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Page to Screen by Anita L. Burkam Brilliantly realized, lushly filmed, and credibly acted, The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian, from Walden Media and Disney, is a valuable addition to the Narnia franchise. Billed as a more savage Narnia than The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, this movie has a darker tone that suits the story and the maturing cast. From the talented young actors who inhabit the roles of the Pevensie siblings and newcomer Prince Caspian (Ben Barnes) to the incredible scenery (with locations, sets, and production on several continents), the movie is a visual treat and a pleasure to enjoy. In many ways it surpasses the first Narnia movie in terms of dramatic tension, integration of computer effects, and successful translation from book to movie. Andrew Adamson, who directed both Narnia movies and shares the screenplay credits for both (Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely are the other screenplay writers for Caspian), has uncovered the secret to first-rate text-to-film translation: stay true to the events and elements of the original story, but make it new, with the faster pace and heightened tension needed in a visual medium. Hence Lewis’s leisurely account of the challenges faced by Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy after they are magically summoned back to Narnia by a blow on Susan’s old horn is expertly condensed, moving the story along briskly and losing none of the exposition. Similarly, with a few well-placed lines of dialogue, the movie eliminates one-and-a-half chapters of backstory on Prince Caspian’s childhood, and skips right to Caspian’s flight from the castle after an assassination attempt by his usurper uncle Miraz. The meeting of the Pevensie rescuers with Caspian and his Old Narnian insurgents, a meeting that comes three-quarters of the way into the book, is moved up to allow more interaction among the principles, and High King Peter’s very cricket declaration to Prince Caspian (in the book) that “I haven’t come to take your place, you know, but to put you into it,” gives way to a more realistic and more interesting friction between the two over leadership styles and tactics. Another way the movie strengthens its claims over the book is by de-emphasizing Lewis’s allegory about faith in an absent God and focusing more on the strain between childhood and adulthood felt by the Pevensie children. The faith allegory is better off left atrophied — more than a little scoldy, Aslan’s cat-and-mouse game with the Pevensies (appearing to Lucy but not to the others; requiring them to weight his most evanescent gestures more heavily than their best judgment in very unforgiving circumstances) does not show Aslan in his best light. The movie’s more subtle pointers to the absent Aslan — plus iconographic depictions of lions that crop up all over the sets — preserve the spirit of Lewis’s depiction without getting into the theological weeds. Children on the cusp of adolescence are naturally torn between their anchor in childhood and the siren lure of adulthood, but for Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy, the dilemma is particularly acute: having been kings and queens of Narnia and there grown to maturity, they are abruptly returned to childhood at the end of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe; now back in Narnia, they are odd hybrids of their former adult and current child states. This conundrum creates a rich texture that the characters can mine: Edmund (Skandar Keynes) has sprung up considerably since the last movie and appears very much the young nobleman when he parlays with the Telmarines, addressing the council as their equal and cleverly manipulating Miraz into accepting a challenge to meet Peter in single combat. This scene — an expansion of a brief episode in the book — uses the “you are there” feel of moviemaking to show what went on when the author’s attention had moved away and, by so doing, gives the viewer what amounts to a backstage pass to the book. It also exploits the moment to showcase Edmund’s character. This is exactly what a good movie adaptation brings to a story — something that was always there — and the technique is used splendidly and aggressively throughout the adaptation. • • • Visually, Prince Caspian gets it right, but it’s practically a formula by now: lavish artistry on clothing and weapons, add New Zealand scenery, and presto, the “look” of your fantasy movie is made. I’m glad that moviemakers from The Lord of the Rings to The Golden Compass can make such visually appealing films, but since the look of a movie (costumes, setting, cinematography, lighting) is the visual equivalent of the author’s writing style, I hope they’ll try some originality soon. One area that has shown marked improvement, even since 2005’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, is the state of computer-generated imagery. Then, the Talking Animals who inhabit Narnia were still a bit stiff and unnatural. In Prince Caspian, the redoubtable mouse Reepicheep (voiced by Eddie Izzard) doesn’t just move smoothly, he acts, expressing his valiant and outsized personality through his physical movement. Minotaurs, fauns, and gryphons all have individual fighting styles; the river god in the climactic sequence, made entirely of water, is a visual tour-de-force. The centaurs still leave something to be desired. But this ever-burgeoning ability to make the impossible appear real on screen seems like a contributing factor, at the very least, to the golden age of children’s fantasy films we currently find ourselves in. Moviemakers don’t always do justice to children’s fantasy — The Dark Is Rising was a recent and notable disappointment — but the makers of The Chronicles of Narnia have shown themselves to be trustworthy protectors of a story cycle beloved by generations of readers. Luckily for fans, there are five more books to adapt to the screen. If Adamson (who is producing) and new director Michael Apted can get lightning to strike twice in the same place for the next title in the series (The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, due out in 2010), Narnia-lovers everywhere will celebrate our good fortune — and break out the popcorn.
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