Beyond the odyssey: your next literary adaptation fix

Christopher Nolan’s latest epic has landed, leaving audiences pondering Homer’s Odyssey. But the thirst for well-crafted adaptations of classic literature doesn’t end there. Beyond the familiar, a wealth of cinematic treasures await, reimagining timeless tales with varying degrees of fidelity and artistic license.

A dive into greek mythology reimagined

While Nolan’s film rightly dominates the conversation, it’s worth revisiting other compelling interpretations of Greek narratives. Don Chaffey’s 1963 Jason and the Argonauts, boasting groundbreaking stop-motion animation, remains a visual marvel. Similarly, Pier Paolo Pasolini’s 1969 Medea offers a stark and haunting exploration of grief and revenge, a far cry from the swashbuckling adventures often associated with Greek myths. Yet, pivoting away from myth entirely, the landscape of literary adaptation offers a far broader canvas.

Escapism and existentialism on screen

Sometimes, a perfectly executed adaptation is more than just a faithful retelling; it’s an experience. Reese Witherspoon and Nicole Kidman’s Big Little Lies, for instance, transcended its source material, becoming a cultural phenomenon thanks to its sharp writing and impeccable casting. The series, and its subsequent second season, set a new standard for glossy, addictive television, proving that a juicy beach read can be elevated to high art.

Consider, too, Jean-Luc Godard’s Contempt, a film that uses the adaptation of The Odyssey as a lens through which to examine the corrosive effects of ambition and ego within a marriage. The book, a psychological portrait of self-destruction, is inevitably condensed in the film, but Godard’s vision—where the Greek epic becomes a mirror reflecting the characters' own flaws—is particularly astute. As The New Yorker recently noted, the allure of The Odyssey continues to captivate and challenge even the most accomplished filmmakers.

From hockey romance to pandemic revelations

The spectrum of literary adaptation doesn’t end with highbrow drama. Rachel Reid’s Heated Rivalry, a charming hockey romance, demonstrates that even seemingly frivolous genres can benefit from thoughtful adaptation. Jacob Tierney’s six-episode series captures the witty banter and heartfelt moments of the novel with a refreshing authenticity, enhanced by beautiful cinematography. The series doesn't shy away from awkwardness; it embraces it.

Then there’s Michael Cunningham’s The Hours, a novel that played with my own adaptation journey. I first encountered the film in 2002, utterly captivated by its beauty. The experience spurred me to read Cunningham’s work, and revisiting it during the pandemic, alongside Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, was a revelation. The film’s success lies in its ability to translate a novel dense with interiority and memory into a visually compelling narrative, a testament to Stephen Daldry’s skill.

The power of adaptation: enriching the source

Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan Novels have proven remarkably adaptable, with HBO’s four-season series providing a rich and engrossing exploration of female friendship across decades. Similarly, Benedict Cumberbatch’s portrayal of Patrick Melrose in the five-part miniseries breathes new life into Edward St. Aubyn’s dark and semiautobiographical novels—though, a word of caution: the material is challenging.

Even nonfiction can thrive in the adaptation process. Patrick Radden Keefe’s Say Nothing, a gripping account of The Troubles in Northern Ireland, was brought to life in a television series that, remarkably, enhances the already compelling narrative. Joshua Zetumer's writing feels less like a translation and more like an expansion of Keefe's meticulous research.

Finally, take Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining*. While controversial among some Stephen King purists, Kubrick’s adaptation transcends simple fidelity. It marries the supernatural with the everyday, creating a chilling exploration of domestic abuse, isolation, and addiction. The film’s iconic imagery—a child on a Big Wheel, vast empty hallways—remain etched in the collective consciousness, a testament to Kubrick’s mastery. The film doesn't just depict terror; it embodies it.