even lovely hubby said I wasn't TOO bad

Yup. I did it. I dragged lovely hubby to the theater to see the movie adaptation of The Time Traveler's Wife, the book that anyone who has ever stopped by here before must know by now has been deemed the greatest novel I've ever read. I do believe that I've blogged about it before, once or twice (look in June for my mini-review). Honestly, I could go on for ever and ever about this novel, and you can ask anyone in my family how much I get drawn into the story each time I read it. (I basically ignore my family for days while I read and cry, cry and read.)

So, I knew that the movie was FINALLY coming out, after a much-too-long post-production period (I have my own bizarre theory about that, but that's a whole different story), and I was beyond anxious to see it... and not because I had high expectations, either. When I saw the trailer the first time, I yelled. I cursed. I questioned. (Would it have been so freaking difficult to spring for a box of hair dye for Rachel McAdams, movie people?!) I predicted a mush-fest, with an over the top swelling musical score and an on-screen Henry and Clare making goo-goo eyes at each other during ridiculous close-up shots.

With tissues in hand (sappy or not, I knew I'd still sob), and a notebook and pen at the ready, we made our way to the theater. Thanks to Jennifer, my wonderful 5M4B editor, I had showed lovely hubby a funny shirt online a while ago that eventually became a fantastic mother's day present, and it was the perfect piece of clothing to sport that evening.

Please don't mind the extra close-up shot of my chest...

I had big plans to embarrass both hubby and myself by taking some photos with the movie poster, but as things often go in my world, guess which movie was the only one playing at this particular theater without a displayed movie poster? Ding ding ding. We even went so far as to ask a manager if there was one in back (thanks to hubby's endearing way of never being afraid to ask for anything!), but alas, there was not one around anywhere, so it simply was not meant to be. Instead, hubby snapped this one of me with goofy-anxious face galore, as the police officers who sit in the theater looked on in bewilderment.

"Who's that dork?"

When we settled into our seats, I once again thanked lovely hubby for being such a good sport-- after years of me begging and cajoling him to just read the damn book already!!!, he finally did a few months ago, really enjoying it, of course. But bigger than that, he actually agreed to see this movie with me, and I promised I would try my hardest to not make any exclamations of frustration or anger throughout the film. (Ask him sometime what it was like seeing Les Miserables at the movies with me... it wasn't pretty.) Doesn't he just exude enthusiasm as we await the beginning of the movie??

The things we do for the ones we love. Sometimes against our better judgment.

Okay, so to the movie. Well, you can read my trying-to-sound-semi-professional review over at 5M4B if you'd like, but if you keep reading from this point on, I'm just going to warn you that there will most definitely be plot spoilers, and quite possibly a few whiny and frustrated mild expletives. Consider yourselves prepared. Here we go.

A nonverbal assessment of the movie. Complete with puffy eyes.

Overall, it's an okay movie. I cried, most definitely, and other than the bit-too-straight-laced appearance, I thought that the portrayal of Henry was probably the best one. (But c'mon movie people, did you read the book?? Where's the PUNK in Henry??) Clare wasn't exactly right in my eyes, there was something that I can't put my finger on (except for the very apparent lack of red hair--that was pretty blatent). I just don't think the onscreen version of Clare matched the depth of her novel character. And that's what I keep finding myself saying about most aspects of the film, they just weren't deep enough. This was a shallow version of the story-- like they skimmed bits off the top of this incredibly complex tale to make a Hollywood romance, spoon-feeding the audience the themes that compelled readers of the book to think and contemplate. (C'mon-- after the first miscarriage, onscreen Henry actually states, "What if the baby time-traveled out of the womb?" Thanks for not forcing us to actually use our brains!)

The reasonable pile of tissues that I amassed by the end of the flick.

I'm figuring that I will only get myself all worked up if I actually rehash all the differences in the movie's storyline that caused me to scribble furiously in the dark theater, but just a few can't hurt too much, right? The biggest thing that got under my skin about this adaptation was really a little detail, but one of those things that I just don't understand why the powers that be simply don't do the right way. Why in the world did they make Henry slowly fade away when he time traveled, instead of disappearing in the instantaneous way described in the book? Little detail perhaps, but it could have been done true to the book, is all I'm sayin. And just one more-- the fact that they made Clare purposely pursue a younger Henry in order to get pregnant really changes the meaning of everything that comes later... again, I just don't think the movie makers really got Clare and her journey through this novel. Who was I kidding with that "just one more"... what about not having Henry's feet amputated?? As I jotted down in my little notebook-- no amputation= no deep despair. Without that horrifyingly consequence of a time traveling incident gone really, really bad, the end of Henry's days lacked the depth of terror and ultimate despair that I felt the book conveyed. Yes, in the movie he was sad, and yes, he knew his death was impending, but it was much less profound. Oh, and the ending-- UGH. Too neatly wrapped up in an emotional sense, when the novel ending leaves you with the impression that she had been destined to spend her whole life waiting after Henry's death, just as she had been doing since she was six years old, until that final meeting decades later. Always waiting.

The realist in me knows that a movie cannot include every part of the book, and the absences of events and people is almost easier to tolerate than the changing of key aspects, for me at least. But that being said, it was difficult to realize that so many characters had simply been dropped for the movie, characters from Henry's past that really impacted who he had become as an older adult. Seriously, I could go on and on, but I'm sure everyone has already tuned out anyway!

Here's how I see it, in an analogy that came to me as we were exiting the theater. I love books and I love food, so this one really works for me. Say you could have this incredible ice cream sundae-- a huge bowl filled with a delicious variety of ice cream flavors, featuring oozing caramel and chocolate swirls. Hidden in the ice cream scoops are sweet mini-peanut butter cups, crunchy candy-covered pretzel pieces, and delightful cookie dough chunks. The top of this heap of heaven offers up a whipped cream and nuts topping that completes the whole delicious picture. Devouring this delectable treat is an experience that intrigues your senses, bringing you joy with each new taste. You could have this entire wonder, or... you could simply dip your spoon into one or two spots of the bowl, tasting just a fraction of its deliciousness instead. Yes, those few tastes would be enjoyable, but you won't get the whole experience in just those two shallow spoonfuls.

Eat the sundae, people, that's what I say. Eat the whole damn thing. Savor each individual flavor. Lick the bowl. A year later, make the same exact freaking sundae and eat it again!! When you can have this amazing story relayed to through Audrey Niffenegger's compelling novel, please don't only opt for the little taste that the movie provides.

I'm telling you. Eat the sundae.


Considering consuming a fourth sundae sometime very soon,