Chopping and Changing: Edits Made in Adaptation
Adapting a work for the screen is a fascinating process; one that doesn't receive enough critical attention. The choice of material is interesting in itself: is it a runaway best seller at the peak of its popularity? Is it a much loved classic, viewed from a fresh perspective? Has it been plucked from obscurity, its subject speaking to modern mores?
What can be even more of an eye opener are the changes made by the adapter. Characters can be reimagined or excised, finales rewritten, settings modernised. While some might yell, "Sacrilege!", others may approve of the alterations. After all, you can't be expected to fit every line and nuance of a 400 page novel into ninety minutes.
Here is a quick rundown of what can happen when the big Tippex in the sky descends. Watch out, it could be you ...
Character hot pot
When an adapter condenses a story, one of the first things they'll look at is characters, especially if it's a sprawling nineteenth century novel with an enormous cast. Think of the hundreds of named extras in Harry Potter: as well as providing a retirement fund for Britain's aging thespians, devotees would have made a fuss if this teacher or that ghost hadn't appeared. (And did: Peeves the poltergeist, reportedly played by comedian Rik Mayall, was left on the cutting room floor).
The less sentimental adapter can afford to be ruthless. Do you really need two Bingley sisters in Pride and Prejudice? All Mrs Hurst does is titter at her sister's bitchy remarks; it's Caroline who's the active character, fancying Darcy and hating Lizzy. It's not surprising that she and her equally insipid husband are frequently cut. (Though the 1996 adaptation made a running joke of his uselessness- he was always lying in a drunken stupor in the corner of the room!) The same applies for a bully's henchmen, weird coworkers, no mark boyfriends (unless he's the obstacle standing in the way of the heroine's happiness) and pets, however endearing they may be.
Sometimes the adapter may go against the grain, adding or changing existing characters. Is your adventure story something of a sausage fest? Why not improve the ratio by introducing a brand new character or turning one of the guys into a girl? This presents all sorts of problems: fans will resent this interloper; she may have little to do but be a damsel in distress and be fought over by the men; alternatively she may be a one note "plucky girl" who teaches the motley crew of misogynists she's as capable as any man (yawn!) Professor Summerlee is often turned into a woman in adaptations of The Lost World - a great role for a middle aged actress, but disappointing for fans. It also carries a whiff of sexism: he refuses to believe Challenger at first, having to eat humble pie when he's proved wrong; he is the most argumentative and sharp tongued member of the gang; he studies botany, a traditionally "feminine" science. His age means he's not good in combat situations either, causing you to wonder if writers equate helplessness with being female.
THAT scene
Every novel has an iconic, unforgettable moment. The scene in the graveyard in Great Expectations. Jane Eyre learning the truth about her fiance. Atticus's defence in To Kill a Mockingbird. If you saw the adaptation before you read the book, chances are that's the image in your mind's eye whenever you think of the story. And that's the measure of a brilliant adaptation.
The canny adapter knows that's the scene every fan will be waiting for. They will use every trick in their artillery to realise it: an unusual background, striking lighting, suitably dramatic music. As for viewers new to the story, they need to understand that this is the pivot, that nothing will be the same again.
There are other sequences that, however loved, won't make it. A A Milne decided - rightly - that the Piper at the Gates of Dawn chapter in The Wind in the Willows (when Pan materialises on the Thames) had no place on a stage. Although this may upset the fans, it'll still be there whenever you pick up the book.
Shifts in time and space
Setting can be more elastic than many people suppose. When the Lord Chamberlain's Men performed Julius Caesar, it would have been in doublet and hose; this tradition has carried on down the ages. So why are novels considered sacred?
When classics such as Peter Pan and Rebecca first appeared, they weren't period pieces. The Darling children escaped from an all too recognisable Edwardian London; with its telephones, cars and autopsies, du Maurier's Cornwall was bang up to date. Now these trappings have become indelibly associated with these works- if somebody suggested moving Peter Pan to a tower block in the present day, there'd be an outcry.
Should a work be modernised? A growing number of adaptations suggest they can: the surfeit of American high school films borrowing from the classics (the most recent being Easy A, a take on The Scarlet Letter), transformations into musicals, moving it lock, stock and barrel into now (Sherlock most famously). Oddly, these experiments seem to date faster than the source text; while they can stand alone, they're mere blips on the cultural radar.
Ch-ch-changes
Some adapters go further still, playing fast and loose with themes, character deaths and finales. Andrew Davies is a frequent offender: he changes endings, gave the dastardly Francis Urquhart a new lease of life, inserts lesbians and - most notoriously - had Darcy swimming in the lake. Needless to say, this did NOT happen in the book!
Some changes are understandable. The reasons why Skeeter's mother fires Constantine in The Help are very complicated and require a good deal of setting up; the film not only simplifies it, but underscores her hypocrisy and wish to save face in front of the bigoted society of the time. Others undermine the story: the Hays Code may have decreed that Maxim de Winter couldn't possibly get away with murder, but by changing Rebecca's death into an accident, made it completely ludicrous. Why would an innocent man go to the trouble of sinking the boat? Why not walk off and leave her to be found? Recent adaptations, which accept his culpability without flinching, are far superior, despite the film's trumped up reputation.
What can be even more of an eye opener are the changes made by the adapter. Characters can be reimagined or excised, finales rewritten, settings modernised. While some might yell, "Sacrilege!", others may approve of the alterations. After all, you can't be expected to fit every line and nuance of a 400 page novel into ninety minutes.
Here is a quick rundown of what can happen when the big Tippex in the sky descends. Watch out, it could be you ...
Character hot pot
When an adapter condenses a story, one of the first things they'll look at is characters, especially if it's a sprawling nineteenth century novel with an enormous cast. Think of the hundreds of named extras in Harry Potter: as well as providing a retirement fund for Britain's aging thespians, devotees would have made a fuss if this teacher or that ghost hadn't appeared. (And did: Peeves the poltergeist, reportedly played by comedian Rik Mayall, was left on the cutting room floor).
The less sentimental adapter can afford to be ruthless. Do you really need two Bingley sisters in Pride and Prejudice? All Mrs Hurst does is titter at her sister's bitchy remarks; it's Caroline who's the active character, fancying Darcy and hating Lizzy. It's not surprising that she and her equally insipid husband are frequently cut. (Though the 1996 adaptation made a running joke of his uselessness- he was always lying in a drunken stupor in the corner of the room!) The same applies for a bully's henchmen, weird coworkers, no mark boyfriends (unless he's the obstacle standing in the way of the heroine's happiness) and pets, however endearing they may be.
Sometimes the adapter may go against the grain, adding or changing existing characters. Is your adventure story something of a sausage fest? Why not improve the ratio by introducing a brand new character or turning one of the guys into a girl? This presents all sorts of problems: fans will resent this interloper; she may have little to do but be a damsel in distress and be fought over by the men; alternatively she may be a one note "plucky girl" who teaches the motley crew of misogynists she's as capable as any man (yawn!) Professor Summerlee is often turned into a woman in adaptations of The Lost World - a great role for a middle aged actress, but disappointing for fans. It also carries a whiff of sexism: he refuses to believe Challenger at first, having to eat humble pie when he's proved wrong; he is the most argumentative and sharp tongued member of the gang; he studies botany, a traditionally "feminine" science. His age means he's not good in combat situations either, causing you to wonder if writers equate helplessness with being female.
THAT scene
Every novel has an iconic, unforgettable moment. The scene in the graveyard in Great Expectations. Jane Eyre learning the truth about her fiance. Atticus's defence in To Kill a Mockingbird. If you saw the adaptation before you read the book, chances are that's the image in your mind's eye whenever you think of the story. And that's the measure of a brilliant adaptation.
The canny adapter knows that's the scene every fan will be waiting for. They will use every trick in their artillery to realise it: an unusual background, striking lighting, suitably dramatic music. As for viewers new to the story, they need to understand that this is the pivot, that nothing will be the same again.
There are other sequences that, however loved, won't make it. A A Milne decided - rightly - that the Piper at the Gates of Dawn chapter in The Wind in the Willows (when Pan materialises on the Thames) had no place on a stage. Although this may upset the fans, it'll still be there whenever you pick up the book.
Shifts in time and space
Setting can be more elastic than many people suppose. When the Lord Chamberlain's Men performed Julius Caesar, it would have been in doublet and hose; this tradition has carried on down the ages. So why are novels considered sacred?
When classics such as Peter Pan and Rebecca first appeared, they weren't period pieces. The Darling children escaped from an all too recognisable Edwardian London; with its telephones, cars and autopsies, du Maurier's Cornwall was bang up to date. Now these trappings have become indelibly associated with these works- if somebody suggested moving Peter Pan to a tower block in the present day, there'd be an outcry.
Should a work be modernised? A growing number of adaptations suggest they can: the surfeit of American high school films borrowing from the classics (the most recent being Easy A, a take on The Scarlet Letter), transformations into musicals, moving it lock, stock and barrel into now (Sherlock most famously). Oddly, these experiments seem to date faster than the source text; while they can stand alone, they're mere blips on the cultural radar.
Ch-ch-changes
Some adapters go further still, playing fast and loose with themes, character deaths and finales. Andrew Davies is a frequent offender: he changes endings, gave the dastardly Francis Urquhart a new lease of life, inserts lesbians and - most notoriously - had Darcy swimming in the lake. Needless to say, this did NOT happen in the book!
Some changes are understandable. The reasons why Skeeter's mother fires Constantine in The Help are very complicated and require a good deal of setting up; the film not only simplifies it, but underscores her hypocrisy and wish to save face in front of the bigoted society of the time. Others undermine the story: the Hays Code may have decreed that Maxim de Winter couldn't possibly get away with murder, but by changing Rebecca's death into an accident, made it completely ludicrous. Why would an innocent man go to the trouble of sinking the boat? Why not walk off and leave her to be found? Recent adaptations, which accept his culpability without flinching, are far superior, despite the film's trumped up reputation.
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