By Claire Booth
Warning: mild spoilers ahead.
I loved The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie
Society. I loved that a book about the love of reading was such a success.
I loved that a book with that mouthful of a title was a bestseller. So I was definitely hoping that I would love
the movie, which recently came out on Netflix.
GL&PPPS takes place during and after
World War II on the Isle of Guernsey in the English Channel. It was taken by
the Germans during the war and that occupation continues to haunt many of the
characters after the Nazis withdraw. One of them contacts Juliet Ashton, a
Londoner, after finding her name and address in a secondhand book. Juliet is an
author, and she eventually strikes up a pen-pal friendship and then goes to
Guernsey to find out more.
Both the
book and the movie share this synopsis.
From the get-go,
the movie is at a disadvantage because it can’t copy the aspect of the book that
gives it such a distinctive style. It’s a novel of letters. The entire book is nothing
but correspondence back-and-forth between Juliet and her publisher, her love
interest, and different Guernsey residents. In less deft hands, this could have
fallen spectacularly flat. But authors Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows give
each character such personality that by the time you’re halfway through, you can
tell which character is writing a particular missive without even seeing the
name. The voices are that distinctive. And trust me, that’s a very difficult thing
to do.
But a movie
with nothing but scenes of people writing letters? Not so enthralling. It just wouldn’t
work. So the character intimacy a reader got from the book had to be removed in
the movie so that there’s actually some action. So I forgive the movie for
that. It couldn’t be helped (I feel this is a very generous position on my part
because I’m usually a total stickler for book/movie fidelity).
I am,
however, going to quibble with a few of the other choices filmmakers made. In
the book, Juliet corresponds with several members of the literary society
before showing up on the island. She’s been invited and they’re expecting her. This
supports why she feels so at home when she gets there. The movie inexplicably
turns her into an uninvited guest, who shows up inconsiderately with no warning
and no prior letters to anyone but the initial letter writer. This shades her
character in a completely different way from how she was drawn in the book.
The bad changes
continue with the movie Juliet’s decision to accept a marriage proposal
immediately. In the book, she says that she needs time to think about it. This
change is ridiculous in light of an added movie scene, where she argues that someone
she wrote about is an early feminist. That scene would have been well supported
by leaving the book’s plot alone and having Juliet take a wait-and-see approach
to her own possible marriage.
Now, I’m not
a total book-to-film curmudgeon. There were things I did like about the movie.
Matthew Goode is certainly one of them. The whole cast, actually, is fantastic.
Lily James gets rid of the blond locks she had in this summer’s Mamma Mia sequel and plays Juliet with
appropriate writerly (and brunette) aplomb. Goode, who was on Downton Abbey’s
later seasons, is joined from that show by Penelope Wilton and Jessica Brown
Findlay. Michiel Huisman (Game of Thrones) is Dawsey Adams, the finder of the
secondhand book who sets the whole plot in motion. The locations are gorgeous
and the historical time period is fascinating. And to be honest, it was nice to
watch something that was, well, nice. I enjoyed it. Anything that's about the joy of the written word is something to celebrate, as far as I’m concerned.
And if it makes you want to read the book, all the better.
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