Page To Screen #1: The Outsiders, OITNB and Carrie

It wasn't on purpose that the last three books I've read have been adapted to film or television - it just worked out that way, but from this coincidence was born an idea for a new blog column. Introducing: Page To Screen, in which I discuss the sometimes subtle, sometimes not-so-subtle differences between book and film. This week, I am discussing S.E. Hinton's The Outsiders and the Francis Ford Coppola adaptation; also, Netflix's revamping of Piper Kerman's 2010 memoir Orange Is The New Black and I'll also be touching on the first film version of Stephen King's Carrie, the 1976 one starring Sissy Spacek.

...(SOME SPOILERS BELOW; CONTINUE AT YOUR OWN RISK)...When S.E. Hinton wrote her debut novel The Outsiders, she was a mere 16 years old. And also, a girl. Nonetheless, she managed to create believable, relatable male characters who are solid, three-dimensional figures.

There is the introspective Ponyboy and the innocent Johnny, who just wants to be strong, but also wants to be cared for. There is the delinquent with a heart of gold, Dallas. And, of course, there is the pretty, preppy Cherry, over who the main conflict of the book sort of gets its start.

On the one hand, you have the book -- a sweet, heartbreaking read about a bunch of boys who really are better than where they came from. The movie version, on the other hand, is lacking in a lot of the impact the book has. I think part of my issue with the film is that it's missing any sufficient evidence of the intense emotion that Ponyboy, his brothers and their friends express in the book. Perhaps it's the problem that I often have with movies based on books in which a character - in this case, Ponyboy - lives mostly in his head. But I also think that the best directing of adaptations like this would allow for more depth to the characters - long moments where expressions play on the actors' faces so that we know what they're thinking, etc. I think the problem with this film is that it glosses over the things that added depth to the characters in the book. The audience briefly sees the attributes of each relationship but there isn't a lot of context, nothing is very layered, and it basically made me feel like, had I not read the book, I would have missed a lot.

Between the Netflix original series of OITNB and the novel it sprang from, there are A LOT of differences. This is one of those rare cases for me where I found the adaptation far more compelling than the memoir. Part of the problem is, I'll admit, because I kind of hated Piper Kerman (whereas I actually really liked her on-screen alter ego, Piper Chapman, even if she was occasionally still naive and bratty).

The book is...interesting. However, the show actually added much more depth to the characters, where the novel is really all about Kerman. Which is sort of disappointing, because I found her to be completely grating. Perhaps it's just the way she writes, but she goes back and forth between being really judgmental of her fellow inmates and trying to defend her judgments, sometimes claiming she doesn't feel that way anymore just before jumping back to saying something else that is further riddled with judgment. In the book, despite her white girl privilege and the fact that she's clearly not someone who has ever done time before, the other inmates welcome her with open arms and are actually much nicer to her than they are in the series. Her relationships with the people back home - her fiance, Larry, for instance - aren't piled with nearly as much drama; there is no organic bath products business with her close friend that she's trying to keep afloat from the inside. But these are small differences; it's the fleshing out of so many of the book's minor characters (and almost all of them are minor in comparison to Kerman herself, which is another reason that I find the memoir so irksome) that is the biggest difference. Pennsatucky, for example, is not nearly as much of a nutcase Jesus freak in the book, and she and Piper are actually friends. Kerman's former lesbian lover does not spend major time in prison with her, though they do meet again later in the book. There are no residual romantic feelings there, however. Too bad. There are, in fact, no sexual scenarios, no major abuses, and much less dangerously sticky situations in Kerman's memoir than in the show. The book ends with what seems like your basic, cliché, Larry & Piper living happily-ever-after finale, and we have little idea what happens to anyone, Kerman included, after her release.

Finally, I haven't finished re-watching Carrie, but I was surprised by how much I liked the book. I'm not actually someone who has read a lot of Stephen King, though what I have read has been excellent. He wrote one of my top 5 writerly advice books of all time, On Writing and I was just telling a co-worker recently how he's one of those authors I think it would be really cool to meet and be friends with. King just seems like a cool guy; I used to read his entertainment articles and, like me, he seems to enjoy movies and music almost as much as he loves books and writing.

But what I really want to do is watch all three adaptations of Carrie before I write a comparison. I already know that the 1976 film is likely the best and for me, Sissy Spacek IS Carrie. But there are things from the book that I know weren't included in the film, and I'd like to see how the other versions treated those things. So expect that write-up in the coming month.

Meanwhile, stay tuned for the next installment of Turn To You, a week from Thursday!

[[Turn To You: A Novella]] -- PART EIGHT

Todd decided to skip school the next morning, so there was no one around to keep me awake in my first couple of classes. In Spanish, we were learning a string of new words and I could barely pay attention to repeat them after Mrs. Santiago. By the time the last bell rang, I hurriedly grabbed my books from the locker and headed for the parking lot. I had to swing by and pick up Rhonda at her tennis game so that we could get home and get ready together. Her friend, Joe waved at me when I stopped the car in front of the courts and Rhonda climbed in.

"How is Joe?" I asked as she threw her bag into the backseat. We'd all grown up on the same street and Rhonda and Joe had been friends a long time. He was a tennis fanatic so they played together often. Rhonda liked sports as exercise because, she said, it was a fun way to stay healthy. 

"Joe's great," she said. "He and this new guy he's been seeing seem to really have hit it off. He's thinking of moving in with him."

"But he's only 20," I said, alarmed.

"Geez, Asha. Who died and made you the moral police?" She was right, of course. What the hell did I know?

"Sorry," I said. "Joe's a grown man. He can move in or get married or leap off tall buildings in a single bound if he wants to. I guess maybe I am nervous about tonight."

"Don't be. Either everyone will hit it off or we'll all hate each other, but we'll still love you. Don't waste your worry on something so silly."

I tried to smile, but my stomach was still in knots. I drove home in fidgety silence until we pulled into the driveway, Rhonda finally said, "That's it!"

"What?" I said, startled and somewhat alarmed.

"You! You're freaking out! I have the remedy for that. Come with me." She slammed the car door behind her and I followed her inside where she lead the way upstairs.

"Sit down," she ordered when we reached my bedroom.

I did as I was told, flopping onto the bed. She began sifting through her satchel, pulling out everything: a sweater, make-up, wallet, books...and finally, a flask.

"You need some alcoholic therapy," she said, shoving the flask at me. "Drink this!"

"Ugh," I said. "I don't drink Rhonda. It always tastes bad to me - bitter or burning. How you do it, I have no idea. But I don't like liquor."

"It's butterscotch scnapps," she said. "And trust me, you'll like it. It's better than cough syrup. It's sweet! Would I lie to you?"

I looked at her suspiciously.

"Oh c'mon. You're a wreck and I don't know why, but I promise you that this will make you feel better."

I sighed and took the flask from her. I opened it, tilted my head back and took my first gulp with my eyes squeezed shut - ready for whatever may come. I was expecting something revolting to assault my tastebuds, but instead, there was a syrupy toffee flavor. Rhonda was right - it was kinda good. When I looked at her, she laughed.

"You look so completely shocked," she said. "I told you, didn't I?"

"You win," I said. "It's definitely more pleasant than any other drink I've tried so far."

"Go ahead, have some more. I have the whole bottle around here somewhere."

"Ooh," I said. "Let's get more, then. Todd's driving."

She laughed. "Oh my, I've created a monster!"

I smirked and took another swig. "Hey, how did you get this stuff anyway?"

"Friend of mine at school. That's the great thing about college, dear. Older friends that can buy you alcohol."

"Lucky you," I said. "I wish I were in college already. Some days I get so tired of it here."

"Wow," Rhonda said, "Sounds like you're already feeling the effects of that."
"You drink more, too," I commanded her, handing the flask bacl to her. I had to admit that I was feeling a little cloudy, in the best way. I wanted to spin and spin around, but I also still had butterflies. Only they were different than before. I was trying to concentrate on everything that felt good about the moment: the taste of sweet candy liquor on my tongue, the presence of my cousin and best friend, the fact that I'd be seeing Betsy. I get to see Betsy, I thought. It was so strange the way that thought came to me. It seemed like it was the happiest thought in the world and it made me want to squeal joyously or dance around or hug everyone. 

Rhonda unearthed the rest of the bottle and we passed it back and forth between us. Then she lit one of her cigarettes and walked over to the window to crack it open. My parents were not home and neither was my brother - he'd gone to play at his friend's house and my mom was supposed to pick him up later on her way home. She opened the window to air out the room so it wouldn't smell as much like smoke. We'd use incense later to cover whatever odor was left.

"Can I have one of those?" I said, nodding toward her pack of Winstons.

"Look at you," Rhonda said. "Getting rebellious finally, eh?" 

"I've always been rebellious," I said defensively.

"Yeah Asha. You're a regular James Dean." She snorted, but held out the pack to me anyway.

"What?" I said, frowning as I took one between my fingers.

"You do everything perfectly. I'll bet you never even fight with your parents. Not even with your mom - though you've certainly been holding a grudge against her ever since -"

"Shut up!" I said, covering my ears. I didn't want to think about it. Especially not tonight.

"Sorry," she said. "I know I am being a jerk. I have no idea what came over me."

I stuck the cigarette in my mouth and lit it. The first time I inhaled, I nearly dropped the cigarette and burned the carpet - that's how much I was coughing. Rhonda patted my back.

"You have to do it like this," she said. She took her cigarette and inhaled, but not too deep. I tried puffing again and this time, it was okay. After a few more inhales, I started to feel a little dizzy. But then I took a few more sips of the schnapps and felt fine.

Rhonda was flicking some ashes out the window when she saw Todd's car pull up. We still hadn't gotten ready, but I thought what I was wearing was fine. It was jeans and a halter top and I had on my sneakers already. Rhonda put out her cigarette and went to the bathroom to change into a different shirt. I waited for Todd to ring the doorbell and then I put out my own cigarette and ran downstairs. He was leaning against the door when I opened it and he looked a little smug. He had on a black t-shirt underneath a button-down Polo shirt and had his black hair slicked back. I stepped aside and let him in. Once he was right beside me and about to give me a kiss, he coughed.

"Asha, you smell like a dirty ashtray and...something else. Baked goods? Hey, were you smoking?"

"And drinking," I said, a little peturbed.

"Already? You couldn't do that with me? I mean, really! We could have gone out with my friends and gotten high if I'd known you were suddenly going to be into that."

I rolled my eyes and started to walk away, but he grabbed my arm.

"Don't be like that," he said. "It doesn't mean I don't want to be with you tonight, kitten. C'mere." He pulled me to him and tried to kiss me, but it felt like I was kissing a wall. Rhonda came out of the bathroom and cleared her throat.

"Everybody ready?" she said, grabbing her jacket and wallet. "Let's bolt."

We all shuffled out to Todd's car and headed toward Agostino's. I started to feel excited again about seeing Betsy. I was fidgeting in my seat and Todd put his hand on my lap.

"Geez, Ash - quit that! You're really distracting me right now," he said. I moved away from his hand and sat motionless, staring out into the dark. When we arrived outside Agostino's, I spotted Betsy's car right away. She was standing next to it, with her arms folded, waiting for us. She smiled when she saw me. In the middle of the lot, the four of us came together and I made introductions.

"Betsy, this is my cousin Rhonda and my boyfriend Todd," I said. 

"Nice to meet you, Betty," Todd said.

"It's Betsy," she said. "We met once before. At Byron Hall, but I think we were both a little out of it." She gave him a friendly smile.

"Oh," he said. "Right."

He started to walk toward the restaurant. I shrugged at Betsy and mouthed the word "sorry." What I would have liked to have said was, "sorry my boyfriend is an idiot douchebag."