Eileen: Great adaptations 101

My main takeaway from EILEEN, the film was similar to my takeaway of Ottessa Moshfegh’s original novel of the same name: New England winters are a bitch.

In the book, an old woman who goes by “Lena” recollects a memory from decades past. A frantic episode, marked by obsession and danger. A former phase of one’s life. An unfamiliar young woman. Her name was Eileen Dunlop.

Cut back to the mid-sixties and Eileen lives amongst the bleak, snow-devoured suburbs of X-ville, USA. Each day, she braves the freeze, commuting from one personal torture to another. The first, a turbulent life at home with a father who spends all day wallowing in drunken misery.

And the other, a boring secretary’s life at a juvenile correctional facility, where her coworker’s are old and conniving. But, all of a sudden, we’re introduced to a new member of the ward. A beautiful young woman. Though Eileen barely utters a peep, we see visually, through small facial gestures, that something has changed.

Eileen’s father is a retired deadbeat. A former cop who spends long afternoons drunkenly nursing an officer’s revolver on his lap. Little does he know, Eileen has periodic fantasizes about snatching the weapon and killing the old man before turning the gun on herself. Such is life in X-ville.

The book features subplots concerning misplaced crushes, workplace intrigue, alcoholics, etc. It’s a tome that forgoes concrete plot for something more akin to a vibe. An atmosphere. Impending doom clings close behind in this formless story of one miserable woman. But for whom? No way of knowing.

EILEEN, the latest film by William Oldroyd, goes further down the rabbit hole, trimming all the fat off an already breezy novel. But here, the mission statement is clear. The film aims for genre. Really, the only medium adequate for a Moshfegh story.

Most adaptions treat their original source material as if they were lush, meadows, where fireflies dwell abundance. A place where one can stretch out an open palm and snatch those tiny sources of light. Specks of marvelous beauty, hovering in air like strands of ideas would in a novel, all before rearing back and having them flung onto a wall. Sure, let’s see what sticks. Not much, I would imagine.

It’s an experiment in failure that has produced many ill-fated page-to-screen adaptions. Some epic in scope, others minuscule and chamber-like. Most wallow in mediocrity.

Where’s the disconnect? I suspect it lies in the misplaced intentions of a screen adaption. Books can, and should, be as literary as the author imagines. Literature, as assured by its namesake, derives power from the unique and momentary series of events brought forth by an author’s capacity for written communication.

There are no greater vistas than those imagined by a creative writer. No romantic gesture more epic, nor intimate. Because the pace of a novel is dictated by the speed in which a reader digests its contents, a book ultimately lives in the mind of the reader. Books are intimate. Their contents, a secret dialogue between great writer and reader. By extension, books are allowed to be formless, wayward. They can reveal themselves over a long or short period of time, restrictions be damned.

A cursory glance of my book shelf reveals titles that deal little in concrete plot, save the occasional foray into crime fiction. It includes diary-like novels, character pieces, books that deal with a hyper specific time and place, ruminations on culinary delights in certain parts of the states.

This does not even include the biographies and other assorted collection of non-fiction works. These are works that invoke the granular minutia of an environment. Not for the sake of detail itself, but so that one could envision themselves among the characters among a books pages.

Movies are a different story. Expectations can vary wildly. OPPENHEIMER, another recent page-to-screen adaption, begins with a shot of rain drops rippling in a light puddle of water. We look up and are introduced to Robert Oppenheimer, our lead. The visuals here reveal a world of information: He’s a young college student standing on school grounds; there’s a slight look of trepidation on his face; thunderous banging rings in the soundtrack score.

Having never read the 700+ word biography, “American Prometheus,” I can only imagine Oppenheimer’s mental state during that heady school period. What terrors haunt him. And, sure, the more-than-capable co-authors did their homework. Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin had to find just the right words and phrases to splice together an imminently digestible literary portrait of one, J. Robert Oppenheimer.

Christopher Nolan deals with all this in the first 20 seconds of his blockbuster film with strong visual storytelling. No words, no plot dumps.

The film of EILEEN is a similar creature. Where the source material found success in its invocation of New England bleakness, the film finds success in the loose thriller elements. Anything that didn’t lend itself to the mystery of mousy, young Eileen’s obsession with the new prison psychiatrist, Rebecca Saint John, was left on the cutting room. No subplot romance, no conniving coworkers. Just vibes.

To this end, EILEEN, the film might come off as something akin to an erotic thriller. A warped romance. Something you can find in the movie CAROL, the lesbian romance constructed by Todd Haynes. It’ll feel like that for a time, sure, but the film throws a curve ball. Something to keep you on your feet. Something to keep the audience guessing.

This was a long-winded post to say something that’s universally understood: Books are not movies — movies are not books. Adaption is an art, just like anything else. It certainly helps to have the original author write the adaption. Nothing is simple about making a film. EILEEN’s miniature status doesn’t take away from the arduous work of putting together a movie.

But simplicity should always be what a filmmaker should shoot for, their north star. Let’s all take a step back and ask the hard questions, outright. What is this project meant to communicate? Can we do it visually?

Lots to ponder here, folks.