“The Play’s the Thing…kinda.”
I recently participated in a very interesting conversation
regarding the intricate nature of literary adaptations, a conversation made
even better by a delightful nutty-honey-pastry-thingy (thanks Maria!) that was concurrently
consumed. It made me ponder the peculiar nature of Shakespearean adaptations
(the conversation, not the pastry).[1]
Adapting Shakespeare is often an ungrateful task in which the
artist can catch flack for remaining too loyal to the original text as much as
for departing from it too radically. I have likes (Joss Whedon, Julie Taymor) and
dislikes (Roland Emmerich) on both sides of the spectrum, but what is more interesting
is the transference that occurs between the director/writer/artist and the play
he or she seeks to adapt. Thinking back to Shakespeare in his adjectival form,
it seems to me that Shakespearean adaptation inevitably morphs into
appropriation. We talk of Laurence Olivier’s Hamlet, Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo
and Juliet or even The Beatles’ Midsummer Night’s Dream (whaaaat?
Yup, check it out on YouTube). There are countless adaptations of Shakespearean
drama attesting to its inscription as a touchstone of cultural appropriation
that can be translated into all or any desired format (Manga Shakespeare, Detective
short stories Shakespeare, Claymation Shakespeare, etc.).
Such adaptive strategies echo within early modernity, where the
absence of copyright as we know it allowed playwrights to adapt popular
literary works within an incredibly timely frame. Hence, an English translation
of Don Quixote, published in 1612, could yield the play The History of Cardenio
within the same calendar year. Indeed, going the anachronistic route for a
moment, a similar buzz was likely to manifest itself during the Renaissance
concerning which playwright was revising which work (Did you hear? Marlowe is working
on a Doctor Faustus. Have you heard of Gl'ingannati? I wish Will Shakespeare
adapted that bawdy farce). This remains wishful speculation, except that, for
all purposes, adaptation was Shakespeare`s game. The bard, who never met a story
that he didn’t like, borrowed from countless works in fashioning his
own. Much in the way that we can refer to Kenneth Brannagh’s Hamlet, we
can think of The Winter’s Tale as Shakespeare’s Pandosto, the history
plays as Shakespeare’s vision of Holinshed’s chronicles, etc. One of the
elements that fascinates me the most about Shakespeare is the way in which he seemingly
reads everything and anything with a keen adaptive eye, from a medical treatise
on melancholy, through Ovid, to Roman comedy. Unlike many of his adapters,
however, Shakespeare rarely got it wrong when he transposed something onto the
stage.
There are likely as many extraordinary revisions of Shakespeare as there
are appalling turkeys. Personal taste factors in considerably in the matter. I
am deeply ambivalent about certain adaptations of Shakespeare. I cringe when
encountering an overused adaptive vein (let’s transpose Macbeth in a
1930's gangster power struggle in Chicago) or a misguided attempt at refreshing
that deconstructs a play for the sake of shocking originality… and don’t get me
started on the movie Anonymous. My anxiety admittedly, stems from my own
view of what constitutes “Shakespearean drama” and, conversely, how it should
be reworked. Adaptations hit us hardest when it tackles something that reached
us, a story that touched us and left an indelible emotional mark. We become, in
a way, protector of what we perceive to be its sanctity against sacrilegious interpretations.
This does not mean that I cannot enjoy a lighthearted revision. The
Simpsons’ Hamlet remains one of my favourite Shakespearean adaptations,
and it is one I have used in class as a companion to the play itself. It is
hilarious, but it also provides a stunningly accurate overview of the play’s
themes concerns in less than seven minutes. Moreover, the reverse casting,
where characters from the show are attributed roles in the play (Moe as Claudius,
The father and son Wiggums as Polonius and Laertes, even RosenCarl and
GuildenLenny) offers up a surprising point of access into a complex and iconic
play. For my money, this is adaptation done right: it offers something new that
remains grounded firmly in its source. It pokes fun at the play while displaying
an impressive understanding of its underpinnings.
Much like discussions of the plays themselves, their adaptations will
carry on and continue to surprise us. I was skeptical of the comics Kill Shakespeare,
and though I still have some reservation, I found the series thoroughly enjoyable.
If anything, it led me to reconsider certain plays or characters and rethink my
interpretations of them. At the very least, adaptations should confirm your
love for a given text and at its best, make you question it.
RANDOM EXCITEMENT OF THE WEEK:
I am re-reading Montaigne’s Essays this week and am thoroughly
enjoying it. The masterful oscillation between articulate sociocultural
analysis and dry witticism leaves me in awe every time. Who else could write
essays on Cannibals and the metaphysics of the human soul as easily as on
thumbs and carriages? Also, if you are ever at an academic conference and are
having a rotten time, find yourself a panel on Montaigne and listen to
non-francophone scholars trying to pronounce his name. Hilarity guaranteed (for
the record, my white whale of scholarly pronunciation: Ludwig Wittgenstein.)
RANDOM SMOOSHY FACE OF THE WEEK:
People that talk at the movies or in the theater. I realize I am
probably fighting a losing battle with this one as it seems to be a widespread
phenomenon …but I can’t help it. People chatting at the movies brings us back
to the early days of television, where people used to dress up for the person
reading the news in the tiny box that stood in their living room. It shows a
lack of social awareness that infuriates as much as it puzzles. I can tolerate it
in certain contexts. Indeed, I’ll expect a degree of noise when seeing The
Avengers opening night in a jam-packed room at the Paramount,[2] but I really don’t need someone sitting
behind me to mention how sad the movie Amour is as we are watching it
(or worse, trying to predict the ending: it’s a harrowing tale of love in the
face of old age and degeneration, not a Nancy Drew whodunit). When faced with
such a situation, I remember Feste’s words in Twelfth Night: “some are
born great, some achieve greatness, and some WOULD YOU SHUT UP. I KNOW IT’S TOM
HANKS PRETENDING TO BE SHIP CAPTAIN ! WE ALL KNOW IT! THAT’S WHY THEY’VE PUT
HIS FACE ON THE POSTER! Ok, rant over.
RANDOM SHOUT OUT:
There are many, many reasons to like Tom Hiddleston, but this might
just be the best. Listen to him breathe life and passion into an all-too
familiar sonnet. It is the auditory equivalent of wrapping yourself in a velvet
comforter full of puppies:
That’s it for now. Hope you enjoyed!
We are the stuff dreams are made of… and hope never to be the stuff
hot dogs are made of…
[1] Though,
a pastry is kinda like a Shakespeare… forget it, even this academic can’t stretch
that metaphor.
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