A brief glance at recent releases in cinema will reveal an undeniable trend; a distinct popularity for the adaptation of novels into films. Moreover, to make an arguably large generalisation, the majority of better recent films were originally much-loved hardbacks. Jane Eyre, We Need to Talk About Kevin and Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy are just a few examples of converted novels that have become some of the most compelling films of the last few months. Even The Ides of March was loosely based on a play. Oddly the phrase ‘loosely based’ underpins this whole notion, cropping up in the credits even when you expect it the least.

So why has this method of filmmaking become so widespread? Well, the concept is not entirely new. Ever since the birth of cinema, novels have provided great inspiration for films. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is a gothic novel that was turned into an early horror film. In this case, the film is more of a conceptual adaptation, as opposed to perhaps the particular chronology of events. It is easy to see the appeal of producing a visual representation of a novel’s ideas. Often interesting novels are, at their heart, good stories or ideas. So when a director decides to use an idea or story, the plot, characters and script are essentially taken care of without too much effort; this is not, of course, to demean the task of reworking a text for a film.

However, this recent surge in adaptations for the screen might suggest an increasing reluctance to write original films. In a sense films that fall into the ‘loosely based’ category can be directly contrasted with films that have an original idea behind them. Inception is a phenomenal film with a unique concept behind it and it appears designed specifically for the screen. It incorporates outlandish special effects, but also manages to focus on the complex events that form the ingenious narrative. Quentin Tarantino has also written some fantastic films; funny, often gruesome but always wonderfully original.

Films like these highlight the difference between the film that has been adapted and the film that has been newly contrived. Obviously originality is not everything, as this topic can raise its own issues on what is truly original, but the basic difference between the two types of film is clear.

Despite the appeal of originality, there have been numerous films that have been brilliantly adapted from novels. A Clockwork Orange uses Alex’s voiceover to generate an equally unreliable and haunting narrative, which shows us his warped world almost as effectively as Burgess’s novel. Similarly, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas is a worthy attempt to convert Hunter S. Thompson’s drug-addled mind into an equally chaotic piece of cinema.

However, often film adaptations seek to take advantage of an already established commercial demographic. The Harry Potter and Twilight franchises are an excellent example of a series of books that have spawned films off the wave of their popularity. There are undoubtedly economic motives behind these, but maybe it is just a ‘magical’ experience to see the images of the text manifest in a tangible form. Unfortunately direct adaptations such as these have a nasty habit of entailing a mob of unimpressed fans that have to suffer the most unforgettable moment of the whole book cut out. This is a genuine concern, as when adapting novels there is a danger of butchering the beloved characters that people hold dear or omitting arguably crucial parts. Films should be received as fundamentally different entities, allowing appreciation in their own right, not just as a direct copy of a novel.

Ultimately, this difference is paramount to the contrast between adaptation and originality. Whilst films that are based on, or directly adapted from, novels can be critically acclaimed, an originally written film can be more admirable in its creativity. A film that has been written from the ground up, specifically for the visual medium it was intended for, can be much more compelling than the direct adaptation of a text. If authors can produce original work, then why not more film-makers?