The purpose of this reflection on Faramir and Chani, as they are portrayed in J.R.R. Tolkien’s and Frank Herbert’s novels, and how their role is changed in the films made by Peter Jackson and Denis Villeneuve, is not to lament over those changes. It is to show how they reflect different languages of a novel and cinema, what is gained, and what is lost. In Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings, Faramir’s role is signficant, precisely becuase he is a counterpoint to his brother Boromir, whose lust for the Ring destroyed him, and instigated the breaking up of the Fellowship. Boromir, as a mighty Lord, wanted to confront might with might, to use the Ring to counter Sauron’s assault on Gondor. In The Two Towers, even Gandalf the White suggests that this was an option, albeit too dangerous, which was at that moment lost, since Frodo departured for Mordor with Sam.
On the other hand, in Tolkien’s novel, Faramir, after taking Frodo captive, refuses to take the Ring for these purposes, and aids him in his quest to destroy it. At one moment, he emphasizes that he has the hobbits in his hands, and can do whatever he wishes with the Ring, but decides to let them go. He makes a choice his brother Boromir could not, and thus makes the victory in the end possible. However, in Peter Jackson’s film, he decides, at first, to take the Ring to Gondor, to prove himself to his father, the Steward. One of the screenwriters of the The Two Towers said that the purpose of such a move by Faramir was to make the film more dramatic, by adding a layer of suspense. If Faramir merely let the hobbits go at first, the scene would not have the same dramatic impact on the viewer.
In the film, Faramir does let Frodo and Sam go, but only after reaching Osgiliath, which is very near the city of Minas Tirith, and hearing what the Ring did to his brother. Tolkien’s Faramir is much more perceptive at first, he does not have any second thoughts about the Ring. His bravery is different than Boromir’s, Faramir does not enjoy going to war, is not a military commander as mighty as his brother was, but his bravery is even more impressive, since he decided to let Frodo go, and relinquished something which would most certainly destroy Gondor from within. In one word, he is much more far-sighted than his brother, power holds less allure for him, what guides him is wisdom. The choice made by the screenwriters in the film changes how we see Faramir in his encounters with his father in the royal hall in Minas Tirith. We see him as dependent on his father’s approval, someone who is merely following commands of his father and liege, as less decisive than Tolkien envisioned him, the emphasis on his moral clarity and strength of mind is lessened.
A similar thing happens to Chani’s character in Denis Villeneuve’s Dune: Part Two. While in Herbert’s novel, she has a similar position in Paul’s life as Lady Jessica had in his father’s life, a loyal concubine who is always by his side, Villeneuve made the choice to make Chani antagonistic to Paul when it comes to his becoming a religious leader of the Fremen. This might confuse the viewer at some point, at first, she is a caring lover, then she becomes increasingly antagonistic, and at the end of the film storms out into the desert of Arrakis after Paul defeats the Emperor and decides to take Princess Irulan for his wife to secure the throne. All this can lead the viewer to think that she does so because of jealousy, but even if he concludes that she behaves in this manner because he embraced to be the figure of a religious leader of the fanatical Fremen legions, this might create some problems in envisioning Dune: Part Three since at the very beginning of Dune: Messiah Chani is his most loyal supporter. However, as Faramir’s example suggests, this was done to add a more dramatic flavor to the film, at least in Villeneuve’s vision, someone had to play the role of a Fremen who sees the dangers of Paul becoming a religious leader and acquiring absolute power, becoming a godhead.
Villenueve’s choice of Chani is rather interesting, and loyal to Herbert’s vision, since Chani is a daughter of Liet-Kynes, who in Herbert’s novel, while dying in the desert, thinks that the greatest catastrophe that could befall the Fremen would be the rise of a religious leader. In literature, it can work very well if a hero or a heroine simply moves forward to acccomplish their goals, as Medea does in Euripides’ play. Nobody can stop, or tries to stop Medea except the king of Corinth, who is outsmarted very soon, literally nothing stands in her way, the chorus of Corinthian women simply laments the dreadful outcome which is inevitable. In cinema, this kind of arrangement is much more difficult to accomplish, and to keep the viewer fully engaged in the movie at the same time. If hero’s surroundings simply act in a way that furthers his goals, do not engage with him in a conflict or a disagreement, things become too linear and the suspense is much lower. Antagonism creates the dramatic movement of the film. So, in one word, what works in literature, often does not work in cinema, but when it comes to adaptations of popular and beloved novels, it comes with a price – the risk of alienating the viewer well-acquainted with the original. However, that might be the price a filmmaker must pay.
Vigour of Film Lines 