When C.S. Lewis penned his thoughts back in 1959 regarding the potential film adaptations of his beloved Chronicles of Narnia, he struck a chord that resonates even today. He expressed a firm stance against the idea of a television adaptation, stating, “I am absolutely opposed – adamant isn’t in it! – to a TV version.” Lewis had serious concerns about the portrayal of his anthropomorphic characters, believing that when they transitioned from the pages of a book to actual visibility, they risked becoming caricatures—“buffoonery or nightmare” was how he put it. His vision for Aslan, the noble lion and spiritual guide of Narnia, was so sacred that he deemed a human portrayal in a pantomime setting as “blasphemy.” Imagine how Lewis would have reacted to the 1967 ITV adaptation of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, where Bernard Kay's Aslan resembled a rather uninspired background character in a village hall production of Cats. Similarly, while the 1979 CBS animated version had the majestic voice of Stephen Thorne, visually, Aslan looked like he had wandered off the pages of a children’s comic strip.
Fast forward to today, and we find ourselves in the midst of yet another attempt to breathe life into Lewis's fantastical world. Greta Gerwig, the director who took the film industry by storm with her innovative take on Barbie, is reportedly gearing up to tackle two of the Chronicles for Netflix. Speculation surrounds which stories she'll choose to adapt, but there’s buzz about a potential theatrical release in IMAX for the first film around Thanksgiving 2026. While such developments may provide a welcome distraction for Gerwig, one can only wonder: is it truly possible to do justice to Lewis's extraordinary tales on screen?
The history of Narnia adaptations is a mixed bag. Beyond the two versions mentioned, we can’t forget the BBC productions that aired between 1988 and 1990. Sure, they featured a giant puppet Aslan that was a step up in terms of creativity, but the wolves and beavers were still acted out in a way that made them feel like a high school play. And let’s not gloss over the Disney trilogy that ran from 2005 to 2010. Despite their box office success, many felt the films lacked the soul that characterized Lewis’s original narratives. They had a polished look but failed to capture the heart of the stories.
Now, there was an intriguing Narnia film project back in the '90s, where John Boorman was in talks with the Jim Henson Creature Shop. That might have struck a chord with Lewis's vision, but given the history of adaptations, skepticism abounds. The real issue isn't just about a few poor choices in casting or visual effects. It goes deeper. Lewis's writing is profoundly unique, steeped in a rich narrative voice that brings humor and warmth, counterbalancing the perilous journeys of his young protagonists. For instance, consider the unforgettable opening line of The Voyage of the Dawn Treader: “There was a boy called Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and he almost deserved it.” It’s a masterclass in character introduction, offering a glimpse into the whimsical and often ironic world Lewis crafted.
Young actors face a daunting task, as they must navigate dialogue that feels decidedly out of step with contemporary speech patterns. Lewis deliberately used an old-fashioned style—his characters “jaw” instead of simply talking, dropping phrases like “By gum!” and “Crikey!” Lewis’s biographer, A.N. Wilson, noted how the characters seem more akin to E. Nesbit’s children than to the mid-20th-century youth of Lewis's time. This adds an additional layer of complexity for any adaptation.
And then there's the issue of gender dynamics. In today’s landscape, where strong female characters dominate stories like The Hunger Games, modern audiences might cringe at scenes where Father Christmas tells the Pevensie sisters they should stay out of the battle because “battles are ugly when women fight.” Such sentiments spark outrage, particularly considering that in the last book, The Last Battle, Susan is dismissed as “no longer a friend of Narnia,” being portrayed as someone who has strayed from innocence in favor of makeup and social events. J.K. Rowling has commented that Susan's character arc reflects a loss of faith, suggesting, “She’s become irreligious basically because she found sex.”
In response to these challenges, the Disney adaptations took creative liberties. They empowered Susan with a bow and arrow, and added a romantic subplot with Prince Caspian to keep her engaged in Narnia's adventures. However, these changes felt disingenuous, straying from Lewis's medieval-inspired codes of chivalry and the more traditional roles for women present in the original stories. Lewis envisioned Narnia as a realm untouched by the complexities of adult life, a pure world where sexuality and worldly concerns were relegated to the background. While this perspective might seem outdated or naive, it also reflects a unique charm and consistency within the narrative that adaptations often dilute.
As it stands, three of the seven Chronicles remain unfilmed. Among them, The Horse and His Boy stands out as a particularly rich tale, yet it has faced scrutiny regarding its portrayal of the Calormene people, often labeled as racist due to their depiction as dark-skinned, pagan worshippers of the god Tash. On the other hand, The Magician’s Nephew revisits the poignant memory of Lewis's mother's death, though it might come across as too heavy for a young audience expecting light-hearted adventure.
Now, if anyone dares to tackle the epic nature of The Last Battle, they’d have to grapple with its intense themes. Lewis paints a vivid picture of the Day of Revelation, where many beloved characters face their demise, albeit in a manner that promises heavenly redemption. Yet, such bleakness might not sit well with viewers looking for the feel-good escapism typically associated with family-friendly films. The story's conclusion, with the characters stepping into “the Great Story which no one on earth has read,” offers an intriguing premise, yet it remains to be seen how audiences will react to such profound concepts.
The Christian allegory woven throughout the Chronicles of Narnia adds another layer of complexity that has often been downplayed in adaptations. When the Disney films were released, the creators seemed hesitant to fully embrace this aspect, claiming that while they found the stories adventurous, the overt religious themes might deter mainstream audiences. Director Andrew Adamson noted, “[That] is something the press is more interested in than the world at large,” while Tilda Swinton characterized the films as more “spiritual” than strictly religious. Such vague language may not be a concern for Gerwig, who has a background steeped in Catholic influences. She has shown a flair for introducing subtle religious motifs in her work—like the scene in Barbie where the creator Ruth Handler serves tea, modeled after Michelangelo's famous fresco of God touching Adam.
Could Gerwig be the one to capture the heart of Lewis's message? It would be thrilling to see her tackle the iconic scenes where Aslan, the Christ-like figure, sacrifices himself for the traitorous Edmund, only to rise again. This interplay of redemption and sacrifice is what gives Lewis's narratives their enduring power.
Interestingly, this dynamic contrasts sharply with Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials, which derives its strength from its critique of organized religion and the Christian God. Pullman has been vocal about his disdain for Lewis’s work, dismissing it as “propaganda” for the beliefs Lewis held dear. When he first encountered Narnia as a teacher, Pullman saw it through a lens of criticism, further fueling his own creative endeavors.
In examining these two literary giants, we see how their differing views on faith and morality fuel their respective narratives. While the adaptations of Lewis’s works struggle to convey the depth and nuance of his allegorical storytelling, Pullman’s narratives challenge audiences in their explorations of belief and skepticism. The film adaptations of both authors’ works reveal an essential truth: the magic and complexity of their worlds are often lost when they transition from page to screen.
Ultimately, the challenge remains for filmmakers: how to distill the essence of these narratives into a format that resonates with contemporary audiences while honoring the original works. The legacy of Lewis's Chronicles of Narnia is steeped in rich themes of faith, sacrifice, and the innocence of childhood. As Gerwig embarks on this ambitious project, we can only hope that she captures the essence of Lewis's enchanting world in a way that honors both his vision and the timeless appeal of Narnia itself.
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