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I think the book and the film adaptation are really best treated as separate beasts. Normally, I'd say/write: The book was better - but, I really, really, dig the film.
It's weird, though, that the movie, as great as it was, had very little of what made the book great for me. No bum/father/trainspotting bit, no sex/loss/hiding bit, and no ridiculous Van Damme video dilemma... but both have that over-and-above love of Iggy suffused in their every particle.
And, yeah, for all the shit it got about 'glorifying drugs' and crime and such, I saw it with a group of friends, and they all sort of steered themselves away from heavy chemicals and petty theft for a bit.
Least favorite (but still damned powerful and well-done) bit: dead baby upside down on the ceiling. I may laugh through 'The Excorcist' but damned if that baby crawling, head moving all wrongways round, doesn't do me in, every time. |
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