So to have Lewis catch Watney at the end made the climax even more satisfying to behold. Though the crew were just as dedicated to saving Watney – each playing a role in his rescue – this responsibility ultimately fell on their commander. She was the one who stayed behind to search for Watney during the initial storm, she took it the hardest when the crew found out he was still alive, and she presented the opportunity for mutiny in order to “get our boy”. However, in the film, Goddard swaps out Beck for Lewis.īy giving the end heroics to Lewis, it adds a bigger sense of completion to her character’s arc. In the book, Chris Beck is the one who drops in to grab Watney. The final scene sees Watney shoot into space in a “convertible” rocket, but fall short of the estimated speed and distance necessary for a smooth recovery, causing Commander Melissa Lewis and the crew to hastily realign with Watney via some sort of spaceship queef-thrust manoeuvre. Making Lewis (Not Beck) the Ultimate Saviour (Well, OK, technically Rich DID need a pen in that scene.
From little things like Watney securing and stapling shut his opened stomach to recasting Kristen Wiig and Jeff Daniels as Earth and Mars in order to demonstrate the Rich Purnell Manoeuvre, Goddard created visual ways in his screenplay to communicate the science without us needing a pad and pen. Goddard changes up and simplifies certain moments of exposition by having characters either illustrate a plan with a physical reference or… you know… just doing it. It’s a simple rule, but one worth revisiting. This is Screenwriting 101: if you can show something, show it – don’t just have characters explain it. Here are a few of the most important changes and improvements he made to the story that went largely unrecognised. Goddard’s script needed to reduce and refine the book even further, effectively cutting a diamond from another diamond. There’s an intimidating amount of ultra-science in Andy Weir’s book that he somehow managed to reduce and refine to a level that’s easy to follow for non-nerd dummies like me. (And by ‘you’ I mean ‘imaginary person I made up to solidify my point’.)
But the reason you loved The Martian isn’t simply due to Scott’s effective direction – the film’s other hero is screenwriter Drew Goddard, the man largely responsible for The Cabin in the Woods and that kick-ass Daredevil TV show you adored. A whole gumbo of screenwriters is why you barely remembered having seen Exodus: Gods and Kings. Cormac McCarthy is why you tuned out of The Counselor. But the success/failure of Scott’s recent films has not hinged on his directorial abilities – it’s mainly been due to the story, none of which he has a writing credit on.ĭamon Lindelof is why you hated Prometheus.
The Martian movie turns the book into fine cinema juice, and you may instinctively dump all that praise onto director Ridley Scott’s feet. I also wanted to feel super smart by finally answering that golden question myself – “Is the book better?” But after my second sitting with The Martian, I realised that that’s the wrong question to ask. I then re-watched The Martian movie after finishing The Martian book because, well, it’s problem-solving porn and I love it.
In an effort to feel less like a paradox, I decided to read The Martian book after seeing The Martian movie. “A writer who doesn’t read books… how fucking stupid is that?” he would screech before cackling like Salacious Crumb and vanishing into a puff of farts. Not at the person for feeling that way, but at the pesky little dickish devil that pops up and reminds me how often I don’t read novels. When I leave a film and someone tells me “the book was better,” I get really annoyed.