SCREEN: Winter Wonderland

Fantasy, religion and British whimsy populate Narnia

Josh Bell

Given the success of the Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter franchises, it was inevitable that C.S. Lewis' seven-book Chronicles of Narnia series would eventually make it to the big screen. Like the Rings and Potter books, Lewis' tales of the enchanted land of Narnia have a large following of fans who appreciate their rich imaginary worlds, fantastical creatures and engaging storytelling. What sets Lewis' work apart from most other fantasy novels is his clear religious symbolism. A devout Christian who wrote several works of theology, Lewis weaved religious references into the entire Narnia series, and the first book to be adapted into a film, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, has as its centerpiece an allegory for the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.


That shouldn't get in the way of Lewis spinning a good yarn, and by and large it doesn't, although adults more attuned to the biblical references are likely to find parts of Wardrobe the novel a bit jarring or inspirational, depending on their beliefs. In adapting Lewis' novel for the screen, director and co-writer Andrew Adamson, who achieved success with Shrek and its sequel, treads lightly around the God stuff, not shying away from it but not making any particular effort to emphasize it, either. As with the book, adults and savvy teens will probably realize that heroic lion king Aslan (voiced by Liam Neeson) is meant to be Christ, while kids likely will just think of him as the savior of Narnia.


Wardrobe is primarily a fantasy epic, and as such it performs its function adequately, if a little stiffly. One of the problems with adapting Lewis' book is that, unlike the Rings or Potter tomes, it's a slim volume that tells a relatively short story. Much of the camera-friendly action takes place in a few lines or off the page entirely, so while the film keeps the novel's plot intact, it also engages in a great deal of embellishment.


That embellishment starts with the film's opening, going into detail about the lives of the four Pevensie children—Peter (William Moseley), Susan (Anna Popplewell), Edmund (Skandar Keynes) and Lucy (Georgie Henley)—as they withstand the London Blitz during World War II. Sent off to the sprawling country estate of a doddering old professor (Jim Broadbent) to escape the violence, the children soon come upon the titular piece of furniture, which magically whisks them away again—this time to the enchanted land of Narnia.


Once there, the children encounter talking animals, fauns, dwarves and the evil White Witch (Tilda Swinton), who's enslaved Narnia by plunging it into a perpetual winter. Prophesied as heroes, the children eventually team up with Aslan to fight the witch and save the day.


The novel's charm relies nearly as much on Lewis' dry, folksy, British narrative style as it does upon the story's specifics. In attempting to compete with other cinematic fantasy epics, Adamson has taken the emphasis off of the charm and put it on the spectacle, and it's in the expanded set pieces that the film feels the most generic and derivative. The climactic battle is Lord of the Rings-lite, and the children's quick militarization (thanks to weapons given to them by Santa Claus, no less) represents a disturbing—albeit subtle—endorsement of violence to advance religion.


It's far more enjoyable to watch the adorable, wide-eyed Henley gab with faun Mr. Tumnus (James McAvoy), or to admire Swinton's icily evil performance as the witch, who, with her high-fashion outfits, stunning hairstyles and regal bearing, is a far more appealing ruler than the bland, paternalistic Aslan. The vaunted special effects are effective but never particularly special, and still aren't able to make talking beavers blend completely realistically with human actors. Whenever the film is overwhelmed by action or religion, it feels lost, but whenever it allows the whimsy of its source material to shine through, it takes on a pleasant life of its own.

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