📚 Originalist Purism vs. Adaptive Filmmaking

A recent tragedy involving a TV drama adaptation of a serialized comic—where changes to the story led to a public backlash and the death of the original author—has left a lasting impression. It’s understandable that some now believe “the original must be preserved at all costs” and that any adaptation is inherently wrong.

Purists often point to failed adaptations as proof: “If they’d just stuck to the original, it wouldn’t have flopped.” Yet when filmmakers try to faithfully recreate the source material, they’re accused of producing “cosplay-level” or “school play” results.

It starts to feel like some critics are simply hunting for flaws to fuel their outrage. The sheer number of people who seem to derive satisfaction solely from criticizing adaptations is unsettling.

But setting aside the noise—can a work ever truly be adapted “as-is” into film?

🎥 The Challenge of Specificity in Adaptation

The core issue is specificity. Novels, for example, are composed of text—not just visual descriptions, but internal thoughts, abstract ideas, and emotional nuance. You can’t just “film the novel.” You have to design every visual and auditory element from scratch.

Unlike stage plays, where you only need to block scenes and place actors, film requires decisions about camera angles, shot order, and visual rhythm. These choices are based on the director’s imagination—which will naturally differ from person to person.

When an author praises a casting choice as “perfect,” some fans cry foul: “That’s not what I imagined!” But that’s a childish assumption—that your personal image is the universal truth.

Everyone’s interpretation is different. If the author who poured their soul into the work says, “This fits my vision,” it’s absurd for a reader to claim otherwise.

🎞️ Constraints That Demand Change

Beyond subjective imagery, adaptations face practical constraints. Novels often need to be compressed for screen, forcing creators to cut or combine elements.

Some narrative structures simply don’t translate well to film. Characters may be merged or added. Even without commercial pressures like casting popular actors, changes are often necessary to make the story work visually.

🎨 Adaptation as Craft: The Art of Skillful Transformation

Screenwriter Shinobu Hashimoto famously told authors upfront: “I will make changes.” When adapting Seicho Matsumoto’s novel Zero Focus, he altered the climax to heighten the impact and clarify the theme.

Matsumoto was so impressed, he personally asked Hashimoto to adapt The Castle of Sand—giving him full creative freedom. The resulting film was so powerful that Matsumoto declared, “This surpasses the novel.”

One standout scene—the emotional journey of a father and son persecuted due to Hansen’s disease—is entirely original. The novel only contains a single line: “Only the two of them know what that journey was like.”

Yet this invented sequence became the emotional core of the film. It’s a testament to how thoughtful changes can elevate a story.

After seeing such masterful adaptation, one might argue not for fidelity, but for more creative reinterpretation.

⚠️ The Real Problem: Broken Promises

In today’s Japanese TV industry, there’s little room for original storytelling. Many dramas are based on comics, which already have visual designs and built-in audiences.

The key is consent. Some authors, like Natsuhiko Kyogoku, take a hands-off approach: “The film is a separate work—do as you please.” He even appears in some adaptations, embracing the difference.

This is a healthy relationship between source and adaptation.

Others may allow changes within limits—so long as the core theme remains intact. For example, Keisuke Matsuoka was furious when his novel Hypnosis, which aimed to show that hypnosis isn’t dangerous, was turned into a horror film portraying hypnosis as deadly. That’s not just a character tweak—it’s a betrayal of the message.

Matsuoka responded by having the sequel Clairvoyance adapted by a different studio.

So no—adaptation isn’t inherently bad.
What’s wrong is making promises you can’t keep.

📝 The Reality of Production Constraints

In most cases, there’s no time for back-and-forth with the author during production. Once filming begins, it’s nearly impossible to revise the script based on feedback. Requests like “Don’t air this version” simply won’t be honored.

That’s why the only realistic approach is to work with source material that has pre-approved adaptation rights.

📚 Using Public Domain Works

In DIY filmmaking, we can’t legally adapt commercial novels or comics without permission. Doing so would violate copyright law.

If you want to explore the creative joy of adaptation, I recommend using public domain literature. Sites like Aozora Bunko offer a treasure trove of classic Japanese novels.

Personally, I’ve long dreamed of adapting works by Yumeno Kyusaku, Edogawa Rampo, or Unno Juza into quirky B-movies or surreal fantasy films with friends.

Interestingly, the same TV network that sparked controversy with its comic adaptation recently announced a drama based on Little Women—a novel long in the public domain.

It’s a practical move: they lack the resources for original content and can’t risk further adaptation scandals. But it might signal a broader shift toward repurposing old content.

In a way, mainstream TV drama has descended to the same level as us low-budget creators.
And I say that with pride.

It motivates me to keep creating—and to compete.

Hope this was helpful.