Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Barsoom series stands as a monumental work in the science fiction genre. Spanning eleven books written over three decades, these tales, penned by the creator of Tarzan, introduced readers to a Mars teeming with war, advanced technology, and mystical elements, paving the way for countless science fiction narratives that followed. The series is rich with classic space opera tropes: multi-limbed alien races, courageous princesses, enigmatic priesthoods, formidable weaponry, and endearing creatures. While various attempts have been made to bring Barsoom to the screen, including a low-budget 2009 film starring Antonio Sabato Jr. and Traci Lords, none have truly captured the grand scale and visual complexity of Burroughs’ universe – until Disney’s ambitious project, John Carter.
Having revisited A Princess of Mars, the first book in the Barsoom saga, after many years, the enduring appeal of Burroughs’ writing is undeniable. Its serialized origins contribute to a compelling readability. However, as is typical of works from the early 20th century (the stories first appeared in 1912), the books also reflect outdated societal norms, particularly concerning gender and race. Burroughs’ elaborate racial divisions on Mars, categorized by color – Green, Red, White – can be reminiscent of problematic aspects found in some of Tolkien’s works.
What immediately strikes a reader of A Princess of Mars is its breathtaking epic scope. The narrative is filled with immense, ancient cities in ruins, fleets of flying warships, and diverse alien civilizations engaged in large-scale conflicts – and all this unfolds within the initial chapters. The sheer scale of the source material underscores the challenge of adapting it into a feature film.
This is where Disney stepped in with John Carter, envisioned as the potential launch of a Barsoom film franchise. While primarily drawing from A Princess of Mars, the movie underwent significant adaptation by a team of screenwriters, including the acclaimed author Michael Chabon. It appeared that finally, the necessary resources were being allocated to faithfully translate these books to cinema. Despite the casting of Friday Night Lights star Taylor Kitsch in the lead role and the decision to present the film in 3D, hopes remained high that these were merely concessions to commercial viability, and the core essence of Barsoom would be preserved.
However, the path to bringing John Carter to the big screen was far from smooth. Director Andrew Stanton, known for his Pixar successes with Finding Nemo and WALL-E, was making his live-action directorial debut. The film’s release date was postponed by nearly a year, shifting from June 2011 to March 2012. The phrase “of Mars” was removed from the title, reportedly to broaden its appeal beyond the perceived niche of science fiction enthusiasts, particularly women. Multiple reshoots added to the growing unease, and online buzz painted a worrying picture.
A revealing profile of Stanton in The New Yorker shortly before the film’s release offered insights into the production challenges of John Carter. While largely positive (though unfortunately behind a paywall), the article hinted at the immense pressure surrounding the project. Stanton emerged as a figure both confident and somewhat overwhelmed, expressing his eagerness for spontaneity after years in animation. Given the unresolved plot issues during the reporting phase, it seemed Stanton had indeed encountered more spontaneity – and perhaps more difficulties – than anticipated.
Ultimately, the John Carter film distinguishes itself from its source material by being more immediately engaging. In Burroughs’ novels, John Carter is portrayed as a reserved and formal character, almost misanthropic, fixated on honor. If we were to categorize him on a Ninja Turtle personality spectrum, he would embody the disciplined and somewhat bland Leonardo. Stanton, however, reimagines Carter through an early comedic sequence where the U.S. Cavalry struggles to enlist him against the Apaches. This establishes him as an initially reluctant but ultimately unstoppable and charismatic hero. This cinematic John Carter is more akin to a blend of Michelangelo’s playful energy and Raphael’s passionate intensity – a far cry from the book’s stoic protagonist.
Predictably, given the intricate world of Barsoom, the film grapples with the sheer volume of information it needs to convey. Audiences are largely unfamiliar with Barsoom, its diverse cultures, advanced technologies, and varied inhabitants. Consequently, Carter’s personal journey often takes a backseat to lengthy expositional sequences that resemble lectures on Martian civilization. While such details might be intriguing to dedicated fans, they undeniably slow down the film’s pacing. Adding to the frustration, much of this background information is reiterated throughout the movie, suggesting studio concerns about audience comprehension or perhaps a lack of faith in the audience’s ability to grasp the plot’s complexities.
The film’s opening sequence exemplifies this issue. The narrative jumps from Barsoom to 1880s New York and then flashes back to Arizona in the 1860s. A stentorian voiceover introduces warring Martian city-states, noble figures, and Dominic West as a tattooed villain wielding a wrist-mounted weapon. By the time Carter resolves his conflict with the cavalry, discovers a mystical cave, and is transported to Mars ten minutes into the film, the initial Martian exposition is almost completely forgotten. This disjointed introduction likely wasn’t the intended effect.
Stanton also introduces significant plot alterations, most notably incorporating the Therns, a race of scientist monks who don’t appear until the second Barsoom book but here become Carter’s primary antagonists. The Therns’ inclusion dramatically reshapes the film’s second act. However, the final confrontation aligns with the book, pitting Carter against Sab Than, played by West. Despite these changes, John Carter the film remains recognizably rooted in Burroughs’ vision. It successfully captures the distinctive blend of adventure, grandeur, and whimsical absurdity that defines the Barsoom series.
It’s worth remembering that these are books populated by characters with names like ‘Tars Tarkas,’ where the Martian capital is ‘Helium,’ and chapters bear titles like ‘Love-Making on Mars.’ Burroughs’ Barsoom is characterized by a scarcity of both water and irony. Stanton amplifies this by depicting Princess Dejah Thoris (Lynn Collins), Carter’s love interest, not only as a feisty princess but also as the head of Barsoom’s Academy of Sciences.
In conclusion, John Carter finds greater success as an adaptation of Burroughs’ novels than as a standalone cinematic work. Devotees of the Barsoom series will likely be impressed by Stanton’s achievement in translating so much of the seemingly unfilmable source material to the screen. While purists may object to the narrative liberties taken, many of these changes arguably enhance the film’s pacing and accessibility.
However, Disney and Stanton’s decision to transform a dense, albeit entertaining, space opera into a 3D blockbuster aimed at mass audiences is a more debatable choice. The elaborate world-building, while visually impressive, often feels superfluous, overshadowing what could have been a thrilling adventure centered on a compelling protagonist finding purpose on an alien world. Perhaps a future filmmaker will realize this potential, but until then, John Carter serves as a cautionary tale for adapting classic source material. Nostalgia for beloved books is valuable, but it cannot substitute for sheer cinematic entertainment in the eyes of a broader audience.
