Books vs. Movies

Lluvia

In this podcast we set out to answer the age old question: is the book really always better than the movie? 

  1. 1D AGO · BONUS

    Little Women 1949: Book Or Bust

    Send a text What happens when a beloved classic gets the lush Technicolor treatment but trims away the thornier parts that make it feel real? I dig into the 1949 Little Women adaptation and uncover why this shimmering studio take captures warmth and craft yet misses the deeper heartbeat of the March family. From the moment June Allyson’s spirited Jo takes center stage, it’s clear the film wants a hero while quietly pushing Meg, Beth, and Amy to the edges. I talk casting with open eyes. Elizabeth Taylor dazzles as Amy yet reads older than her years, shifting how vanity, wit, and growth land on-screen. Peter Lawford’s Laurie feels like the biggest stretch, sweet but too mature for the role’s boyish ache, which dulls the slow-burn pain of loving your best friend. A surprising age shuffle makes Beth the youngest to spotlight Margaret O’Brien, a choice that subtly rearranges the family dynamic and expectations of innocence. And when Professor Bhaer arrives with an unmistakably Italian cadence, the film’s gentle tone wins out over accuracy, softening Jo’s path toward partnership. The crux is structure and soul. Alcott’s decade-long arc gives us seasons of change, quarrels that scar, and reconciliations that heal; the 1949 version compresses that span, drifting past key beats and announcing life-altering events rather than letting us live them. Without Amy burning Jo’s manuscript, without the mess and repair of real sisterhood, the highs don’t soar as high. I contrast this with the 1994 and 2019 adaptations, which preserve more friction, more earned tenderness, and a truer sense of time. Still, there’s a reason to watch. The tactile sets, saturated color, and handcrafted details turn home into a character, a reminder of the magic practical film making can conjure. If you love Little Women for its values you’ll find them here, even if the edges are buffed smooth. Press play to hear my verdict, my favorite moments, and where this classic sits in the lineage of Little Women on screen. If you enjoyed the conversation, subscribe, share with a friend, and leave a review with your top-ranked adaptation. I want your list. All episodes of the podcast can be found on our website: https://booksvsmovies.buzzsprout.com/share Connect with me: Instagram | Threads | Bookshop | Goodreads | Blog

    30 min
  2. FEB 12

    Ep. 59 Frankenstein: The 1818 Text by Mary Shelley vs. Frankenstein & Bride of Frankenstein (1930s)

    Send a text What if the real monster isn’t the creature, but the way his story was retold? We dive into Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and the Universal classics Frankenstein and Bride of Frankenstein to trace how a philosophical meditation on creation and responsibility morphed into lightning, lab tables, and a grunting icon. Along the way, we unpack what gets lost and what thrives when a novel becomes a studio franchise. We start with the core inversion: Shelley’s restrained, ethically charged science versus the films’ gleeful spectacle. The book keeps the method of life a secret to prevent copycats, centering accountability; the movies build an unforgettable theater of electricity. That choice changes how we judge Victor: in print he’s a secretive architect of doom who refuses to care for his creation; on screen he’s a public experimenter whose sins are softened by mobs, mad-science mentors, and accidents. We look closely at the creature’s transformation from eloquent, agile observer into a near-speechless figure, and why the blind man scene endures as the story’s aching heart. Bride of Frankenstein gets its own spotlight: Dr. Pretorius arrives with bottled homunculi and camp menace, censorship hovers over religious imagery, and the “romance” between the monster and the Bride proves to be a pop-culture illusion. We challenge the couple’s myth, explore continuity quirks and name swaps, and share behind-the-scenes lore including Karloff’s backbreaking costume weight and the director’s choices that forged the monster’s iconic slow walk. Through it all, we separate great horror film making from faithful adaptation and argue that both the novel and the films deserve their place for different reasons. If you love gothic horror, adaptation debates, and the crossroads of ethics and entertainment, this one’s for you. Listen, then tell us: are you team Shelley’s philosophy or team Universal’s spectacle? Subscribe, share with a friend, and leave a review to keep the conversation alive. Follow Orlando here: Instagram All episodes of the podcast can be found on our website: https://booksvsmovies.buzzsprout.com/share Connect with me: Instagram | Threads | Bookshop | Goodreads | Blog

    40 min
  3. FEB 5

    Ep. 58 I Heard You Paint Houses: Frank "The Irishman" Sheeran and Closing the Case on Jimmy Hoffa by Charles Brandt vs. The Irishman (2019)

    Send a text A phone call opens with a code: “I heard you paint houses.” From that line, I followed Frank Sheeran’s long road from soldier to union fixer to alleged hitman, weighing the granular confessions of Charles Brandt’s book against the somber sweep of Martin Scorsese’s The Irishman. I dig into what the film streamlines, what the book preserves, and why a single friendship with Jimmy Hoffa still anchors one of America’s most argued-over mysteries. I walk through the choices that shape each version: the book’s dense web of names, nicknames, and union politics versus the film’s clean emphasis on loyalty, regret, and the cost of following orders. I talk about the controversial de-aging technology, not as a gimmick but as a storytelling tool that keeps performances continuous across decades. And I linger on Peggy, Sheeran’s daughter, whose near-silent judgment becomes the story’s conscience. Her gaze reframes the Hoffa saga from a headline into a family wound, turning speculation into something personal and hard to shake. I also explore confession from two angles—journalist and priest—and how each promises relief without rewriting the past. Along the way, I compare award-season narratives, unpack the title change from I Heard You Paint Houses to The Irishman, and share why clarity can be a virtue when a story carries this much myth. By the end, I stake a verdict that respects both mediums: one offers breadth and context; the other delivers focus and emotional weight. If mob history, union power, and the psychology of guilt are your lanes, you’ll find plenty to chew on here. Like what you heard? Subscribe, leave a quick review, and tell me: would you have kept the title I Heard You Paint Houses? All episodes of the podcast can be found on our website: https://booksvsmovies.buzzsprout.com/share Connect with me: Instagram | Threads | Bookshop | Goodreads | Blog

    28 min
  4. JAN 29 · BONUS

    Top 10 Least Favorite Films Of 2025

    Send a text A year of loud releases and louder opinions deserves a clear-eyed reckoning. I pull back the curtain on my most disappointing theatrical watches and ask why big IP, glossy remakes, and awards-season polish still left me so cold. From the opening wobble of a critically adored war epic to the baffling character choices that derail tension, I trace where promising ideas lose their footing. I dig into representation with care, using Teyana Taylor’s awards momentum to examine the kinds of roles Black women are too often celebrated for, and why nuance matters more than ever. Then I hit the middle of the list: a first-date thriller that vanishes from memory, a new Running Man that gestures at politics without bite, and a Snow White drowned by culture-war noise when its simpler flaw is boredom. Horror fans won’t be shocked to hear me press the difference between “wrong” and “stupid” choices in Wolf Man, and action diehards may bristle as I call Ballerina what it is: kinetic, competent, and curiously empty. I also talk auteur aesthetics versus emotional ignition in The Phoenician Scheme, and whether Five Nights at Freddy’s 2 serves fans or strands them. Megan 2.0’s genre pivot raises a fair question: can a franchise reinvent itself without losing its soul? Finally, I land on The Roses, a remake that mistakes toxicity for comedy and reconciliation for catharsis. Stories shape norms; if a premise can’t be updated with ethical clarity, maybe it shouldn’t be revived. Along the way, you’ll hear candid takes, some heat, and a few pleas for better character logic. If this kind of honest film talk is your thing, hit follow, share with a friend, and leave a quick review telling me your most overrated movie of 2025. I’ll read the spiciest ones on a future episode. All episodes of the podcast can be found on our website: https://booksvsmovies.buzzsprout.com/share Connect with me: Instagram | Threads | Bookshop | Goodreads | Blog

    34 min
  5. JAN 22 · BONUS

    Top 10 Favorite Movies Of 2025

    Send a text What if one of your favorite films of the year is the one everyone else swears is terrible? My feelings drive this countdown of the 10 movies I watched in theaters that defined my 2025. I kept the scope tight: only films I watched on the big screen, tracked on my AMC app, so each pick reflects not just craft, but the vibes, the audience reactions, and the afterglow that lingered on the subway ride home. I move from the spectacle of Wicked for Good and a surprisingly propulsive Predator Badlands to The Fire Inside, a Claressa Shields biopic that dares to ask what happens after winning the gold medal fades. A refreshed Superman wins on character chemistry and warmth over grit, while Mickey 17 turns high-concept sci-fi into a playful, precise performance showcase. Pattinson really makes multiple iterations feel distinct and alive. I also defend The Woman in the Yard, a misunderstood genre piece I read as an unflinching portrait of depression, anchored by Danielle Deadwyler’s quiet intensity. Animation shines twice: Elio, a tender Pixar story buried by weak marketing but rich in heart, and Zootopia 2, a sequel that earns its stripes with smart social storytelling, fast jokes, and genuine growth for Judy and Nick. Horror fans get a gripping entry with Weapons, a lesson in dread over cheap shocks. And topping the list, Sinners delivers a daring new spin on vampire lore. It includes lush cinematography, musical sequences that soar, and performances from Michael B. Jordan and Hailee Steinfeld that pulse with soul, guided by Ryan Coogler’s sure hand. Hit play to hear why these movies rose above the rest, where they surprised me, and how they’ll stick in my mind. Then tell me your own top picks from 2025. What did I miss, and where do we agree? If you enjoyed this episode, follow the show, share it with a friend, and leave a quick review so more movie lovers can find us. All episodes of the podcast can be found on our website: https://booksvsmovies.buzzsprout.com/share Connect with me: Instagram | Threads | Bookshop | Goodreads | Blog

    33 min
  6. JAN 15 · BONUS

    Top Ten Least Favorite Books Of 2025

    Send a text Ever notice how least-favorite lists light up the room? I lean into that energy and break down ten books from 2025 that didn’t land for me and why. Not to dunk for sport, but to get curious about craft, genre, and expectations. Some titles offered powerful insight with limp storytelling; others promised thrills but disappeared into pacing, lore dumps, or glossy advice that never turned into action. I start with the fascination behind “worst” lists and the validation they spark, then move book by book. Fruit of the Drunken Tree delivers urgent history but loses steam in its length. Big Magic inspires faith in the muse, yet my practical creative brain craves steps over slogans. In romance, The Sound of Us brushes close to green flags but falters with cringey smut that mistakes intensity for intimacy. True Biz opens a crucial window into Deaf education and cochlear implant ethics, even as the plot feels thin. Sci-fi shows its seams in Mickey7’s lore-heavy detours and Hitchhiker’s brand of British humor that never gelled for me. I also call out advice that works better as an article than a book in La Clave de la Confianza, and examine how a perfect-on-paper premise can still bore in Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead. The countdown ends with The Monster of Elendhaven, where edgy style overshadows intent and leaves meaning behind. Through it all, I keep the door open: if you love these books, keep loving them. My aim is honest critique, not joy theft. Listen, argue with me, and sharpen your own reading lens. If this resonates, follow the show, share with a bookish friend, and leave a quick review telling us which pick you’d defend—or ditch. All episodes of the podcast can be found on our website: https://booksvsmovies.buzzsprout.com/share Connect with me: Instagram | Threads | Bookshop | Goodreads | Blog

    27 min
  7. JAN 9 · BONUS

    Top 10 Favorite Books of 2025

    Send a text A top ten list only works if it tells a story, and this one starts with quiet middle grade courage and ends with a blockbuster prequel that cracked my no-tears streak wide open. I’m counting down the books that stayed with me in 2025—titles that challenged me, healed me, and sometimes made me argue with myself in the margins. I move from the sharp empathy of Out of My Mind to the cross-country ache of The Remarkable Journey of Coyote Sunrise, where grief rides shotgun on a converted school bus. I pause in court with Helen Garner’s meticulous This House of Grief and step behind the velvet rope with Lawrence Wright’s Going Clear, unpacking belief, power, and how institutions hold their people. Then it’s fiction’s turn to bruise: Paul Murray’s The Bee Sting coils family secrets into a tense, open-ended crescendo, and Let the Right One In turns loneliness into a haunting, human bond that lingers like a bruise. On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous offers a letter that reads like a life, mapping queerness, migration, and memory in language that glows. Still Born by Guadalupe Nettel examines chosen childlessness, prognosis, and friendship without flinching, giving space to hard choices too often reduced to clichés. And at the top, Sunrise on the Reaping by Suzanne Collins did the impossible: I knew the ending, looked it up on purpose, and still cried—hard. Continuity quibbles aside, the emotional calculus is undeniable, the character work devastating. Along the way, I also admit something unexpected: four of this year’s picks came from the Dua Lipa Book Club after a previous year where those choices rarely landed for me. Taste shifts, curation sharpens, and when a list delivers, I’ll say it. Hit play to hear why each book earned its spot and where I think the debates will spark. If this countdown gives you a new favorite—or a title you want to fight me over—share the episode, leave a review, and tell me your personal #1 for 2025. Let’s build a reading list worth arguing about. All episodes of the podcast can be found on our website: https://booksvsmovies.buzzsprout.com/share Connect with me: Instagram | Threads | Bookshop | Goodreads | Blog

    21 min
  8. JAN 1

    Ep. 57 The Long Walk by Richard Bachman (Stephen King) vs. The Long Walk (2025)

    Send a text Imagine a country so desperate for unity that it turns survival into a national spectacle. That’s the engine powering Stephen King’s The Long Walk—published as Richard Bachman—and the 2025 film adaptation that brings its brutality into the present. I unpack how a grim endurance contest for teenage boys becomes a mirror for war, propaganda, and the price of being cheered on while you fall apart. I start with the rules and the promise: keep the pace or get shot, win anything you want for life. From there I trace the political undercurrent—how the novel reads as an anti-war allegory steeped in post-conflict America—and how the film updates the world, trims the field to fifty, and alters key characters to sharpen momentum. The crowd matters: the book surrounds the walkers with onlookers who gawk, collect souvenirs, and make suffering public; the film’s quieter roads isolate the boys, delivering a colder dystopia that puts the system in stark relief. I dive into Garraty’s motives, McVries’ moral gravity, and Stebbins’ bleak lineage, showing how each version changes who we root for and why. Violence becomes the central argument. The movie’s graphic executions demand you look; the novel’s restraint lets your mind do the damage. Which creates empathy, and which creates numbness? I wrestle with that question while exploring the story’s most human details—bathroom breaks, humiliation, and the steady erosion of dignity. Finally, I compare climaxes: the book’s haunting ambiguity versus the film’s cathartic revolt. One leaves you walking into darkness; the other fires back at power. My verdict crowns the novel for its lingering chill and crowd psychology, while saluting the film’s performances and bold ending. If this conversation made you think, tap follow, share it with a friend who loves book-to-film debates, and leave a quick review so more listeners can find this podcast. What ending felt truer to you—and why? All episodes of the podcast can be found on our website: https://booksvsmovies.buzzsprout.com/share Connect with me: Instagram | Threads | Bookshop | Goodreads | Blog

    35 min
5
out of 5
3 Ratings

About

In this podcast we set out to answer the age old question: is the book really always better than the movie?