The moment Walter Hartright appears at the train station you know that something is wrong with this adaptation of the excellent novel "The woman in white". The actor moves his legs, his shoulders, his whole body unnecessarily. He wants to make sure we noticed him.
The screenplay writers also want to make sure we noticed them. We did, and we realised they have taken too many liberties with the original story. They are not the kind of alterations needed to adapt a complex novel to the TV screen; they are more like the involuntary twitches of a mediocre writer spiralling away from literary achievements because he won't be bothered to acknowledge them. The motivations, actions, key plot twists are simply not that of the novel. The original boldness of alternating between narrators has not found a cinematic, visual, or artistic counterpart. The actors have not been cast with the plot in mind. In short, a disaster.
The screenplay writers also want to make sure we noticed them. We did, and we realised they have taken too many liberties with the original story. They are not the kind of alterations needed to adapt a complex novel to the TV screen; they are more like the involuntary twitches of a mediocre writer spiralling away from literary achievements because he won't be bothered to acknowledge them. The motivations, actions, key plot twists are simply not that of the novel. The original boldness of alternating between narrators has not found a cinematic, visual, or artistic counterpart. The actors have not been cast with the plot in mind. In short, a disaster.