When Great Books Become Bland Movies

I saw The Goldfinch recently and was not impressed. Although the film stayed true to the story, it was a plodding and tired production. With an incredible cast based on an incredible book (my favorite of 2014) I’d expected more. Even when reports of it being a box office bomb started rolling in, I held out hope.

To no avail. I blame the director primarily aa well as the writer who adapted it from the novel. I suspect it was the writer who played with the chronology of the story by jumping all over in time rather than being straightforward. This change served no beneficial purpose and only confused things.

Most egregious, however, are the crimes of the director. The acting was flat. The characters dull, with perhaps the exception of Boris. It’s a wonder to me how he sucked all the life out of the brash Xandra. Even Popchyk lost out in this translation.

The film itself was a meandering mess made dull. No characters to root for, no excitement whatsoever. Even a shootout was made boring.

In essence, The Goldfinch film is lame. Rather than wasting two and a half hours of your life on this lackluster attempt, do yourself a favor and indulge in the nearly 800-page tome.

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