PicoBlog

Stardust seems to come and go from streaming services, just as it comes and goes from peoples’ cinematic consciousness. No, not the flop Jackie Jormp-Jomp-adjacent David Bowie biopic that failed to get approval from Bowie’s estate for any of his songs; the film adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s 1999 fantasy novel. I occasionally catch it referenced online and then won’t see it again for months. Like, someone might say, “Stardust!” and another person will go, “Hey, I love that movie!” and the discourse promptly stops there.

The film was released in 2007, during the summer before I started seventh grade, and it appeared to leave little footprint on the culture at large. And yet, not only do I recall people reacting to the film with acute fondness once I became aware of it as a pre-teen, 10 years later people were still looking back at the film similarly. Throughout all three years of middle school, my chorus teacher would do this thing where she would wheel out her (now) very outdated classroom television and throw on a DVD copy of Stardust for the class when she didn’t feel like teaching. This always drew an emphatic reaction from us, as eager to not have to sing whatever awful songs that day as to watch this particular movie.

A couple weeks ago, I posted on my Twitter that I was revisiting Stardust. The tweet — which read, “nw (now watching) a crucial work in the film canon,” accompanied by a poster of the film — garnered nearly 500 likes, 10 retweets, four quote tweets and 25 responses, the latter two categories comprised mostly of people remarking ecstatically about the film. It was interesting to note the overwhelmingly positive response to a film which, frankly, no one really talks about much. One user replied to let me know that they had, indeed, never heard of Stardust. Another referred to the film using a term that many would most likely agree upon: “underrated.”

But the biggest takeaway from my tweet (and more or less what I was intending to find out by tweeting it at all) was that, just as I’d suspected, there are so many people out there who grew up loving Stardust. Still, it persists as mostly overlooked, quietly adored by those who are hip to its charms yet largely glossed over by the masses — a warm, winsome family film that somehow failed to leave any meaningful impact on pop culture. In 2013, Emmet Asher-Perin wrote a passionate plea for Tor.com that “Stardust had better become a fantasy film classic.” In 2021, I’d like to continue fighting for that title.

My aforementioned Twitter interaction lightly parallels one described in a 2017 Vanity Fair interview with Stardust’s lead, Charlie Cox. At the time of the interview, a decade passed since the film’s release, Cox was in the thick of portraying blind lawyer-slash-crimefighter Matt Murdock in the Marvel Netflix series Daredevil — the character he’s since become the most known for. But Cox tells interviewer Jennifer Still about a bodybuilder who’d recently approached him at the gym, trying to figure out where he recognized Cox from. Expecting the man to eventually land on Daredevil, Cox was surprised when, complete with a thick Russian accent, the large man exclaimed “‘You’re Tristan!’”

Yes, Tristan — the naïve, lovesick hero at the forefront of a timeless yet criminally underrated fantasy film. A film which has disappeared from the conversation yet seems to consistently draw a collective, joyous response when brought up. Described in that same interview as a little bit of A Princess Bride mixed with A Midsummer Night’s Dream, director had Matthew Vaughn apparently told Cox during production that, with Stardust, he wanted to “make a kids’ film for adults [and] an adult film for kids.” Vaughn had two young children, and he was, according to Cox, tired of watching films with them that “they loved but he hated.”

By that account, Stardust overwhelmingly succeeds. It is a funny, exciting, self-aware yet never ironic, deeply sincere fantasy-romance-adventure film that continues to stand the test of time. It bears the humor and mature themes of The Princess Bride that have allowed the latter film to endure as a cherished staple of popular cinema — Stardust is arguably darker and scarier, rated PG-13 for “some fantasy violence and risqué humor” — while still being accessible enough for children, never pandering to them and never becoming too saccharine for adult sensibilities.

The vibrant, textured production design, courtesy of Gavin Bocquet (creating the feel of a real lived-in fantasy world), is complemented by Ben Davis’s cinematography, whose composition and sweeping camera movements create an exhilarating sense of adventure. Meanwhile, the score — composed by Ilan Eshkeri — is beautiful, playful, and strikingly memorable, especially compared to today’s tentpole films with music that could’ve been grabbed from a stock site. Stardust’s ensemble cast is also formidable, lead and supporting roles filled out by names like Claire Danes, Michelle Pfeiffer, Robert De Niro (the latter two utterly chewing the scenery), Mark Strong (with beautiful, flowing hair), Peter O’Toole, Ricky Gervais, Sienna Miller, Nathanial Parker, and Henry Cavill, with narration provided by Sir Ian McKellan. 

As written by Kayti Burt for Den of Geek, “In a rather cynical age, [Stardust] manages to give us a satisfying fairy tale by subverting enough of its tropes to lure us hypnotically into embracing other ones.” Vaughn hits this perfect sweet spot of comedy that’s genuinely funny, fantasy adventure that’s genuinely riveting while both upending and celebrating genre conventions, and characters who run the gamut on morality yet are unflinchingly empathetic. 14 years ago, a film for children had an entire sequence involving a closeted pirate who eventually realizes that his crew always knew — and, what’s more, they still love and embrace him. From the heroes to the villains and everyone in between, Stardust is, at its heart, a simple tale of self-acceptance. 

The film is also noted for being a particularly successful example of adapting a work by Neil Gaiman, the acclaimed fantasy/horror author behind other titles such as Coraline, The Sandman, American Gods, and Good Omens — all of which have gotten, or will be getting, the film or TV treatment. Stardust started out as a four-part, prestige graphic novel series in 1997, before being reissued as a standard novel sans artist Charles Vess’s illustrations in 1999. Stardust tells a multilayered coming-of-age story within the worlds of Wall and Stormhold — two non-magical and magical lands, respectively, divided only by a stone barrier with a gap in the middle that’s guarded to keep the worlds separated.

Tristan Thorn is the son of Dunstan Thorne (Parker), a man who once crossed the wall and fell in love with a Stormhold woman named Una (Kate Magowan). But since Una was the slave of a witch, she was forced to ship baby Tristan to Dunstan, where he subsequently grew up. 18 years later, Tristan is transported to Stormhold by way of a Babylon candle left to him by the mother he never knew, and he lands in the crater of a fallen star. The star is a beautiful woman named Yvaine (Danes), and Tristan gets the brilliant idea to bring Yvaine back to Wall with him so that he can impress and finally win the love of the manipulative, self-involved Victoria (Miller).

But others are seeking the fallen star as well, like the eccentric crop of fratricidal sons of the King of Stormhold (O’Toole), the latter of whom was the one to knock Yvaine out of the sky in the first place. On his deathbed, the King had hurled a ruby necklace into the sky for his remaining sons to find, whoever did being the one to succeed him as king — but the ruby hit Yvaine, and the two tumbled to earth together. Meanwhile, three ancient witches hear tell of the fallen star and seek to claim her and cut out her heart, thus replenishing their powers and regaining their youth. Their leader, Lamia (Pfeiffer), is the one chosen to embark on the quest, devouring the remnants of the witches’ last star to briefly restore her beauty.

Since Stardust entered the world as a work emboldened by visuals, the novelization misses out on this crucial aspect of Stardust’s storytelling. This is perhaps part of the reason why the source material translates so well to film, while still excising and embellishing a number of details from Gaiman’s original story by way of Vaughn and his co-screenwriter, the author and journalist Jane Goldman (who has since become Vaughn’s principal screenwriting collaborator). Tristan’s best friend, for example, was removed, and his hometown and likewise the world of Stormhold are both less complex. The part of the story where Yvaine and Tristan meet pirate Captain Shakespeare (De Niro) is greatly expanded upon, and the film’s ending is far more climactic and action-centric than in the book. The novel is also more adult-oriented towards depictions of sex and violence. 

But as is necessary when transferring a story from one medium to another, these are the sorts of alterations to be expected. Ultimately, as someone unfamiliar with Stardust’s literary roots, it would appear that the film did indeed do its job of taking a rich source text and crafting something new that can stand on its own. The film doesn’t rely too heavily on Gaiman’s style, either. Gaiman, who also acted as the film’s producer, gave Vaughn his blessing to do what he wanted with his original work (it should be noted, Vaughn allegedly pointed to the 1988 Odd Couple-esque buddy comedy Midnight Run as his inspiration), while still under Gaiman’s guidance to make sure that the author was happy with the end product: “I really trusted [Vaughn], and you don’t run into that very often,” Gaiman explained to MTV News back in 2007. “He offered me the script, but I said, ‘No, I wrote the novel, but this is your film, your vision. But I will help you.’”

Gaiman had already said no to prospective adaptations of Stardust for four years. He had seen what had been happening to his friend, fellow comic book author Alan Moore, with the disappointing results of adapting his work into films. So, Gaiman was insistent on finding someone who would give the story the care and attention he felt it deserved, while also being more personally involved in the production, unlike Moore. That’s when German model Claudia Schiffer happened to read the book and recommended it to her husband, Layer Cake director Matthew Vaughn (who would go on to direct three more graphic novels for the screen: The Kingsman series, Kick-Ass, and X-Men: First Class). Vaughn read Stardust and immediately fell in love, eager to help grant the story a second life on film.

Though Vaughn was initially only intended to be a producer, director Terry Gilliam turned the project down in the wake of The Brothers Grimm. So, Vaughn ended up in the director’s chair by something of an accident (and apparently after dropping out of directing X-Men: The Last Stand). Gaiman then onboarded Goldman to help write, despite the fact that she had never written a script before. But Gaiman was a fan of Goldman’s work and entrusted her with the task, just as he did Vaughn. “[Goldman] understood the characters; she understood what works about the book,” Cox reflected.

In the 2017 Vanity Fair interview with Cox, the actor admits that he still doesn’t quite know why Stardust managed to be so distinctly unforgettable to its fans, who are as excited to recognize him as Tristan Thorn as Marvel fans are to recognize him as Daredevil. Gaiman even views the film adaptation of his story as simply the second world of Stardust: "I get people who come to the book from having loved the movie who are really disappointed at some of the stuff that isn’t there that Matthew brought,” he told Empire back in 2013.

To me, it seems pretty clear why Stardust’s fans remain so passionate: it’s both a successful adaptation of a beloved author’s work that is equally beloved by the author, stands on its own for those unfamiliar with the original text, and, besides some negligible CGI effects, has avoided what befalls many child-treasured films by becoming dated as its core audience ages to adulthood and even middle age. It also bears the mark of being — to repeat myself a little — criminally underrated, and this is perhaps part of the reason why Stardust’s fans cling to it and champion it so zealously. Who else is going to?

Ultimately, Stardust came out at a weird time — one year before Iron Man would send fantasy blockbusters down a post-ironic path of no return, but the same year that Stardust would be buried by a series of far more recognizable IP fantasy franchise installments: Spider-Man 3, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End, Shrek the Third, National Treasure: Book of Secrets, and Fantastic 4: Rise of the Silver Surfer. But 2007 was also the year of the first Michael Bay Transformers film, and Zack Snyder’s 300, and Superbad, Ratatouille, Knocked Up, The Simpsons Movie, The Bourne Ultimatum, I Am Legend, Night at the Museum, and [deep, ragged breath] — do you see where I’m going with this?

2007 was an insane year for movies. Stardust debuted at number four at the domestic box office and accrued a mere ~$9 million opening weekend. It eventually took in an overall $137 million gross during its run between domestic and international markets, only making up roughly half of its $70 million budget from profits. And while it received largely positive reviews, it’s hard to look at that year’s film output and box office statistics and not understand what went wrong. A standalone, family fantasy film based on a book absent from the zeitgeist, starring a fresh-faced actor unfamiliar to the general public, had its cultural impact odds stacked against it.

If you want my opinion, my theory is that Stardust’s ultimate downfall was that it got lost in the beginnings of this full-scale rejection of blockbuster sentimentality, the kind that was once eagerly devoured by the same audiences that allowed something like the deeply felt Lord of the Rings trilogy to endure. Not nearly as culturally relevant or endowed with such an expansive fanbase, however, Stardust was drowned out by the quippy franchise clamor that would take root in 2008 and spread its seedlings throughout mainstream Western cinema, rotting it for years to come.

Stardust was first muffled the year it came out by established franchises already far more recognized, by new franchises like Transformers that were quick to take hold in pop culture, and by an impressive grouping of popular and acclaimed self-contained films — many of which have become classics in their own right. Stardust didn’t really stand a chance. The following years were overwrought by a charge of multi-billion-dollar fantasy films that would hinder any chance at Stardust establishing a strong cult presence. There was no room for humble, love-struck Tristan Thorn next to billionaire playboy philanthropist Tony Stark. 

But the tides are quietly turning on Marvel and on the irony-laden insincerity of modern blockbusters. The task of following in the footsteps of a major cultural phenomenon like Avengers: Endgame, a forgettable crop of direct-to-streaming series, and the delay of Phase Four due to COVID-19 has spawned a distinct sluggishness with this year’s film additions to the MCU. Other, newer children’s films are frequently admonished for lazy writing, uninspired ideas, plain lack of ambition, and a reticence to actually challenge children. Meanwhile, adults are growing just as weary with the sanitization of mainstream “mature” cinema. Oversaturation of franchises coupled with new age puritanism is begetting films that could be just as much for children as for adults, and are often more interested in delivering jokes than in developing empathetic characters — or, even worse, dabbling in earnestness. People are starting to want something different. There is an understanding occurring that things can, and should, be better.

So, what more apt a time for our culture to embrace a film like Stardust: a family affair which manages to neither condescend to children nor adults, producing a well-rounded, beautifully executed film that treats its audience as an equal. There is no excuse in writing off poor quality in a movie that’s “just for kids.” Like The Princess Bride before it, Stardust proves that a film for children can be a film for all ages — intelligent, full-hearted, stimulating, and even inappropriate. I mean, Michelle Pfeiffer strips naked and I turned out alright.*

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