Sylvia Plath could have been one of the greatest writers of the twentieth century, but like so many other literary geniuses, she elected to burn out rather than fade away. Her masterwork and only novel, "The Bell Jar", remains a haunting testament to the glorious highs and all-consuming lows that all to often, accompany unlimited talent. I made it a point to read her semi-autobiographical swan song at least once a year, and each time, I am awed by her doomed words and bleeding emotions. Seventeen year old Goth chicks can only dream about feeling the depths of her pain.
In 1979, Larry Peerce brought the sordid and emo tale to the big screen, sadly finding that American film fans weren’t interested in depression-filled memoirs. A few years ago, Christina Ricci’s adaptation of Elizabeth Wuertzel’s less interesting drug-filled cryfest Prozac Nation met with a similar fate. I’m not saying that girl-trouble emotion movies never overcome, but they certainly don’t have the best track record.
So it is with a slight apprehension that I pass on the following news. Variety is reporting that Julia Stiles has bought the film rights to "The Bell Jar." She plans to produce and star in an upcoming adaptation. I’m all for giving the half-century old novel another shot at big screen success, but I’m not exactly sold on Julia Stiles. I saw her play disinterested and dissatisfied in 10 Things I Hate About You, and she didn’t exactly omit vibes of Esther Greenwood.
I really hope this does well and millions of people swarm Borders in a mad-grab to unearth the last in-store copy of ‘The Bell Jar’, but like the brilliant poet, herself, I am a pessimist.
