Decades ago, when I was preparing to become a writer and sampling many classics, I was privileged to read three novels by Thomas Hardy:
Tess of the D'Urbervilles, Jude the Obscure and
Return of the Native. I loved all three, particularly the latter, which I've retained mentally as much as any book I've ever read. Its
femme fatale, Eustacia Vye, had a compelling ambition -- to be loved to madness. I have not read
Far from the Madding Crowd, which also has an independent, headstrong female at its center, Batsheba Everdene. I wonder if Suzanne Collins named her heroine, Katniss Everdeen of
The Hunger Games, as homage to Hardy's. Anyway, last night, courtesy of Netflix, I viewed the 2015 theatrical production starring Carey Mulligan, whose career is peaking. The Londoner played Daisy Buchanan in the most recent version of
The Great Gatsby (2013), accent flawless.
Far from the Madding Crowd has been brought to the big screen three times, the first a silent, the second in 1967 starring Julie Christie. There is also a BBC adaptation, a 1998 miniseries. If there is an afterlife, Hardy must be very pleased. The world has changed a great deal since the mid 1800's, but one thing that hasn't changed is the essentials of human beings, which all great works of art get right. The cast, of which only Mulligan was familiar to me, is excellent. The themes -- love, pride, mistakes -- are timeless. The cinematography is lush, beautiful. My only quibble is that the narrative seems sketchy in spots, which is understandable when trying to capture an entire novel in two hours. It was directed by Thomas Vinterberg, a Dane who has 19 credits at the helm, many of them shorts, including videos featuring Metallica and Blur. The screenplay was adapted by David Nicholls. Four of his 14 credits involve classics. 22,000+ users at IMDb have rated
Far from the Madding Crowd, forging to a consensus of 7.1 of ten. On a scale of five, I rate it four. In a world dominated by light entertainment, it is encouraging that there are still individuals who would dare to perpetuate great works that would attract modest box office return at most. Maybe the classics are not as threatened as it seems. I enjoy silly escapism, but I also like to be moved, brought in touch with what it is to be human.
I worked way too hard today for a man my age. I waited an hour for parking to open up and had to settle on a spot that required a long haul with four crates. After I'd set up shop in front of Chase, a woman who last week had promised me books dumped at least 50 of them on me, a great mix of children's, young adult and popular fiction. My thanks, and also to the kind folks who made purchases, especially the woman who bought three large hardcover thrillers. Even after hiding two of the crates beside the dumpster in the alley beside the bank, I had a lot to carry back to the car. Two-and-a-half hours later, my arms are still fatigued. Fortunately, I did not injure my back, so it was a good day. Have I won the right to dub myself hardy?
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
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