New Wine in Old Bottles: A Theoretical Approach to Adaptation
"Adaptation has run amok"
Linda Hutcheon, The Theory of Adaptation
Linda Hutcheon, The Theory of Adaptation
Literature and the surrounding area of study is no longer reserved for the humanities but, increasingly, becomes a matter discussed in tandem with the digital and can be of interest to other, more scientific, disciplines. Whilst there exists no substantial theory of adaptation, questions remain concerning fidelity, authorship and autonomy. The information in this post does not seek to provide definitive answers to these outstanding ‘problems’, but aims to engage in previous studies with the intention of questioning how a raw text engages with its evolutionary digital counterparts. In doing so, this study analyse both the textual and the filmic adaptation of Angela Carter's The Magic Toyshop with a specific focus on the ways in which the two mediums communicate with each other.
Adaptation:
As shown in the image above, adaption is a wholly separate (though oft-confused) form of 'interpretation' than remediation and has the most scope to differ from an original text. Of course, there are assumptions – “the film wasn’t as good as the book” - that the film must stay as faithful to the source text as possible which creates a paradigm in which the novel is, unquestionably, the default, and therefore superior, form. Studies in this area, both media and the humanities, must accept that whilst, in the case of cinematic adaptations, the book will, obviously, pre-date the film, however, it is imperative one should note that this does not equate to the filmic ‘text’ becoming the inferior work. Brian McFarlane criticises the elitism that permeates discussion of film ‘versions’ of source texts with the crucial point that one’s reading of literary text is completely personal and interpretation is wholly subjective and, ergo, it would be impossible to produce a cinematic rendition which adheres to the audience interpretation of the original novel or play because “every reading of a literary text is a highly individual act of cognition and interpretation” (2007, p. 15). While we now accept that media discourse is an academically worthwhile area of study, there have been, and continue to be, theorists who argue that a cinematic adaptation often becomes ‘lesser’ than its source text. In his collection of works published in 1967, André Bazin argues that the more a novel is “important and decisive” (and I think here he refers to the canonical nature of a novel) the more potential the adaptation has to “disturb its equilibrium” (1967, p. 68). Further, Bazin argues that those filmmakers involved in creating the adaptation must “reconstruct it on a new equilibrium not indeed identical with, but the equivalent of, the old one.” (p. 68). What this suggests is that the film can never be superior to the novel and any attempts to adapt a novel for screen must stay as close to the original as possible. However, writing within the same period, and in the introduction to his seminal 1957 text, Novels into Film, George Bluestone argues that the difference in medium – of film and source text – makes it impossible to compare or correlate the two;
As shown in the image above, adaption is a wholly separate (though oft-confused) form of 'interpretation' than remediation and has the most scope to differ from an original text. Of course, there are assumptions – “the film wasn’t as good as the book” - that the film must stay as faithful to the source text as possible which creates a paradigm in which the novel is, unquestionably, the default, and therefore superior, form. Studies in this area, both media and the humanities, must accept that whilst, in the case of cinematic adaptations, the book will, obviously, pre-date the film, however, it is imperative one should note that this does not equate to the filmic ‘text’ becoming the inferior work. Brian McFarlane criticises the elitism that permeates discussion of film ‘versions’ of source texts with the crucial point that one’s reading of literary text is completely personal and interpretation is wholly subjective and, ergo, it would be impossible to produce a cinematic rendition which adheres to the audience interpretation of the original novel or play because “every reading of a literary text is a highly individual act of cognition and interpretation” (2007, p. 15). While we now accept that media discourse is an academically worthwhile area of study, there have been, and continue to be, theorists who argue that a cinematic adaptation often becomes ‘lesser’ than its source text. In his collection of works published in 1967, André Bazin argues that the more a novel is “important and decisive” (and I think here he refers to the canonical nature of a novel) the more potential the adaptation has to “disturb its equilibrium” (1967, p. 68). Further, Bazin argues that those filmmakers involved in creating the adaptation must “reconstruct it on a new equilibrium not indeed identical with, but the equivalent of, the old one.” (p. 68). What this suggests is that the film can never be superior to the novel and any attempts to adapt a novel for screen must stay as close to the original as possible. However, writing within the same period, and in the introduction to his seminal 1957 text, Novels into Film, George Bluestone argues that the difference in medium – of film and source text – makes it impossible to compare or correlate the two;
"The film becomes a different thing in the same sense that a historical painting becomes a different thing from the historical event which it illustrates. It is as fruitless to say that Film A is better or worse than Novel B as it is to pronounce Wright’s Johnson’s Wax Building better or worse than Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. In the last analysis, each is autonomous, and each is characterized by unique and specific properties." (2003, pp 5 - 6)
If then, according to Bluestone, there cannot be any direct comparison between the mediums, a cinematic adaptation can only be an interpretation of the original source – the novel or play text – and thus, the director and scriptwriting team must become ‘composers’ of their own work. However, it is imperative that one should note that this does not equate to the filmic ‘text’ becoming the inferior work. Brian McFarlane criticises the elitism that permeates discussion of film ‘versions’ of source texts with the crucial point that one’s reading of a literary text is completely personal, that interpretation is wholly subjective and, thus, it would be impossible to produce a cinematic rendition which adheres to the audience interpretation of the original novel or play because “every reading of a literary text is a highly individual act of cognition and interpretation” (2007, p. 15). Bluestone's comparison echoes the earlier theories of Béla Balázs who heralds the film script as a wholly independent literary form to be differentiated from its source text;
“The script is no longer a technical accessory, not a scaffolding which is taken away once the house is built, but a literary form worthy of the pen of poets, a literary form which may even be published in book form and read as such.” (2011, p. 246).
Whilst here, for the sake of clarity and word count I have omitted many other authored texts studies, there exists a long and vast history of works that seek to define and interpret the role of the filmic adaptation and as proposed earlier, I would like to touch upon the concept of fidelity that pervades the field.
Fidelity:
Those critics who maintain that fidelity is the foremost issue of adaptation are concerned with authenticity and whether a cinematic adaptation is faithful to the source text – does this determine the success of the adaptation? McFarlane here offers a rich and extensive summary of the phenomenon;
Fidelity:
Those critics who maintain that fidelity is the foremost issue of adaptation are concerned with authenticity and whether a cinematic adaptation is faithful to the source text – does this determine the success of the adaptation? McFarlane here offers a rich and extensive summary of the phenomenon;
“Fidelity criticism depends on a notion of the text as having and rendering up to the (intelligent) reader a single, correct ‘meaning’ which the filmmaker has either adhered to or in some sense violated or tampered with. There will often be a distinction between being faithful to the ‘letter’, an approach which the more sophisticated writer may suggest is no way to ensure a ‘successful’ adaptation, and to the ‘spirit’ or ‘essence’ of the work. The latter is of course very much more difficult to determine” (1996, p. 8)
Whilst McFarlane’s approach seems to be a valid and solid definition, once again, we are returned to the issue of the novel taking precedence over the cinematic interpretation which we must dispose of in order to fully criticise or consider an adaptation and the role it plays – whilst fidelity is a key discussion to be had on the topic, it is entirely more fruitful if, like Balázs suggests, we consider the two as separate entities to be judged by the quality of each separate entity without the assumption of superiority based on chronology.
Analysis
The adaptation of Angela Carter's The Magic Toyshop (1967) is not only interesting but also unusual as Carter herself authored the screenplay for the later film of the same name (1987). This, inevitably, means that the adaptation will be as close to Carter's imagining of text as possible and narrows the potential for 'infidelity'. Similar to many of Carter's other fictions, The Magic Toyshop (1967) is itself an adaptation, or re-imagining. Carter, famed for her reimaginings of folklore and fairy tales, illustrates her reasoning for her tales; "Most intellectual development depends upon new readings of old texts. I am all for putting new wine in old bottles, especially if the pressure of the new wine makes the bottles explode." (1983, p. 69). For the purposes of this analysis, I will specifically concentrate on Carter's explicit reimagining of the myth of 'Leda and the Swan' which, by proxy, is reimaged by the tyrannical Uncle character, Philip, in the novel.
The novel centres on an orphaned teenage girl Melanie who, along with her siblings, who is forced to move in with her domineering Uncle, a Toymaker, and his family. Under her Uncle's dictatorial rule, Melanie becomes increasingly subordinate. Carter's intertextual reference to 'Leda and the Swan' (played out in a play-within-a-play puppet show orchestrated by Philip) in her novel illustrates the dominance and deception of the male presence upon the Gothic-inspired 'female high-born orphan'. Uncle Philip, in a Christmas production, chooses to portray, specifically, the rape* of Leda, Queen of Sparta, by the swan. In this, Uncle Philip declares that Melanie will play the part of Leda in his Boxing Day production and, though she is uncomfortable, agrees to do so.
The cinematic adaptation attempts to, and I will argue successfully depicts, the detached horror of the molestation against Melanie that is so artfully composed within the novel. Whilst the film is not afforded the advances of technology we depend on upon today, it uses traditional techniques to summon Carter's original portrayal.
The cinematic adaptation attempts to, and I will argue successfully depicts, the detached horror of the molestation against Melanie that is so artfully composed within the novel. Whilst the film is not afforded the advances of technology we depend on upon today, it uses traditional techniques to summon Carter's original portrayal.
* Though some accounts report Leda was raped, there are many which report that she is seduced. I assume the position that she was raped by deception and will infer throughout this post that her uncle also uses the guise of the swan to molest, or persecute, his niece.
As has been abundantly discussed within the discourse of film studies, camera angles are a key element in cinema that is used to manipulate how the viewer is affected or how they perceive a certain aspect and David Wheatley utilizes this particularly well in the above scene. The low-view, point of view camera angles used in the 'Leda and the Swan' (01:14:44 - 01:17:15) scene are intended so that the viewer feels the same oppressive suffering as Melanie as she is physically forced to submit to the power of both the swan, the onlooker (Uncle Philip) and the audience. Rather than become the subject of the male gaze (Mulvey, 1975), the camera imitates the unravelling scene described by Melanie in the novel and as the curtains open, the light shines directly into the eyes of the viewer, mimicking the torment described in the novel; "Finn threw a switch and the stage was filled with a brownish gloaming. A spotlight transfixed her." (p. 164). The viewer is given a front-row seat to the production and, at points, is dragged onto the stage to experience the horror of the molestation where the viewer encounters the both the swan marionette and it is Uncle Philip gazing down at Melanie (tormenting her via swan). As an additional assault on the senses, the scene uses source music (that which is embedded within the scene rather than exterior to it) to create the empathetic reaction (of the viewer) to the the overwhelming sensory 'attack' that Carter describes in the novel; "It waddled purposefully towards her...on came the swan, its feet going splat, splat, splat...The swan towered over the black-haired girl who was Melanie...The music throbbed to an excruciating climax." (p. 165 - 166). In their 1988 journal article, 'Effects of Musical Soundtracks on Attitudes toward Animated Geometric Figures', Sandra K. Marshall, Annabel J. Cohen state that "the assignment of accents to events will affect retention, processing, and interpretation" (1988, p. 108), giving attention to the peculiar audio-visual congruent. In the scene, the viewer can see the intense white lights and the crude, dark shadows created by the flapping wings while the sounds of the swan, the oppressive music, Uncle Philips lewd instructions and Melanie's screams contribute to the overwhelming despotism of Uncle Philip.
Conclusion:
The cinematic adaption of Angela Carter’s The Magic Toyshop, as demonstrated above, manages to, at least in this scene, remain as faithful as possible to the text version. While this is certainly owed in some part to Carter’s composition of the screenplay, the director, David Wheatley’s ability to reproduce and manipulate the scenes as according to the source text. During the research for this post, I have acknowledged and been troubled by the lack of theory surrounding misplaced perspectives, and area in which I wanted to show The Magic Toyshop was particularly strong. Carter’s source text tells the tale from a place of decreasing innocence and the film makes great efforts to incorporate this perspective with the use of camera angles, shadows, sound, and perspective. While, certainly, the film often omits sections from the novel, it remains faithful to the narrative and overarching themes and, in fact, makes great efforts to retain those. In a time where the ‘adaptation’ often merely borrows the name of literary texts, Wheatley’s 1987 cinematic direction, along with Carter’s screenplay, makes a conscious effort to not only endorse its 1967 predecessor but aims to increase the directive.
The cinematic adaption of Angela Carter’s The Magic Toyshop, as demonstrated above, manages to, at least in this scene, remain as faithful as possible to the text version. While this is certainly owed in some part to Carter’s composition of the screenplay, the director, David Wheatley’s ability to reproduce and manipulate the scenes as according to the source text. During the research for this post, I have acknowledged and been troubled by the lack of theory surrounding misplaced perspectives, and area in which I wanted to show The Magic Toyshop was particularly strong. Carter’s source text tells the tale from a place of decreasing innocence and the film makes great efforts to incorporate this perspective with the use of camera angles, shadows, sound, and perspective. While, certainly, the film often omits sections from the novel, it remains faithful to the narrative and overarching themes and, in fact, makes great efforts to retain those. In a time where the ‘adaptation’ often merely borrows the name of literary texts, Wheatley’s 1987 cinematic direction, along with Carter’s screenplay, makes a conscious effort to not only endorse its 1967 predecessor but aims to increase the directive.
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DISCLAIMER: All videos, unless created by Stephanie Darke, are linked directly from Youtube & Vimeo. At the time of publishing, all are available in the public domain. All images, unless created by Stephanie Darke, are referenced and linked on the resources page.