Friday morning (My local AMC advertisement says “$5 movies for all [providing it is before 12:00, and also that it is Friday, Saturday or Sunday morning]”, to which I reply, “Why, that’s quite diplomatic of you.” To which I receive no response, because I am at that point speaking to a movie theater) I went with a group of friends to see the new film Stardust based on the novel by the wonderful Neil Gaiman (American Gods, Anansi Boys, or if you’re more film inclined; Mirrormask, or if you’re more partial to comic books, The Sandman), and have decided to share my thoughts on its execution in relation to the novel. Oh, also, there are spoilers throughout for both book and movie.

A basic summary of the story (in regard to the film) in case you haven’t seen it (and apparently don’t care about it being spoiled. Sickos): there is a village called Wall which is adjacent to the world of Stormhold (originally referred to as Faerie in the novel) within which a teenager named Dunstan Thorn, during an excursion into the Faerie market, has sex with a fine lookin’ Stormhold lady and inadvertently impregnates her, bringing young Tristan Thorn into the world. Tristan Thorn is an outcast among his peers, and against anyone’s better judgment acquires an infatuation with the beautiful Victoria who is currently being wooed by a callous and snobbish sod named Humphrey. Tristan goes through a series of futile attempts to woo her, until he finally manages to convince her to come on a picnic with him, during which they see a shooting star. Tristan vows to retrieve the star (but it turns out to be a lady!) in exchange for Victoria’s hand in marriage, which she consents to, but not without putting an obvious plot-device time restriction on the journey. Tristan goes off on his quest; crazy antics, magic, and homosexuals ensue. People trying to eat the star’s heart because it gives them youth. Blah, blah.

What does the book do better? I won’t say ‘everything’, although I am a bit tempted, because that isn't particularly fair. The movie is well acted, very pretty, and I would compliment the story, except it's obviously derived from elsewhere. I also won’t say the book is phenomenal, but it is very, very good. In contrast, I would say that the novel is vastly better than the film. To begin with, the world feels much more defined in the context of the book than it does in the movie, which is a problem because I can see the world in the film, and it still feels more real on paper. Gaiman provides a history, gives description and a relationship to our world, adds small details that give Faerie a life and tangibility all its own. I can believe in this world and its inhabitants and I can differentiate clearly between that world and the one that Tristan comes from. I can believe the awe and wonderment he derives from Faerie. In the movie, however, we are not really provided with a background on this place; we’re told it’s there, Wall is here, and then we’re thrown into the story. Obviously there is not usually a large amount of time allotted for that sort of thing in adaptations, but when we observe the things that the filmmakers did decide to spend time on, and when we compare these scenes to the importance of properly establishing the world, it’s obvious that the time was available, it was just misused elsewhere.

Now, before I go further, I figure I should describe my main beef with the movie in comparison to the novel, so that I can relate back to it when I start to expand on specific examples. Whoever I should hold responsible; screenwriter, director, studio, what have you, whoever it is, I feel that they took a unique, engaging and mature fantasy story and made it somewhat adolescent and generic. I wouldn’t call it a classic example of a novelization being exploited for wide demographic appeal in its film form, because it isn’t that bad about it, but it is certainly guilty of doing things just for the glitz or for simplicity of audience digestion. This is very unfortunate, because, as I say, Neil Gaiman’s Stardust is much more interesting and intellectually challenging than its movie counterpart, and I know that the latter perverted certain aspects of it just to appease people that don’t like contending with difficult concepts in their fantasy movies. The most depressing example of this concerns the changes made in the supporting cast of characters.

Dear reader, this is Septimus (on the left), one of the princes of Stormhold; Septimus, this is the dear reader. Now, let me tell you something about the sort of environment that Septimus was brought up in, dear reader, if you are not already familiar. He and his brothers are each potential heirs to the throne of Stormhold, and as his name suggests, he has seven male siblings to combat with for the title. It is customary for the brothers to kill each other off until only one is crowned, and the dead brothers all sort of hang out in ghostly form, making comments on the state of things and speculating between them. This sounds somewhat horrendous, but as it is depicted in the book, it’s simply a manifestation of their culture and it’s treated a lot less like murder and more like cultural obligation. Septimus isn’t really that bad of a guy; at one point, he meets Tristan along the road when the latter is in Faerie and gives him a lift. He treats him respectfully and honorably and we see that there is a nobility to Septimus that permeates all of his actions, including, even, his intent to murder his kin, as he still honors them regardless. As an example; he finds one of his brothers on the side of the road, slaughtered not by him, but by the witch Lamia, and vows to revenge him (even though he was planning on killing him before that). Septimus just wants to be king, as his other brothers do, and it’s the way of his kingdom that he needs to kill them to obtain the crown. It’s a sort of archaic and outdated sense of chivalry, but by having murder being such an integral part of the society as well as making Septimus a sympathetic character is an interesting statement about the culture of Stormhold and its citizens that, as stated before, gives it a sense of reality.

The movie, however, does not subscribe to that complexity. Sure, it makes gags about the dead brothers, and, oh, isn’t it funny that Rupert Everett’s face is smashed in, but it casts Septimus in a very dark light that is only withdrawn, really, after he’s killed. He is the only one that we see actively try to murder his brethren, and he isn’t the one that picks up Tristan on the side of the road. It’s his brother, who is described to be the kindest of all of the siblings (originally, in the novel, this is the brother to be killed by the witch that Septimus vows to honor through revenge). So instead of a layered and interesting Septimus, we get “argh, Septimus bad” and then a reaffirmation of how nice his brother is. Well, I don’t really care about that. I liked liking Septimus in the book despite the fact that he wants to kills his brothers. I like it when novels and films and television give you characters with dimensions to sympathize with. The film, however, only provides us with the black and white of the situation. The “kind” brother can’t even do any wrong anyway, because Septimus is the only one left for him to kill and in the context of the film, no one really cares if he kills Septimus because Septimus is shown to be something of an ass. That isn’t interesting. I can only assume that the people making the film thought, “No one is going to like Septimus if he willingly kills people! Just make him a dick, it doesn’t matter!” They even go so far as to have him find out that eating the star’s heart would give him everlasting life, making him even more of an evil jerk off, even though by that time in the novel he’s already dead in the cabin. Then he gets offed by the witch and oh, ha, ha, he’s dead now and he’s making jokes so now we can like him. You can’t see me, but I assure you that I’m rolling my eyes.



It’s the same with a lot of other characters. Victoria, the subject of Tristan’s affection, is made out to be an incredibly unlikeable character in the movie. In the novel, she’s not exactly the sweetest girl in the world, but she’s most certainly realistically portrayed. Before Tristan goes to Faerie, Victoria is being flirtatiously obliging to Tristan; it’s obvious that she has her pick of the litter and she’s only really being tolerant of his interest, and when he says that he’ll bring her the star, she says she’ll marry him in an, “oh sure, yeah, whatever, bring me the star” sort of way; she doesn’t actually expect him to go out and do it. Then he’s gone for months and she’s worried sick with guilt, and upon his return divulges to him that she’d been betrothed to another man (specifically, the owner of the shop that Tristan worked for) since the night that he said he’d fetch the star. She’s decidedly different; matured and compassionate, ready to be a married woman.

In the movie, however, Victoria is an unsympathetic, manipulative ass throughout. She’s mean to Tristan before the picnic, and then abnormally obliging during, and then when she sees the star she knows as a certainty that he means to bring it back and actually intends to marry him if he comes back, and for some reason tells him he only has a week to do it or she’ll marry Humphrey. Then when he comes back having fulfilled his promise, she says “you know what I want” seductively, goes in to kiss him, and is promptly dropped on the ground. Because, apparently, pretty women are all fickle and impressionable. (I knew it was going to happen too; that he would come back and she would latch onto him and he would do the customary dropping her on the ass [quite literally] and blah, blah, blah). At least if they were going to make her an asshole they could’ve been consistent about it and just had her have the same attitude that Victoria has in the book about getting the star, only be meaner about it, but of course they had to include her actual intent to marry him so that there could be satisfying revenge at the end. Sacrificing relatable and sympathetic characters for the sake of black and white cardboard cut outs is neither fulfilling nor effective; it only cheapens the narrative and lessens the value of the story as a whole.



Then there is, of course, making Robert De Niro’s captain initially cruel only to reveal that he is in reality a stereotypical closet homosexual (just for the sake of Robert De Niro dancing around in girly clothing, I'm sure), when in the book, the ship is just filled with a friendly and helpful crew that aid Tristan and Yvaine (the star's real name), and with whom they travel for several months. It’s somewhat aggravating to see these things changed just for commercial appeal. Then there’s the last half of the movie.

It was made up. Entirely. Remember where I said all that time that could’ve been used to develop Faerie as a proper world went? Most of it went here. The other part went to De Niro being a transvestite (who, as the great Eddie Izzard tells us, are not usually gay anyway). That whole epic battle that fantasy movies are apparently required to have; that stand off between the villain and the hero with plenty of special effects and humorous violence, was not in the book. The witch is deterred in the novel because she is decrepit and tired and with the knowledge that Yvaine’s heart no longer belongs to her (because it belongs to Tristan), she can do no more, and leaves. This may sound un-climactic, and perhaps it is, but it is quaint and charming and certainly not formed with the intent of fulfilling some unspoken requirement toward huge, grandiose fights (also; why, exactly, would the witch pretend to be repentant just so she could laugh manically when she turns on them once again? It served no purpose. That part irritated me more than the fight itself).



There are other small things that were removed that I felt really took away from the magic of Gaiman’s writing; Tristan’s mother, whom we met at the beginning of the movie when she slept with Dunstan, is enslaved by a witch, and says in the film that only when said witch is dead can she be free. This is a simple, unimaginative and easily understandable explanation that replaced the one that was put in the novel; that Tristan’s mother would only be freed when the moon lost its daughter and two Mondays came together in the same week. The moon loses Yvaine to the earth and also to Tristan’s love, and when Victoria is wed upon Tristan’s return, she becomes Victoria Monday, making her husband ______ Monday, which means that two Mondays came together. I loved this part of the book; I thought it was such a small addition that made such a big difference to the atmosphere of the story, but the movie decided to axe it. I thought the idea of death being the only way out of the mother’s enslavement sort of off-putting as well. Death is used sparingly in the book, and when it does, it has great impact (the death of the Unicorn, of Septimus, etc.), but it was just thrown around in the film. Similarly, Tristan doesn’t learn to respect Yvaine and not chain her up like a prisoner as he does in the book; it’s just sort of accepted that she’s going to be dragged around by him and considered okay.

Not only that, the ending is a complete happily-ever-after conclusion. Tristan becomes king because it turns out that his mother is the daughter of Stormhold and he is the last of the male Stormhold lineage after Septimus dies, and his love for Yvaine gives him everlasting life so they’ll live together forever in the stars. In the book, Tristan doesn’t really want to be king, so he and Yvaine wander while his mom occupies the throne, and, as Gaiman tells us, she is a wonderfully just and beloved ruler, which is nice. Then finally, the two lovers wander back home, eventually Tristan dies and Yvaine rules alone. The last page of the book is her looking up at the stars in remembrance. I don’t know about you, but I like that ending a lot more just because it’s not so sickeningly sweet and perfect. I also prefer the notion that Tristan wouldn’t necessarily want to be king.

There are a couple of things that the movie did better. It introduced that Tristan’s mother was a daughter of Stormhold (or at least hinted at it) at the beginning, so that when it was reintroduced later it didn’t come out of left field (which was what I felt happened in the book). Similarly, it layered the romance between Yvaine and Tristan throughout, which contrasts to the book because it seems to just sort of sprout at the end out of nowhere. I mean, it’s obvious from the get go that he’s going to fall in love with the star and out of love with Victoria, but it’s nice to see it develop in the film.

Oh, and Ricky Gervais is in it.

So that’s the long and short of it (mostly long). The book trumps the movie; who woulda thunk. I wouldn’t have been so critical about the flaws if they hadn’t been so obviously designed the way they were, but that's how the cookie crumbles. If you haven't read the book, I'm sure you think the movie is wonderful, because literally everyone else that I've spoken to that hasn't read the book thought it was wonderful, but I can't really look past the flaws.