Just finished watching Tales from the City and More Tales from the City, based on Armistead Maupin's series of books of the same title. I read Maupin's books back in high school - in Nepal, I think - and enjoyed the whole saga of 28 Barbary Lane. The series is pretty faithful to the original text, as far as I remember it. At various points, I could hear in my head Maupin's original narrative as the action played out. A bit surreal, definitely toned down, but generally rather well done. About half the cast changed between the first and second series, but I'm glad Mrs Madrigal, Mary Anne, and Didi stayed the same. Both Monas were really good and each seemed to exude the right kind of Mona-ness needed at that particular time. I preferred the original Mouse initially, but I got over that by the last episode.

As usual, I think the books were better overall, but is it really fair to compare a production necessarily limited by its medium and budget against the full scope of one's imagination? Increasingly, I don't think it is. Of course I wanted it to look the way it did in my head, but not even the most gifted of filmmakers could have made that happen. But then isn't that why we keep trying: the hope that maybe, just maybe, we'll get it exactly right this time? Which is why, if one must use tedious classical references, those who try to make concrete what they imagine remind me more of Tantalus than anyone visted by the muses.