For better or for worse

It is a fact universally acknowledged by book lovers that movie versions of books--especially great books--are rarely as good as their original novels. I can think of maybe two exceptions to this: "Little Women" and BBC's "Pride and Prejudice" are both top-notch adaptations. (Note: Some people also claim that Bridget Jones's Diary is better in movie form, but I know that these people must not have read the book first and cemented their loyalty to it like I did, because it is so hilarious it had even stoic old me laughing out loud. The second book is even funnier, much unlike the second film.)

However, book lovers who also love movies can still enjoy the latter by just pretending that they are two separate entities, letting go of their high expectations and all the details of the book and just enjoying the entertainment on the screen. I can usually do this, unless the filmmakers just ruin a book. In these cases, I just ask that they change the title of the movie so that everyone can be happy. How hard is that?

Case in point: "Confessions of a Shopaholic," the movie. Now, I love me some Shopaholic books. Even though it gets slightly frustrating that the sequels have Becky regressing back to the same person she was before her big epiphany and auction at the end of the first book, I am glad there are sequels because they are too funny. And even though Becky as a childlike, shopping-obsessed character romantically involved with a slightly condescending man is kind of chick-lit-formula territory, I think Sophie Kinsella does it in a quality, hilarious way--and her many imitators fall way flat. So I knew the movie wouldn't live up to Becky's adventures in my head.

But how many ways can you differ from the books in the movie? The main problem is that Becky in the movie is not English, nor does she live in London. This practically undermines the whole story, because what makes Kinsella's storytelling so great is imagining Becky saying things like "shop assistant" in a British accent. The strange thing is that the writers kept typically English phrases like that in the script, when an American would never ever say "shop assistant." I would have even settled for an American actress playing Becky in London (like Renee Zellwegger did Bridget).

And, anyway, isn't Isla Fisher actually British? (As a fellow redhead, I like her lots, even though I'm freaked out about how anyone can be married to Sasha Baron Cohen, and also I'm pretty sure Becky wasn't a redhead in the books, much to my chagrin.) But, no, she's an American Becky, living with her American roommate, Suze (played by the awesome Krystin Ritter), who calls her "Bex" (which only those creative-with-the-nicknames Brits would ever make up). And Tarquin (another way-not-American name), Suze's boyfriend, is not also Suze's cousin--which was so British and funny in the books--and not an awkward freak. Sigh.

And I'm not even at all an Anglophile, I promise.

Listen, I understand sometimes you have to change things logistically for them to work in film, but is there a reason for this to be a copycat of "The Devil Wears Prada" ? (Though I do always get a thrill seeing my old stomping grounds on Sixth Avenue in movies--and Becky and Luke (thankfully, at least he's British) are even clearly in front of my old office at one point.) Also, why oh why, did they completely reverse the very important point that Becky's parents are also kooky spendthrifts like her, and that's why she has this bad behavior? Perhaps most aggregiously, why is Joan Cusack playing Becky's mother when the actors are only fourteen years apart??? Shame on you, Hollywood.

So, in my head this movie is called "Shoppers Anonymous" (loved Wendie Malick as the taskmaster group leader), and it was very enjoyable. And so are the Shopaholic books, even though they only inspired the movie and weren't at all betrayed by it. You know, just like "Clueless" is to Emma.

- L'Editrice