Beautifully, almost as if it were meant to be, this weeks movie and focus in Textual Crossings (my lit class) was The Black Dahlia and adapting prose, and how sometimes it just doesn’t work. The main focus throughout Textual Crossings has been about looking at how the story world of certain narratives can be manipulated and extended so as to allow for new narratives to be told. Essentially, the backbone to any adaptation or cover is the want or need by the creator to extend from the original story world.
Sometimes this does not always work out, and this weeks screening focused on that using Brian De Palma’s 2006 The Black Dahlia in which the narrative of the original story becomes convoluted and confused as it weaves in and out of original, with a heap of super unhelpful casting choices and non-sensemaking plot lines leaving the audience completely baffled, exhausted from trying to keep up and bored senseless by Scarlett Johansson.
A simple google of ‘The Black Dahlia and why it’s the worst movie ever’ gave me this WONDERFUL piece, including all you need to know about the movie which I will put here:
The Black Dahlia is based on the novel by Elmore LeonardJames Ellroy, which centers around a true crime unsolved mystery that occurred in Hollywood in 1947 when a young would-be actress was found gruesomely murdered. Josh Hartnett and Aaron Eckhart play two Los Angeles detectives who become increasingly obsessed with the case. There’s some kind of love triangle between them and Aaron Eckhart’s girlfriend Scarlett Johansson. Then Josh Hartnett sleeps with Hillary Swank. Something else happens. Aaron Eckhart is murdered when he is trying to murder Scarlett Johansson’s ex-boyfriend who got out of jail. Something. There’s…a clown painting. Josh Hartnett moves in with Scarlett Johansson and she asks him to fix a broken bathroom tile which is how he finds a bunch of secret money, so he sleeps with Hillary Swank again. Then something happens and I don’t know. He’s in a house? There was a porno and the porno was made in this shitty house and it turns out that Hillary Swank’s mom killed the would-be actress because she’s an alcoholic? She shoots herself and then later Josh Hartnett confronts Hillary Swank and she has an Academy Award you know, for best acting? And he shoots her. Because something happened. He was like “did something happen?” and she’s like “yes,” and he shoots her for it. Then he goes back and Scarlett Johansson is always wearing a neglige because of World War II or whatever. The end.
Narrative is important, people.
Anyway, here’s a really bad rap song that plays in my head when I think about majoring in literature (lit) studies, have fun
