Books turned into movies are train wrecks for me. I know it’ll be terrible, but I have to look anyway. With a couple of exceptions, movie versions of novels are usually insults to the original work, and those involved should be banned from the business (I’m looking at you, Possession cast and crew). But, knock me down, Perfume isn’t just acceptable — it’s the most perfect page-screen job ever.

Stanley Kubrick claimed the book was "unfilmable." Pfft — and Eyes Wide Shut was…

The filmmakers did not cut or change anything from the novel. They also did not dare to create their own original scenes. The script was 100 percent faithful. The images and scenes play to our senses — remember what wet rock or the juice of plums soaking into your skin smells like? Unfortunately, you also have to imagine the stench of a pre-sewer fish market in 18th-century Paris. The acting — Ben Whishaw owns the screen in what is mostly a silent performance.

What surprised me the most was how, aside from the replication of details and specific scenes, the filmmakers managed to keep the heart of the book intact. They weren’t just painting by numbers, they really understood the center of it: what does love smell like? Most book-to-movie versions are usually cold and empty scene-by-scene plays, or the filmmakers have their own ideas about characters’ goals and motivations or even about what the story itself should be. Perfume, as a movie, is that elusive, legendary thirteenth essence.

Ironically, just after seeing this movie, I opened a newspaper this morning to see an article about a Brown University psychologist’s new book about the effect smell has on men and women. In The Scent of Desire, Rachel Herz uses scientific studies to show the dominant role the sense of smell plays in attraction and reproduction. "For women, [smell] beats out all other physical characteristics; for men, all but appearance — and for both sexes, body odor comes perilously close to outscoring all non-physical characteristics as well." Apparently, it’s not in his kiss, it’s in his smell.

I don’t like book clubs. I don’t like Oprah. And I’m no fool — a month away from the film release of Love in the Time of Cholera, the big O chooses Marquez’s intoxicating tale as her new book club selection. Isn’t that a cheeky marketing ploy. No one else could get people to read in droves, and the film will surely get some nice time on her show. I won’t hold it against the film — especially as the under-rated John Leguizamo has a chance to show the world what he can do.

Make no mistake — my Perfume experience has not changed my cynical, expect-the-worst approach to books-turned-film. But you know I have to watch.

Jennifer Leblanc