I recently saw Oz, the Great and Powerful in IMAX 3-D. Having read mostly 2-2.5-star reviews, I wasn’t expecting much. But when their grandparents are willing and available to babysit your two small children (“Go, see a movie!”), it doesn’t have to be Citizen Kane you’re watching. And going in with low expectations can definitely work some magic.

The visual aspects of the movie are stunning (and I’m not just talking about the lead actors, James Franco, Mila Kunis, Michelle Williams, and Rachel Weisz, but, wow, what a pretty cast, and in IMAX, no less). Like the 1939 Wizard of Oz, the film starts off in black and white. Once we’re no longer in Kansas — courtesy of Dorothy’s tornado, impressive in 3-D — everything switches to color, and the 3-D imagery ramps up a notch (lots of flowers blossoming dramatically, butterflies fluttering around, even a lunging lion), Avatar-style.

James Franco, as the prophesied wizard, meets Mila Kunis, a lonely witch, and she falls instantly in love with him. When she finds out she’s not his main squeeze she spectacularly loses it, doing her best impersonation of her screechy-girlfriend self on That ’70s Show. It’s not the first time James Franco has toyed with a lady’s emotions; check him out in this hilariously unforgettable act of manipulation from Freaks & Geeks. (And his real-life mom, children’s book author/poet Betsy Franco, probably has stories of her own…)

There’s a big, convoluted plot, with echoes of and parallels to Baum’s Oz books, and then there’s some more visually dazzling stuff at the end. The point is, if you feel like spending two hours looking at nice-looking people in front of gorgeous fake scenery, you could do much worse than Oz, the Great and Powerful.

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From high frame-rates to 3-D technology to the uber-padding required to stretch one nineteen-chapter children’s novel into three feature films and roughly nine hours of screen time, The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey (Warner Bros., December 2012) — director Peter Jackson’s first installment of the film adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien’s maiden foray into Middle Earth — has garnered exorbitant amounts of feedback from rabid fans, reviewers, internet trolls, and your average movie-goers. Cries of “too slow,” “too fast,” “too childish,” “too long,” “too bright,” and “too crisp,” rise out of the din; I’m left wondering if we’ve lost sight of what truly makes this powerhouse of a franchise so wonderfully successful: first, the nostalgia of a generation reentering a world where they spent hours of their adolescence watching and rewatching the Lord of the Rings movie trilogy, and second (perhaps most importantly), the nostalgia of anyone who read and connected to Tolkien’s magical world between now and 1937 when The Hobbit was published.

Was the movie padded? Of course. It was thoughtfully insulated with layers of visually stunning, fascinating material, pulled from throwaway lines in the original text or from the appendices of the Lord of the Rings. And for the most part, that padding worked to alleviate some of the discomfort that inevitably accompanies the transition from text to a visual medium. Without the expanded story of Azog the Defiler acting as Thorin’s nemesis to push the narrative, there would be no immediate antagonistic force in the first film — just a bunch of dwarves walking to and fro with only the distant threat of Smaug, lying dormant somewhere in the Lonely Mountain under heaps of gold. The same could be said for the Necromancer, whose expanded story in the film fills in the gaps of The Hobbit text where Gandalf disappears for entire chapters at a time.

Perhaps the film’s most effective padding (and deviation from Tolkien’s original text) was furnishing Bilbo with enough agency to fully realize his heroic potential. In the book, Bilbo is basically ordered by Gandalf to join the dwarfish motley crew. In the film, he chooses to sign a contract. In the book, Gandalf stalls the trolls until the sun rises, but in the film, it is Bilbo’s cunning that ultimately saves the group. It’s true: at times, the expanded scenes feel episodic, disjointed, and at their worst, indulgent (as in the scene of stone giants hurling boulders at each other). But part of the magic of nostalgia is this indulgence.

Speaking of magic, I would be remiss if I didn’t take a moment to discuss the sheer brilliance of the “Riddles in the Dark” scene, in which Bilbo bests the tortured soul Gollum (played by his excellency, Andy Serkis) in a battle of wits deep within the belly of a goblin cave. The dramatic tension captured in these brief ten minutes far surpasses the cumulative tension of the surrounding hundred and sixty.

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Those who have tattered copies of Perks held together with scotch tape and hope will not be disappointed; Chbosky is largely faithful to his original story. The movie follows Charlie, a suburban teen “wallflower” who recently lost his aunt and his best friend and who struggles with depression, as he navigates his freshman year of high school. Charlie begins coming into his own once he befriends seniors Patrick and Sam, stepsiblings who introduce him to decent music, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, parties, drugs, booze, and a sense of belonging.

First things first, I must absolutely rave about Logan Lerman’s performance as Charlie. Percy Jackson, who knew you had it in you? He stops and starts, slumps and strides, and is overall utterly convincing in playing a damaged introvert with a beautiful soul. If you are not half in love with him by the end of the film, you need to listen to some good songs ASAP. Seriously, stop reading this and go play rock ballads on repeat until you can feel again.

Ezra Miller and Paul Rudd are also delightful in their roles as Patrick and Mr. Anderson, respectively. As for Emma Watson’s portrayal of Sam? Well, it’s not, as they said in the 90s, all that and a bag of chips. She is lovely when her acting relies on her facial expressions alone (the scene where her upturned face is lifted toward the night sky as she stands in the back of a racing truck is one of the most powerful in the movie), but some of her lines are delivered like they have weights attached to them. Where is the passion? The spark that makes Sam such an intoxicating character?  With so much directorial attention focused on Charlie, Sam is rendered flat.

Visually, the film is a pleasure. The lighting emphasizes shadows and spotlights, allowing the camera to linger over Charlie’s lonely typewriter or Patrick’s bruised face. But it also captures the smokiness of a dimly lit basement party, the excitement of a Rocky Horror show, and the glaring vulnerability of a fluorescent-lit high school cafeteria.

Chobosky’s latest project is, like the mix tapes Charlie spends so much time constructing, a combination that somehow works together. It’s funny and poignant and romantic and tragic. Perks relays the magic of living in the present and the idea that just the right song at just the right moment can indeed make you feel “infinite.”

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In 1987, Goldman (already a prominent screenwriter) adapted his book for a movie version directed by Rob Reiner. The Princess Bride movie turns 25 this year — complete with cast reunion *sigh* and *swoon.* As much as I love that book, this is the rare case in which I think the movie version slightly surpasses the printed one. The love story, the LOL humor (so many quotable lines!), the warmth (especially between cute little Fred Savage and his “Columbo-who?” grandpa)…not to mention Cary Elwes’s twinkly eyes, Robin Wright’s flowing locks (and, as Westley notes, her “perfect breasts”), Mandy Patinkin’s fiery, heartbreaking rage, Christopher Guest’s menacing sneers, Chris Sarandon’s foppishness, Wallace Shawn’s nebbishiness, Andre the Giant’s gigantic heart, etc., etc., etc. “Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles…” — The Princess Bride movie has it all. (I must admit I had to look that quote up; in my prime, I could have recited it.)

What think you, Princess Bride fans? Book or movie? Making the choice is almost inconceivable!

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Yet somehow, these few pieces fail to add up to anything resembling the sum of their parts in the book. Instead of greed, the Once-ler is motivated by the wish to please his difficult mother. He is remorseful: he plants a seed and, in the final moments, actually hugs the Lorax apologetically and all is forgiven. Protagonist Ted and his gratuitous love interest, Audrey (perhaps the only real nod to Theodore Geisel, a.k.a. Dr. Seuss, and his wife Audrey), must protect the one remaining truffula seed through a series of slapstick-ish capers that borrow the idea from Wall-E, but with none of that film’s subtlety and power.

Even the music is grating. Simplistic and preachy songs with titles such as “Let It Grow” (complete with gospel, hand-clapping refrains) and “I Love Nature” (seriously?) bring the people of Thneed-ville together and even persuade the evil O’Hare, the movie’s new villain, of the seed’s worth. Side note: how is there even dirt to plant the seed? The entire town is made of plastic.

The Lorax film has taken Seuss’s message and “adapted” it beyond recognition to those of us who love the book. Of course, this isn’t news. But it would have been nice if it could have been executed a little, well, better. Will this diluted environmental message (and Ted’s desire to woo Audrey) be what today’s children will think of when they think of The Lorax?

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The film opens with the text of the Treaty of Treason, explaining the history of the Hunger Games. As fans of the trilogy know, the post-apocalyptic Panem was reformed from decimated North America as a powerful and wealthy Capitol ringed by thirteen districts. Approximately seventy-five years ago, the Capitol squashed a rebellion and destroyed District 13. In retribution for the rebellion, the Capitol now requires each district to send a boy and girl to fight to the death in its annual televised Hunger Games spectacular.

Sixteen-year-old protagonist Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) volunteers to compete in the Games when her younger sister Prim is selected. To her dismay, the male tribute is Peeta Mellark (Josh Hutcherson), a baker’s son to whom Katniss feels indebted. The pair is whisked away to the Capitol to be primped, interviewed, and trained. The thoughtfully designed Depression-era costuming and scenery of the impoverished districts contrasts starkly with the Capitol, almost alien with its garish colors, Lady Gaga-esque fashions, and ultra-high technology.

The Gamemakers’ highest priority is to put on a good show—usually meaning the bloodier, the better—and winning means manipulating the viewers as well as outlasting other tributes. Prickly, self-reliant Katniss is well prepared to survive in the arena, but she struggles to create a persona that will inspire sponsors to help her. In his pre-Games interview, however, Peeta is a showstopper: claiming he has a long-term crush on Katniss, he introduces the tantalizing idea of romance between tributes.

Once inside the outdoor arena, Katniss and Peeta get separated in an initial bloodbath at the supply-filled cornucopia. Shaky camera work during the first disorienting moments of the Games emphasizes Katniss’s panic (and tactfully obscures many of the early deaths). As Katniss gets away from the melee and deeper into the arena, sweeping shots of the forested landscape illustrate both the arena’s incredible size and how capable Katniss is there. Scenes of the Gamemakers and their technicians using a fascinating interactive digital/holographic gameboard to design and control the arena are interspersed with events (like a firestorm) they set in motion. The pride the Gamemakers clearly take in their work underscores their disconnection from (and cruelty toward) those they oppress in the Districts.

As the Games wear on, Katniss copes with injuries and burns, the highly trained “Career” tributes, Peeta’s apparent alliance with the Careers, hallucinogenic poison from “tracker jacker” wasp stings, and a brief, heartbreaking alliance with younger tribute Rue (Amandla Stenberg). With only a handful of tributes still alive, the Gamemakers announce that two tributes may win if they are from the same district. Katniss finds Peeta suffering from a badly infected wound and risks an obvious trap to obtain medicine, mindful that their relationship means survival for them both. Incredibly, Peeta and Katniss are the last two tributes standing—and then the Gamemakers revoke their new rule, insisting that only one tribute can be victor.

Jennifer Lawrence (Winter’s Bone, The Burning Plain) embodies heroine Katniss with grace and strength. While much hype has been made of the love triangle among Katniss, fellow tribute Peeta, and her best friend/hunting partner Gale, Lawrence’s most wrenching scenes are the ones in which Katniss interacts with (or even just speaks about) her sister Prim, her mother, or Rue. Lawrence admirably captures Katniss’s heady combination of determination to protect her family and rage at their circumstances, without dragging down the few lighter moments she’s allowed.

Josh Hutcherson is no stranger to children’s lit movie adaptations (Bridge to Terabithia, Zathura, Howl’s Moving Castle). As earnest, compassionate Peeta, Hutcherson is a bit too earnest, occasionally verging on cheesy—several of his more serious moments elicited giggles from our audience. Liam Hemsworth as stoic Gale is compelling (and more convincing), but as a District 12 character has few scenes and even fewer lines.

Woody Harrelson as Haymitch Abernathy, a hard-drinking previous District 12 winner who’s now forced to act as Katniss and Peeta’s mentor, strikes a perfect balance between infuriating and charming. Glimpses of Haymitch’s tireless behind-the-scenes work to keep the pair alive, soliciting donations of food, medicine, and weapons to send to Katniss and Peeta, hint at his affection for them as well as his own disturbing experiences in the Games.

The film is faithful to novel (not surprising, as author Suzanne Collins herself wrote the screenplay with Ross). The few changes to the plot mostly enhance the story by deepening relationships between characters. Rather than receiving her signature mockingjay pin from an acquaintance, Katniss gives it to Prim, claiming nothing can harm her as long as she wears it. After Katniss volunteers as tribute, Prim returns the pin to her as a token of protection during the Games. Rue has a more significant role than in the novel, highlighting her strengths as an ally: her intelligence, resourcefulness, and climbing prowess. Katniss finds the hope and comfort Rue offers even more valuable than Rue’s skills.

Several elements of the later books—such as President Snow’s anger at Katniss’s insubordination at the end of the Games, Gamemaker Seneca Crane’s fate, uprisings in the districts (specifically District 11)—are integrated into this first movie. While these details do not appear in the novel, their inclusion here subtly builds toward events to come in later films.

One disappointing difference from the novel: the love story between Peeta and Katniss is much more straightforward, losing much of its tension and complexity. Peeta’s motives are never really in question (for the audience, and even Katniss); Katniss’s own doubts about her relationship with Gale and the love-crazed role she has feigned in order to survive are downplayed.  Katniss never admits to Peeta that she’s unsure how much she truly feels for him. Simplifying their relationship flattens the range of both characters and their dynamic.

A few other notable dark aspects from the novel are missing as well, perhaps in order to meet requirements for a PG-13 rating or to streamline the plot. As in the novel, Avoxes (slaves whose tongues were cut out as punishment for treason) serve Katniss in the Capitol, but there is no explanation for their presence or their silence. The dog-like “muttations” which are the arena’s final challenge are definitely frightening, but there’s no indication that they are reanimated/genetically modified dead tributes as they are in the novel. Though he is bitten by one of these muttations at the film’s climax, Peeta does not lose his leg as a result. In fact, Peeta and Katniss both leave the arena relatively unscathed—physically, at least.

With The Hunger Games enjoying a record-breaking opening weekend and the second movie, Catching Fire, already in the works, this promises to be an overwhelmingly successful franchise for director Gary Ross and Lionsgate. This well-executed first film assures that the odds for excellent sequels are definitely in fans’ favor.

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Day is one of the totalitarian Republic’s most wanted criminals; June has a personal vendetta against him. When their paths cross by chance, June—unaware of Day’s true identity—is attracted to his good looks, charm, and courage. In trilogy opener Legend, Marie Lu crafts a dystopian world rife with inequality and rebellion, with personal dynamics complicated by romance and betrayal. 13 years and up. (Putnam)

In Mike Mullin‘s Ashfall, the end begins with an exploding supervolcano—followed by fire, power outages, and blanketing ash. Rains turn the ash to muck, over which protagonist Alex skis in search of his parents a hundred miles away. Carefully researched and vividly imagined, this intense tale offers adventure, a believable narrator, and a dystopia that could actually happen. 13 years and up. (Tanglewood)

Willo tires of stories of “the old time” before the snows; all he has ever known is the future ice-age world of  S.D. Crockett’s After the Snow. One day he returns home from trapping to find his family gone, stranding him alone in the frozen mountains. Willo’s distinctive voice and the carefully delineated dystopian world make this an absorbing first novel. 13 years and up. (Feiwel)

In Megan Crewe’s The Way We Fall, Kaelyn’s island community is hit with a mysterious virus. While her microbiologist father frantically works to diagnose the illness, Kaelyn takes on a leadership role, distributing information and food to her panicky neighbors. Crewe builds an ominous mood where a tickle in your throat signals approaching death. Kaelyn’s growth as she takes on adult responsibility is compelling, as is her tender romance with a former schoolmate. 11 years and up. (Hyperion)

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In anticipation, I’ve been perusing several pieces of fine literature, to wit: The Hunger Games: The Official Illustrated Movie Companion (Scholastic, February), Stars in the Arena: Meet the Hotties of The Hunger Games (Simon Pulse, February), and The Hunger Games Tribute Guide (Scholastic, February).

The Official Illustrated Movie Companion is fairly comprehensive, with bios, behind-the-scenes photos, and making-of trivia. We hear from author Suzanne Collins herself, the director, the producer, all the cast members, set designers, costume designers… it’s a big love-fest. There are also lots of huge, shiny pictures of prettiness. The takeaway: the people in the Capitol are going to be fun to look at. And keep an eye out for Wes Bentley’s beard. You’ll know it when you see it.

Speaking of things that are fun to look at, in Stars in the Arena: Meet the Hotties of The Hunger Games, we discover the answers to such questions as “Could Jennifer Lawrence survive in the wild like Katniss?”, “Is Josh Hutcherson as romantic as Peeta?”, and “Is Liam [Hemsworth] in love with Jen in real life?” …Wait, is he?

Sadly, they’re just friends, but I was totally whipped into a frenzy of fandom right there.

There’s obviously a conflation of the actors and their characters in all of these books, but it reaches a whole new level in the Tribute Guide, which begins with a sinister “Citizens of Panem, are you ready?” Now we’re the audience both in the real world and in the story? Not sure how I feel about that. The rest of the meta-exercise is essentially a program for viewers watching the book’s reality TV show, The Hunger Games.

Ooh, when are they going to make the TV show?

Yup, it’s definitely T-minus time.

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This edition keeps the original text intact, which I appreciated. Reading the story aloud at my desk, I relished each Seussian rhyme in stanzas scattered across the eight colorful spreads. Seuss’s tall Truffula Trees and the Once-ler’s factory are perfectly suited to appear as pop-ups; gatefold panels offer additional pop-ups, pull tabs, and special effects to bring the story to life. As with any pop-up book, if read enough times this one will show its age eventually, but the spreads are well chosen and Seuss’s text and illustrations are creatively placed. I only wish Random House would have used recycled paper—it would have been appropriate given the book’s message!

And here’s another Lorax-related treat: check out Stephen Colbert’s discussion of the plethora of movie tie-ins that have been popping up everywhere (and in unlikely places). Enjoy his tribute to Seuss’s rhymes at the end of the clip!

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Holes movie poster

An old friend of mine from Chicago and the director of films including The Fugitive and A Perfect Murder, Andy Davis made a movie hit from Louis Sachar’s popular and dauntingly honored Holes. Here we talk about how that came about.

ROGER SUTTON: What was it like to make a movie that was based on a children’s book? Because that was something new for you, wasn’t it, with Holes? How did you get hooked up with this project?

ANDREW DAVIS: Teresa Tucker-Davies was working in my company as a producer and head of development. She knew that I was interested in doing things other than action thrillers. And I had a big heart for the themes that were in that book. For example, I was involved in the civil rights movement and interested in how that was being taught to kids. I come from an Eastern European family, so the idea of having this family living together with a “curse” on them, I could relate to that! Having a kid who was basically living with a bunch of neurotic people, trying to make it in the world—that was a great story. And the book also dealt with how children are treated in the criminal justice system. So it had a lot of interesting themes, and it was beautifully written, and very visual and emotional. Anyway, after Teresa had brought it to my attention and I read it, we called Louis Sachar and introduced ourselves as the people who made The Fugitive and other movies, and told him we were interested in getting involved with Holes. At the time there were a couple other directors interested in Holes—the Coen brothers, I think, and Rob Reiner. I think the reason Louis chose us was that he thought I was going to keep it real. That I was going to give it a kind of honesty and integrity that the book had rather than trying to go out on a limb with it. So we made a deal with Mike Medavoy, who’s been instrumental in my career. He worked at United Artists, and Orion, and Tri Star as a studio head, and he had his own company, called Phoenix, at the time. I asked Mike to put up some money for the option. He agreed, and we started developing the script, with Louis. At some point I said, “You know, Louis, this is your story, and you should get credit for the script. And we will help you write the script. We’ll teach you how to become a screenwriter.” And we wound up doing that. There was an interim draft by some other writer who really screwed it up. I mean, he started doing his own movie, messing with the book too much. I said, “You’re out of your mind. Get out of here.”

RS: I don’t know if you ever read The Chocolate War, which was this famous teen novel by Robert Cormier, and it was about candy sales and a fundraiser in a parochial boys’ high school. And just how malevolent the whole thing got. Very Lord of the Flies.

AD: Right.

RS: And then someone wanted to do a movie of it, and a script came back to the author, and there were girls in a wet T-shirt contest.

AD: Would have made a lot of money. What was really great about our process was we worked on the script for a while and then I went off and made another movie and came back and we continued, and that’s when I said, “Okay, we’re going to sit down with Louis and we’re going to knock this thing out.” So Teresa and Louis and I literally sat together and put a card up on the wall for every idea and every scene and restructured things and put it together in a form that could work as a movie. Then Louis went and did a draft, and then we would do some editing and work with him on it. It was really Teresa who was responsible for turning me on to the book and then working closely with Louis and me in developing the script. The only thing I changed—the big thing I changed that wasn’t in the book—was I added the role of the grandpa.

When I was a kid, my great-grandmother lived with us for a short time before she died. So my sister, my grandmother, my great-grandmother, and I were in this tiny room, where you could literally jump from bed to bed and on the dressers without ever touching the floor, it was that small. And so I thought that would be a really interesting way—because the book is so much about the curse, and the continuation of generation after generation, and then the breaking of the curse—to have the grandpa actually there. You know, “It was all because of his no-good-dirty-rotten-pig-stealing great-great-grand-father!” And so my father, Nathan Davis, got a role in the movie. Henry Winkler and Shia LaBeouf and Siobhan Fallon, who played the mother, all loved him. He really worked out well. Louis liked the addition of the grandpa a lot, too. But basically whenever there was an issue, if anybody had questions about whether we should do something, or there was a money question, I just said, “Hey, we’re making this book. This is a beloved book.” And that was a big challenge, because people were very pessimistic that it could be adapted properly.

The cast and crew of Holes. Photo courtesy of Andrew Davis.

RS: When you told me you were going to make a movie of Holes, I thought, “Wow, it’s a great book, and I think Andy’s a great director, but so much of the book’s success has to do with the structure of the storytelling, which is very much on the page.” Like the fact that we don’t know that the warden is a woman for a long, long time when we’re reading the book.

AD: That’s true. But I did a little bit of it, because in the film the characters talk a lot about the warden before she appears, and her big reveal was showing her boots, and panning the camera up her legs, and you go, “Oh my god, it’s a woman.”

What I was concerned about was capturing some of the book’s intangibles. For instance there’s a lot of the interior voice of Stanley. Or Louis talking about how Stanley is feeling. That’s a very large emotional part of the book. I had to convey it somehow. The movie starts with a bit of a narrative, a bit of a voiceover, and ends with a bit of a voiceover. I tend to like voiceover because it allows you to hear one thing and see and feel another. But we didn’t do it the whole time. I think keeping really involved in the ingredients and the textures of the book and trying to continually put them on the screen was what allowed it to work.

RS: Well, you couldn’t have a voiceover running for the whole movie, because people will just think, “Why didn’t I stay home and read the book?”

AD: Yeah. So that was the big thing, trying to figure out how to keep the book as intact as possible, and retain its texture, and at the same time find a way for the emotional feelings and the dynamics between the kids to come alive on screen.

RS: You got in some trouble because your Stanley wasn’t fat, I remember.

AD: We did look at some kids who fit that description, and I just felt that Shia was the right kid because of his acting ability. And he wasn’t a pretty boy, per se, and he did seem to fit with that family of Henry Winkler and my father and Siobhan Fallon.

RS: Did you have any sense as you were making this, working on a family movie or a children’s movie, that the rules might be different from those of an action movie or a thriller?

AD: Well, I knew that I wanted grandparents to be able to bring their grandchildren to see it. The book itself did not have any content that was going to cause a rating to be changed, like an R or anything like that. But there were tonal things, you know. It is scary. The warden talks about killing these kids. She says, “Maybe we should just shoot ’em.” So it’s not a light movie. And the lynching of Onion Sam was very delicate to do, how we were going to handle that, and the whole issue of race. But kids are used to tough stuff. What I mean by that is even the old fairy tales will scare the hell out of you, you know. The moralistic German fairy tales.

Roger Sutton and Andy Davis. Photo: Richard Asch

RS: Sure.

AD: But I just wanted to find that balance between keeping it exciting and real, and at the same time making it a magical journey. Because there is a lot of magic in the story; magic is really critical to the undoing of the curse. It was all in the book, and I simply had to find a way to keep it both edgy and interesting. And what’s lovely is adults like this movie as much as kids do.

RS: All of you in the movie business certainly seem to like trying our part of the planet, children’s books. Why do you think it’s so big now, raiding children’s books to make movies?

AD: I think, first of all, when you make a family movie, or especially a children’s movie, you’ve got something that’s a known entity. Branding is really hard. I’ve got another project that’s based on Don Quixote, which I’m calling Tom Quixote, but families are going to feel comfortable that it’s based on a classic. They’re not going to be worried; it’s got some legitimacy. If you want a movie to travel around the world and have some life beyond its own first release, then you need to be able to do something that people can relate to for a long time.

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