Everybody has heard someone say, "The book is so much better than the movie." And, growing up, I would have had to agree, because I was infatuated with reading. However, as I became mainstreamed into the McDonaldization of America, I began to believe that I did not have the time to commit to a book that I could watch in two hours or less. So, I just accepted Hollywood's version and tossed aside the literary masterpieces of the likes of Shakespeare or (from this class) Brontë or James.
This is why I was glad we started this semester off with the book/movie combination of Wuthering Heights. The book was written by Emily Brontë in 1847 and was a beautiful piece of art. It was a dark, broody tale; and, as I read, I quickly become wrapped up in the beauty of her words. Once again I was transported to the freedoms my imagination was allowed in my childhood.
Then we watched William Wyler's 1939 movie version of the same story. While it was a "nice" production, it paled in comparison to what Brontë had done. I understand the film makers had a lot of information to give and little time to give it, so things had to be cut, especially the second generation. But come on, how is Samuel Goldwyn going to insult the work of Brontë with that disgusting display of fairy tale endings. Thank you, Hollywood.
So, from now one, if someone I know feeds me that line of "The book is so much better than the book," I shall check it out. In the words of Lavar Burton, "You can go anywhere. So, take a look; it's in a book, a reading rainbow."