Atonement

***SPOILER ALERT!!! If you have not read the book and/or seen the movie and intend on doing so (we recommend you do) you may not want to read this post until you have.***

It’s early evening. I’ve drawn the curtains and am settling in for a quiet night. My CD player has decided to start working again so I’ve slipped in the music from the film Atonement by Dario Marianelli. I could listen to it over and over again and never tire of its dreamy notes, not even the clacking typewriter at the start. And the Elegy for Dunkirk near the end always makes me cry. If I close my eyes I can conjure up Keira Knightley’s green silk dress that would have looked so much better on me (a girl can dream). The music, the film, the book: a trio of pure pleasure.

When I read Ian McEwan’s novel that the film was based on, I was on holiday, someplace sunny with no particular aim other than to finish a chapter before going for swim in the hotel pool. Instead, I stayed rooted to my beach towel like a German tourist staking a claim as I joined the Tallis family gathering at their country house on a sweltering day in 1935. The story gently burbles along until Cecilia’s adolescent sister, Briony, reads an explicit love letter not intended for her eyes and the history of all their lives is changed from that moment on.

One thing leads to another as one lie leads to another, and the sweetest love affair between the daughter of the big house and the son from below stairs is over before it’s had time to blossom. Terrible things happen to innocent people and the memory of that happy family gathering is lost through grief and mischief and misunderstandings.

As World War II takes over the lives of everyone in the story, we catch up with Briony and Cecilia, who have both become nurses, dealing with the inevitable casualties. And Robbie, who has joined the army, desperate to catch up with his fellow soldiers in the mayhem and horror that is Dunkirk.

The music ends with Debussy’s Clair de Lune and it’s hard not to think of what could have happened had there been a different outcome to that war.

The Book or the Movie?

One of my favourite books of all time is A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving. In 1998, with the odd title of Simon Birch, this excellent novel was turned into the worst movie disaster I have ever seen. The word corny was invented to describe what went on in this screen adaptation. I rolled my eyes and stuck it out only because I was with a good friend who seemed to be enjoying herself; mind you, she hadn’t read the book. What got me thinking on this subject was the film The Time Traveller's Wife that I saw last Sunday afternoon. I was more than curious to see how the director, Robert Schwentke, would handle the difficult task of time travel, asexual nudity, an older man being friendly with a pre-pubescent girl, along with the older/younger make-up problems and the usual squidging together of a book that would take you three or four days to read into 110 minutes screen time. Verdict? Well, I think Schwentke did a good job! I was ready to cringe, had my credibility monitor all set and ready to go but I just sat back and enjoyed the story unfold. I was entertained, and that, after all, is why we go to the movies on Sunday afternoons.

The Enchanted April by Elizabeth Von Arnim introduced me to the delights of the Italian countryside. Four lively women, who had not previously been acquainted, joined forces and holidayed there in 1922, staying in a small country manse with the wisteria in full bloom encircling the entrance. This was the advertisement that started their adventure: "To Those who Appreciate Wistaria and Sunshine. Small Mediaeval Italian Castle on the shores of the Mediterranean to be Let Furnished for the Month of April. Necessary Servants remain. Z, Box 1000, The Times." After reading this humorous tale I found myself in Italy for the first time, in April 2004, where the wisteria was indeed in bloom. I loved everything and wanted to stay forever. On my return home, a friend lent me the movie, and once again, I was transported back to a place that had captured my heart. What did I prefer: the book or the movie? The book, always the book, but I did enjoy the movie.

I was wowed by the green dress and the music in the film adaptation of Ian McEwan’s novel Atonement; and Girl With A Pearl Earring by Tracy Chevalier brought the Dutch artist Vermeer, wonderfully to life. I could go on, but I’m more of a bookworm than a movie buff so a bit of input from you would be good here: the book or the movie?

PS - I’ve just remembered one where I thought the book was good but the film was absolutely fabulous: The Reader by Bernhard Schlink. Even thinking about it now makes me shiver. Directed by Stephen Daldry, it starred Kate Winslet who gave the performance of her life. Ten out of ten!