Lewisian sort of fashion. The logical and adult way he speaks asserts that he is a man of high reason, all the while drawing the children to a conclusion totally contrary with the image a man of his standing projects. In short, his words are uttered in the tones they are accustomed to adults using, but the words themselves are cause for puzzlement and wonder.

By contrast, the way the Professor is portrayed in "Narnia" sucks the irony right out of things. Instead of lecturing them on the basics of logic, he interacts with them in a winking sort of grandfatherly way which suggests he knows more than he's telling. If Walden is working up to a big reveal, they've shot themselves in the foot already.

The Wardrobe:
I know this is a kids' movie and (as a principle) subtlety is probably lost on children, what with the machine-gunning, action-packed, sugar I.V. drip of hip Japanimation with which they seem to be deluged. Still, we can give them a shot at appreciating literary device, can't we?

Lewis's wardrobe was just an old wardrobe; nothing fancy, filled with old furs and mothballs. Lucy's decision to hide there was a logical one, given the lack of suitable choices. Her first entrance into Narnia is unexpected yes, but without fanfare -- much the same way we are (to borrow a phrase) surprised by joy in our everyday lives. If we knew what we were about to face, it wouldn't be a surprise or, I dare say, much joy either.

Walden's production leads us to an expectation of the supernatural as soon as the cloth comes off their ornately carved wardrobe. I am pleased that they included the moth balls, though I doubt many children will know what they are.

The White Witch:
Tilda Swinton channels David Bowie very well indeed, but was not nearly as scary (and Judy-Dench-understatedly-wicked) as she could have been. I would have loved to see her in something a little more figure-flattering as well (aka, something decidedly not made of Styrofoam and then covered in blue velour).

Tumnus:
Not the delightful and frenetic, energetic faun we know from the book. This Tumnus? Forgettable. Too maudlin, too sweet.

Aslan:
This one causes me the greatest pain. They tamed Him. They made Him too normal, too casual, too ordinary. My Aslan is King of Narnia. And everybody knows it. This Aslan was everybody's friend and ally. My Aslan will scare the pants off of you and then cradle you like a child. Their Aslan is a big, sweet, sensitive mercurial lion. That's all. The Stone Table still made me cry though.

Weta:
That's the only place I can put the second half of this film. Their fingerprints are all over it. It looks like "The Lord of the Rings" recast. Cair Paravel looks for all the world a Minus Morgul in silver. The visual effects were incredibly stunning, the most notable of which was the seamlessness with which they combined the men and the horses to create unbelievably beautiful centaurs. And I love Weta, don't get me wrong. I just think they should have restylized things a bit more for "Narnia". As it is, it looks like they took some concept sketches they didn't use during "Lord of the Rings" and fabbed them. That doesn't mean they're not excellent. That doesn't mean I hated them. I just would have loved to see something even more innovative than before. 'Course when you're already at the pinnacle, where can you go?

Final Cut:
I realize that no film is ever going to meet my expectations for a book I love so much. I realize that not everyone sees things in their head the way I do. For the concept layouts they had, Walden did a pretty good job. They didn't butcher it, they stayed as true to the book as they thought reasonable and marketable. But Peter Jackson they are not. I enjoyed his take on "Lord of the Rings" far more. I won't hold my breath in anxiety for the next installment.

***3 stars out of 4***