No one knows who Elena Ferrante is. The renowned Italian author writes under a pseudonym and is famous not only for her masterful work but also for her hidden identity.
Ferrante’s “My Brilliant Friend,” part of her Neapolitan Novels series, was recently named the best book of the 21st century by The New York Times. The four-part anthology explores the intricate lifelong friendship between two women.
The novels were adapted into a TV show for HBO, RAI and TIMvision, which premiered in 2018. Though Ferrante is credited as a writer for the show, she remains anonymous.
The final season, titled “The Story of the Lost Child” after the fourth installment of the book series, premiered in September, bringing the tale of brilliant friends Lenù and Lila to a close.
But how does the story translate to the screen? It’s no easy task. The four books delve deeply into the decades-long friendship of Elena Greco and Raffaella Cerullo, better known as Lenù and Lila.
Get The Daily Illini in your inbox!
The friends grow up in a poor neighborhood in Naples — hence the title of the novels — and overcome adversity in their own ways.
The books not only focus on their intense relationship but also engage with the sociopolitical landscape of the time, including the Italian feminist movement of the 1970s.
Sixty years of life can be challenging to write about, and harder to compress into a visual medium, yet the show handles Ferrante’s masterpiece with tact and care.
What makes the adaptation work is the clever decision to dedicate each season to each book, allowing the novels’ storylines to be expanded upon, not minimized.
Unlike other failed book-to-screen adaptations — like the original “Percy Jackson” movies — the show stays true to the source material, giving ample time for character development and narrative progression.
For the first three seasons, Italian actors Margherita Mazzucco and Gaia Girace play Lenù and Lila from their teenage years to early adulthood, embodying the characters of Ferrante’s mind.
Renowned Italian actress Alba Rohrwacher is the narrator for the first three seasons, eventually taking on the role of Lenù in the last season as her older self, now a well-known writer.
Actress Irene Maiorino, coincidentally of Neapolitan origin, brings a sharper edge to the older Lila, who becomes the new leader of the old neighborhood, or Rione, in Naples.
Though the relay to new actresses might feel disorienting at first, their performances solidify themselves as the episodes progress. The final season is still airing, set to conclude in November.
The series evolves visually, too. Season one begins in post-war Italy, bleak and monochromatic, and by season four we’re in the ’80s, brimming with color and modernity.
The book’s most poignant sequences are executed diligently onscreen. For instance, the girls’ pivotal doll-swapping scene from the first book is recreated with precision, as is Lila’s wedding in the season one finale.
With such positive qualities, the question arises of why the show isn’t as popular as other foreign productions like Netflix’s “Squid Game” or “Money Heist.” One possible barrier is the limited language options.
On the streaming platform Max, where new episodes air weekly in the U.S., the English audio track includes an unchangeable audio description and only English subtitles are offered.
While preserving the original Italian and Neapolitan dialects is crucial to the authenticity and essence of the story, the lack of flexibility may alienate some viewers.
It’s worth remembering that adaptation is, by nature, an act of transgression. The Neapolitan Novels have already undergone literary translation, which paved the way for the TV series.
Though Ferrante’s identity is secret, her translator’s isn’t. American editor Ann Goldstein holds the key to bringing the writer’s catalog to the English-speaking world, expanding her reach outside of Italy.
At its core, “My Brilliant Friend” is a universal story about friendship. Whether translated from page to screen or from one language to a dozen more, its beauty remains intact.
