Blue is the Warmest Color: Comparing the Graphic Novel to the Film

Though it’s essentially a fool’s exercise to compare a film to the novel on which it’s based (because, of course, "the book is always better than the movie"), it can be interesting to observe the differences and consider how these differences affect the characters’ narrative arcs and themes. I’ll compare the film Blue is the Warmest Color, directed by Abdellatif Kechiche, to the graphic novel on which it is based. The novel was written and illustrated by Julie Maroh.

Film is a starkly different medium than a graphic novel. A film can’t contain all the narrative and descriptive aspects of a novel, simply due to the limitation of the typical 90 minute to 3-hour time span of a film.  A film director is faced with the challenge of deciding which narrative and descriptive aspects to include from the novel. Depending on the degree of creative license that the director applies, there may be substantial differences in the film’s action, character evolution, and themes.

What's in a Name?

There is an immediate indication that the film has some stark differences from the novel; the film has an alternate title, “La Vie d’Adele, Chapitres 1 & 2.” 

The alternate title alone contains a significant deviation from the novel; in the novel, the main character is named Clementine. The entire narrative arc is focused on Clementine. In the film, the main character is named Adele (the same name as the actor who portrays her). The director of the film, Abdellatif Kechiche, has said that it was sort of an organic choice; he often would roll the cameras informally, as the actors traveled to the set or dined together, and he captured a lot of footage with the actors using Adele’s name. He proposed to the actor, Adele Exarchopoulos, that the character’s name be changed from Clementine to Adele, and she had no objection. Perhaps Kechiche believed that changing the character’s name to the actor’s name would foster the realism of the film, which is clearly a key characteristic of the film. Kechiche is obsessed with realism as a style for films. "I don't want it to look like life," he says of cinema. "I want it to actually be life. Real moments of life, that's what I'm after." The significant name change is the first indication that Kechiche, while attributing the story line to the graphic novel, took the ultimate artistic license to modify the narrative to fit his vision, regardless of the deviations. 

Emma's Skepticism of Clementine/Adele's Identity

The deviations from the novel to the film pertain to the narrative arc and themes that the narrative arc evokes. Of course, the narrative arc in a novel is almost invariably richer and denser than a film’s, simply because of the medium itself. In the novel, a lot more happens in the narrative arc than happens in the film.  For example, early in the novel, Emma voices skepticism of Clementine’s identity as a lesbian. She tells Adele, “when you finally fall in love, that guy will be the luckiest man in the world.” 

Clementine pleads in silence, "you are that guy..."

Emma’s skepticism of Adele's identity isn’t revealed early in the film; it’s not until later in the film that Emma suspects that Adele harbors a debilitating and harmful sense of shame about loving a woman.

Clementine/Adele's Ambivalence About Her Identity

In both the novel and the film, the narrative arc depicts Clementine/Adele as conflicted and ambivalent about her sexual orientation. Clementine adamantly denies she’s a lesbian, as does Adele. Clementine/Adele is subject to homophobic vitriol.

Clearly, in both the novel and the film, Clementine/Adele wrestles with a duplicitous identity, fueled by her fierce longing for Emma, tempered by her deep ambivalence about what it means to be gay. In the novel, we perhaps get a clearer picture of just how fraught Clementine was with the implications of what it means to be gay, and her struggles with aligning her ferocious desire for Emma with her identity. Also in the novel, we get a very clear picture of how important it is for Emma to be "out"; she embraces the political and social aspects of being a lesbian. 

In contrast, Clementine/Adele doesn't see any compelling reason to live openly; she is haunted by internalized homophobia, and naively believes that "who she loves" doesn't have any social or political implications. In both the film and the novel, Clementine/Adele’s infidelity ultimately leads to the demise of her relationship with Emma. It's not entirely clear what fueled her infidelity (her anxiety about Emma’s distance; her shame over being a lesbian, etc.). In the novel, Emma is more overtly disappointed by Clementine’s inability to recognize the social and political aspects of identity.

Clementine/Adele's Friendship With Valentin

In the novel, the relationship between Clementine and her friend Valentin is deep and profound. This relationship is also showcased in the film, as we see Adele confiding in Valentin and leaning on him as a friend, particularly as she wrestles with the confounding feelings of her awakening sexuality. 

The novel exhibits additional tender acts of friendship and support between Clementine and Valentine. He consoles Clementine as she wrestles with what she perceives as the immorality of a woman loving a woman.

The friendship between Valentin and Clementine is critical for Clementine to feel comfortable enough to pursue her feelings for Emma. Whereas, in the film, Valentin’s role, while crucial, is somewhat diminished.

Emma's Relationship With Sabine

As is quite typical in a novel compared to its film, the novel often offers more "back story" that provides additional insights about a character. In the novel, we get a lot more back story about Emma’s relationship with Sabine. 

In the film, the character of Sabine doesn't cause much conflict between Emma and Adele. Adele briefly inquires about how long Emma's been seeing Sabine, but there's no implication of notable conflict. Whereas in the novel, Clementine and Adele carry on a large portion of their affair while Emma remains in a relationship with Sabine. This causes a great deal of conflict for Clementine; she feels as though she's waiting on the sidelines until Emma can make up her mind about whom she wants to be with. This conflict is completely absent from the film.

Clementine/Adele's Alienation from Her Parents

One of the major incongruities between the novel and the film is how Adele/Clementine’s parents are portrayed. In both the novel and the film, Emma joins Adele/Clementine at her home for a casual dinner. 

Adele/Clementine presents Emma to her parents as her friend, helping her with her philosophy studies.  Her parents are perfectly cordial to Emma, but have no inkling of the true nature of the relationship between the two young women. Here’s where the plot diverges.  In the novel, the events after the dinner are traumatic. Emma sneaks downstairs to get a glass of milk and is discovered half naked by Adele/Clemetine’s mother. Her mother is aghast and her father erupts into a furious rage. 

Adele's father kicks both of them out of the house and tells Adele to never return. She becomes completely alienated from her family of origin, fostering the deep shame she feels as woman who loves a woman. Clementine suffers a devastating blow. This traumatic experience of familial separation is not depicted in the film.

Clementine's Death

The most egregious divergence between the novel and the film is the plot and its narrative arc. The graphic novel begins as Emma is reading Clementine’s diary. It gradually becomes clear that Clementine has died due to an incurable medical condition caused by drug abuse (on the surface). Of course, the root of her drug abuse is a broken heart after the demise of her relationship with Emma. She had left specific instructions that Emma must keep her diaries after her death. This plot vehicle is in contrast to the film, in which, although Adele is utterly devastated by the loss of her relationship with Emma, she walks away (rather than committing suicide, as is the implication in the novel). 

My own speculation is that Kechiche has fallen in love with this Adele character and couldn't bear the thought of the character's death. 

Chapters 3 & 4?

The fact that Adele walks away, combined with the alternate title of the film (“La Vie d’Adele”) fuels speculation that there could be a sequel to the film (chapters 3 & 4, etc.). Any sequel worth making must have all of the following components, so it’s extremely unlikely to ever get made:

• A compelling narrative arc, driven by a conflict-oriented script that depicts genuine humanity in its characters

• Alignment of stars, i.e.,

• Willingness and commitment from key actors (namely, Adele Exarchopoulos)

• Scheduling and availability of director (Abdellatif Kechiche) and other key actors

• Funding/backing of a studio

What might the subsequent chapters of Adele’s life entail? Here are a couple of story lines, both in jest.

Script A

Having fully resolved her feelings for Emma, Adele moves to New York to leave her “old” life behind and start anew. She lands a job as a French teacher at a private school on the Upper East Side. She discovers in short order that she can’t afford to live in Manhattan, or Brooklyn, or anywhere even vaguely desirable, unless she rents a room and with a den of invariably annoying and emotionally unstable roommates. She wrestles with the stresses of entitled children, helicopter parents and demanding administrators at her school. She becomes seriously disillusioned with teaching and is less-than-enthralled by New York City on a severely limited budget. She tries dating men, but rather quickly assesses the dating pool as “all the good ones are either married or gay.” As fate would have it, just when she’s about to give up all hope, she runs into the Arabic actor she’d met at Emma’s party in Lille years before.  He of course is delighted to run into her, and she’s just glad to see a familiar face. They start dating, bemoaning how much they miss France. He proposes to her, they return to Lille, get married, and move to the same neighborhood as her parents. Adele’s parents like him. Adele still doesn’t like sex with men, but she embraces the compromise of an endearing friendship with a man she loves (platonically). They raise two children (a boy and a girl). All the while, she nurses an active fantasy life oriented around about Emma, and essentially drowns her subverted desire in alcohol, living as a functioning alcoholic. Conflicts abound, of all sorts; humorous, absurd, wrenching.

Script B

Adele moves to Paris, mostly to ensure she doesn’t run into Emma; she’s uncomfortable living in the same town as Emma in the role of Emma’s “Ex.” She can’t bear the thought of seeing Emma, knowing that there is no chance of reconciliation. She’s working as a teacher in Paris, but her life’s trajectory is essentially “stuck” because she’s unable to really move on from her break up with Emma. She carries on meaningless flings with strangers she meets at bars (men only). She starts to imagine she sees Emma everywhere; Emma still haunts her mind, day and night. Ironically, Emma’s art career takes off, and she starts spending more and more time in Paris. Adele sees Emma in Paris one evening and follows her into the hotel lobby. She gets into the elevator with Emma, just before the door closes. They’re both breathless with excitement and anticipation to see one another. Emma invites Adele to her room and they talk and flirt until dawn. They make plans to see one another that evening. Shortly after this encounter, they begin an affair (Emma’s family, Lise and Aud, are back in Lille). Adele plays the role of Emma’s mistress for several years, seeing her during her frequent trips to Paris. All is bliss until Adele, becoming increasingly uncomfortable with pushing 40 and her status as the mistress, confronts Emma and asks her to make a choice; her or Lise. Emma is distraught; she senses that her “have your cake and eat it too” life is coming to a close. Emma is fraught with anxiety and conflict; she doesn’t want to end her relationship with Lise, but Adele has reignited a passion in her that’s been dormant for years. Rather than choose, Emma proposes that all three of them live together as a family, ala menage a trois. Conflicts abound, of all sorts; humorous, absurd, wrenching.

The Vulnerable Humanity of a Love Story

//Spoiler alert: the following reveals plot. 

The 2013 Palme d’Or-winning film La Vie d’Adele – Chapitres 1 & 2 (also known as Blue is the Warmest Color) has been critically acclaimed, and yet also criticized for inauthentic, highly stylized and voyeuristic sex scenes. I resolutely believe that director Abdellatif Kechiche and actors Léa Seydoux and Adèle Exarchopoulos earned the Palme d’Or, and it’s because of the great swaths of vulnerable humanity we get to see in the characters (few of which are exhibited in the sex scenes). These swaths of vulnerable humanity are what make the film so compelling and emotionally jolting.

First, I’ll state the obvious; of course the sex isn't "authentic." The sex scenes are subject to the director's stylistic predilections and the actors' interpretations. It is artistic cinema; why cling to the conceit that somehow the director and actors are obligated to portray a specific characterization of “authentic” sex? Art isn’t supposed to be so tyrannical or rigid, with a narrow definition of an “authentic” portrayal of human experience. Just like art, authenticity is subjective.

The Incongruity of Adele's Character

What's more interesting to me than a discussion of the “authenticity” of lesbian sex is the incongruity of some aspects of Adele's character, and how this incongruity manifests in the sex scenes. Early in the film, she's depicted with an intentional aura of authenticity; sprawled out on her bed, asleep like a child; leaning against the window, asleep on the train; a voracious eater (particularly fond of her father's bolognese and an occasional candy bar snuck from a box under the bed); earnestly curious about character studies in literature; tentatively fielding the attention of a teenage boy; spellbound by a spontaneous kiss on the lips by a female classmate. She is an insecure and genuine young woman, grappling with the confusion of hormones and sexual awakening.

It smacks of incongruity, then, to portray her initial forays into emotionally-fueled sex with another woman as so confident and self-assured. This is especially true considering that, even in early 21st century France (among the Western countries to recently legalize gay marriage), Adele's closeted gay relationship with Emma is imbued with the defiance of societal and familial norms of identity. Perhaps the sex scenes would have exuded a more genuine flavor by reflecting Adele's sexual inexperience and her insecurity with the idea of a lesbian identity.

A more congruent depiction of Adele's initial sexual interludes with Emma would depict awkward fumbling, nervousness, and a tentative apprehension about whether she's “doing it right.”  Instead, Kechiche infuses the sex scenes with a masterful idealization of tits and ass. The stylized showcase of two writhing beautiful women diminishes their humanity and fails to capture any sense of mystery or vulnerability. The only glimpse of vulnerable humanity in any of the sex scenes is exhibited by Adele, as her tear-soaked eyes reveal a subtle but genuine display of the emotions that fuel the sex.

Exhibitions of Vulnerable Humanity

There are four specific scenes that temper the idealistic portrayal of sex and infuse the women's relationship with a vulnerable humanity.

The "Pillow Talk" Scene

One such scene is the brief post-coital "pillow talk" scene that exhibits such tenderness between the women. Emma stares longingly at Adele and tells her that she's beautiful. They kid each other by espousing the virtues of studying "philosophy" with one another (an inside joke about the ruse they presented to Adele's parents). In a playful turn, Adele challenges Emma to rate her skills as a sexual partner. Emma takes the bait and assesses her skills as a "14" (where "15" is the highest mark, a nod to the grading conventions of French high schools). Emma teases her with a smile, claiming she's only a 14, because she "needs more practice." Adele earnestly and vulnerably replies that she "gives it all she's got." The two giggle and tease one another with such warmth. This brief exchange of humor and affection exhibits a sense of humanity that is conspicuously missing from the sex scenes. As an exhibition of humanity, the "pillow talk" scene portrays them as having a deep affection for one another. It also frames the sex scenes with a sense of Emma's sexual prowess (assuming the task of rating her partner's skills and asserting the need for "more practice"), and Adele's willingness as a lover to give her partner "all I've got."

The "Tell Me All About It, Girl!" Scene

Another scene that exhibits Adele's humanity is a minor scene that was not included in the final cut of the film, but is an outtake available on Youtube. In this darling scene, Adele reveals to one of her best friends (Valentin, a boy who attends her high school, who, not coincidentally, is openly gay) that she's had multiple Earth-shattering sexual encounters with "the girl with blue hair." She is timid and yet also eager to share the recent experiences that have rocked her world; and she does so after she swears him to secrecy. Adele's vulnerable humanity is captured in this confession laden with awkward glances, giggles and raised eyebrows. Both Adele and Valentin relish the details of her secret and somewhat taboo sexual experience (described by Adele as "as much rough as soft" and by Valentin as "the smell of fucking"). "That's bliss," Valentin surmises. The scene ends with another exhibition of Adele's vulnerable humanity, as she pronounces the need to shower before seeing Emma again. 

The "Break-Up" Scene

A major scene that especially renders vulnerable humanity is the devastating "break-up" scene, in which Emma accuses Adele of being unfaithful. A harrowing, crushing scene ensues. Both characters expose deep wells of pain, as exhibited by the harsh and insulting words, raised voices, shoves, slaps and slammed doors. Emma is wary of what she perceives as Adele's closeted identity, asking Adele about whether she's ashamed to be with a woman. Adele is desperate to fix the rudderless state of their current relationship, as she physically and emotionally clings to Emma. 

Emma is resolute that the relationship has run its course; Adele's infidelities are the final straw. Is Emma conveniently using Adele's casual infidelities to justify her own fledgling interest in a long-lost friend who also happens to be a painter? It's unclear; but what this scene does reveal is a huge swath of vulnerable humanity. Emma reckons with her anguish and forcefully rejects Adele, and Adele limps away in fraught bewilderment and utter devastation. This scene also represents the vulnerable humanity of the juxtaposition we often see in love stories; the culminating break-up, in contrast with the previous periods of intimacy, both twinged with their own distinct flavors of desperation. 

The "Reunited" Scene

In what is arguably the most emotionally resonant scene in the entire film, the women reunite at a restaurant several years after their tumultuous break-up. This scene renders vulnerable humanity that is just as ferocious as the break-up scene, with an equally desperate tone (but without the raised voices or insults). The scene is fraught with such profound longing that it's wrenching to watch.

The scene begins with both women glad to see one another. They immediately begin to catch up on each other's lives. Emma casually inquires about Adele's relationship status; first inquiring about whether she has a boyfriend ("nothing concrete"), then whether she has a girlfriend. Adele's compulsory heterosexuality is subtly implicit; of course she might have a boyfriend. Whether or not she has a girlfriend elicits a chuckle from Adele and a smile from Emma, as if to imply that Adele is not gay, she simply fell in love with Emma (who happens to be a woman). We see glimpses of Adele's ambivalence about a lesbian identity. Adele has no qualms about asking Emma about the quality of her sex life with her current partner; is it lousy, she wonders? Is it boring, she hopes out loud? Emma throws her a bone by assuring her that it's "not like with you."

The casual queries about their respective professional lives and relationships begin to unravel when Emma offers to give Adele one of her recent paintings. Instead of receiving a gift, Adele exhorts Emma to let her pay for it "in flesh and blood." Adele claims it was a "joke, a bad joke,"' but both characters sense the awkwardness. Adele eventually confesses that she's still in love with Emma; "I want you. All the time. No one else," Adele implores her. Her confession sparks a desperate seduction that manifests as a heated but brief sexual interlude (right there at the restaurant table). Despite her initial incapacity to halt the interlude, Emma asks Adele to stop and insists that they can't pursue it. Adele even refuses to believe it at first, asking her, "are you sure?" when Emma declines to pursue her.

Adele concedes, in an exhibition of her vulnerability, that her feelings for Emma are "beyond my control." She is compelled to confront Emma and asks her point blank whether she still loves her. Emma's nuanced answer is heart-wrenching; she shakes her head, but her tears, body language and facial expression contrarily depict an affliction similar to Adele's. Emma pops Adele's balloon, telling her that they can't see each other, yet assuring Adele that she has "infinite tenderness" for her. It's cold comfort to Adele, but she recognizes a need to not burden Emma with her emotional strife. In a piercingly ironic turn, Adele admits "sometimes I cry for no reason," and yet she is crying precisely because of a specific reason; her heart is shattered by the recognition that reconciliation is not in the cards. She attempts to get herself together, driven by a need to maintain the ruse of a broken romance that ends on a civilized note, clinging to any connection to this woman she loves so much.

This "reunited" scene exhibits an aspect that dooms many love affairs; the domesticity and logistics of everyday life (especially when said domesticity involves a gay relationship). Despite the history of a relationship, a persistent deep affection, and an evident sexual connection that hasn't waned, Emma is not going to sacrifice her current domestic arrangement (as imperfect as her current sexual relationship might be) to reunite with Adele in any capacity. One possible factor that compels Emma to this decision is Adele's ambivalence about a lesbian identity. Without a commitment to a lesbian identity, Emma recognizes that attempting to live a domestic life with Adele would be futile.

The Vulnerable Humanity of Identity

Throughout the film, we see Adele wrestle with a core contradiction of her identity. As her fledgling romance with Emma unfolds, she defiantly insists to her classmates at school (whom she would call her best friends; the attendees at her surprise 18th birthday party) that she is not a lesbian. Indeed, one might infer that she "doth protest too much." This scene exhibits the hostile nature of teen-age clans, especially when one member is perceived to be somehow "other" in terms of normative identities.

During a family dinner at Adele's parents' house, Adele and Emma are both complicit in a ruse to present themselves as friends instead of lovers (a ruse comprised of Emma's "boyfriend" who works in business). The ruse continues well into the evening, as the women retreat to Adele's childhood bedroom to indulge in a subdued sexual tryst, ensuring their moans of pleasure are not overheard by Adele's parents. Later in the film, we see Adele working as a teacher; she has decided not to reveal her relationship status (living with her lesbian lover) to her colleagues at the school. She remains closeted, despite an astonishingly intimate and emotionally-driven relationship with Emma.

And yet, Adele is clearly wrestling with the contradiction. There are two milieus in which she feels safe to publicly exhibit her relationship with Emma. One is the celebratory ambiance of the gay pride parade. I've attended dozens of gay pride parades since the early 1990s (including New York and San Francisco), and I can vouch for the liberating exuberance of these events. There is nothing quite like the public affirmation of exhibiting a non-normative relationship in such a positive environment. 

The other safe milieu for Adele is a party at her and Emma's home, celebrating Emma's artistic achievements. Though Adele feels safe in this environment (presented as Emma's muse and inspiration), this is where cracks in their relationship begin to emerge. Adele insists that she is content as Emma's muse and party hostess, but she is feeling adrift and inept in the company of Emma's colleagues and friends. Emma appreciates her earnestness, but she recognizes a growing chasm between the two of them in terms of artistic ambition. This chasm diminishes Emma's sexual desire for Adele. Of course, diminished sexual desire is the death knell of so many relationships, especially one in which the sexual passion was such a key aspect of the relationship's foundation. Adele's vulnerable humanity is exposed throughout the film, as she attempts to reconcile her explosive feelings of love and longing for Emma with societal and familial expectations of her.

Despite the criticism, Blue is the Warmest Color succeeds at exhibiting more than just stylized (and admittedly titillating) sexual encounters of young lovers in a modern-day love story. The tenderness and torments of passionate love, and the salient and profound questions of identity, are what imbue the movie with a vulnerable humanity. Seydoux and Exarchopoulos deliver consummate performances; they embody the characters of these women to the extent that we feel their universal vulnerable humanity. While both Seydoux and Exarchopoulos are immensely gifted actors, Exarchopoulos's talent is mind-boggling. I've never seen an actor with such emotional intelligence or a more refined capacity to render her character's truth (except for perhaps Meryl Streep, and that's not an overstated comparison). Given that Exarchopoulos is still in her early 20s, I expect to see great things from her upcoming catalog of performances; I don't expect that any role will ever quite match the emotional gravity of Adele Chapters 1 & 2.