So, my husband is an artist.

This may come as a surpise to those of you who have known him only as Unemployed or Terraforming Engineer (aka landscaper). It grates severely upon his soul that he’s still paying off student loans for a career he’s not currently enjoying. (Never mind the fact that he paid off about $15, 000 of student loan debt in the four or so years that he was working as an artist.)

He’s going into his ex-place-of-employment today to remind them all that he’s still alive and available for high-paying work – er, rewarding career-focused creative exercise, I mean. I hope things go well. He loves landscaping, but he misses animation a lot.

He’s good at what he does. Really good. He designs backgrounds for animated TV series, and he’s aces. He’s also an excellent supervisor of others – a good motivator, a terrific communicator, etcetera – and that’s what he was doing at the end before the industry started its downward spiral into the crumpled, dry thing it was for about eighteen months.

I think it’s because he loves art so much that it’s bothered me for the past couple of years to see him have no interest in sketching at home any more. He used to sketch all the time, but over time it has petered out to the point that in the past twelve months, I think I’d be lucky to count half a dozen sketches. He designs pieces of furniture, which he then constructs for people here and there, but drawing for the pure pleasure? It went the way of the dodo.

Which is why I’m so thrilled that he walked out of Omer De Serres today firmly intent on beginning oil painting again this fall.

I’ve never seen my husband paint. (Apartment walls really don’t count.) There are pieces of artwork stored at his parents’ house, and his colour and black and white works framed on their walls, but I’ve never actually seen him put brush to canvas. I’m wild to see him do it. So wild, as a matter of fact, that when my next cheque comes in, I’m going to pick up oil paints and brushes for him, since his old ones are all dried up and falling apart. (Thus falls the plan of picking up a piece or two of new clothing every cheque; on the next one I have to replace the badly warped bridge on my cello, which will cost about $120, and I want my husband to have those paints. Well, I bought shoes yesterday; I’ll use that as part of my clothing goal.)

Understandably, everyone wants to leave work behind when they come home at night. It’s disturbing, though, to see an artist come home and not be able to draw for fun and relaxation, since they’ve been doing it for someone else all day. I’m all for this renaissance in my husband’s artistic life. I’d also love to see him back in his original career. This time, though, I’m going to make sure he keeps up the personal artistic expression as well as the work sort of art. I think oil painting and designing backgrounds are varied enough that he can stay interested in both.

Cross your fingers.

Hmmm.

Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm.

The last images faded from the screen, and we looked at each other, and she made a face, and I laughed and said, “What was that face all about?”, and we both went, “Hmmm” in a thoughtful fashion.

We know the book too well. We couldn’t get into the movie. We need someone who’s never read the book but who is sympathetic to the academic atmosphere to see it, and tell us if it succeeds as a movie in and of itself, which we cannot.

We tried. We talked about it with a couple of other teachers for a while afterwards; we had cakes and tea at Calories and tried to puzzle it out (and apart from the costuming, that cappuccino truffle cake was the high point of the day). The book had so much more that we were constantly aware of what was missing. The story didn’t appear to suffer; the depth of the emotion, however, did. Our final conclusion is that the pacing seemed wrong, somehow – it was the same pace from beginning to end, no exciting bits, no slower parts to sit back and take in… just, well, plodding along. Alas indeed, for Possession is a tale of undeniable attraction and, yes, fateful unfolding, but there’s more to it than “A leads to B, just follow the paper trail.”

And it was short – it was just about an hour and a quarter! I really and truly feel that there was so much more to this movie that was left on a cutting room floor. It felt sparse. Now, that might be due to the fact that we know the novel so well, but knowing that the movie has been in re-editing for two years leads me to believe that there were other levels to the movie that were abandoned. It did feel, well, dumbed down a bit. Granted, academic romances aren’t truly the thing to seize the American populace’s imagination, but the book had an irresistible draw to it that pulled the reader in with words and subtext. The film failed in that respect; it felt a bit tepid. The end, too, was rushed, which was unnecessary considering how short the running time is. Finally, the elimination of the poetry from the whole thing cut out an entire dimension of the novel. The poets fall in love through their poetry, as well as their letters. They exchange pieces of verse, telling stories, exploring issues about male and female identity and placing within the social and natural world (couched in Victorian poetry – makes for lush reading, let me tell you!) For a movie that claims to be about the sensuous use of words, limiting the poet’s writing to letters on-screen seems dreadfully severe.

Was the creative team concerned that the average American wouldn’t get it? We were told at every step of the turn, rather than shown. An issue that arose in discussion later revolved around audiences: the sort of people who are going to see this movie are likely to be the ones who have read the book (or Byatt’s work in some form), hence able to exercise intellectual ability to some degree. Dumbing it down was, in our opinion, unnecessary. And by dumbing it down, the urgency surrounding the unfolding research and revelation is lost, particularly at the end. (Connected and yet not: I didn’t mind the main male character being American. Not at all. It was fine.)

Visually, it was perfect – settings (modern and Victorian), costuming, characterisation… the stage trickery was brilliant as well. No special effects for Possession – when the Victorian characters walk out of a room, close the door, and the modern characters walk right into it, stagehands have moved false walls and silently switched furniture to effect the change. Gabriel Yared’s music was excellent as well, a wonderfully unintrusive companion to the visuals (except for that operatic piece used in the end credits). The editing between eras was also excellently done.

Something else I noticed, however, is that the title appears meaningless. With the apparent lack of emotional involvement, the term “possession” doesn’t connect anywhere. The word is never used (although “obssession” is); nor do the various applications of the term ever come into question (except through a certain minor character’s appearance at the opening auction, attempting to buy up as many pieces of a poet’s literaria as possible – and even then, I think I might only have realised the significance because there are so many mentions of his obssession to own these and other ephemera in the book) in any way. I don’t know if any audiences are going to be astute enough to catch that (or care to question it if they do), but it did bother me.

I’m going to sleep on it for a couple of weeks, then I’ll catch a matinee on a Tuesday and try again. Maybe now that my mind’s gone through the requisite “this as compared to the original book”, I’ll be able to approach it as a piece of art in its own right.

I’m going to see a movie today, and I am trepidatious.

I rarely see movies; they’re too darned expensive for what they are, and frankly, Hollywood sucks. The Paramount is dreadful too. Thirteen fifty for an hour and a half of second-rate entertainment? Not bloody likely. I also find the Paramount too flashy – loud, bright, sparkly… just the thing for people with no attention spans. It gives me a headache. If I see movies, I try to see them in any of the smaller theatres, just on principle.

Three years ago (bear with me, this is pertinent) I began writing my thesis. I wrote about three modern British novels set in academic surroundings, namely, A.S.Byatt’s Possession, Graham Swift’s Waterland, and David Lodge’s Nice Work. (I passed brilliantly, thank you very much for asking.) Possession is a book I have loved since it was published in 1990.

For as long as I can remember (no, this is pertinent too) I have generally been disappointed by movies based on books. (Until Fellowship of the Ring came along, bless Peter Jackson’s little heart, and the hearts of his creative team, too.) They’re inevitably flat, and miss the point of the novel. I know they’re different forms of storytelling, but they’re so different that I find directors in search of a hit movie discard the heart of the novel in their single-mindedness. Notable exceptions to this rule include Howard’s End (but not Remains of the Day, alas), and Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (thanks be to all the supreme beings out there), as well as the aforementioned LOTR:FotR.

For the past year and a half, there has been a movie of Possession being retouched and re-edited. At first I was delirious – a movie! They’ve made a movie of one of my favourite books! And then the reality sank in – what if they ruined it? In fact, ruination was likely, considering that it finished shooting over two years ago, they set three different release dates, and scrapped them all. When I discovered that they’d changed the main characters around, I sank further into despair. No, no, no – the fact that both main characters are British is integral to the plot! If they make one American, that means one of the main plot threads is eliminated! Woe!

Equally as delighted at first when we discovered the movie was in the works, another Eng Lit MA agreed that when it finally came out, we’d see it together. Two years later, today is that day. Possession is premiereing this afternoon, and we will be in the audience. (And it’s not at the Paramount – sigh of relief!)

Now, it’s got Gwyneth Paltrow, so it can’t be that bad. It also has Jeremy Northam (who was deliriously good in Emma). And the basic story – that of two modern-day academics slowly uncovering a hithero unknown and certainly unsuspected romance between their respective academic focii, both poets of the Victorian era, through letters and poems. (Give me a break – I’m an academic, and the thought of making such a discovery is heavenly. This sort of thing makes me all weak in the knees.) The book moved back and forth between the modern researchers and the epistolary evidence, so it was, in effect, two novels in one. The term “Possession” ends up being significant on several levels, namely the ownership of body, heart, historical documents, and of course, the spiritual control exterted by another entity, as well as the concept of self-control. (I wrote a thesis on this, remember? They gave me a degree for it.)

The film would be pretty boring if all it showed was modern academics flipping through piles of letters, relying on them to read the information about the Victorian pair aloud, or (even worse) having the camera focus on a handwritten letter in silence for the audience to read. Hence, the Victorian poets have been brought to life for their scenes. Right away, I wince; the point of the novel was to have the poets live only through their words. I know perfectly well this can’t work on-screen, and that due to the story-telling medium the portrayal must change. Apparently, though, Antonia Byatt read the scripts and gave her blessing and approval, believing that the spirit of her story was being preserved. When an author is comfortable with a film, then I know that I too am likely to be comfortable.

The web site describes it as:

Well, even if I’d never read the book before, I’d be hooked: power of language, history, literary mysteries. I told you, this stuff makes me weak in the knees.

So away we go. I am attempting not to have any expectations whatsoever. Alas, however, I do have high standards when it comes to things like this. At least I haven’t re-read the book before seeing it, a sure way to make me hate the movie. No, I’ll read it again soon, after having allowed the movie to sink in for a while. If the movie makes sense on its own, it succeeds. If upon re-reading the book, the movie still works, it gets a big shiny star next to its name and goes on my future DVD list. And, who knows? I might even want to see it in theatres again…

The Fellowship of the Ring is released on DVD today.

The summer rehearsal sing-through I’m scheduled to be at tonight is The Pirates of Penzance.

I am wavering. Ah, temptation…