How could they do this to Tintin?
Hergé's comic-book hero is one of the great creations of the 20th century. Which makes Spielberg's film version little more than murder, says one lifelong Tintin fan
A dearly loved friend: Tintin with the Thomson twins and Snowy Photograph: © Hergé/Moulinsart 2011
Nicholas Lezard
The Guardian, Tue 18 Oct 2011 20.30 BST
Dear mister Spielberg,
A journalist of the well respected British newspaper The Guardian has accused you of raping one of Belgium’s national heroes: Tintin.
He writes:
“The film has turned a subtle, intricate and beautiful work of art into the typical bombast of the modern blockbuster, Tintin for morons.” and “It usefully places in plain view all the cretinous arrogance of modern mass-market, script-conference-driven film-making, confirming in passing that, as a director, Spielberg is a burned-out sun.”.
He also states that you made him feel unwell:
“I found myself, for a few seconds, too stunned and sickened to speak; for I had been obliged to watch two hours of literally senseless violence being perpetrated on something I loved dearly. In fact, the sense of violation was so strong that it felt as though I had witnessed a rape.”
Then he gives his personal analysis of the work of Hergé, showing how erudite he is. You know what they are like, mister Spielberg. They put a calendar of Magritte up in the kitchen and they think they own surrealism.
I wouldn’t care too much about all that, you’ve done a great job and on behalf of the Belgians – I know most of them personally – I can assure you that we are very proud of the new life that you have given to our little reporter.
We never looked at Tintin in a Freudian way like our chum from across the Channel does. We identify with the character for other reasons.
Just like Tintin, our country is small and it would pass unnoticed if it wasn’t for our impressive friends: the arrogant and drinking French, the genius hard-hearing Germans, the hilarious repetitive Brits, the loud and conceited Dutch, our distant Chinese friends, just in case, and of course our best friends from Luxembourg whom we love so dearly because they are even smaller than we are.
Just like Tintin, we adapt. We don’t care too much about who calls us what. Belgium is not a strong and powerful nation, as you may know.
Our identity doesn’t depend on such things as a nation or borders. You must have noticed that Tintin's name is changed into any local language. How many heroes would allow that, except for the pope? Even in his own country, Tintin has three names: Tintin (say Tahtah), Kuifje (which refers to his hairdo) and Tim. At school we’re taught that frogs have outlived the dinosaurs, because they have adapted better to new circumstances. You see, we hang on to that. Did you know the Brits drink our beer Stella Artois en masse because they tell each other that it comes from the French Provence? We’re ok with that. The Dutch would go mad if someone would say Heineken doesn’t come from Holland. Queen Beatrix herself would call Royal Windsor to demand a public apology.
We are who we are, no matter what they call us. As long as it sells.
And finally, like Tintin, we think we have what it takes to make it in Hollywood, but somebody else needs to make it happen for us. We’re too shy and we like to think of ourselves as the most modest people on earth.
That is why, mister Spielberg, we’re happy that Georges Prosper Remy, as we call him here in the local pub, called you to do the movie. While some may say that it took you thirty years to find an idiot to invest money in a Belgian sexless cartoon character, we believe you needed thirty years to develop the idea and find cinematographic technology that could match Hergé’s Ligne Claire.
The movie is just wonderful, Sir. Tintin is the Tintin we all secretly dream to be back here in Belgium. We thank you for that, and never mind about the journalist. He’s just jealous, nom d’une pipe.
Oh, and concerning this story that Hergé is supposedly related to the royal family, I can hardly count the number of friends I have who have great-grandmothers who claim to have been inseminated by Leopold II himself. As I said, it is a small country.
Sincerely,
Guillaume
