I don't know about this. If you can't stand the idea of someone repainting your house neon green, don't sell it in the first place. (I only say this as general proposition; I don't know anything about the specific legal backstory of the Lawnmower Man. Presumably an author of King's stature had the bargaining power to include certain covenants in the contract regarding certain elements of the book being preserved, and presumably these were breached?). Don't take the money and then complain that the filmmakers weren't faithful to your vision. That's not their job, and indeed they'll get fired if they are faithful to your vision instead of making a financially successful film.
You're making a lot of assumptions there. Just because you sell someone the rights to your novel doesn't mean they tell you in advance what they plan to do, since they may not have figured that out yet. Writers often start out with one plan and end up changing it drastically as they go. And selling the rights also doesn't entitle the author to be consulted at every stage. Like I keep saying, the job of an adaptation is not to serve the original work, but to use the original work to serve itself. The creators of an adaptation aren't working for the author; they're working for themselves (or for their own employers) and have the right to do the work their own way without having someone looking over their shoulder. What they create is
their version of the story.
The house-painting analogy doesn't work, because the "house" -- the original work -- is unaltered. It still exists in its original form. The adaptation is a new, different work that's based on it. It's more like someone designing and building a new house that's inspired by the original house's design but takes it in a new direction. No matter how much it changes the design along the way, the original house is still intact and unaffected.
Sure, the creators of an adaptation can choose to involve the author directly if that's what they and the author want -- look at shows like
The Expanse where the novelists are producers on the show and have even scripted episodes -- but it's not a requirement, not if the author is busy doing other things. I mean, implicitly, if you sell the rights to adapt your work to someone else, that means you're okay with not doing it yourself. I've always felt that if anyone ever bought the rights to adapt one of my original novels, I'd try to accept that it was
their version of my story and whatever they chose to do with it would not be my responsibility, beyond the extent to which they chose to consult me.
What I *do* remember about the Lawnmower Man (movie) is that it really leaned into what was then only just barely seeping into general American consciousness as the "the information superhighway" and "cyberspace." I bet it would be interesting viewing today for this reason alone.
Nobody remembers that when Al Gore popularized the term "information superhighway," he didn't intend it as a metaphor for the existing Internet, but rather as a proposal for a federal project to turn the internet into a more comprehensive, expansive public utility, like the federal highway program that created the interstate system, instead of the existing scattered network of privately owned online services. That project never went forward, but people co-opted the "superhighway" metaphor for the very thing it was intended to replace and improve upon.