When I heard that the movie version of Endless Love was being remade, I was pleased. I reread the novel in anticipation. Finally, Hollywood would get one of my favorite books right. Right?
Wrong! I've only seen the previews for this new one, which was released on Valentine's Day, but that's enough. I could tell that this was only another chapter in my Endless Disappointment. Of course, hope didn't die that quickly. Perhaps I was being shallow. No such luck.
Scott Spencer, in a recent interview, said that his book has once again been "mangled beyond recognition". I wonder if he came out of the movie theater with tears of frustration in his eyes like I did back in 1981. I'd skipped my afternoon classes the day the movie hit town, because I couldn't wait a moment longer. Also, I had to see it alone, so I could get the full impact of its greatness, without having to engage in mindless discussion with some date that probably wouldn't understand. Instead, I got the full impact of a half-assed script and one of the most interminable, mind-numbing theme songs ever written.
This time, I'm not going to cry; I'm just not going to go. If I do cry, I'll do it at home and save myself ten bucks.
Admittedly, I don't know moviemaking from Shinola, but I don't see what's so difficult about getting it right, or at least recognizable. Although I hesitate to risk my heart a third time, maybe someone could try again in a few years. Some indie director and like-minded producers with taste and standards. Change the title and the characters' names if you need to, but go back to the source material and fucking use it for something other than a coaster.