High Fidelity: Comparing Novel and Film

Since soon after the invention of sound films, directors have been turning popular—and sometimes not so popular—books into motion pictures.  Many a critique, either positive or negative, has been written about the editorializing done and the amount of creative license taken during the transition of these stories from print to the big-screen.  Certainly audience members will argue as to the quality of one of these forms versus the other, or whether there might be a better actor for some role than the particular one chosen by the Hollywood powers that be, or if the soundtrack either enhanced or detracted from the effect, or even if the plot was completely ruined and the movie was declared a colossal failure.  However, when turning any piece of literature into a film, there are a number of distinct and unavoidable differences, no matter how the contributors may struggle to make the two forms as similar as possible.  

High Fidelity is one such novel that has been turned into a movie.  It was written in 1995 by British novelist and journalist Nick Hornby.  It is a national bestseller and a New York Times Notable Book, and has received worldwide praise.  In 2000, Stephen Frears directed the film version starring John Cusack, which has grossed almost 50 million in its lifetime.  There are several key differences between the novel and the film, particularly notable in the scene where the narrator (Rob Fleming in the novel; Rob Gordon in the film) discusses his “desert-island, all-time, top five most memorable split-ups, in chronological order” (Hornby 3).

One of the most glaring differences, textually, between the novel and the film is the audience’s relationship with the narrator.  The scene begins (at the very beginning for the novel, after a bit of introduction for the film) with the narrator listing these break-ups and asking his most recent break-up, Laura, whether or not she can see her name on that list.  Obviously, this is a rhetorical question, because her name is not there.  In the very beginning of this scene, both the novel and film find the narrator addressing Laura as if she were actually reading or listening to him; however, the reader gets the impression that the narrator does not actually expect her ever to do either.  She is not present to listen, and she will not read what he has written, so the actual readers are left in a kind of limbo between the two components of this pair.  Instead, in the movie, the narrator is initially looking directly at the camera as if he is actually addressing the audience; however, throughout his tirade, he glances away from the camera, presumably in the direction of Laura’s retreating figure, and at one point even opens the window and yells the last bit of his monologue at her.  Laura’s lack of response leaves viewers wondering if she heard this, or if it was merely symbolic. 

Afterward, in the film, the narrator resumes addressing the camera, and thereby the audience, to which he remains constant for the rest of the scene.  In the book, contrastingly, he addresses Laura by name every so often, again as if she were actually taking in the information he is divulging.  The nature of the writing/monologue feels similar to a confession—the narrator includes intimate details of his past in a way that suggests they are actually being received by some kind of confidante, i.e. the reader/audience, instead of an ex-girlfriend.  These seemingly confidential details make the audience of the film feel as if the narrator is a close friend to whom they are lending an ear to listen and shoulder to cry on, whereas the repeated mention of Laura’s name in the novel leave the reader still unsure as to who the narrator is actually addressing, if anyone. 

Despite this apparent ambiguity in direction, the novel of course includes more detail—both in quantity and in variety.  This serves to make the readers feel closer to the narrator because they are in possession of so much deeper knowledge.  Here the novel and the film, despite deviating between the object(s) towards which the narrator’s words are directed, each manage to pull the audience into the story by way of an unspecified familiarity.

A second, crucial difference between a novel and a film is the possibility and addition of an actual soundtrack.  Being that High Fidelity itself, in novel form, is heavily laden with musical references, trivia, and criticism, the soundtrack to the film version is of particular importance.  Rob turns on “You’re Gonna Miss Me” by the 13th Floor Elevators right before he yells out the window at Laura, which helps to accentuate the defiance he is displaying while he states that their break-up did not hurt him as bad as others.  Playing “I Want Candy” by Bow Wow Wow while Rob is kissing Alison Ashworth on the playground echoes the childish and evanescent nature of their “relationship”.  The inclusion of Joan Jett and the Blackhearts‘ “Crimson and Clover” while Rob and Penny Hardwick are at a party immediately ties the scene to the 80’s and gives the audience a better sense of the time in which the events the narrator is relating were taking place.  The music playing during the entire part with Charlie Nicholson is edgy, rebellious-sounding, and vaguely erotic, all of which fit Rob’s description of her.  In addition, the lack of soundtrack during the narrator’s monologues helps to separate them from the clips of back-story.  The novel, despite providing much deeper insight into the narrator’s thoughts and feelings, does not provide quite the same historical or contextual backdrop in terms of music.