I remember the first time I watched
Disney and Walden Media’s adaptation of C. S. Lewis’s Prince Caspian, released nine years ago in May of 2008. In days
leading up to its release, we read the book as a family and enjoyed the tale of
the Pevensie children’s second trip to Narnia. The movie was decent, even
though it took many (unfortunate) liberties in adapting the plot of the book.
But my favorite part of the
experience took place during the final scene. Of course, the filmmakers had
added a romance between Susan and Prince Caspian, and in the final scene, the inevitable
occurred: they kissed. At this, my brother shouted for all the theater to hear,
“That wasn’t in the book!”
And he was right. In fact, Susan
and Caspian don’t even meet until several days before the children leave Narnia
again! Such a subplot would not have fit in the book at all.
Recently, my wife and I reread Prince Caspian together, and I was
struck by something that Lewis writes in one of the last pages of the book:
“At one end of the glade Aslan
had caused to be set up two stakes of wood, higher than a man’s head and about
three feet apart. A third, and lighter, piece of wood was bound across them at
the top, uniting them, so that the whole thing looked like a doorway from
nowhere into nowhere. In front of this stood Aslan himself with Peter on his
right and Caspian on his left. Grouped round them were Susan and Lucy, Trumpkin
and Trufflehunter, the Lord Cornelius, Glenstorm, Reepicheep, and others. The
children and the Dwarfs had made good use of the royal wardrobes in what had
been the castle of Miraz and was now the castle of Caspian, and what with silk
and cloth of gold, with snowy linen glancing through slashed sleeves, with
silver mail shirts and jeweled sword-hilts, with gilt helmets and feathered
bonnets, they were almost too bright to look at. Even the beasts wore rich
chains about their necks. Yet nobody’s eyes were on them or the children. The
living and strokable gold of Aslan’s mane outshone them all.”1
In this description of the
final scene of Prince Caspian, Aslan
is the commanding figure. The battle with the usurper Miraz and his troops has
been won, and the children remove their sweaty, bloody clothes from the war and
adorn themselves with the shining clothes of royalty. Yet nobody pays much attention to
them. All eyes are on Aslan and his shining mane.
Like Caspian and Susan’s romance
is absent from the book, so the “living and strokable gold of Aslan’s mane” is
absent from the movie (including the
lamentable BBC adaptation, in case you were wondering). I understand that
this would be difficult to portray on screen. But it shows that film
adaptations often fail to be as deep and rich as the books they are based on.
I can’t help but see in this
paragraph an illustration for what will happen when Jesus, the Lion of the
tribe of Judah, returns and sets all things to right. Paul writes that when
Christ appears, “you [believers] also will appear with him in glory,” (Col 3:4b
ESV). But nobody’s eyes will be on us. All eyes will be directed to the shining
face of King Jesus (Matt 17:2).
The Christian’s future is
bright, but he is not its central character. Though we will be clothed with a glorious new body, no
one will think much of us because all eyes will be on Jesus. His glory will
outshine all. There will be no room for envy or pride because Jesus alone is worthy
to receive our adoration and praise.
1C. S. Lewis, Prince Caspian, in The Chronicles of Narnia (New York: HarperCollins, 2001), 415.
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