My mother-in-law recently complained that every new movie seems to be a remake. That led us to a discussion about whether Hollywood has run out of original ideas. Her frustration grew when Disney began remaking its animated classics as live-action films and photorealistic adaptations such as The Lion King (2019). I understand her frustration, but I enjoy a good remake. What matters to me is what the new version brings to the story.
As I have mentioned in previous articles, I am a story nerd. I enjoy seeing how a story changes over time and what a different director brings to familiar material. Knowing the basic plot does not necessarily take away the pleasure. Sometimes it gives me more room to notice the performances, the atmosphere, and the choices that make one version different from another.
Many viewers insist that the original is always best, but that is not necessarily true. The Maltese Falcon (1941), starring Humphrey Bogart, and The Glass Key (1942), starring Alan Ladd, are classics of film noir. Both followed earlier adaptations of Dashiell Hammett’s novels. Yet the later versions are the ones most viewers remember.
The Maltese Falcon makes a particularly strong case for giving an old story another chance. Bogart’s presence and the exchanges among its suspicious, self-interested characters help make the film compelling even when you know where the mystery is going. Its appeal extends beyond finding out what happens next. A familiar story still needs the right people to bring it to life.
Some remakes give a familiar premise new life by moving it into a contemporary setting. Television offers examples, too. The newer Hawaii Five-0 retains the premise of a police drama set in Hawaii while updating its technology and approach to crime solving. Both series work in their own right, but the newer version takes familiar material in a different direction.
The 1998 television remake of Rear Window, starring Christopher Reeve, offers another way to approach an established story. Reeve plays a man with quadriplegia who uses a wheelchair and assistive technology. Watching his neighbors draws him into a suspected murder. The character’s circumstances give the familiar premise a different sense of vulnerability, while the technology changes how he observes and responds to what is happening around him.
To me, the remake also seems less troubled by the ethics of voyeurism. The other characters appear less concerned about his watching and recording his neighbors. That shift interests me because a remake can reveal changing attitudes as well as changing technology. The central mystery may be familiar, but the questions surrounding it can feel different.
Good or bad, I usually give a remake a chance. Part of the pleasure is discovering what another filmmaker sees in a story I already know. Of course, that curiosity does not mean every remake leaves me satisfied.
TF’s Notes
The remake I found hardest to enjoy was Gus Van Sant’s Psycho (1998). Where some remakes offer a fresh interpretation, this version follows Hitchcock’s original almost shot for shot, reproducing many of its compositions and camera angles. It retains much of the original screenplay while updating the setting and some details. That raises a question: why recreate a masterpiece so closely if you have little new to say about its story or characters?
Although Vince Vaughn and Anne Heche are capable performers, I found their portrayals less compelling than Anthony Perkins’s iconic Norman Bates and Janet Leigh’s Oscar-nominated Marion Crane. The approach gives Vaughn and Heche little room to make the characters their own. To me, their performances sometimes feel more like imitations than fresh interpretations.
As an experiment in recreating a film, the concept interests me. As a viewing experience, it offers too little that feels new. Some viewers may appreciate it as a tribute, but I would rather see a filmmaker take a chance on a different interpretation.
My mother-in-law has a point: familiar titles can wear out their welcome. Still, I will keep giving remakes a chance. Sometimes another filmmaker finds something in an old story that makes me glad it was told again.