Attention wankers: are books REALLY better than movies?

I'm consumed with the thought of books lately. Mainly I'm consumed by the fact that I don't read many books. It makes me feel guilty, because it is a widely held belief, or fact, that books increase intelligence, cultural awareness, and are generally more sensorally stimulating than films. The consensus is that whilst in a film you can lay back on your couch and let the entire charade wash over you, in a book you need to actively participate in the story, using your imagination to create the characters in your mind.

The problem with this belief I feel is that film is assumed to be less stimulating, and that viewers are hand-fed the easy answers.

I disagree.

When I am viewing a film I am an active participant. If it is a sports movie my heart is racing in anticipation at every blow or goal made. If it is a [good] romantic comedy I am fully involved in their journey to each other. Whilst the director, writer, and all cast and crew have basically made all the decisions for me, I still am able to be moved and aroused by the experience.

What use does art have? In my opinion it is merely as a way of expressing one's self, and hopefully translating that into a medium which can be interpreted by others. What matters is not the medium however, but how it effects other people, and yourself.

Can a book instigate change more so than a film? Some would say neither can. But in their own tiny way all persuasive art can make a dent on our lives. If a book is translated into a film and the film is bad, people will invaribly say "oh well, the book was bound to be better" because apparently the movie never stood a chance! But the only problem I see here is that the filmmakers were discouraged to use their creativity and innovation in the planning and writing stages because half the work had already been done for them. It's like remakes: if all they need to do is suitably replicate a previous art, where is the challenge? It is no doubt that it will turn out sloppy.

A great example of how the two mediums are entirely different but both useful, is Into the Wild, both the original non-fiction book written by Jon Krakauer, and the filmic adaptation directed by Sean Penn. The book is an after-the-fact rumination on the life of Chris McCandless, reflecting on his choices and what this says of modern America, told from the point of view of the writer. The film, on the other hand, is an in-the-moment narrative tale told directly from Chris McCandless's point of view, and therefore more subjective and emotional. Both the book and film are effective works of art, and serve to convey an interesting, thought-provoking message, in very seperate ways.

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Books and films have the right to coexist, not in competition with each other, but rather complimenting each other. Maybe some lazt shlubbs out there don't use an iota of the brain molecules when viewing film, but my brain is constantly stewing over mise-en-scene, characterization, editing, the performances, the plot and structure, production design, the music, and all other elements which go into the formation of a film.

This is just as how when I am reading a novel I am directly involved with the prose, descriptions, use of metaphors, and other literary devices which go into the formation of a book.

Both are manipulative forms of art which serve to convey the writer's and director's essential "maning of life", whether that be "be kind to others", or "the world is doomed". If a book or film is any good, and useful, I will go away with something to think about. I don't necessarily have to agree with its message, but I will have a reaction to it. And that, to me, is how art creates meaning in our lives. Through this sharing of knowledge.

Now, the fact remains that I don't read that many books, and this is something I plan on attending to in the coming years, but give me a break you wankers, I'm still a fairly intelligent, self-aware guy even though I haven't read all of Dostoyevsky's greatest hits. Have you seen all of Scorsese's? Even After Hours?

Peace out.