The House with a Clock in its Walls (2018)
This delightful story, based on a book by John Bellairs which I have treasured from early childhood, lends itself well to film. I was inclined to like it before I had heard anything about its production, although I had all the usual trepidation when one hears that someone else has picked up your favorite glass figurine and is tossing it around like a beach ball.
I loved it. I loved the steampunky vibes. I ADORED the cast's chemistry. The story remains largely true to the book. Lewis Barnavelt, newly orphaned, comes to live with his odd uncle, and discovers that he and his purple-obsessed neighbor practice real magic, and are concerned about a mysterious ticking noise (a clock, obviously) in the walls of the large mansion they inhabit.
The story includes a few moral lessons for children and adults. For adults, the clear message is "give children information." Lewis's uncle's determination to hide the worrying truth from Lewis is a direct cause of the near-catastrophe which makes the film's climax. For children, the lesson is that the need to make friends or be popular can make us do things we will regret.
If I have criticisms of the film, they are that the ending is graphically overblown, as is to be expected, and there weren't enough characters of color. I prefer diversity and subtlety, but children and filmmakers generally don't, so I accept the flashy effects as a small compromise, rant bitterly that they could only come up with a single black character, and continue to love both the movie and the book.
I should tell you the story of why I love the book so much. When I was a kid, my dad worked in the local library, and we used to spend lots of time there. The children's librarian was Mrs. Sheets, and she was kind to me, although the office politics of that particular library have always been a bit . . . problematic, apparently.
Anyway, she recommended the series to me, and I started with The House with the Clock in its Walls, and was REALLY into it! I especially loved the Edward Gorey illustrations. But when I reached the last page, I realized that it wasn't the end of the story. The last chapter or so had fallen out of the book. I cried and cried and cried. . . And then I showed my dad, and he talked to the person in charge of acquisitions (Jane, at the time, I think), and they ordered a new copy just so I could finish it. And then the library acquired all the other books in the series, and my life was full of happiness again for many more hours.
I adore public libraries. I love that memory of my dad. And I love the pairing of John Bellairs and Edward Gorey as much as chocolate and peanut butter.
I loved it. I loved the steampunky vibes. I ADORED the cast's chemistry. The story remains largely true to the book. Lewis Barnavelt, newly orphaned, comes to live with his odd uncle, and discovers that he and his purple-obsessed neighbor practice real magic, and are concerned about a mysterious ticking noise (a clock, obviously) in the walls of the large mansion they inhabit.
The story includes a few moral lessons for children and adults. For adults, the clear message is "give children information." Lewis's uncle's determination to hide the worrying truth from Lewis is a direct cause of the near-catastrophe which makes the film's climax. For children, the lesson is that the need to make friends or be popular can make us do things we will regret.
If I have criticisms of the film, they are that the ending is graphically overblown, as is to be expected, and there weren't enough characters of color. I prefer diversity and subtlety, but children and filmmakers generally don't, so I accept the flashy effects as a small compromise, rant bitterly that they could only come up with a single black character, and continue to love both the movie and the book.
I should tell you the story of why I love the book so much. When I was a kid, my dad worked in the local library, and we used to spend lots of time there. The children's librarian was Mrs. Sheets, and she was kind to me, although the office politics of that particular library have always been a bit . . . problematic, apparently.
Anyway, she recommended the series to me, and I started with The House with the Clock in its Walls, and was REALLY into it! I especially loved the Edward Gorey illustrations. But when I reached the last page, I realized that it wasn't the end of the story. The last chapter or so had fallen out of the book. I cried and cried and cried. . . And then I showed my dad, and he talked to the person in charge of acquisitions (Jane, at the time, I think), and they ordered a new copy just so I could finish it. And then the library acquired all the other books in the series, and my life was full of happiness again for many more hours.
I adore public libraries. I love that memory of my dad. And I love the pairing of John Bellairs and Edward Gorey as much as chocolate and peanut butter.
 |
| My thumb holding open my copy of the book to the creepiest illustration I could find. |
Comments
Post a Comment