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mescalero_at_bat 's review for:
Nightmare Alley
by William Lindsay Gresham
there's the thing of reading a book and then seeing a movie based on the book. the reader can't help but bring expectations from the book to the screen. when i read responses to cinema from readers the translation from the page to the screen seems to disappoint many book lovers. i feel i've been able to sidestep those disappointments - a book is a book and a movie is a movie and they are different art forms with different practices and concerns. they will never be the same experience ... in most cases.
in this case, i saw both versions of the film made from landsay gresham's novel. i have to say for all the good acting and atmosphere of guillermo del toro's recent remake (2021), i think i prefer the original (1947) with tyronne power. maybe bradley cooper, who i can hardly stand to watch, has something to do with that. but maybe more importantly the impending and the onslaught of DOOM with a capital D in nearly every moment of the film might have more to do with it. it's a monochrome descent into hell.
which brings me to the book ... it starts out great - maybe fantastic - lindsay gresham uses multiple voices/perspectives to introduce the carny characters to great effect, and the stories of the crew fascinate. the carnival world where the plot devices are set in motion are appropriately nightmarish but the narrative doesn't descend into despair ... the language throughout is on par with some of my favorite books.
but once stanton carlisle and molly (our central characters) leave the carnival and go out on their own to take their newfound routine of using spiritualism to con audiences as a way of making small fortunes, the book flattens. molly goes from being a complex character to a victim in waiting and the reverend carlisle's ascent up the ladder of sleaze is rife with repetition.
this novel fits into the existentialist tradition set in motion by dostoevsky, but with the russian genius you get humor and every other imaginable aspect of life along with murder, despair and the fall of the human species from grace. there's a balance between despair and hope.
in NA, the only hope is the reverend's desire for money. he feels entitled to lie and trick those who have it into giving it to him for sleight of hand tricks involving summonsing spirits of the dead. he's despicable through and through - his declaration of love for molly fades without much ado and she becomes a pawn. the gender roles common in early post-war novels are predictable, boring, unimaginative.
i would give lindsay gresham a high five for literary inventiveness and slap him with my other hand for seeing very little hope in humanity. perhaps this sentence is really all the review i needed to write. and so, i fail as he has.
in this case, i saw both versions of the film made from landsay gresham's novel. i have to say for all the good acting and atmosphere of guillermo del toro's recent remake (2021), i think i prefer the original (1947) with tyronne power. maybe bradley cooper, who i can hardly stand to watch, has something to do with that. but maybe more importantly the impending and the onslaught of DOOM with a capital D in nearly every moment of the film might have more to do with it. it's a monochrome descent into hell.
which brings me to the book ... it starts out great - maybe fantastic - lindsay gresham uses multiple voices/perspectives to introduce the carny characters to great effect, and the stories of the crew fascinate. the carnival world where the plot devices are set in motion are appropriately nightmarish but the narrative doesn't descend into despair ... the language throughout is on par with some of my favorite books.
but once stanton carlisle and molly (our central characters) leave the carnival and go out on their own to take their newfound routine of using spiritualism to con audiences as a way of making small fortunes, the book flattens. molly goes from being a complex character to a victim in waiting and the reverend carlisle's ascent up the ladder of sleaze is rife with repetition.
this novel fits into the existentialist tradition set in motion by dostoevsky, but with the russian genius you get humor and every other imaginable aspect of life along with murder, despair and the fall of the human species from grace. there's a balance between despair and hope.
in NA, the only hope is the reverend's desire for money. he feels entitled to lie and trick those who have it into giving it to him for sleight of hand tricks involving summonsing spirits of the dead. he's despicable through and through - his declaration of love for molly fades without much ado and she becomes a pawn. the gender roles common in early post-war novels are predictable, boring, unimaginative.
i would give lindsay gresham a high five for literary inventiveness and slap him with my other hand for seeing very little hope in humanity. perhaps this sentence is really all the review i needed to write. and so, i fail as he has.