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The blight of Calormen

C.S. Lewis gets an action-adventure makeover
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By Steffen Silvis
Staff Writer, The Prague Post
July 2nd, 2008 issue

COURTESY PHOTO
Neither acting nor charm school would hurt. C.S. Lewis' Children's Crusade.
The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian


Directed by Andrew Adamson
With Georgie Henley, Skander Keynes, William Moseley, Anna Popplewell, Ben Barnes and Sergio Castellitto
Philip Pullman’s great trilogy, His Dark Materials, has been properly called the anti-Narnia. It’s a term Pullman seems more than content to accept, as he is no fan of C.S. Lewis, having referred to the Narnia books as “blatantly racist,” “monumentally disparaging of women” and “immoral.”
Fighting words certainly, but is Lewis’ simplistic Christian allegory truly so evil (to use another of Pullman’s assessments)? That might be over-egging the pudding, but a supporting case could certainly be made for the other accusations, though it’s always best to situate writers within the context of their age. That said, Lewis’ racism hardly seems as blatant as that which can be gasped over in P.L. Travers’ Mary Poppins.
Going back to Narnia as an adult is hardly pleasurable, as one continually stumbles over Lewis’ staple analogies, devotional credulity and the occasional longueur, particularly in Prince Caspian. Director/screenwriter Andrew Adamson, having filmed The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe as if it were a Sunday school tract, has pulled back considerably from Lewis’ far more blatantly evangelical Prince Caspian, and has transformed the tale into fairly standard, secular matinee fare.
His Caspian resounds with saber clashes, battles and other overtly masculine pursuits. As a sop for the girls, there’s even a blushing romance between Caspian and the once-practical Susan, something Lewis would undoubtedly object to. Where Lewis’ writing often seems economical to the point of being an outline, Adamson adds pounds of flesh, some to be sliced away in combat for our pleasure. The screen Caspian’s plotting is far tighter and gripping in its pitch of intensity than the book. So why do I miss Lewis so much?
Basically, the old boy’s nighty-night tales have been extremely vulgarized. Adamson is a master of action shots and editing, but an utter failure at creating either dialogue or characters. His inadequacies lead him to such simplifications and shortcuts as to make Lewis appear like a bedtime Balzac in comparison. If Pullman thinks Lewis racist, what will he think when he sees that the Telmarines under Adamson have all become swarthy Mediterraneans thata speeka Englayth likea the cartoon?
The dialogue truly is risible. “Oh my gosh, he’s so cute!” trills Lucy at one point. The anachronistic Valley Girl patter, along with the lazy ironic quips, are only the most obvious signs of Adamson’s intellectual poverty. Here are two examples of what must pass for witty repartee in the Adamson household:
SUSAN: You see, over time the water erodes into soil, then…
PETER: Shut up.
And:
LUCY: You might need to call me again.
SUSAN: Oh, shut up.
Someone is obviously spending more time over the CGI equipment than the typewriter.
The performers can hardly be faulted for the lines they’ve been paid to spout, though the four young actors who are again impersonating the Pevensie brats — Georgie Henley, Skandar Keynes, William Mosely, Anna Popplewell — remain four of the dullest child stars imaginable.
As Caspian, it falls to poor Ben Barnes, a British lad, to lisp his way through Adamson’s kitchen Spanish. Many of the adults have an easier time of it, particularly the Italian actor Sergio Castellitto, who plays the Machiavellian king Miraz.
The other element missing from Adamson’s swashbuckling yarn is the periodic joy that Lewis laces Prince Caspian with. Adamson’s darker material has no room for romping fauns, ecstatic hamadryads or halls decked with boughs of holly. Action Man Adamson undoubtedly finds such interludes far too girlish for his grim enterprise, though these very elements are what provide most of the charm in Lewis’ books.
Challenging the innocence of Caspian, Peter, Susan, Edward and Lucy — making them more S.E. Hinton than C.S. Lewis — is intriguing (if indeed this is one of Adamson’s intentions), and a writer with some understanding of teen psychology might have made this into an interesting film. As it is, Prince Caspian is mindless summer fare hardly worth chronicling.

Steffen Silvis can be reached at ssilvis@praguepost.com


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