When I saw The Magic Faraway Tree was being released this holiday in the UK I couldn’t believe it.
It was like being thrown back in time reminded of the very first book I remember reading, well actually being read to me. Yep I was very young and the experience of the adventure story The Enchanted Wood, the prequel to The Magic Faraway Tree published in 1939 was so exciting and I never forgot it. I ended up rereading it many times and of course the other books in the series by Enid Blyton, The Magic Faraway Tree, 1943, The Folk of The Faraway Tree, 1946 and Up The Faraway Tree 1951 sat on my book shelf until I left home.
My advice as an early watcher is stick to the books. Like a lot of film adaptations from much loved books whether for kids or adults this one doesn’t catapult you back into the world so genuinely loved reintroducing you to old friends, more like takes you to visit somewhere moved and redecorated pretending to be that magical place but not fooling anyone.
They’ve even changed the kids names. Fanny has become Fran played by Billie Gadsdon, Joe remains the oldest sibling played by Phoenix Laroche, and Bessie has been also modernised to Beth, Delilah Bennett-Cardy.
Claire Fou as Polly Thompson the kids Mum and Jennifer Saunders are the most convincing of the cast but Moon Face, Silky and Dame Washalot, who I am sure was just Mrs Washalot in the books weren’t the characters I remembered. Silky a little vain and sensitive, Moonface jolly, overbearing, a bit of a worrier but also on hand with helpful knowledge and information and the nasty pixies didn’t really get as much action in the film as I remembered from the books, where they were mischievous and a bit threatening. In the film they were diluted. Hardly appear and when they do they are more comedic. They lose their menace making the film “safer and duller” according to Times film critic Kevin Maher.
For me The Magic Faraway Tree adaptation fails both as a faithful tribute and a modern reimagining. It’s muddled and a bit lifeless and lack lustre missing the mark of capturing the essence of the book’s simple magic. It’s a fragmented, overly complicated story. The writer, Simon Farnaby, well known for Paddington and Wonka, has turned the narrative into disjointed skits with for me weak humour and underdeveloped characters. The iconic figures lack charm, and the sense of wonder conjured in this timeless sorry is largely absent. The modern family framing is bit clumsy and distracting, would have been better sticking to a more old fashioned approach. I think trying to bring it up to date misses the spirit of Blyton entirely.