Lolita

Nabokov's best novel save for Pale Fire will probably never get an "ideal" filming, unless someone decides to actually commit Nabokov's own script to celluloid (he wrote it for the 1962 version, and his name appears in the credits, but the finished product was almost wholly the product of Kubrick's pen and Peter Sellers' ad-libbing). But I like both the Kubrick and the Lyne versions, with reservations.

With Kubrick's, the only real problem is that it's not Nabokov. James Mason's performance contains the core of an accurate portrayal of Humbert, and he's often moving. But Sue Lyon was too old for her part and Sellers' Quilty is an altogether different conception from the author's (not that he isn't lots of fun). The film also suffers from having been filmed in the UK. Nabokov had a complex vision of America - vast, tacky, seductive, and grindingly mundane all at the same time - and this just can't be conveyed in a studio and with a few well-chosen locations.

That's where Lyne's version excels. His compositions (or his cinematographer's) are indeed beautiful to look at, and (I think) capture suburban and roadside America very much the way Humbert would have experienced them. Irons is fine as Humbert, although the typecasting was initially painful to contemplate, and Swain is a vast improvement over Lyon as young Dolores: still a bit too old for the part (an inevitable problem, perhaps, for anyone who wants to film this book), but her intelligent performance makes up for this. Despite his cheesy reputation, Lyne wisely refrains from making his Lolita a teenage bombshell, something the more artistic Kubrick couldn't resist.

Again, however, the problem is Quilty. Both directors obviously felt compelled to render in three dimensions a character who is one of Nabokov's phantoms: Does he really exist? Who is he and what do we know about him, outside of Humbert's increasingly paranoid imaginings? Can we trust anything at all that's said about him in this book? I expect that Nabokov himself regretted having to bring Quilty out of the shadows at all for the denouement.

Sellers carried off the role with style, making you forget for a moment that his routines seem to have wandered in from another film. Lyne turns the final confrontation between Humbert and Quilty (there is no flashback framing device, as in Kubrick) into pure Grand Guignol, and so we have to endure watching poor, paunchy Frank Langella running down a hallway of his ridiculously overstuffed house, his bathrobe falling open to reveal his endowments to our embarrassed gaze before being blown away Dirty Harry-style by the avenging Humbert. A major wrong note to say the least.

So Quilty, in the end, defeats both of Nabokov's filmic approximators. But if you love the book, see both movies: Kubrick and Lyne each capture different aspects of the master's great story in valuable ways, and the new Lolita is clearly Lyne's best work yet, proving that a great novel can inspire excellent filmmaking, if not guarantee an "ideal" adaptation.

What we really need now, however, is not a third version of Lolita, but finally, a filming of Lolita: A Screenplay. Nabokov had fun writing this, and any fan of his should read his script as well. Wouldn't you like to see a move of Lolita in which Humbert, searching through the woods for his Lo, encounters a butterfly collector named Vladimir Nabokov? Of course you would!

The Author would be dismayed, and precisely because the story is so faithful to the book. But the story in the book was incidental, just something on which Nabokov could hang his layered challenges to concepts of narrative. The narrator is crazy, overly colors and outright lies. The story never fully exists in the book at all, and such as it does one can never be sure what is true and what imagined. Humbert is a made up name (as are all names) and clearly the narrator makes up most of the elements of his own character as well (European, Professor, Author... obviously a joke by the narrator on Nabokov).

In this film, everything makes sense, exactly the opposite of the reason the book exists. This is a beautiful film, with lovely detailed cinematography, good acting and great score, and all to solidify something that Nabokov created such that it could not be so. I believe that Peter Greenaway could make a good film of Lolita, and that he would have the courage to make it confusing and unerotic and unresolved. Why does Dolores' fate have to change in the film's epilogue? Because it ties up every last loose end. On Christmas Day no less!

(The real scandal is not that audiences/censors are shocked by prurient subjects, but that they take one of the greatest literary achievements ever and make it "explainable." Is this the only thing we can accept?)

But take the film on its own presumption that the book's story is what matters. This Lolita is too old, too pretty and sexy, too controlling. Irons is clearly narrowly channeled here and he is smart enough to know it: his frustration with the unimaginative stance of the film translates to a frustrated Humbert. I think Melanie is just right (just because HH calls her a cow means nothing). HH's violence with his previous wife should have been mentioned; her running away with the Russian cabbie is as much a setup for the Lolita fixation as the childhood dalliance, and better justifies the angst of loss. There should have been a few butterflies, and some explanation about the play: that it was written to allude to that first night at the hotel.

I highly recommend the audio tape version of Lolita. It is read by (guess...) Jeremy Irons! What he brings to the audio tape is the voice and phrasing of a man in a cell continually going over things in his own mind, embellishing and exaggerating and confusing and speculating and sometimes not at all sure about any of it. He brings this same voice to the voiceovers in the film, but it conflicts with the images which purport to represent a narrative stance of "real truth".

Lyne's point of departure from the Kubrick version of Nabokov's great novel lies primarily in tone: the later version focuses more on the tragic, dramatic elements of the book and less on the comedic ones. I will not go so far as to suggest that Lyne made a better film; he did not. I do think, however, that he did pinpoint one of the key components of the novel's genius: a capturing of life on the newly paved highways of mid-century America. As Humbert, Jeremy Irons is as good as his predecessor James Mason. Frank Langella's interpretation of Quilty entirely diverges from the one given by Peter Sellers (and rightfully so; who wants to compete with Sellers?). But it is Dominique Swain, outdoing Sue Lyon, who comes closer than what ever seemed possible to embodying the essence of the doomed Dolly Haze.

Having read the book and watched the 1962 version some years back, now watching the 1997 version completes my own Lolita experience. This one also pretty well follows the novel but of course some things just are inappropriate to include. Lolita is a brat, sassy, pretty, flirty, manipulative, but Humbert is obsessed. Near the end, before his final encounter with Quilty he goes on about loving Lolita, but what he had was not love, it was carnal obsession. It wrecked him I suppose in the same way that many men have been wrecked over the history of the world.

I found it on Amazon streaming movies.

I fell in love with Nabokov's masterpiece. Upon hearing that there was a movie adapted from the novel (I am of a younger generation) I found it hard to believe that anyone could put into visual images and dialogue what had appeared in my mind as flawless. After seeing this remade version, I came away satisfied. Hearing what countless critics had to say has never changed my view. Of course, it can never come even close to the novel, but watching Lyne's version unfold in quiet and somber light brought to mind the exact same feelings I was experiencing reading the book. Certain things did bother me. Lolita's mother in particular. Hearing Melanie Griffith deliver lines as if she were reading to a group of school children set my teeth on edge, although she went down in fine style. And having the sole reason for Humbert's obsession with nymphets wrapped up in one neat reason(Annabel) was also hard to swallow. But Dominique Swain was nearly the perfect picture of the Lolita in my mind. Wistful, vulnerable, and a fierce manipulator all at once, it's hard to believe she'd never had acting experience beforehand. Perhaps a bit too old in certain lights, she still managed to carry off a difficult role and steal every scene she was in, much like Natalie Portman in "Beautiful Girls". Certain expressions were incredibly poignant. (Think of Lo's face when Humbert denied permission to be in the play. Think of her lipstick smeared smile after being caught going out when Humbert went to the market). The essence of this movie is what formed my opinion that this was a good film. The pacing, the comparison to Kubrick didn't matter when the mood of the entire film was left. Maybe the critics are right, and I'm missing something. But when the final scene appeared, that dreamy image of Lolita's face, I was completely satisfied that Lyne did the best job anyone could have.