Nicholas Nickleby. Nine hours. What the Dickens?

I saw the Royal Shakespeare Company television version of Nicholas Nickleby when I was in high school, and it was only the second time that seeing something made me want to read something. The first time was when I saw I, Claudius on Masterpiece Theater and then fell in love with the book.
The RSC version of Nicholas Nickleby, which I own on VHS, was this nine-hour visual and emotional journey that was a complete joy.
Nine hours.
It's Dickens!
It is a big commitment to watch nine hours of a play, but people now watch entire seasons of shows in one day just because they can.
You will be really happy if you watch Nicholas Nickleby.
About thirty-nine actors play one hundred and fifty roles.
It is a feast for the eyes, ears, and mind.
I usually feel dismay when I hear that a book is being made into a movie, but anxiety becomes assuaged when a really long version or a series is made instead.
Like George R.R. Martin's Game of Thrones.
Or Tolkien's The Fellowship of the Ring.
Or the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth.
Or Sense and Sensibility, with Emma Thompson and *sigh* Alan Rickman.
These are pretty much the only adaptations I embrace with any kind of enthusiasm.
I did not like the Ents in the LotR movies, and I did not like that the entire Shire part got deleted, but no one consulted me.
And George R.R. Martin, dude, I could do without some of the brothel scenes that have been, um, added, and some of the new plot twists are a little startling.
Again, no one thought to call me.
I know. It's HBO.
But I want the story. The story. The story.
This is why books will always be better.