Robert Venditti and Brett Weldele, The Surrogates (Top Shelf, 2006)
It is by now a Hollywood cliché, not to mention a Hollywood truism, that the book is better than the movie. And that is certainly the case where The Surrogates is concerned. That said, in some ironic way, reading Robert Venditti's original source material gave me a slightly greater respect for Jonathan Mostow's bloated, listless adaptation. I can see why he made the changes he made, and some of them I actually agree with. (The two big ones, as it turns out, were direct contributors to the movie's downfall, to the point where I may actually go back and revise my review to include a discussion of them.)
If you saw the movie trailers, you've got a basic idea, but I'll give you a rundown anyway: it's 2054, and the world is populated by human beings who live vicariously through androids known as surrogates. The human flops down in a chair, puts on a headset, and bam, virtual reality. Surrogates work for their owners (allowing the out-of-shape to be construction workers, say), drink and do drugs for their owners (all the sensation with none of the withdrawal symptoms), have illicit affairs for their owners, etc. You get the idea. 92% of the world's humans, we're told, own and use surrogates. The rest are not too happy with this. In the metro Atlanta area where the book takes place, the head of the non-surrogate-using humans, known as the Dreads, is The Prophet, a mover and shaker in the anti-surrogate riots of 2039 who eventually agreed with the mayor of Atlanta that he and his Luddite pals needed to move out of Atlanta to a reservation seventy miles away. All of what I'm giving you here is setup for the actual plot, which involves two surrogates who we see being fried in the opening scene, and the two detectives assigned to the case.
While no one would call The Surrogates a subtle book, in comparison to the movie it's like a velvet glove. The main reason for this is that the movie changes the book anti-consumer message to something far more muddled, yet far closer to the surface (in the movie, the deaths of the surrogates travels back over the wires to kill their owners, which changes the whole nature of the movie's plot). Venditti also has some strong words about addiction which are cut, rather brutally I might add, out by the changing of a few key scenes. They are the book's most powerful (especially Venditti's final panel), and the movie's weakest. That Mostow failed miserably in his attempt to bring The Surrogates to the screen, and that the changes made to it were exactly the wrong ones, does not make Hollywood any less respectable for at least trying to take a very good, if transparent, indie piece and being it to the masses. It gives me some small version of hope that someone in Hollywood still actually cares about art. ***