The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones (2013)

Jamie Campbell Bower and Lily Collins

© 2013 Constantin Film International GmbH and Unique Features (TMI) Inc.

There are two ways of looking at the latest YA would-be blockbuster adaptation: as a perfectly ordinary teen fantasy flick or as a truly dispiriting adaptation of one of the best kitchen sink fantasy series I've come across in a long time.

To be honest, I don't really want to get into the perfectly ordinary part of this convo. Aside from some super smart casting (I pretty much loved everyone in their roles, though Robert Sheehan as Simon is the standout), the movie starts to lose steam somewhere around Magnus' party and never really picks back up. The Mortal Cup becomes more and more of a MacGuffin (why do the vampires want it? And why would they kidnap Simon to get it?), so, by the time Jonathan Rhys Meyers and his insane hair/clothes/face come out of the puddle in the wall, you're just sort of over it.

I've been trying to puzzle out exactly what went wrong with this adaptation beyond the aforementioned Meyers and the completely baffling decision to reinvent his character from the ground up. I think I've finally put my finger on it: the movie pulls the book's punches.

[In honour of the return of Extra Hot Great!, spoilers ahead, fun ahoy!]

There's nothing more important than Valentine being Jace's dad. Not just as a reason to keep Jace and Clary apart (that's sort of secondary). It's that Jace's entire emotional arc over the course of all five of these novels is keyed into that one point. How he was raised and what that means for him -- the dichotomy between the man he was raised to be and the man he wants to be, and, yes, what that means for him and Clary, is tied up in one simple idea: Valentine as Jace's dad. Not as a trick suggested by Hodge (to what end?) or some sort of mental jiu-jitsu on Valentine's part. To look at the man who raised you and to realize what he is and to have to make difficult choices based not on pleasing him but on your own heart, that's the essence of growing up. And you can't really have a YA series where no one grows up.

The rest of it, I can sort of understand. Seraph blades are essentially angelic lightsabers. Bringing Alec and Isabelle to the Hotel Dumort allows for an action set-piece in the middle of the movie for the entire cast. Telling Luke's entire backstory would take forever (though the net result is that Luke ends up looking like a Jacobian interloper instead of a crucial component of Clary and Jocelyn's lives). Showing Jocelyn fighting and taking the potion serves the twin purposes of giving you a reason to care about her and justifying hiring Lena Headey for the role.

Of course, doing all that undoes the twin slaps of finding out that Jocelyn did this to herself and that she never wanted Clary to know anything about it. She's softened up, so Clary can have her cry at the end and tell her unconscious mom that she forgives her. Valentine's softened up from killing his whole family to maybe killing only two people. Hodge stays and fights (and dies?) instead of running the first chance he gets. Alec almost dies saving Clary's life instead of trying to impress Jace. So, while we're at it, why not let Clary keep the Mortal Cup instead of losing it to Valentine?

If you are going to mess something up, why not really, really mess it up?

Which brings me back to Valentine. If you are looking for a modern equivalent of the Valentine Morgenstern of the books, look no further than Vladimir Putin. He draws you in with a great deal personal charm and charisma, and you think it's so funny with his vigorous torso and bear staring. And then he starts taking away people's rights, and you realize he's a monster. Always has been, always will be. That's Valentine. Buttoned up cruelty. Not, you know, this:

The sad thing is that this movie is dying at the box office, which means it probably won't get the same chance The Hunger Games got to course correct. I was supposed to wrote a book vs film for that one, and I never quite got around to it. It wasn't even until the third time I saw the movie that I finally got what I didn't like about it: good is the enemy of great. Chasing a family friendly rating chases the greatness right out of that novel. You have to feel each death. What's more, you have to feel the way the entire system is rigged from start to finish, not just in the arena, but in every single district. The way Katniss wants to ask the rare senior in 12 how they managed to live so long. The way Rue describes how hard they work and how little they get in return, but at least they have music. It's all arenas all the way down.

I still don't think Mortal Instruments is as good, but it's still better than Twilight and that pile had hundreds of chances. Is it so wrong that I just want a chance to see the development of Jace, the greatest Shadowhunter the world has ever known? Jamie Campbell Bower's hair looks like it smells and his wardrobe is deplorable, but he does interesting things with his fingers that catch my attention despite myself. He deserves his chance to do a swan dive off the balcony instead of stupid faux-Valentine and his wet leather pants.

Besides, don't you want to see Clary tear that ship apart?