Lolita is my favorite book. It has been since I first read it, and possibly even before that considering the bizarre amount of research I did prior to reading it. No other work of fiction has had the same disturbing effect on me; that is, to sympathize with and even love a protagonist so despicable and pathetic as Humbert Humbert. And although my intense love for Lolita makes me something of a purist when it comes to interpreting and appreciating the book, I have no qualms with the liberties the brilliant Stanley Kubrick took with his 1962 adaptation of the novel.
For one thing, Nabokov himself penned the screenplay. And never have I seen a film slip past the censorship codes of the time with such mischievous ease (everything from Lolita's summer retreat, "Camp Climax", to her unintelligible whispering into Humbert's ear about the "game" she and Charlie played is full of innuendo). The cuts away from the assumed action between Lo and Humbert never hinder; in fact, they follow the book, which like the film is always far more suggestive than it is explicit. Of course, Kubrick deviated quite a bit from Nabokov's final draft of the screenplay, but the nasty fun and spirit is all there.
As a reader, I often forgot that the book was something of a tragicomedy and spent many teary afternoons lingering over the passages near the end in which Humbert proclaims that "I was a monster, but I loved you" to his doomed nymphet. The film's undeniably snappy and absurd humor (represented perfectly by Peter Sellers's tic-infested portrayal of Clare Quilty) alerted me to all the funny subtleties of the novel that I had pushed aside in attempt to wallow in Humbert's misery. The Humbert that Kubrick creates is undoubtedly more sophisticated than everyone else in the film, but some of the funniest moments come when he finally loses his cool: think the frantic drink-fixing scene as he (James Mason) hollers his reassurance to Charlotte (the always energetic and endearingly pathetic Shelley Winters) that his diary is in fact fiction and not a real record of his highly immoral (not to mention illegal) lust for her daughter (Sue Lyon).
It's hard to say who the MVP of the film is, considering the brilliance of the entire ensemble. It's a well-known fact that Peter Sellers was one of the only actors Kubrick ever allowed to improvise, and his line delivery is perfectly inane ("You've got the most normal lookin' face I've sort of evah seen"). I've had a thing for Sue Lyon ever since seeing Night of the Iguana, where she plays a similar role opposite a very troubled Richard Burton, and she didn't disappoint here. I greatly appreciated her refusal (and, presumably, Kubrick's) to turn Lolita into a stupid little coquette who deserved her fate; this Lolita is not a pedophile's innocent delight but a young lady struggling to grow up in peace.
Basically? I recommend it.
And once again, a shameless plug for my very talented friend Michael: !http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2C2HNLKui
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