Like P. L. Travers said, a writer is only half the book, the other half is the reader. Moreover, each reader is unique in what they build up in their imagination from what’s written on the pages. This circumstance takes centre stage in discussions on the merits of a film adaptation, especially if the source material is a beloved book with a massive readership.
Each such adaptation spawns endless debate on whether the right choices were made in what parts of the plot to extract, the overall tonality, if the cast truly embodies the characters we all know and love, and do they look right? Who can better gauge the validity of these choices, the person who came up with the story in the first place or those that collectively experienced it? The truth is, there is no right answer. In the end, everyone will feel strongly tied to the image they had within when reading (or writing) the original work and draw joy from how it aligns or doesn’t with what’s on the screen.
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The author C. S. Lewis was “absolutely opposed” to any live-action adaptation of his universally acclaimed book series The Chronicles of Narnia. He wrote as much to the BBC producer Lance Sieveking in 1959 when the two collaborated on a radio production of the fantasy epic. Lewis asserted that “Anthropomorphic animals, when taken out of narrative into actual visibility, always turn into buffoonery or nightmare” but was still somewhat open to the idea of an animated adaptation.
However, in additional letters on the matter, he feared that a central character such as Aslan (“a divine figure”) could turn comical if not handled right. If any potential production was to go ahead, he required “specimen photos of the characters and a full script with a right of veto.” Lewis died in 1963 and probably never saw any such materials, much less any of the numerous adaptations for film and television that eventually saw the light of day.
In theory, he could have lived long enough to impart his final verdict on what at the time was the most ambitious adaptation to date, the BBC’s three television serials The Chronicles of Narnia (1988–1990) based on the first four books. Or, he would have stopped the production in its infancy, with all its anthropomorphic animals.
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The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe – the first book of The Chronicles of Narnia – had been adapted for television twice before. First, in a ten-episode serial by ITV in 1967, of which only two episodes have survived. All animals were played by actors in costume, including Aslan, more or less robbing him of the majestic aura that Lewis so wanted to protect. The second was a 1979 two-part animated television production by CBS, awarded two Emmys and later released on both VHS and DVD, but rudimentary in its technique and scope.
Far more successful and ultimately memorable was the BBC version, initially directed by Marilyn Fox, by 1988 already a legendary producer of children’s programmes for the broadcaster. Although it was right around the beginning of a golden age of computer-assisted special effects in film, such modernities were still prohibitively expensive and thus not viable outside the major US studios. The production team opted for a practical approach with regular actors playing all creatures – natural and fantastical alike – and considerable effort put into costume and make-up, effects work that earned the series many BAFTA nominations for three consecutive years.
The one big exception was Aslan, portrayed in a much more realistic fashion, achieved through animatronics and beautifully voiced by Ronald Pickup. Maybe this rendition of the messianic lion would have been noble enough for C. S. Lewis. That the production as a whole ever happened implies so much, with Lewis’ surviving stepsons handling his estate, including guarding his vision of Narnia in affairs concerning potential derivatives.
For many that grew up in the 1980s and ’90s, the BBC adaptation of The Chronicles of Narnia is the definitive version, maybe because it has always been readily available, or perhaps because it’s just the nature of things from your childhood. But there are inherent qualities at play as well. The casting of the Pevensie children is inspired and spot-on, especially that of Sophie Wilcox as Lucy, in a sense conscience personified in the first part of the series.
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The sets are like something out of Santa’s workshop, crafted in minute details, as are all costumes and other designs. Something about this low-budget fairy tale is purely genuine and heartfelt, as if the producers, aware of the limitations they had to work with, knew they had to go all-in with the children’s book atmosphere. Find a way to manifest every viewer’s inner Narnia, the one they co-wrote in their imagination by reading the books. Aspects that could easily fall on the side of being silly stay perfectly reasonable and even serious because that’s how everyone involved treat them, not least the cast in all their dressed-up glory.
Contrast this with the subsequent major adaption of Narnia, a suite of three films starting with The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe in 2005. The first film was a huge success among both critics and moviegoers, won various awards, including an Oscar for best make-up, and was the best-selling DVD in the United States the following year. On a $180 million budget, there was no need to spare expenses for special effects, and the movie relied heavily on computer graphics to depict central animal characters such as the Beavers and Aslan.
Juxtaposed with that inconspicuous BBC contribution from 1988, it would seem the modern, Disney-produced behemoth should blow it out of the water by default. But there is just something about it that doesn’t quite check out, possibly an overabundance of Hollywood production value that makes it stray too far from the British quaintness of the books. The children are great but decidedly more in line with the polished look and demeanour you expect from, say, professional American child actors of today than the everyday Pevensies presented by the BBC.
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The CGI creatures are well-made and well-voiced, but their personality and expression tend to disappear behind a heavy veneer of visual realism. This effect is evident in how a character such as Mr Tumnus that relies on the delightful acting of James McAvoy and less on dazzling special effects is one of the most unforgettable of the entire film series.
There is also noticeably more focus on action and battle – simply put, on violence – than I think anyone can recall from their inner moving Narnia picture. Like the director Andrew Adamson had noted himself during rereads, the final battle of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe fills just one page and a half, something he wanted to inflate and make a massive crescendo in the movie. That he did, at the same time streamlining the story and presentation towards something far more predictable.
Even more unfortunate, these creative choices placed the new Narnia adaptation much closer to another fantasy epic that concluded just a few years prior. By any measure, The Lord of the Rings can probably be considered one of the most successful film adaptations of all time. The new Narnia films must undoubtedly have had a pleasant push from that wave, but at the risk of being perceived as too derivative.
The similarities were not all incidental; for example, the special effects company Weta Workshop did many creature designs and props for both film series. It’s hard to shake the feeling that the thinking behind The Lord of the Rings leaked into many of the central scenes in The Chronicles of Narnia, even though the workshop deliberately tried to avoid repeating any designs. In the end, what we got this time around was not, for lack of a better word, as special.
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The BBC production of The Chronicles of Narnia feels like a peek into Narnia, while the Disney production is more like getting a glimpse of Hollywood. The former highlights the story and characters by necessity, with no effects fest to indulge in, which the latter comes dangerously close to at times. There exist many kinds of wonderment.
The excited and sometimes fast-paced kind Andrew Adamson had in mind for his Narnia adaptation seems a lesser one than the awe and reverence arguably offered by the source material and more convincingly by Marilyn Fox. Her adaptation is a true fairytale, arresting and dramatic but dignified, sometimes even solemn, much like the picture Lewis had imagined for decades before it finally inspired him to write the books: a lone faun carrying parcels in a snowy forest.
Going back to what Travers said, it’s impossible to say whether this is the essence of Narnia most readers envision. But endless fighting is not what the books are about for the most part. To this day, the BBC and Marilyn Fox have demonstrated the most apparent grasp of this fact.
