Reading the creative work of another is one of the most intimate acts two people can engage in- the author and the reader that is. More so than even the specific details we imagine for a character in a book we read, we create a relationship with the author- and the relationships an author has with his readers varies from reader to reader. So even if one reader has a clear idea of T.S. Eliot- the man, the author- in his head, the next reader may pick up on very different aspects of the writing and on different word choices and therefore create a very different man in his head.
If we love someone's writing, the relationship we forge with that writer is complex and nuanced. It is probably safe to say that you have digested more words from your favorite author than from many of the people you'll physically encounter in your life. These relationships have been developed and made all the more complicated by time. Anyone whom you've spent that much time just listening to you're bound to feel that you know pretty well- you're bound to feel that you understand their voice. That's precisely why it can be so shocking (horrific?) to see authors with whom you're intimate brought to the screen.
Earlier this week, HBO premiered a new movie for which I have been awaiting anxiously, Hemingway & Gellhorn. After getting over my initial apprehension regarding the casting choice of Clive Owen for Ernest Hemingway, I began to warm considerably to the whole idea of the film to the point of being quite impatient for its Memorial Day premiere.
But, alas, horror did indeed ensue. Rather than the nuanced, tortured, moody, violent, interesting man I've come to know as Hemingway, there was more of a cartoon of him than anything. This is not to say that a cartoony nature was not the filmmakers' intent; but, intent or no, this was not what I'd expected. Yes, we got the moody down. The violence is replaced with boisterousness that seems to always end in friendly drinks. Nicole Kidman's Martha Gellhorn seems to find him sexually interesting and sure he looks like fun to be around for the most part. But as far as the tortured goes- it is really nowhere to be found with the exception of the inevitable electroshock and subsequent suicide scenes, which frankly feel completely out of place in the narrative in this story.
I could go on to lament the horrendous shift this film took toward forced suffering, only to rebound with a quirky Indiana Jones-goes-on-an-adventure feel at the end. It's really quite bad. But let's stay focused on the Hemingway portrayal. I like to imagine my Hemingway actually writing: spending a lot of time doing it, thinking about it, being immersed in it. And despite all the lines about writing and despite all the repurposed quotations, we don't for one second see Hemingway as a man who lived and breathed the written word. Nor Martha for that matter. In one of the few scenes in the movie in which she's writing, she gets one sentence out before she is interrupted by an explosion outside the building.
It's strange to say, once again, but the Hemingway of last year's Midnight in Paris was far more effective if for no other reason than being in the hands of writers and filmmakers (namely Woody Allen) who understood their purpose in portraying Hemingway and his friends- to show a heightened, humorous version fueled by a demonstrated understanding of the man's writing style. And because Allen and Corey Stoll, the actor who portrays Papa, did such wonderful jobs making their Hemingway sound like a Hemingway novel, he actual came out more real, more Hemingway, than Owen's seemingly more serious portrayal.
Now, obviously, I never knew Ernest Hemingway, and for all I know Clive Owen could be spot on. But that's the thing- all any of us really know about Hemingway now is his writing. To piece together his mismatched quotations and call it is dialogue is a far greater sin than to simply portray him generally speaking as he wrote.
Maybe what we should be doing with our great authors after all is simply reading them and honoring their writing, not trying to make their lives into entertainment.
Until next time,
Leena
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