With the release and critical success of Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, an adaptation of a novel once considered impossible to film, what better time to look into the process of adaptation. Most movies these days are based on literary sources. Which is ironic, considering the increasing lack of interest in books these days as opposed to the spoon-fed thoughts offered by Hollywood.

While many novels can be almost directly translated to screen, especially pre-20th century novels such as Jane Austen’s gossip columns, more recent novels can prove difficult. There have been bad novels turned into good films (pretty much everything Hitchcock Made, The Godfather), and plenty of dull adaptations of good books (Dune, The Unbearable Bore of Being in a Cinema to Watch This). There’s also a few oddities, such as Adaptation, Charlie Kaufman’s bizarre self-referential adaptation of ‘The Orchid Thief’. But despite the film industry’s frenzy in snapping up adaptation rights, there remains a few novels many fear.

Below are what I consider to be the most difficult novels to adapt, and who, if any, is fit to do that job.

Ulysses

Considered to be the greatest novel ever written, Ulysses is ripe with obscure references, wit, and a style of lyrical writing that makes the book better said than read. There have been two Irish films, one in 1967 and other recent version in 2003, called Bloom. Both are utter failures, and the best they can do is have passages read over the basic action in a desperate attempt to maintain James Joyce’s stream-of-consciousness style of writing. It’s the cardinal sin of adaptation. A true adaptation of this novel would have to substitute the written associations and wordplay with a solely visual language, allowing the power of the image and editing to represent the novel’s essence. I should also give Joyce’s last novel ‘Finnegans Wake’ a nod for being the most unfilmable novel of all time, despite this.

If anyone can do it: Quentin Tarantino has displayed a habit of… just kidding. If the novel does truly require a focus on imagery as opposed to the word, then Wong Kar Wai has proven his ability for doing just so. In The Mood for Love was a simple story about forbidden love, explored in the most luscious of ways. It’s sort-of sequel 2046 was even more abstract, a rough circle around the idea of first love unregained filmed in the most mesmeric and sensual of ways. Unconvinced? Then check this out.

Cat’s Cradle

Although most of Kurt Vonnegut’s novels are unfilmable (That didn’t stop Alan Rudolph from making the horrendously bad Breakfast of Champions), Cat’s Cradle is one of his best, and most manic. The book’s narrator is researching the man who helped invent the atom bomb, and ends up discovering a substance that could spell the end of humanity. Richard Kelly, writer and director of Donnie Darko, adapted the book for Leonardo Di Caprio’s company Appian Way, but the project seems to have been dropped. Probably because it’s bloody UNFILMABLE.

If anyone can do it: Go on, give it to Kelly. Despite early reviews condemning Kelly’s new film Southland Tales, Donnie Darko was quite entertaining, and in some ways embodied the Vonnegut spirit.

The Wind Up Bird Chronicle

Hugely popular Japanese writer Haruki Murakami has penned nothing but odd novels, but his best is his most peculiar. It follows Toru Okadu in his attempt to find his missing cat, and then missing wife. Instead he finds psychics, oddballs, a well that transports him to a hotel room, shared dreams, and a damn spot he just can’t get rid of. Every time the novel appears to be gaining narrative momentum, it turns and twists surreal corners. I’ve only read the English translation, but this unsolvable mystery is utterly engaging, and possibly the best book of the last 50 years.

If anyone can do it: Initially I thought of David Lynch, but homeboy Beat Takeshi has proven his desire to take on all types of film, from comedy, violent cop drama, a mix of both, tap-dancing Samurai flick, and powerful parables. So why not have the country’s best film-maker make its best novel?

The Third Policeman

Another Irish novel (what do you expect, when Freud said the Irish couldn’t be analysed?), this one was recently name checked by hit TV series Lost. It was a clever attempt to get people to furiously read it, for it has little to do with the confounding show. Although more conventionally written than Ulysses, it’s far more insane. Its narrator commences a journey to find a black box, supposedly containing money of the man he, and friend Divney, killed. The narrator (and his soul Joe, whom he often converses with) wanders into a police station, and thus enters a world of wordplay, bicycles becoming people (and vice-versa), a stick so pointy you only have to think of it to be hurt, and other bizarre trinkets and characters, leading to a damning twist. While hilarious, Flann O’Brien’s book contains little of the three-act structure, instead revelling in the asides, footnotes, and distractions, making it unappealing for Hollywood.

If anyone can do it: Spike Jonze is a man willing to film anything, plus the oddball humour of Being John Malkovich may suit the novel’s wit. When Tim Burton was good (well over a decade ago), I would have loved to have seen his grotesque sets. But please, please, do not let M Night Shyamalan anywhere near it, lest he make another 90 minute preamble to a twist.

100 Years of Solitude

This astounding piece of fiction resists the camera because it lacks any central character. Rather, it charts a century of a fictional South American town and its several generations of families. Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s novel is passionate, amusing, slightly satirical, and often surreal. Characters will fly past windows waving hello, and no one bats an eyelid. One character disappears from the novel by suddenly floating up into the air. It’s no wonder that this is one of the few books in this article that no one has even attempted to film.

If anyone can do it: It’s a toss between fellow Spaniards Pedro Almodovar and Julio Medem. Almodovar is more touching and his early films were fun, but I feel Medem is the better film-maker. The latter’s films are often literary in story, but manage to combine that with a sensual style of visualisation that makes films such as Sex and Lucia and Lovers of the Arctic Circle so wonderful.

Remembrance of Things Past

Also known as ‘In Search of Lost Time’ (which makes it sound like a Jules Verne yarn), Marcel Proust’s contribution to the world of literature is so difficult to film as it’s so damn long. The novel is divided into seven books, each one long enough alone! Although I’ve only managed to read the first two books, the entire volume seems to be autobiographical, about a sickly young man who aspires to be a writer, despite the distraction of 19th Century society. Proust’s novels incorporate the idea of scents, sounds, and certain objects pushing associated memories to the fore. Probably more suited as a TV serial, there have been a few films, mostly adapting one of the books. The best is Time Regained, starring Catherine Deneuve and John Malkovich

If anyone can do it: The closing moments of Terence Malick’s New World displayed the kind of editing that can summarise years in seconds with aesthetic brilliance. He’s the man for such a mammoth, ethereal task, though half of it would probably be shots of trees.

Metamorphosis

Strangely enough, Kafka can be done, as seen in Orson Welles excellent The Trial. But Metamorphosis is even more difficult for its protagonist, Gregor Samsa, awakens to find himself a giant insect. The story concerns the reaction of his family, as they move from horror to endurance, to an unjust disgust that permeates all thoughts. There’s been plenty of attempts to adapt this symbolic tale, the best being animations. However, this highly insular tale has yet to have a definitive celluloid version.

If anyone can do it: For a while David Lynch had threatened to make it. Considering the unforgettable effects seen in his first feature, Eraserhead, plus its highly symbolic story, he is without doubt the man for the job.

The Confederacy of Dunces

This one has a rich history of failed attempts to adapt to screen. For decades producers have bidded for rights for this book (which its author sadly never saw published, committing suicide due to publishers’ lack of interest. His mother persisted until it became the classic it is today). Actors have been lined up to play grossly overweight pretentious protagonist Ignatious Reilly, including John Belushi, John Candy, and Chris Farley, all of which failed. Steven Soderbergh came close to filming a version, with Will Ferrell as Iggy, but it ultimately fell through due to production problems. Personally, I feel Soderbergh lacks humour in most of his films, and would fail to do the story justice.

If anyone could do it: A few years ago, I would have deemed the Coen Brothers fit for any filmic task. Lately, I’ve started to hate them for their dull, off-the-mark, comedies. Still, if they can do The Big Lebowski, they could easily represent the brilliance and delusion of Ignatious, as well as the madcap characters that surround him.

Any Thomas Pynchon Novel

Camera-shy Thomas Pynchon (seen here in his cartoon form in The Simpsons) is known for writing novels that are partly brilliant, partly baffling. Usually incorporating seemingly unconnected story strands that only link in the most cosmic of ways, Pynchon’s complex way of writing often makes his novels impenetrable. His most accessible is ‘The Crying of Lot 49′, a sort of conspiracy novel that never gets solved, with a 3-act play thrown in the middle for fun.

If anyone can do it: I’m not sure how anyone could even try to extract a story out of epic tomes like ‘Gravity’s Rainbow’. Nicholas Roeg springs to mind, with films like Performance and The Man Who Felt to Earth, being both confusing, visually verbose, and at times quite lofty.

Don Quixote

The original ‘modern novel’ has had many TV and film adaptations, with versions reaching back to the early 1900′s. But once again there is no definitive version. The 1947 Spanish Don Quixote is considered to be the best, although I would love to see the 2000 TV adaptation where Jonathan Lithgow played the deluded knight of La Mancha. Orson Welles spent most of his life trying to make a version, but failed to complete it. The problem with adapting this novel lies in the fact that its best moments are often the extensive sub-plots, most of which are ripe for films in themselves.

If anyone can do it: My heart still hopes that Terry Gilliam will make the version that looked so enjoyable in Lost in La Mancha, the documentary about the movie never made, and the greatest tragedy in modern times.

The Atrocity Exhibition

It’s only a matter of time before JG Ballard becomes the new PK Dick, with his socially aware sci-fi novels being snapped up for development, such as ‘High Rise’. However, ‘The Atrocity Exhibition’ remains his most experimental. Essentially plotless, it endeavours to portray the impression modern society and mass media has in our private lives, our psyche, and our sexuality, and acted as a precursor to his popular and depraved ‘Crash’. Ballard even suggests that readers should not start at the beginning and finish at the end, rather select random passages. Yet, an attempt has been made to film it. In 2001 Jonathan Weiss completed a version of the book, which was apparently approved by the writer himself, but unsurprisingly failed to make a name for itself. Click here to see a less than impressed review, and here for a wonderfully tense interview with the director about his film, the relevance of Ballard, and the role of the critic in independent cinema.

If anyone can do it: Darren Aronofsky has proven his ability to create ponderous cinema, and his intense vision would work with the power of Ballard’s writing. UK music-video director Chris Cunningham would also be appropriately passionate. Those not familiar with his work should check this out.

Catcher in the Rye

This is partly here because while reclusive author JD Salinger (pictured top) lives and breathes, this seminal novel will never go near the silver screen. In fact, each new print of Catcher in the Rye contains a hidden device that causes TVs and DVD players to explode when placed too close. But even when Salinger’s reign over his work fades, I still deem this book very difficult to adapt. It’s charm is in the adolescent thoughts of main character Holden Caufield, who acts with delightful bitterness, while secretly spotting the ‘phonies’ all around him. It’s an incredibly difficult task to capture this in cinema without resorting to the laziness of including a voice-over.

If anyone can do this: At first I thought of Ang Lee and his adaptation of ‘The Ice Storm’. But I would love to see Wes Anderson and Noah Baumbach highlight the humour of the novel. Both have proven their ability to combine hilarity with the literary, especially the latter’s touching The Squid and the Whale.

Molloy, Malone Dies, The Unnameable

Irish playwright Samuel Beckett’s trilogy of novels rival Ulysses in their difficulty to film. Yet while there’s ways of representing Joyce’s rich text on screen, achieving the same for these novels is next to impossible. Even Beckett on Film, a series of adaptation of his plays, turned out to be a failure of sorts. Molloy does contain characters, Moran and Molloy, but soon it seems their identities and stories merge into one. Narrative begins to crumble away in Malone Dies, in which a man’s attempts to retain identity through telling stories constantly crack open, until we’re left with The Unnameable, a long monologue that only hints at the concept of character, until it eventually “can’t go on”. How on earth could anyone adapt a novel that fails to have a character?

If anyone can do it: While I honestly believe this is impossible to adapt to screen, if a gun was put to my hypothetical head I’d consider either Woody Allen or Ingmar Bergman. Bergman has spent decades making musings on concepts like transient identity. Yet Woody Allen has often done similar, but injected a vast amount of humour, both physical at philosophical, into them. And that’s exactly how Beckett makes his novels so enjoyable, there’s always something to laugh at while staring into the abyss of nothing, of nowhere.

By Eoin O’Faolain