While telling the ill-fated story of Claire and her time traveling husband, the novel The Time Traveler’s Wife weaves its way through the completely fantastical while managing to, miraculously, remain utterly convincing.
(Robert Schwentke, 2009, 107 min.)
After recently having become the center of my life for around a week, the opening of the book’s movie adaptation was something I’d awaited with interest – and trepidation, I should add, based upon prejudice disappointments the likes of 2007’s Atonement had fostered within me.
Without wanting to launch into a “the film wasn’t as good as the book” rant, it was undeniably beautifully done. It looked and sounded great, from the haunting influxes of classical violin to the equally deeply affecting images of the sun-flecked, snow-softened iconic meadow. Upon Henry and Claire’s first meeting (it wasn’t the first time they’d met actually, but time travel need not always be linear), though, the film seemed to fall at the first hurdle. Not only was I not particularly convinced by their chemistry (granted, they were likely shaken up by all the calendar conundrums), but it seemed that had I not read the book, I’d have been pretty confused by the plot, which is something I felt throughout. That said, the relationship became more convincing, amidst a range of cuts and alterations which didn’t always seem necessary… but that belongs in the “the film wasn’t as good as the book” rant camp.
Something it particularly seemed to lack was the portrayal of Claire’s loneliness; her lengthy waiting. That said, the heart-breaking father-daughter relationship was portrayed with tear-jerking tenderness, leaving just enough time for eyes to get dried before the end – which was, for me, well done. OK, so we end up there via some edge-softening cuts to the book, making it less of a bumpy ride towards tragedy, but I challenge even the most hardened dried-eyers to not need a kleenex – which goes some way to suggest that the film managed to treat the utterly unbelievable pretty much as convincingly as the book, which was no easy task.
As beautifully put together as the film was, though, and as heart-wrenchingly as it was presented, it hasn’t done much to silence my skepticism at a movie being able to live up to the one you’ve already cast and directed in your own head. I’m still not prepared to see what someone did to Silk…