It takes an exceptional piece of literature to evoke the imaginative activity that paints a picture in your head, or plays out on your own private stage if you lower your eyelids. Such works are deservedly exalted within the literary community, but for a select few, the words are carried from the pages to the pictures as they are translated onto the big screen. For an even smaller number, this transition gives birth to cinematic works that equal the greatness of their inspiration. This series is written to honor and to educate, for often it remains unadvertised that so many great movies were great books first.

Upon scanning the pages of an Ian McEwan novel, it’s easy to suppose that he simply scribbled a few poetic verses, and magically stretched them across the pages. It’s one of few logical explanations for how his works manage to capture the incredible scope of beauty and thought typically contained only in the poetic genre. He somehow encapsulates that comfortable emotional tension that gives poetry its gravity, yet does so while simultaneously maintaining a level of humanity that cuts to the very core of the person. McEwan’s 2007 novel and New York Times Bestseller, Atonement, is a stunning example of the manipulation of language at its finest: for you food enthusiasts, it’s a dark red wine; the more tactile might consider it a cool bolt of silk. The ethereal purity of romance walks hand in hand with the bitter agony of reality and its limitations, coupling to create a bittersweet love story captivating in its depth.

Beyond the emotional realm, Atonement is an examination of reality, or more importantly, its perception. A pastoral narration unparalleled in contemporary works combines with deep psychoanalysis to provide a comprehensive canvas of McEwan’s universe. While Briony’s neatly-ordered realm provides a stark contrast to the chaos of the larger Tallis household, the entire estate becomes an emblem of childhood innocence when the narrative shifts to encompass the larger world with the death and destruction of war. But the novel is not a brutal representation of the futility of dreams. Instead, McEwan’s work remains passionately optimistic, even in the face of impossibility. What sets this novel apart is the intricate, often startling treatment of the reader as a character. Or rather, Atonement addresses readers individually, anticipating their expectations and perceptions of the events themselves. At times, the narration seems to respond according to what it knows we as humans feel; McEwan’s ultimate point becomes the understanding of the interaction between idealism and realism, and the ability to maintain a sense of optimistic innocence in a world filled with unavoidable pain.
Barely months after the publication of the tour de force, Director Joe Wright set out to translate McEwan’s poetry into a feature length film. Audiences were skeptical as to how the picture would play out, as so much of the novel’s sway is contained in the emotional and psychological nuances impossible to convey onscreen. Or so they thought. Atonement, in movie version, proved nothing less than cinematic genius. Wright demonstrated his keen eye for matching the sprawling panorama of McEwan’s descriptions with equally beautiful visual interludes panning the perfectly chosen sets. It is in these spaces that the film is adept at conveying the pure humanity that the book provided in deep thought. Additionally, the scenes themselves are manipulated and recycled in ways that impart different perspectives, the way real-life events might appear different when reconsidered. As for the words themselves, the genius of screenwriter Christopher Hampton provided the perfect translation into what actor James McAvoy (Robbie) called ‘the best script he’d ever read’. This extraordinary production loses none of the original work’s beauty, and uniquely expands its stylistic qualities in the translation.