A series of fortunate adaptations: How Lemony Snicket’s ASOUE got better with each iteration

It is no secret that Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events is a long and drawn-out set of novels rife with moral dilemmas, treacherous villainy, and vocabulary lessons. The film Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events (2004), directed by Brad Silberling, was a short and unfaithful adaptation of the first three novels. In 2018, Netflix adapted all 13 delightfully dreadful novels in three seasons. I revisited them recently as book-to-movie adaptation is the genre I tend to reach for the most (currently watching: One of Us is Lying.)

The overpromising steampunk aesthetic

Emily Browning and Liam Aiken in A Series of Unfortunate Events (2004)

I had the pleasure of starting the journey with ASOUE in the third grade, which was when I got the taste for tragedies (and haven’t stopped trying to recreate it since). I was looking forward to the movie during my first read-through, but my 9-year-old heart was thoroughly disappointed. The tone was misplaced, the plot was disrespected, and Jude Law didn’t quite carry Snicket’s grave yet compelling voice.

On the same note, the film added a layer of atmosphere and aura of gothic imagery to the franchise. While there is not much to say about the film besides its inaccuracies, I found it enjoyable. The performances from Emily Browning as Violet Baudelaire and Jim Carrey as Olaf were compelling enough to make one sit through the film. My one gripe about the film is the costuming, which was over-the-top. It could have been adapted from Brett Helquist’s illustrations to look more realistically like what a teenager would wear in this anachronistic setting. Nevertheless, the steampunk attire was an integral part of the atmosphere of this film.

The one thing you can rely on a 13-book series for is longevity. The film, on the other hand, had a production drama worthy of its own spinoff, so there is no need for me to comment on the lazy plot wrap-up.

My fears about the adaptation and What Netflix did right

When Netflix picked up the series for some of that sweet nostalgia with a twist that has been the trend for a while, I had my fingers crossed. I wanted to see the melancholy of the books brought to life, but not in the overly sexy and dark theme, Netflix is notorious for (see: Riverdale to Wednesday). I was pleasantly surprised with the narrative, as the first season did everything the books did and more. The Netflix show was initially confusing as additional characters and storylines deepened the buildup. This made me a little sceptical, having seen book-to-movie adaptations being ruined by the filmmakers’ additions (looking at you, Percy Jackson). However, the series was playing the long game. During my recent rewatch, I noted why I was sceptical of the show and didn’t like the film.

Still from Netflix's A Series of Unfortunate Events S1 E3

The Netflix series was, in hindsight, a faithful adaptation, but it was more than that. I could make the case that the series did a better job at handling some messages that may be considered to be socially relevant, such as Charles and Sir being partners in the fourth book (or episodes 7 and 8), handling the pronouns of the Person of Indeterminate Gender (once painfully referred to as “it” by Klaus Baudelaire in The Wide Window), and the various Jewish undercurrents in conversations and cultural references that canonized what the books only hinted. Additionally, the background movements of various volunteers fighting desperately to defeat villainy turned a 6-novel long, monotonous and confusing buildup into a gripping mystery.

It also went one step forward and included references from Daniel Handler’s spinoff series under the same pen name, All the Wrong Questions, by inserting the titles of the books (Who could that be at this hour? When did you see her last? Shouldn’t you be in school? Why is this night different from all other nights?) peppered throughout the series. Exclamations from the children lamenting their situation by telling each other, “That’s the wrong question,” added to the game. The self-awareness of the writing is a silent nod to the readers who have a more in-depth knowledge of the Snicketverse.

All of the above filled out the frustrating gaps in the book series that left unanswered questions and didn’t give the readers the satisfaction of answers to any of their burning questions. While it was an interesting take, I felt that at least some of the mysteries must be left unanswered. For example, the contents of the Sugar Bowl can be interpreted as a MacGuffin, the catalyst to a schism (or kindling to fire) that stands in for the larger narrative of noble versus wicked.

In terms of atmosphere, the show combines absurdism and contrasting aesthetics (like the bright colour palettes used in scenes concerning murder, marriage, and other treachery) to create a seamless flow of bizarre situations with undertones of melancholy. The more than occasional comic relief (like Presley Smith whittling away at some parsley or frozen orange juice) was simply well-timed and added to the excitement. However, Neil Patrick Harris, as entertaining as his presence on screen is, did not command the same fear in the viewers' hearts as the Count Olaf of the books did. I must also add that while Patrick Warburton’s narration as Lemony Snicket was heavily criticized, I found it to be a thoroughly entertaining and apt representation of the book Snicket.

An earnest fan myself, I could not imagine this franchise divorced from either screen adaptations. I grew up with Violet, Klaus, and Sunny. The writing across adaptations is not without the wit and whimsy that makes A Series of Unfortunate Events so enticing.