BOOK VS MOVIE: Housekeeping

As one goes through life, very rarely is it in their favor. Close connections crumble, hopes and dreams don't come to fruition, and happiness and disappointment often go hand in hand. That all being said, that doesn't generally mean life is boring and predictable.

If anything, life is what you make of it. And the people you encounter are the ones who help shape it (for better or for worse). Be it family and friends or complete strangers, how they interact with you and make you see the world around you leave a lasting impact, good or bad. But this always depends on the person in question.

Marilynne Robinson's Housekeeping follows such a scenario. Under the care of their eccentric aunt, two girls grow up differently in a remote town. Robinson weaves a tale of loneliness amid family ties, how your own blood can be a complete stranger. But she also shows how one has a hunger for individuality, that drive for independence. (Everybody wants to be somebody.)

Bill Forsyth's adaptation follows Robinson's novel practically to the letter. (Forsyth said he made the film to get people to read the book.) Similar to his earlier film Local Hero, Forsyth depicts a lingering pathos within its frames. Even something so open can feel so lonely.

So which is worth checking out? Robinson has a poetry in her words while Forsyth sings with his images. Both tell the story in their own way but very similarly as well. It's a simple tale, yes, but they convey it beautifully.

What's worth checking out?: Both.

BOOK VS MOVIE: Frankie and Johnny in the Clair de Lune/Frankie and Johnny

Relationships are a fickle thing. Sometimes they're like a symphony but other times they're like nails on a chalkboard. It really depends on the people involved but more than anything, communication is crucial in these situations.

But what of those where one's ready for this but the other isn't? This isn't an uncommon situation for one to face but again, it's something that can be helped with communication. Even then, however, it can be an uphill battle for one or both parties.

Terrence McNally's Frankie and Johnny in the Claire de Lune has this with short-order cook Johnny and waitress Frankie, who have just gone to bed together after knowing each other for six weeks. He wants to commit to something more, she's reluctant to do so. Through stream of consciousness conversation, they try to find a commonality between them.

Fleshing out the story (and shortening the title), Garry Marshall's Frankie and Johnny explores more of the lonely state of humanity. With McNally serving as the film's screenwriter, he adds dimensional supporting characters and has New York City playing a bigger role than in his original play. And though there's a noticeable age difference between them, Michelle Pfeiffer and Al Pacino have great chemistry together.

So which is better: McNally's play or Marshall's film? Both have their own charms, a lot of them owing to McNally at the typewriter. But Marshall adds a little something extra to the story. (It's a shame we lost both Marshall and McNally in recent memory but their works live on.)

What's worth checking out?: Both.

BOOK VS MOVIE: A Simple Plan

The bag of money. The one plot device that is a surefire way to create conflict. Be it a comedy figuring out how to spend it all or a thriller where greed runs through its blood, it's been around as long as fiction itself. If used properly, it can provide a good story.

Such is the case with A Simple Plan. After finding a duffel bag full of money in a plane wreckage, two brothers and their friend find themselves at odds at what to do with it and how to keep it a secret from others. But almost immediately, problems arise...and bodies start to drop.

Scott Smith's novel starts off as a slow burn with this premise but ends as a raging inferno. Told from the perspective of one of the brothers, Smith maintains a very matter-of-fact nature to telling the events as they unfold. It's this detail that makes the story all the more chilling.

With Smith serving as its screenwriter, Sam Raimi's adaptation is actually less dark than its source. Despite that and a few tweaks, it's still a solid story to be told. (Not only that but it'll make you miss Bill Paxton's presence and wonder what Bridget Fonda has been up to.)

So which is better: Smith's book or Raimi's movie? Both grasp the darkness that lurks within humanity only the truly lost will embrace. But of the two works, Raimi's moves at an almost frantic pace in comparison to Smith's. Still, the choice is clear in the long run.

What's worth checking out?: Both.

BOOK VS MOVIE: Black Klansman/BlacKkKlansman

In this current political climate, it's hard trying to immerse one's self in something besides the news. On the one hand, staying informed of what's happening in the world is important. But on the other hand, so much information can be taxing on anyone and a break is appreciated as well as recommended.

Sometimes reading or watching works pertaining to current events can help. One could draw parallels to how the events in work compare to real life, especially if said work is from or set at least half a century ago. You can see either how things have changed or seldom shifted at all. Either way, the result can be interesting to uncover.

Ron Stallworth's memoir Black Klansman in particular chronicles his days at the Colorado Springs Police Department as the first Black detective on its force. Several years into his tenure, he does something that raises more than a few eyebrows: he joins the Ku Klux Klan (to infiltrate it with a white officer as his cover). And Stallworth remains very matter-of-fact in his writing, seeing no need to embellish what happened. That said, he's rightly pissed off when faced with racism.

If Stallworth shied away from mentioning racism he might've faced on a day-to-day basis, then Spike Lee sure as hell tackles it head-on. Tweaking several details from the memoir, Lee's adaptation shows how Black people are still dealing with this bullshit decades later. He also shows that this current wave of social justice isn't a new occurrence; this has been happening for years.

So which is better: Stallworth's memoir or Lee's film? Both have their own strengths though they seem firm in their belief that law enforcement is who to rely on for change in society. If the past few weeks have proven anything, it's that the mass population has a much louder voice than those with authority. After all, to quote Rosa Parks, it is better to protest than to accept injustice.

What's worth checking out?: The movie.

BOOK VS MOVIE: Wildlife

What causes some people to behave in certain situations? Is it the result of bottled up emotions? Or is it from combined stressors happening in that very moment? It varies from person to person but there's no denying that everyone has a breaking point.

Wildlife displays this a few times throughout its story. Following Joe Brinson after his move to Montana with his parents Jerry and Jeanette, it depicts how small moments in this nondescript home life can lead to something volatile. (Generally speaking, the happy marriage is not a regularly deployed concept in fiction.)

"In the fall of 1960, when I was sixteen and my father was for a time not working, my mother met a man named Warren Miller and fell in love with him." So begins Richard Ford's novel. Told from Joe's perspective, it shows how not so innocent the era was and how his new home is being torn apart.

Making his directing debut adapting Ford's novel, Paul Dano (along with co-writer Zoe Kazan) depicts a bygone time of changing mores. With the aid of Carey Mulligan, Jake Gyllenhaal, Ed Oxenbould and Bill Camp, what's captured are microexpressions that Ford couldn't chronicle with only words. And Dano in turn -- having worked with a number of prolific directors over the years -- shows promise behind the camera just as well as he does in front of it.

So which is better: Ford's book or Dano's movie? Both emphasize the story's strengths and flaws but both have something that fiction seldom has on its audiences: the ability to leave its impact slowly sink in after completing it. (Not something you see regularly, that's for sure.)

What's worth checking out?: Both.

BOOK VS MOVIE: On Chesil Beach

What are the extents of one's love? What limits does someone have towards their significant other? Every love is different mich in the same way that every person is different. and don't expect societal views to help in any way.

On Chesil Beach follows that particular element to a T as it follows Edward and Florence on their honeymoon. Certainly, they have the typical newlywed jitters but with many things left unsaid, is this a union fated to end before it even begins?

"They were young, educated, and both virgins on this, their wedding night, and they lived in a time when a conversation about sexual difficulties was plainly impossible." So opens Ian McEwan's novel before exploring how Edward and Florence ended up in that hotel room. Neither halves led ideal upbringings but how much of that affected their later lives?

Dominic Cooke's adaptation stays generally true to McEwan's original story (certainly helped with McEwan himself writing the screenplay). Starring Saoirse Ronan (no stranger to McEwan's work) and Billy Howle, it doesn't quite capture the nuances of the novel but Cooke's theater background adds a particular flair to his feature film debut.

So which is better: McEwan's book or Cooke's movie? While both follow the same story, their approaches to the conclusion differ. (The film ends on a somewhat happier note than the novel.) But while how they conclude aren't generally the same, they capture to devastating effect how the era Edward and Florence are a part of isn't as liberating as they once thought.

What's worth checking out?: The book.

BOOK VS MOVIE: Disobedience

There's always something so tantalizing about the forbidden romance, the story of the star-crossed lovers. We root for them to see if in fact that love can conquer all. Very seldom do they receive the happiness they ache for in the end (same-sex couples are the more glaring examples) but the few that do get exactly what (and who) they want.

Disobedience is a more recent example of this oft-told tale. After receiving news that her father -- a well-respected rabbi in London -- has died, Ronit returns to the home she left behind years before. But as she reacquaints herself to the Orthodox Jewish community she was raised in, she discovers that her former lover Esti has married Ronit's cousin Dovid. Is the past truly in the past for both women or will sparks be re-ignited?

Naomi Alderman's novel focuses greatly on the workings of Judaism, each chapter opening with an examination of particular beliefs within the religion (that also happen to summarize their respective sections). Switching between perspectives (and fonts) from the third person and Ronit, we see how complex the society is to its devotees.

Sebastián Lelio's adaptation eschews most of the novel's focus on grief and faith in favor of Ronit and Esti's relationship. (There is way more sexual tension here than what Alderman originally wrote.) Rachel Weisz and Rachel McAdams have strong chemistry (it'd be unfortunate if they didn't) but the shift in the story's central themes feels outputting at times.

So which is better: Alderman's book or Leilo's movie? Both have different characterizations for both plotline and leads. (How Dovid is portrayed, for instance, differs between the works.) Still, they both make one thing certain: one's feelings may not change after many years have passed.

What's worth checking out?: The book.

BOOK VS MOVIE: Lean on Pete

Many times in fiction we often see adolescents dealing with the brunt of everyday life beyond high school and puberty. Sometimes they lose a close family member, often by unnatural means. Other times their responsibilities in life increase greatly. But what differs from these depictions is how the teens handle their new situations.

With Lean on Pete, it follows Charley Thompson after his supposedly comfortable home life slips through his fingers. He decides to find his aunt but there's one problem: he's in Oregon, she lives in Wyoming (at least that's where he remember where she lives), and he has no means of getting there. With the titular ailing racehorse as his companion, he ventures out to find a place he can call home.

Willy Vlautin's novel is simplistic in its writing (it's told from Charley's point of view) but its storytelling speaks volumes in the narrative. In a style reminiscent of John Steinbeck's work, the matter-of-fact perspective from Charley shows innocence becoming aware of the hardscrabble nature of everyday life. (No one ever said life itself would be forgiving.)

Andrew Haigh's adaptation condenses Vlautin's novel to a certain degree but otherwise stays true to the source material. As his earlier films Weekend and 45 Years showed, he prefers depicting the small things that happen in one's day and Lean on Pete is no exception. And like his previous entries, Haigh shows how the little things can lead to something big.

So which is better: Vlautin's book or Haigh's movie? Both capture the modesty of everyday life, how one's usual routine can be a change of pace for another. And they also depict something else, something most fiction rarely chronicles and often eschews: the world we're a part of is both fascinating and frightening.

What's worth checking out?: Both.

BOOK VS MOVIE: You Were Never Really Here

There's a real ugliness to humanity, no question about it. Some people are more than willing to throw others under the bus for their own selfish needs. But how far will these figures go as they slip further into immoral depravity?

When fiction depicts such corruption, more often than not police officers and politicians are the ones put under the microscope. But that's not to say the average person is immune from such a sensation, far from it. What seems to be the case is that the allure of money and power is too strong for them to resist, falling prey to that for control soon after. (Maybe John Dalberg-Acton was onto something...)

Jonathan Ames' You Were Never Really Here depicts a man trying to hide from such a dehumanizing society, both figuratively and literally. Having endured numerous traumas in his life, Joe now serves as a hired gun tasked with saving girls forced into sex work. But with his latest assignment, he delves into a world darker than his own demons.

Lynne Ramsay's adaptation tweaks the details of Ames' novella considerably but that in itself provides a new perspective. Joaquin Phoenix is great (as he so often is) but special mention goes to the sound mixing and Jonny Greenwood's score. That combination captures the damaged frame of mind Joe deals with every waking moment. (Hopefully awards voters will remember them by year's end.)

So which is better: Ames' take on the story or Ramsay's? The author maintains a more visceral perspective for You Were Never Really Here while the director focuses more on Joe's fractured mental state. They obviously take different approaches to the same story but that's not generally a bad thing. If anything, it shows there are two sides to every story.

What's worth checking out?: Both.

BOOK VS MOVIE: Call Me By Your Name

Romance and coming-of-age often go hand in hand, the reason being the simplest one: first love is incredibly potent. The exhilaration of feeling such a way for someone can be all-consuming, the desire of wanting the outside world to fade away as they're with their beloved. But no one ever stated that such a sensation would last.

But back to the topic at hand, usually these stories have a particular slant to them. Many times it's so younger audiences have something to relate to (though with movies, their ratings often omit such audiences from seeing them upon release). And sometimes such tales don't capture that euphoria of infatuation.

André Aciman's Call Me By Your Name especially expresses that hazy awareness. Set during a summer in Italy, its stream of consciousness narrative is told through the eyes of a professor's son as he becomes taken by one of his father's students. But will such feelings be reciprocated and if so, for how long?

With a script penned by James Ivory (whose film Maurice would make for a good companion piece), Luca Guadagnino's adaptation is as much of a dreamy sigh as what Aciman wrote. Bearing in mind the director's previous films, its lush elements are woven into a story that's as rich as it is sensual. The way body language is conveyed throughout is something most romances can only dream of achieving. (And oh, that final shot.)

So which is better: Aciman's novel or Guadagnino's film? Both depict the ache that comes from that sense of longing, that knowledge that you know what you want from your limited time on this earth. But as life itself proves time and time again, there's bound to be heartbreak amid those moments of happiness. (But it's always best to focus on the latter in times of trouble.)

What's worth checking out?: Both.

BOOK VS MOVIE: The Leisure Seeker

Growing old is very seldom something one looks forward to. (As Roger Daltrey sang, "I hope I die before I get old.") The sense of independence starts to tapers off as their mental and physical facilities begin to falter. (Think of it as the aging process in reverse.)

Some try to make the most of what little time they have left by doing what they haven't had the chance to do before, more often than not due to family and/or financial matters. (Many times it can be something daring like bungee jumping or traveling.) It's once they've the means that they pursue them.

Michael Zadoorian's The Leisure Seeker follows such a story. With both of them feeling the effects of their age (he with Alzheimer's, she with cancer), John and Ella Robina go on a road trip in their titular RV for perhaps one last vacation. But what will stop them first: their concerned children, their shared deteriorating health or Ella's lack of patience?

Paolo Virzi's adaptation alters a number of the details from Zadoorian's novel but still maintains the general gist of the story. In the lead roles are Donald Sutherland and Helen Mirren, both of whom have a charming chemistry together. However, it doesn't have that particular appeal the book had.

So which is better: Zadoorian's novel or Virzi's film? Both capture how the rebellious spirit has no age limit but Virzi makes the scenario more comedic in spots (though not always for the better). Either way, it's nice to have senior citizens depicted as more than doting grandparents. (It's a tiring thing to see after a while.)

What's worth checking out?: The book.

BOOK VS MOVIE: Film Stars Don't Die in Liverpool

The private lives of public figures is something we find deeply engrossing. What are they like far away from the flashes of cameras? Are the smiles they wear for their audiences simply for show? Only those close to them know the real answer.

Which is why there's such an interest in memoirs and biographies. Through those we get the details that the media tend to speculate before they're confirmed or denied. But sometimes such accounts become more captivating when they're from someone close to the famous personality.

Peter Turner's Film Stars Don't Die in Liverpool chronicles the final days of his former lover Gloria Grahame as she takes refuge in his family's home. Switching between (then-)present day and various points of their relationship, Turner depicts Grahame as a woman who was very much like the roles she often played: a no-nonsense kind of girl with a soft side.

A few tweaked details aside, Paul McGuigan's adaptation stays mostly true to Turner's memories of Grahame. (It shines more of a light on the cancer that would ultimately claim the actress' life.) Jaime Bell and Annette Bening (as Turner and Grahame, respectively) have strong chemistry. and the film has moments that are reminiscent of the Hollywood era when Grahame's fame was at its peak. That said, the latter doesn't always work.

So which is better: Turner's memoir or McGuigan's film? Both depict Grahame as more than just an Oscar-winning movie star and how pugnacious of a person she could be. (The last bit isn't generally a bad thing, mind you.) And the two works make one thing very clear: a famous person is still a person, far from immune to the usual failings found in the human race. (We're just prone to putting them on a pedestal.)

What's worth checking out?: The book.

BOOK VS MOVIE: A Thousand Clowns

Family is often a subject matter explored in fiction. Whether it's the estrangement of its members or the reunion of them, it's something everyone experiences at some point in their lifetime. And its material can vary from work to work.

More often than not said material focuses on the men of the family. Many times it's because of the stigma towards the dominant sex showing their emotions. (Granted, the writers of those stories are often male themselves.) Sometimes it's from circumstances both seen and unseen, other things being more complicated.

Herb Gardner's A Thousand Clowns follows unemployed writer Murray Burns as he faces the possibility of losing custody of his nephew Nick. Murray's more than content with his current situation but everyone's insisting that he should find another job. And boy, he doles out some real zingers courtesy of Gardner and his typewriter. ("Oh God, I've been attacked by the Ladies' Home Journal.")

Recruiting many of the people associated with the original Broadway production (including the director), Fred Coe's adaptation expands on Gardner's three-act play and explores more of Murray's self-contained world. Coe uses New York City as Murray's personal playground, his escape from acting his own age. But man, does that come back to bite him on the ass time and time again.

So which is better: Gardner's play or Coe's film? Both maintain a dry wit to them, something you don't normally find in the average script nowadays. (Why aren't more theatrical works like this?) And it's interesting because plays don't always translate very well on a cinematic scale.

What's worth checking out?: Both.

BOOK VS MOVIE: The Beguiled

"Something wicked this way comes," proclaims one of the witches in William Shakespeare's Macbeth. And many times in the centuries since the play's first performance, that line resonates with other works. Whether it's with a lone character or the whole premise, we as an audience are fascinated by the dark recesses of our species.

More often than not, such depictions involve the supposed fair sex. Society has expected women to be reserved and composed, not letting one fraction of what they're really feeling to be shown on their face. But when that veneer of civility starts to wear away, that inner ugliness makes its presence known in the harshest ways.

Set during the Civil War, Thomas Cullinan's The Beguiled follows the remaining residents of a Southern boarding school as their usual routines change. As a wounded Union soldier takes refuge within their walls, their reactions are chronicled through the changing perspectives. But how long until the fibers of Southern hospitality begin to fray?

Compressing Cullinan's novel into a film eking past a ninety-minute runtime, Sofia Coppola's adaptation omits a few characters and amps up the sexual tension. (Having Colin Farrell as the lone male of the story makes the latter easy.) That said, however, does that excuse having a story set in the South during the Civil War feature no characters of color? Of course not.

So which is better: Cullinan's novel or Coppola's film? Cullinan is more descriptive in the mindsets of the women whereas Coppola explores their behavior under stress. Both are lurid stories featuring a battle of the sexes amid a far bloodier war. One, however, captures it all much though both have their merits.

What's worth checking out?: The book.

BOOK VS MOVIE: My Cousin Rachel

Daphne du Maurier may not be a familiar name to most people but mention some of of her works and then they'll recognize her (more so if they've seen the adaptations of them). Rebecca, Jamaica Inn, The Birds, Don't Look Now...if you want to find thrills from a female author, du Maurier is your best bet.

But even then, her works have the tendency to be classified as romantic works. (Perhaps in a similar vein to the Brontës' novels?) The Gothic element there's no denying, and there is passion amid the suspense. However, don't expect it to follow the usual conventions.

Her novel My Cousin Rachel in particular is an example. Following him in the aftermath of his guardian Ambrose's sudden death, Philip Ashley grows deeply suspicious of his widow Rachel. But once he meets and gets to know her, Philip's doubts about Rachel's character morphs into infatuation.

Roger Michell's adaptation maintains a more ambiguous tone than du Maurier's novel or Henry Koster's telling of the tale from 1952. Is there merit to Philip's suspicions or is something else unfolding before his eyes? In the lead roles are Rachel Weisz and Sam Claflin, both of whom have had eclectic careers over the last few years. (And boy, Claflin certainly has the jawline for the male lead in a Victorian thriller.)

So which is better: du Maurier's novel or Michell's film? Both provide a feminist slant towards Victorian customs, showing a certain hypocrisy of the times. Though one actually manages to maintain a better sense of paranoia while the other showcases more of the story's opulent details. (Then again, it varies within both of them.)

What's worth checking out?: The book.

BOOK VS MOVIE: Their Finest Hour and a Half/Their Finest

There have been countless pieces of fiction set during wartime. Sometimes it's the creators recalling their own experiences, other times the setting's merely for the sake of adding drama. But what of those stories that don't take place on the battlefront?

Nine times out of ten, tales about life on the home front will feature women waiting anxiously for the men in their lives (be it family, friends or lovers) to return home alive and in one piece. Obviously some of those were written by men with a faint grasp on how the fair sex thinks and behaves; more often than not, there were women who wanted to contribute to the war effort any way they could.

Lissa Evans' Their Finest Hour and a Half focuses on a woman doing just that. Catrin Cole goes from working at an advertising agency to co-writing a movie based on real life (albeit loosely) to boost the country's morale. As the novel follows Catrin and other people associated with the film, Evans paints a portrait of a looming war and how it affects those living in that time.

Condensing the plot (and title) to something more manageable, Lone Scherfig's Their Finest resurrects a bygone era, something the director had done previously with An Education. Featuring an embarrassment of riches amongst the cast, it depicts how the passing of time affects some people and benefits others. (Though it does get a bit sentimental towards the end.)

So which is better: Evans' novel or Scherfig's film? While it's refreshing to see women beyond their expected domestic roles, was the romantic subplot that necessary? (It feels like it was put in to attract a bigger audience.) Because honestly, that's just another blatant way of saying someone's life isn't complete without a significant other. That said, it's nice to have a story set during a war that doesn't have women worrying for their men overseas as their sole purpose.

What's worth checking out?: Both.

BOOK VS MOVIE: The Lost City of Z

The thrill of adventure. We've read numerous books and watched countless movies over the years that capitalize such a feeling. And some of those fictional adventures were inspired by real-life ones.

Take for instance Percy Fawcett, During the 19th century and the first quarter of the 20th century, he had a burning desire to discover new lands and the treasures they contain, But such an expedition he led into the Amazon in 1925 resulted in Fawcett and his companions -- his son Jack and Jack's friend Raleigh Rimell -- disappearing from the face of the earth, never to be seen or heard from again. What has the Amazon been hiding for over ninety years?

David Grann's novel The Lost City of Z chronicles both Fawcett's feats of exploring and his own attempt to uncover what happened to the famed adventurer. (Grann was far from the only person to undertake such an endeavor; he's just one of the few to come back from it.) And he also writes about the obsession that followed Fawcett throughout both his life and in the decades following his disappearance.

Altering a few details aside (omitting Rimell from the narrative entirely, for instance), James Gray's adaptation follows what happened during Fawcett's many expeditions truthfully. But what Gray shows with his film is more than just a standard biopic or adventure flick; instead, it's a portrait on the depths of Fawcett's being. (And can someone cast Charlie Hunnam in more roles like this?)

So what's better: Grann's novel or Gray's film? Both works show the highs and lows of Fawcett's excursions, how his constant traveling began to affect his home life. But they also show that he was very much a human being, warts and all. (Not a very common aspect on stories about real people.)

What's worth checking out?: Both.

BOOK VS MOVIE: The Zookeeper's Wife

There's no way in denying the lengths a society will go to keep their world "pure". The most egregious example from history is the Holocaust. Millions of innocent lives either destroyed or cut short, all for the appalling sake of ethnic cleansing. But even amid those atrocities, there were those who weren't going to let defenseless people suffer.

The most famous of these saviors amid slaughter was Oskar Schindler but there are those who, outside their native countries, aren't as prominent. Take for instance Jan and Antonia Żabiński. After their native Poland was invaded by German forces -- the catalyst for World War II -- they used their home and bombed-out zoo to help those escape from Nazi persecution. As a result, they saved nearly 300 people from certain death.

Diane Ackerman's novel The Zookeeper's Wife chronicles the Żabińskis lived their lives as the German army occupied Warsaw. In their many ways to conceal those in hiding, they had to be discreet about the extra people within their home while at the same time fighting and aiding the enemy. (They had to stay on their toes for a long time.)

As well as using Antonia's diaries for further details, Niki Caro's adaptation follows Ackerman's novel to the letter. That said, there are a few details clearly fabricated for the film. (The most glaring one are the scenes of supposed intimacy between Daniel Brühl -- who should probably invest in a different agent -- and Jessica Chastain.) Still, Caro tightens the reins on those as well.

Does Ackerman's account of the Żabińskis' heroics reign supreme or does Caro's claim the title? Both shines a light on names forgotten by history as well as the hypocrisy of the Nazi Party's actions. However, one of them doesn't get overly softhearted for the sake of reaching a wider audience.

What's worth checking out?: The book.

BOOK VS MOVIE: Silence

What causes one's personal beliefs to change? Most times it's because their way of thinking changes, be it through maturity or the presentation of new information. But sometimes it could be something as possibly insignificant as where they're situated.

Set in 17th century Japan, Silence chronicles those of the Christian faith in a time where the religion was banned throughout the country. It's a dangerous passion for those who hold the Bible near and dear to their heart. And those caught embracing it face cruel punishment.

Shūsaku Endō's novel is told through changing perspectives but its grasp on the concept of belief doesn't let go for a second. Even when it's questioned, the devotion outweighs the doubt immensely. Endō shows with his words how when under complete duress, one's opinions can shift for the sake of saving their life.

And who else than Martin Scorsese to adapt a novel about religion? There's something about the combination of Endō's words and Scorsese's vision that makes for a stunning result. (Rodrigo Pietro's cinematography adds to this combination.) Though why white actors were cast as the three Portuguese leads just shows how skewed Hollywood's priorities continue to be (though Andrew Garfield, Adam Driver and Liam Neeson were good).

So what's better: Endō's novel or Scorsese's film? Both depict how religion has always been a controversial subject throughout history but the film -- perhaps because Scorsese's at the helm -- shows how it can be the center of one's life. Still, both creators tell a story of personal conflict amid dangerous times.

What's worth checking out?: The book.

BOOK VS MOVIE: Fingersmith/The Handmaiden

There's always something dark lurking beneath composed demeanors. A warm smile can mask a cruel heart, Pure evil could be hiding behind the face of someone you trust.

It's worth mentioning that it's usually men that are cast in such a light. But who's to say those of the fairer sex have souls as pure as fresh-fallen snow? As we've seen with the likes of Gone Girl, they aren't all sugar, spice and everything nice. To quote Jane Austen's Persuasion, we none of us expect to be in smooth waters all our days.

Sarah Waters' Fingersmith follows such a woman, a petty thief coerced into becoming the maid for a wealthy heiress. What at first appears as a scheme to make off with the heiress' fortune slowly evolves into something much more deceptive in nature. (And if you're familiar with Waters' other work, you know what one thing will be expected.)

Updating the setting from Victorian Britain to 1930s Korea, Park Chan-wook's The Handmaiden stays mostly true to Waters' novel. But how Park depicts the women's bond makes it clear that a straight man is at the helm. (Haven't we learned anything from the behind the scenes drama of Blue is the Warmest Color?)

It's clear that Waters and Park have different perspectives for the same story (Waters more diabolical, Park more sensual) but which of the two works is better overall? Both are sympathetic towards the women's connection (especially considering the time periods they're set in) but only more so with just one, which is the victor of the two.

What's worth checking out?: The book.