A faithful adaptation: does it, can it exist?
My sibs and I just did a roundtable discussion at the other blog in which we gabbled, squabbled, and generally picked apart our reactions to Half-Blood Prince (in my case, on seeing it for the second time). Most of our comments inevitably led back to the old phrase "well, in the book...", and it's gotten me thinking about how adaptations work.
It's actually a topic I've given a lot of attention to recently, having just taken a class called "Afterlives of the Victorian Novel" and taught a unit on film adaptations of literature in my own class. I've been reading about it, hence the length of this discussion.
The #1 issue with adaptation is the question of "faithfulness." Does a movie have some responsibility to be faithful to the source text? Film theorists would say no; the film is the film and the book is the book, they say, and it's "unproductive" to consider one as owing fidelity to the other. At a basic level, I'll dare to say we all agree with this. When's the last time you heard someone devalue Mary Poppins or Breakfast at Tiffany's for their unfaithfulness to their source texts? Our demands of fidelity are directly proportional to our knowledge of and affection for the source.
Though it is possible to do as those film theorists would like, and consider the film as an equal, alternate text-if you're caught young enough. I can't remember whether I read the Anne of Green Gables books 2 and 3 before or after seeing the 2nd film, but they bear almost no resemblance and I love them equally. That's not quite how I feel about the 3rd film, though-all copies of which should be seized and flung into an abyss.
So how is it that, while I can happily admit that some films outshine their source texts, and see others as an equally valid alternate treatment of the material, there are some which I feel a perfect right to HATE, for the very reason of their infidelity? What this says to me is that fidelity is a legitimate criterion by which to evaluate film adaptations, but that certain tacit ground rules apply.
First, the more obscure the source text, the more elbow room the filmmaker has to try and improve on it.
Conversely, when adapting a highly beloved text, the filmmaker does in fact have a responsibility to show respect for the feelings people have about the source, and should not tread on those feelings lightly.
Finally, the kind of changes being made are often what determines whether a fan of the source text will enjoy an adaptation. Changes, it seems to me, break down into a few significantly different varieties:
What do you guys (if anyone read all that...) think? Is it even worthwhile to consider the adapter's methods when evaluating a film adaptation, or do you just go with your gut? Does the filmmaker have a responsibility to be "faithful"? Can a faithful adaptation exist?
It's actually a topic I've given a lot of attention to recently, having just taken a class called "Afterlives of the Victorian Novel" and taught a unit on film adaptations of literature in my own class. I've been reading about it, hence the length of this discussion.
The #1 issue with adaptation is the question of "faithfulness." Does a movie have some responsibility to be faithful to the source text? Film theorists would say no; the film is the film and the book is the book, they say, and it's "unproductive" to consider one as owing fidelity to the other. At a basic level, I'll dare to say we all agree with this. When's the last time you heard someone devalue Mary Poppins or Breakfast at Tiffany's for their unfaithfulness to their source texts? Our demands of fidelity are directly proportional to our knowledge of and affection for the source.
Though it is possible to do as those film theorists would like, and consider the film as an equal, alternate text-if you're caught young enough. I can't remember whether I read the Anne of Green Gables books 2 and 3 before or after seeing the 2nd film, but they bear almost no resemblance and I love them equally. That's not quite how I feel about the 3rd film, though-all copies of which should be seized and flung into an abyss.
So how is it that, while I can happily admit that some films outshine their source texts, and see others as an equally valid alternate treatment of the material, there are some which I feel a perfect right to HATE, for the very reason of their infidelity? What this says to me is that fidelity is a legitimate criterion by which to evaluate film adaptations, but that certain tacit ground rules apply.
First, the more obscure the source text, the more elbow room the filmmaker has to try and improve on it.
Conversely, when adapting a highly beloved text, the filmmaker does in fact have a responsibility to show respect for the feelings people have about the source, and should not tread on those feelings lightly.
Finally, the kind of changes being made are often what determines whether a fan of the source text will enjoy an adaptation. Changes, it seems to me, break down into a few significantly different varieties:
- Everyone knows that when a long book is made into a movie, cuts are necessary. Yet even the simplest cuts will always bother somebody. A filmmaker might think they can get away with trimming the fat, but this is actually the 3rd-likeliest thing to annoy fans. However, since there is rarely any consensus on which things were okay to cut, and which cuts were an outrage, the filmmaker must just take his or her chances.
- Distillation, or shorthand, is the adapter's best friend. Conveying things in brief will always go over better than cutting them entirely, and in the medium of film, the essence of a whole exchange of dialogue can sometimes be conveyed with one look or image. Also, if two scenes convey the same thing you can probably cut one with impunity. Cut both, though, and you risk the Fannish Wrath.
- Adding is dangerous territory. Sometimes an adapter has to make additions for the sake of balance or pacing, or to make up for large cuts elsewhere, and if what these additions convey is in keeping with the source author's intentions, the additions may even go unnoticed. Add too much new material, however, and you prompt the fans to wonder why you didn't devote that precious time to their favorite cut scenes instead. More than anything else, addition calls the filmmaker's judgment into question. (Just think about "The Ring will go to Gondor.")
- But the riskiest move of all, in my opinion, is alteration. By this I mean when a scene from the text and is given full treatment in the film but is significantly changed in tone or substance. The problem with this is arrogance; it implies the adapter knows better than the author, not just in the department of filmmaking, but in how the characters should think and speak. Why change a kind reaction to an angry one, an enthusiastic kiss to a tentative one, a memorable line of dialogue to a different one? The most aggrieved a fan ever sounds is when they're saying, "But WHY change that great moment, when they could easily have left it alone?"
What do you guys (if anyone read all that...) think? Is it even worthwhile to consider the adapter's methods when evaluating a film adaptation, or do you just go with your gut? Does the filmmaker have a responsibility to be "faithful"? Can a faithful adaptation exist?