As I Lay Dying

[6.0]

Directed by James Franco

Millennium Films

Rated R, 110 mins.

Being a welcome contrast to the awful style of adaptation that designates wide theater presence, from the likes of pseudo-imaginative Hollywood maestros like Baz Luhrmann and Zak Snyder, Renaissance man and everlasting student James Franco has taken to cinematically rendering his favorite literary works, gracing festival screens and on-demand devices with an ambitious, young artist’s style that seeks to translate difficult language into a complementary, visual platform for enacting a mutual vision.

Franco’s Child of God, a highlight of my not-so-far trek to the Virginia Film Festival, captures the unhinged, macabre, and rather devastating look at a man deprived of love and human construct with a bullshit-cutting, “this is a wild man-child in the woods” conveyance, balancing literal interpretation with added flair. His take on William Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying, however, isn’t as successful. I would attribute this to the fact that Franco ties Cormac McCarthy’s prose to Child of God‘s meaning in a closer sense; with Faulkner, he tries so hard at translating the language, that key insights for the viewer to derive become rather muggy.

Experimental techniques aside, a fine job has been done convincingly rendering the environment in which Addie Bundren’s family treks over to Jefferson, with the intent of there burying the deceased matriarch according to her wishes (the film was shot on-location in Mississippi). The ensemble cast, especially Tim Blake Nelson’s Anse Bundren, a victim of pretty much the worst tooth decay you’ve ever seen, is also incredibly interesting to watch.

But here’s where it gets problematic – the film enacts Faulkner’s shift of 15 character points-of-view through a technique that strives to establish an on-screen stream of consciousness, namely through extensive use of split-screen and individual direct-to-camera confessionals (that feel like early 20th century video blogs). The challenge lies in the fact that a complex storytelling technique is supplemented, in the novel, by Faulkner tackling rather large ideas of existence and being.

Now, as a fan of Terrence Malick, I can’t say I’m completely opposed to characters’ philosophical musings, but when overlaid with confusing split-screen imagery and actors staring directly into the camera, essentially reading dramatically from the text, one gets the sense that Franco was more interested in uniquely adapting a difficult novel than actually doing it well. Given, it’s ambitious, infectiously messy, and warrants repeat viewings. But it’s far from groundbreaking.

Most of the juicy philosophy and extensive character study feels fogged over by overreaching stylistic intent. Tone is a different story – a captivating sort of existential dread lingers over the whole thing, although Franco fails to significantly alter the way we are meant to feel upon “shifting” points-of-view (does split-screen and separate character voiceover successfully allow for these transitions? I’m still not really sure). Yet there is some kind of modest effort being put into projects like these. Franco’s film school angle on analyzing other forms of art feels fresh and genuine, even when it (somewhat) fails. If nothing else, he turns you on to great literature.