It is nearly 3am, and I am only up because the internet needs to know this.
Chapter four of section five in The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay is the most beautiful piece of literature I have ever (EVER) read. I think it contains quite possibly the best arrangement of paragraphs ever composed and put together in my lifetime. I'm being completely serious.
The last time a book made me cry was in fifth grade.
And I have not cried this hard since 40 minutes into Dancer in the Dark.
This is the kind of thing that cinema can't touch. They can option the hell out of the story, but, unless they dig up Hitchcock, and get all "Clone High" on us, I don't think there's a director capable of pulling it off. It would take some kind of uber-creation. They'd have to do something like in Twins, where they make a sperm milkshake of the DNA of the greatest living directors, with Meryl Streep as the host mother. Sadly, if it ends up like Twins, where there would be birthed a cinematic tour de force, so too would there be a cinematic anti-christ--someone so terrible, trite and generally "hack-ish", that it makes Uwe Boll seem like George Lucas.
If they make a movie, don't see it until post-ocular mastication. It will not hit you as hard as when the words themselves invade, seduce and flavor the insides of your skull with their greatness.
Read this book.
The last time a book made me cry was in fifth grade.
And I have not cried this hard since 40 minutes into Dancer in the Dark.
This is the kind of thing that cinema can't touch. They can option the hell out of the story, but, unless they dig up Hitchcock, and get all "Clone High" on us, I don't think there's a director capable of pulling it off. It would take some kind of uber-creation. They'd have to do something like in Twins, where they make a sperm milkshake of the DNA of the greatest living directors, with Meryl Streep as the host mother. Sadly, if it ends up like Twins, where there would be birthed a cinematic tour de force, so too would there be a cinematic anti-christ--someone so terrible, trite and generally "hack-ish", that it makes Uwe Boll seem like George Lucas.
If they make a movie, don't see it until post-ocular mastication. It will not hit you as hard as when the words themselves invade, seduce and flavor the insides of your skull with their greatness.
Read this book.