
1997 · Adrian Lyne
How Lolita has been received, argued over, and remembered.
In 1997 no American distributor would touch it — a $62 million film that ended up premiering on Showtime — and critics mostly held it up unfavourably against Kubrick. Since then it's been partially reappraised as the more faithful, more openly tragic adaptation, even as post-#MeToo viewers scrutinise it harder than ever.
The perennial fight is Kubrick vs. Lyne — and whether Lyne's lush, sun-dappled style indicts Humbert as a monster or accidentally romanticises the abuse the novel condemns.
Its Americana imagery — sprinklers, braces, comic books in the backseat — was strip-mined by the 2010s Tumblr 'nymphet' aesthetic and the Lana Del Rey-adjacent corner of the internet, a legacy the film's defenders and detractors both wince at.
It's the 'other' Lolita: a divisive object cinephiles feel obliged to have an opinion on, kept alive by Jeremy Irons's performance and its strange afterlife as internet aesthetic source material.