Perfume (1985)

Published 20 years ago finally Patrick Suskind's novel Das Parfum is adapted into a film. Reasons are obvious for the delay. Translated to the screen the whole story will be degraded to a serial killer thriller. Yes, the subtitle is 'the story of a murderer' but the story is far from being Hitchcock material. This is a good example where the power of printed words triumph over images. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille the murderer is driven by an olfactory lust to possess the 'essence', the 'soul' of being, which in his term is the scent. The world exists for him only in olfactory terms. Only in printed words can an animal like him be created to perfection. Hyperbolically satirical and grotesque, the book is a lot more than the pace of plot or visual stimulation or the fishy stench of blood, which are now sadly the only elements that appeal to the public. The stench of 18th century Paris, which most historians might have left out as insignificant, is stuffed right under our noses. Undoubtedly the sublime perfumery world of the half-animal half-saint chimera in the story won't appear on screen. Ironically the producers of the film are acting as an inverted Jean-Baptiste Grenouille: the very 'essence' of the book will be distilled away and the scum will be wiped all over the the screen. The film will stink; it will reek of naked girls, which I don't mind seeing anyway. Man is made of the spiritual and carnal; both of which should be amply nurtured. Can't wait to be carnally fed when the film hits Hong Kong. For the time being, I read the book and indulge in the power of words.