I loved The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. Devoured it. Started to read it the day after RWA was in Orlando at poolside. I’d moved to a different hotel to have a day to myself. I was supposed to check out at 11 and start my drive home. I hadn’t seen my husband and son in days. (Yes, I’m starting a lot of sentences with “I.” Deal with it.) Did things go according to plan? No, they did not, because at 10:30 that morning, I called my husband to say that there was no way I’d be home on time, and not just because of my dead car battery. I was simply going to have no life until I finished the book. It was crystal clear to me. I get possessed by books like that from time to time, frequently by my clients, I’m pleased to say, so this feeling isn’t unknown to me, but it’s always a gift.
So it was with great excitement that I saw there was a movie in the making, even while I wondered how it could possibly live up to the book. The short answer: it couldn’t. No movie could, because the strength of the book is in the characters and what they’re going through, and their motivations and internal struggles were just too difficult to put on screen. It’s no fault of the actors or the screenwriters (Suzanne Collins herself, based on the credits, was involved with the script). It’s a matter of the medium. Did I like the movie? Yes. Did it steal my heart and soul as the book did? Well, no, but I’m glad it was made, particularly if it draws more attention, which, of course, it does, to such a brilliant series of books. All that said, my favorite bit of casting was Lenny Kravitz as Cinna. He made the role. It was also a particular pleasure to see the girl on fire and other outré fashions mentioned in the book come to live. Really incredible.
Lucienne Diver's Drivel 