Showing posts with label Drama. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Drama. Show all posts

Friday, 10 May 2013

The Quality of Copies

I have a question for you. If availability and price were not an issue, which would you choose:

  1. An original painting or a reproduction?
  2. A concert with your favourite band or a local cover band?
  3. The Twilight/ Lord of the Ring trilogy or the films based on them?
  4. An Armani suit/ Louis Vuitton bag or a Chinese copy?
  5. Attending Woodstock in August 1969 or hearing your parents talk about it?

My guess is you chose the first alternative more often than not. Also, I wager your argument for doing so was that the first is better, but why is that? What makes an original better than a copy, and is the original really what you think it is?

Original and Copy

When a painting is being made, it represents reality. When your local cover band performs, they play already existing songs. The films adapt the readily available books, the Chinese copies mimic the originals and your parents tries to present reality as it was in 1969. The arts' role in representing reality emphasises the distinction between original and copy and Graham Allen, professor of literal and cultural theory at University College Cork, examines the nature of this relationship in Intertextuality in reference to Walter Benjamin's seminal essay The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction:

In an age before the mass publication of books, possession of an individual text was extremely rare and of enormous value. The prices still paid for original classic paintings also attest a residual attachment on contemporary society to the aura of the original work of art. Technological society, however, is dominated by reproductions of original works. The signed copy of the novel may be preferable to the unsigned copy, an original painting by Van Gogh may seem priceless, attendance at a dance performance may seem preferable to viewing it on video, but in contemporary society our experience of these and all other arts are generally of their technological reproductions. New artistic media of the twentieth century such as film, video and television, are, indeed, based on technological methods of reproduction. The aura which surrounds The Mona Lisa or the eight-century Book of Kells in Trinity College Library, Dublin, is unavailable to, and indeed an irrelevance for, these kinds of art forms (i). 
Allen, of course, neglects to mention that by their very nature the original painting by Van Gogh, the Mona Lisa, the Book of Kells and even the dance performances are themselves reproductions. Each of them mimics either natural entities, persons, stories probably already in existence, a dance script or an earlier performance.

Not original

With licence to copy (©)

Dance, by accompanying and illustrating originals such as music, narration or in hunter gatherer societies the movement of animals, necessarily has to imitate an original through body movement (ii). The hunter gatherer would accompany the rhythm of a primitive drum and dance to give a representation of his genesis myth through body movement. He might also dance to mimic the hare which he caught earlier. In these cases, the hunter gatherer tries to adapt cultural expressions like music into another art form, reproducing music and myth narration as dance, or he is imitating the world, reproducing the movement of its animals.

Still not original

The signed copy of a novel is arguably just that, a copy. The Mona Lisa is a static reproduction of the visage of a real person and the Book of Kells is a reproduction of Christian sacred documents and a summing up of contemporary religious discourse.

The basic argument still stands, though, because in the original-reproduction dichotomic relationship the original is the source from which the reproduction borrows and as such truly original within that relationship. Likewise, by being a part of a cultural context, the original appears as a segment of reality, however many earlier sources it may have imitated. Thus, art is always to some extent a copy of reality and it is this copy which is generally encountered in contemporary society.

Copy of Kells

This, in a simple and applicable form, is exemplified by news media. As soon as we do not experience an event first hand, we miss reality because any other way of becoming aware of the event after its passing has to be through a reproduction. This could be in terms of someone having experienced the original event and then reproducing it by narrating his or her experience. Alternatively, it could be in terms of a newscast reporting a real event, its content and form edited and adapted in order to be presentable through a different medium, film (iii). As representative for an age of multi-media, this latter case is symptomatic for the emergence of the field of adaptation where narratives are adapted into new technological modes of expression.

"Do I have an original thought in my head?"

So if everything is inspired by something and nothing is original, does that mean that everything is of poorer quality than some mythical source?

Well, it depends on how you look at it.

A pessimist would say that you cannot create anything new and original and by borrowing, willingly or unwillingly, you make a patchwork which is less coherent and less consistent and therefore of lower quality. Since you cannot help drawing your inspiration from your experience, you are doomed to reproduction and, at best, repetition. The pessimistic approach is expertly exemplified in the opening monolgue of Adaptation:


The pessimist would say that the film takes what you read in the book, leaves out the bits it finds irrelevant and adds bits it thinks should be there, like music or moving images. The chances of these corresponding with what you would think appropriate are slim to none and the rest of the audience faces similar odds. Because of this gap between priorities and between expectations, any new cultural product would in fact be a poorer one.

An optimist, on the other hand, would argue that the novelty is in the combinations. By combining cultural products, like film music, moving images and a story from a novel, the new film could be so much more than each individual product could. You would understand the book differently, listening to the song would never be the same again and seeing that actor play out his part would modify the way you look at both him and other films in which he has appeared.

The optimist would say that because everything is a copy and because you cannot do anything without copying several other copies, you make something original. There are so many elements which inform your creation process, that the likelihood of all those elements having been put together before is as small as the pessimist's priority odds.

An original copy

Let us revisit the list we started with.

  1. The reproduction would be more than a poorer imitation of the painting. It would include all the colours, all the interpretations and experiences of the reproducing painter and all the history of the original painting.
  2. The cover band concert would update the original song and give it a local flavour. It would reflect not only each musician, but also the musical tradition of the area in addition to what were there "originally".
  3. The trilogies could only communicate through symbols or the occasional static image. The films, on the other hand, can tell you things through the sequence of images, through what's in these images and through sound (which includes music, noises, dialogue, voiceover etc.). These would give you experiences you could never create based on just the text.
  4. The Chinese imitations would use different materials, different techniques and would probably be more affordable and available. This combination would greatly expand the impact and implications of all these products.
  5. By combining the Woodstock experience with all their history after the event, nostalgia and modern sensibilities, your parents will have created a new Woodstock, one which is different from the one they actually experienced. In time, you might tell your children about Woodstock and your story will, with almost complete certainty be a different one.
Oh no! That cannibal from Sin City, Jonathan Safran Foer, has got the ring!

The copy, therefore, is original because it is a combination which did not exist before. Considering it as a poorer version just because it is based on something else might have more to do with the psychological fear of being wrong, of having backed the wrong thing. Psychologist Elliot Aronson wrote:

Far from being a sign of intellectual inferiority, the capacity to err is crucial to human cognition. Far from being a moral flaw, it is inextricable from some of our most humane and honorable qualities: empathy, optimism, imagination, conviction, and courage. And far from being a mark of indifference or intolerance, wrongness is a vital part of how we learn and change. Thanks to error, we can revise our understanding of ourselves and amend our ideas about the world (iii).

So next time you catch yourself thinking that someone has destroyed your favourite book or piece of music, keep Aronson's words in mind and then ask yourself what you have lost, why it was precious and what you have gained.

What do you think? 

How do you react to copies like a film adaptation of your favourite book? Is a copy always poorer than the original? Does the knowledge that you probably are not creating anything new as such take the fun out of creative work? If so, why? Is the alternative that we stop producing cultural expressions or should we open the floodgates and create for the lowest common denominator? Make your contribution to the discussion!


Comments on The Tale of Sir Bob are always welcome!

Sources: (i): Graham Allen: Intertextuality, 2nd edn (Oxford and New York: Routledge, 2011): 176
(ii)Ann C. Albright and Ann Dils (eds.): Moving History/ Dancing Cultures: A Dance History Reader (Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, 2001): 119-120
(iii): Elliot Aronson: The Social Animal (New York: Worth, 2012)
Pic1, Pic2, Pic3, Pic4

Saturday, 26 November 2011

Vivaldi and Beckett Brought Together

Last night, there was a storm. A chaotic rumble of branches flying about, windows and doors slamming and gusts of wind hammering my abode. Today, the wind is all but gone and a cold, greyblue silence has taken its place. One which calls for subdued reflection.

It is under these conditions that two works of art appear to me as profoundly appropriate. The first is the second movement from Antonio Vivaldi's Gloria (RV589), Et in Terra Pax. This peaceful piece of music beautifully complements a scene from Samuel Beckett's one-act, one-character play Krapp's Last Tape. A melancholy and disillusioned old man, Krapp, sits by himself listening to diary-like tapes he recorded when he was younger remembering episodes with joy, but also regret. The scene included here is one of those episodes.

My suggested method for reading this is allowing Et in Terra Pax to run in the background while reading the scene. If you would like to read Beckett's complete play, you can find it here.


"

TAPE

--Back on the year that is gone, with what I hope is perhaps a glint of the old eye to come, there is of course the house on the canal where mother lay a-dying, in the late autumn, after her long viduity (Krapp gives a start), and the--(Krapp switches off, winds back tape a little, bends his ear closer to the machine, switches on)--a-dying, after her long viduity, and the--

Krapp switches off, raises his head, stares blankly before him. His lips move in the syllables of "viduity." No sound. He gets up, goes back stage into darkness, comes back with an enormous dictionary, lays it on table, sits down and looks up the word.

KRAPP

(reading from dictionary). State--or condition of being--or remaining--a widow--or widower. (Looks up. Puzzled.) Being--or remaining? . . . (Pause. He peers again at dictionary. Reading.) "Deep weeds of viduity" . . . Also of an animal, especially a bird . . . the vidua or weaver bird . . . Black plumage of male . . . (He looks up. With relish.) The vidualbird!


Pause. He closes dictionary, switches on, resumes listening posture.

TAPE

--bench by the weir from where I could see her window. There I sat, in the biting wind, wishing she were gone. (Pause.) Hardly a soul, just a few regulars, nursemaids, infants, old men, dogs. I got to know them quite well--oh by appearance of course I mean! One dark young beauty I recall particularly, all white and starch, incomparable bosom, with a big black hooded perambulator, most funereal thing. Whenever I looked in her direction she had her eyes on me. And yet when I was bold enough to speak to her--not having been introduced--she threatened to call a policeman. As if I had designs on her virtue! (Laugh. Pause.) The face she had! The eyes! Like . . . (hesitates) . . . chrysolite! (Pause.) Ah well . . . (Pause.) I was there when--(Krapp switches off, broods, switches on again)--the blind went down, one of those dirty brown roller affairs, throwing a ball for a little white dog, as chance would have it. I happened to look up and there it was. All over and done with, at last. I sat on for a few moments with the ball in my hand and the dog yelping and pawing at me. (Pause.) Moments. Her moments, my moments. (Pause.) The dog's moments. (Pause.) In the end I held it out to him and he took it in his mouth, gently, gently. A small, old, black, hard, solid rubber ball. (Pause.) I shall feel it, in my hand, until my dying day. (Pause.) I might have kept it. (Pause.) But I gave it to the dog.

Pause

"

Friday, 11 February 2011

"A Trivial Comedy for Serious People" - The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde

I am a great admirer of Oscar Wilde's and although The Picture of Dorian Gray captivates my imagination in much the same enthralling fashion as Stevenson's The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, there is no work of his closer to my heart than The Importance of Being Earnest, a Trivial Comedy for Serious People. With Wilde's sharp wit ever present, the light-hearted and playful tone coupled with the social intricacies of the play reminds me of a successor of his and a personal favourite of mine, P.G. Wodehouse (for my blogposts on everything Wodehouse, click here).

While the play can be found in its entirety here, this excerpt is one of my favourite scenes in which the protagonist Jack is being interviewed by Lady Bracknell for her daughter's hand in marriage.

"

LADY BRACKNELL [Sitting down.] You can take a seat, Mr. Worthing.

[Looks in her pocket for note-book and pencil.]

JACK Thank you, Lady Bracknell, I prefer standing.

LADY BRACKNELL [Pencil and note-book in hand.] I feel bound to tell you that you are not down on my list of eligible young men, although I have the same list as the dear Duchess of Bolton has. We work together, in fact. However, I am quite ready to enter your name, should your answers be what a really affectionate mother requires. Do you smoke?

JACK Well, yes, I must admit I smoke.

LADY BRACKNELL I am glad to hear it. A man should always have an occupation of some kind. There are far too many idle men in London as it is. How old are you?

JACK Twenty-nine.

LADY BRACKNELL. A very good age to be married at. I have always been of opinion that a man who desires to get married should know either everything or nothing. Which do you know?

JACK [After some hesitation.] I know nothing, Lady Bracknell.

Oscar Wilde

LADY BRACKNELL I am pleased to hear it. I do not approve of anything that tampers with natural ignorance. Ignorance is like a delicate exotic fruit; touch it and the bloom is gone. The whole theory of modern education is radically unsound. Fortunately in England, at any rate, education produces no effect whatsoever. If it did, it would prove a serious danger to the upper classes, and probably lead to acts of violence in Grosvenor Square. What is your income?

JACK Between seven and eight thousand a year.

LADY BRACKNELL [Makes a note in her book.] In land, or in investments?

JACK. In investments, chiefly.

LADY BRACKNELL That is satisfactory. What between the duties expected of one during one's lifetime, and the duties exacted from one after one's death, land has ceased to be either a profit or a pleasure. It gives one position, and prevents one from keeping it up. That's all that can be said about land.

JACK I have a country house with some land, of course, attached to it, about fifteen hundred acres, I believe; but I don't depend on that for my real income. In fact, as far as I can make out, the poachers are the only people who make anything out of it.

LADY BRACKNELL A country house! How many bedrooms? Well, that point can be cleared up afterwards. You have a town house, I hope? A girl with a simple, unspoiled nature, like Gwendolen, could hardly be expected to reside in the country.

JACK Well, I own a house in Belgrave Square, but it is let by the year to Lady Bloxham. Of course, I can get it back whenever I like, at six months' notice.

LADY BRACKNELL Lady Bloxham? I don't know her.

JACK Oh, she goes about very little. She is a lady considerably advanced in years.

LADY BRACKNELL Ah, nowadays that is no guarantee of respectability of character. What number in Belgrave Square?

JACK 149.

LADY BRACKNELL [Shaking her head.] The unfashionable side. I thought there was something. However, that could easily be altered.

Colin Firth and Rupert Everett as Jack and Algy in the
2002 film

JACK. Do you mean the fashion, or the side?

LADY BRACKNELL [Sternly.] Both, if necessary, I presume. What are your politics?

JACK. Well, I am afraid I really have none. I am a Liberal Unionist.

LADY BRACKNELL Oh, they count as Tories. They dine with us. Or come in the evening, at any rate. Now to minor matters. Are your parents living?

JACK I have lost both my parents.

LADY BRACKNELL To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness. Who was your father? He was evidently a man of some wealth. Was he born in what the Radical papers call the purple of commerce, or did herise from the ranks of the aristocracy?

JACK I am afraid I really don't know. The fact is, Lady Bracknell, I said I had lost my parents. It would be nearer the truth to say that my parents seem to have lost me … I don't actually know who I am by birth. I was … well, I was found.

LADY BRACKNELL Found!

JACK The late Mr. Thomas Cardew, an old gentleman of a very charitable and kindly disposition, found me, and gave me the name of Worthing, because he happened to have a first-class ticket for Worthing in his pocket at the time. Worthing is a place in Sussex. It is a seaside resort.

LADY BRACKNELL Where did the charitable gentleman who had a first-class ticket for this seaside resort find you?

JACK [Gravely.] In a hand-bag.

LADY BRACKNELL A hand-bag?

JACK [Very seriously.] Yes, Lady Bracknell. I was in a hand-bag – a somewhat large, black leather hand-bag, with handles to it – an ordinary hand-bag in fact.

LADY BRACKNELL In what locality did this Mr. James, or Thomas, Cardew come across this ordinary hand-bag?

JACK In the cloak-room at Victoria Station. It was given to him in mistake for his own.

LADY BRACKNELL The cloak-room at Victoria Station?

JACK Yes. The Brighton line.

LADY BRACKNELL The line is immaterial. Mr. Worthing, I confess I feel somewhat bewildered by what you have just told me. To be born, or at any rate bred, in a hand-bag, whether it had handles or not, seems to me to display a contempt for the ordinary decencies of family life that reminds one of the worst excesses of the French Revolution. And I presume you know what that unfortunate movement led to? As for the particular locality in which the hand-bag was found, a cloak-room at a railway station might serve to conceal a social indiscretion – has probably, indeed, been used for that purpose before now – but it could hardly be regarded as an assured basis for a recognised position in good society.

JACK May I ask you then what you would advise me to do? I need hardly say I would do anything in the world to ensure Gwendolen's happiness.

LADY BRACKNELL I would strongly advise you, Mr. Worthing, to try and acquire some relations as soon as possible, and to make a definite effort to produce at any rate one parent, of either sex, before the season is quite over.

JACK Well, I don't see how I could possibly manage to do that. I can produce the hand-bag at any moment. It is in my dressing-room at home. I really think that should satisfy you, Lady Bracknell.

LADY BRACKNELL Me, sir! What has it to do with me? You can hardly imagine that I and Lord Bracknell would dream of allowing our only daughter – a girl brought up with the utmost care – to marry into a cloak-room, and form an alliance with a parcel? Good morning, Mr. Worthing!

Sources: 1, 2, 3

Saturday, 11 December 2010

Literary Characters - The Fop and the Macaroni

If one strips away the wit and hypersexuality of the rake one is left with the fop. The fop is the flat, shallow and superficial counterweight to the rake. He is very in touch with the fashions of the day, wearing the latest from Paris and updated on the gossip of the town. This veneer, however, conceals his lack of masculinity and wit as well as his shortcomings with women and are but vague imitations of the rakish style.

Although the fop's gentleness and domesticity gave him access to female company and thus represented a challenge to the rake (particularly in Rochester's Dictionary of Love and Richardson's Clarissa), he is generally a character of ridicule. Like the rake's association with the sword and tongue (as well as penis), the fop is associated with the mirror, emphasising his effeminacy and superficiality. Indeed, in Joseph Addison's Specatator 275, he and his lesser versions the Beau and the Pretty Fellow are described as nothing but artificiality and pretense. Thus, the fop is fundamentally unnatural as opposed to the rake being, if possible, too natural.

The macaroni, an exaggerated fop.
Notice the presence of a mirror...

In the 18th century the fop came to be regarded less as a risible figure and increasingly as a dangerously subversive one. Initially, the danger was no more than uselessness. Women, who it was thought could not penetrate the outer, effeminate layer, would end up with a useless man. By the mid-eighteent century, however, this sexual ambiguity was increasingly seen as threatening. As cross-dressing women, often called travesties or Tommies, imitated the foppish style and effeminacy lost its former meaning of "liking women" and took on the modern interpretation of "being like women", being a fop was increasingly linked to being homosexual. The distinctions between the fop, the cross-dressing man (the "Molly") and the homosexual were becoming blurred as foppishness was interpreted as outwards signs of internal perversion. Many of these perceptions can still be found in modern attitudes towards homosexualities.

Furthermore, Britain's cooling relationship to the Catholic Continent and especially France gave the fop a political aspect. With his links to French fashion and customs the fops were seen as French fifth colonists, amongst others by Samuel Foote in his An Englishman in Paris which adds "the French disease" or syphilis to the charges. Here, the fop is joined by the macaroni, an exaggerated fop who imitated foreign speech and customs to excess (and were precursors to the dandies). Both were seen as corrupting influences on British mentality and masculinity and this is witnessed in the rebirth of the risible fop in the shape of the foppish soldier thought unfit for war.

Source: Elaine M. McGirr, Eighteenth-Century Characters: A Guide to the Literature of the Age (Houndsmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007)

Tuesday, 9 November 2010

Three Series to Watch Online

Here are three psychology-related series which neatly compliment each other. The humour in Frasier compensates for the lack of such in In Treatment and Lie to Me*. The extended dialogue in In Treatment stimulates in a way that of the two others cannot due to their generical requirements of plot progress. Finally, Lie to Me* provides the engaging conflict of the crime series and a driven plot which to different extent is absent in the others.

Watch the series on these sites, bearing in mind that these have been chosen not from commercial interest, as might be suspected, but for output per calorie burnt. Enjoy!

Source: link

All the seasons and all the episodes can be found here. Select one of each, wait for the "close to play" button in the player window to appear, click it and enjoy. Please note that you might find the player more manageable in full screen mode (second button from the right under the player window).

Source: link

As In Treatment is an ongoing series, updated, free and accessible sites are hard to come by. However, this site does the job quite well. You need to choose season (under the second category) and then an episode. If there are several to choose from, choose one with a fast loading time. Click the play button in the bottom left corner of the player and enjoy!

Source: link

With suitably dead eyes Cal Lightman, portrayed by Tim Roth, solves crime with a method dangerously, though enticingly, close to physiognomy. To watch the ongoing series, click here and follow the same procedure as described under the last heading.

Monday, 12 July 2010

Ophelia’s Death - Three Representations


This article will explore issues concerning the representation of the death of the Ophelia character in Shakespeare’s Hamlet (i). Using a short introduction of the original representation as a starting point, I will go on to analyse the corresponding scenes or sections in Laurence Olivier’s 1948 film adaptation and Matt Haig’s appropriation, the novel The Dead Fathers Club (ii). In this analysis I will venture to examine the intertextual relationships between these and the original. Although one might write extensively on the subject, I will limit the discussion to particularly relevant aspects of each hypertext. All the relevant terms are taken from Julie Sanders’ Adaptation and Appropriation and the web pages of Yale Film Studies, and I refer to these for the definition of “scene” outside the context of the original play (iii).

The Hypotext – Shakespeare’s Hamlet

In the play, Ophelia’s death is represented indirectly through Gertrude’s account at the end of scene 4.7. However, it is important to recognise how the representation also spans both foreshadows and later references to the character’s death. This essay will only cover these when they are given particular relevance in the hypertexts. Thus, the main focus will be on the section 4.7.163 to the end of the scene.

In this representation, the queen relates to Claudius and Laertes how Ophelia, while decorating a willow with garlands fell with her flowers into a brook and passively lay singing until she drowned. This account contains some ambiguity as to whether Ophelia’s death was suicide or not. In scene 5.1, both clowns and priests seem to think it was and so represents Ophelia’s death as such. This is an ambiguity that appropriators would have to actively engage with.

Since the account of Ophelia’s death is given through plain narration, the symbolism used becomes central in the representation. Throughout the play Ophelia is consistently associated with flowers and those named by Gertrude symbolise either pain (the nettle), loyal love, innocence, the Virgin Mary or beauty (iv). In the same way as the flowers bore significance in scene 4.5, they here represent aspects of Ophelia and her relationship to Polonius and Hamlet. The willow is associated with sorrow weeping, water and mourning. It is a popular image on tombstones and has a similar shape. It was considered unlucky in contemporary folklore and is therefore a potent signifying agent (v).

Title page of the First Quarto
(Source: Cambridge University)

Bearing in mind that water is what kills Ophelia, one might further examine the symbolic meaning of water. The first clown refers to water as an agent of decay, at several instances throughout the play characters weep over the death of other characters, most notably Laertes over Ophelia, and even Rosencrantz and Guildenstern’s death has an association to water (vi). Similarly, Old Hamlet, Gertrude and Claudius are all killed by some liquid. Water can further signify the forces driving Ophelia to her death, seeing as water envelops her much the same way as the intrigues of Elsinore did. These two meanings are supported by the mention of fish. Hamlet calls Polonius a fishmonger, meaning he treats Ophelia as if he were a fleshmonger, and later identifies fish in the chain of decay after death (vii). Admittedly, the latter link is debated but in the interplay of hypo- and hypertexts awareness of such issues is rewarding as will be shown below.

Laurence Olivier’s Hamlet (1948)

Laurence Olivier’s film adaptation of Hamlet was to become an iconic hypertext of the play informing several later appropriations, perhaps most notably Branagh’s 1997 film adaptation, but also several appropriations outside Olivier’s genre (viii). When analysing Olivier’s representation of Ophelia’s death, however, it is important to know something of the context of its creation (ix). Olivier was required by his studio, as is often the case with adaptations, to observe some requirements as to the length of the film and he therefore had to make some editorial omissions. This affects his representation of Ophelia’s death in this hypertext.

Olivier's Hamlet

Genre and narrative tools

The Olivier Film is a generic transposition where the original play has been adapted into another dramatic genre. This accounts for some of the differences between hypo- and hypertext. The adapting auteur has to balance his fidelity between his hypotext, his artistic medium and his audience. This might lead him to apply some of the techniques of his medium for the benefit of his audience and use these in his approach to the hypotext. This accounts for a mise-en-scéne and a use of deep focus, low-key lighting and chiaroscuro which is characteristic for film noir, a film subgenre with which Olivier had frequently been associated.

Also, the editing process of film allows for changes in what is represented and how. Whereas Ophelia’s death was represented through Gertrude’s account to Claudius and Laertes in the hypotext it is presented as a long take flashback scene with a voice over in this hypertext. This is a partial inversion of the original; the visual narration takes prominence and at times substitutes the verbal, which was the defining feature of the original narration, lacking in direct visual representation (x). This move can be seen as part of a larger appropriative process of generic transposition. Olivier was embracing the potential of the film medium. In shooting the film, he could emancipate himself from the fixed focus of Elizabethan theatre and represent through techniques such as panning and zooming something that had to be told in the theatre. Also, he could edit the original play by inserting flashbacks and quickly change setting, as was done with this particular scene.

The dramatic situation of the original play limits the availability of narrative tools such as visual flashbacks. Plays are generally tied to a linearity in plot and if events outside this linearity are to be represented on stage other narrative tools must be used. In the Hamlet hypotext, this is done through simple verbal narration (like Gertrude's account of Ophelia's death or the Ghost's of his own) or through the play within the play. The representation of Ophelia’s death in this hypertext, however, employs the flashback as a tool not only for representing a scene in a new and more visual way, but also to comment on and revise our understanding of the original scene and the play itself.

The use of flashback in this scene might hold the answer to a question frequently raised concerning the original scene; how is Gertrude aware of the sequence of events and who were present? The answer seems to be one of generic requirements as the only applicable medium with which to portray Ophelia's death would be speech.

Furthermore, the use of flashback is a comment on the passive role of Ophelia in the hypertext and makes her more visually present in the representation of her own death. Several commentaries have been made with a similar agenda pertaining to the original Hamlet play, most notably by Stoppard (concerning Rosencrantz and Guildenstern) but also by Haig (see below) (xi). The choice to visually present this particular segment of the hypotext could also be in recognition of the influence of the visual expressions of the Pre-Raphaelites.

Voice over

In a complex play of intertextuality, the voice over serves as a way of invoking properties of one hypotext while properties of another hypotext is shown, itself a Pre-Raphaelite hypertext of the same hypotext. The narrative voice in the scene can be recognised as that of Gertrude, but no indications are given as to whom might be the audience of her narration. The plot of the hypertext moves directly from the end of scene 4.5 in the hypotext, which features the same characters as the ones concerned with said hypertext scene. Thus, the audience is by the editing choices of Olivier and perhaps by prior knowledge of the play led to believe that Claudius and Laertes are the audience. Additionally, Laertes extended reply to Gertrude’s account, and indeed the remainder of the act, is omitted presumably because it was not considered to fit well with the voice over. Here, one can once more register how the editorial choices of the appropriating agent and the iconicity of the hypotext inform the audience’s understanding of the hypertext.

Voice over is used at several other instances throughout the hypertext as a tool for narrative effect. Many of the soliloquies in the film are presented as voice overs and the combination of voice over and flashback is also frequently used, e.g. to portray the death of Old Hamlet or Hamlet’s brush with the pirates. Compared to the hypotext, the use of voice over retains some of the properties of stage performance but adds to the sensorial impression of the hypertext. Thus the use of voice over approximates the narration for an audience which is used to a medium more applicable for conveying sensory stimuli than the original, but it also underlines the subgenre of film noir with which both Olivier, this adaptation and the narrative tool is traditionally associated (xii).

Mise-en-scéne and the significance of omissions

Concerning the mise-en-scĂ©ne of this particular scene, it is important to be aware of not only the original play as a hypotext but also the Pre-Raphaelite legacy as a strong visual indicator for Olivier (xiii). Throughout the flashback the camera shows consecutively the brook, Ophelia floating down the brook singing in a manner reminiscent of painters such as Waterhouse, Hughes and Millais, a floating flower arrangement and finally the brook without Ophelia who, presumably, has drowned. However, it is worth noting that this sequence does not exactly follow the voice over, but it still includes what seem to be the main physical elements of the scene. Also, the circumstances immediately leading up to her entering the water are excluded visually. Whether this is in order to disregard the ambiguities pertaining to the nature of her fall inherent in the hypotext or to retain them is a matter of debate. Later sections, which address the issue in the hypotext, namely the clowns’ section and the funeral scene in act 5, have also largely omitted any mention of these ambiguities (xiv). The motives for this exclusion can be due to perceptions of a lack of consequence and centrality of the scene. Alternatively, the assumption that the ambiguity would be one familiar to the audience anyway could have been guiding. As a matter pertaining to Olivier's intentions, this discussion is arguably irrelevant (see Wimsatt and Beardsley (xv)). However, it is intrinsic to the hypertext and the tripartite relationship between this, the hypotext and the audience. Thus an awareness of such issues is central to our understanding of the relationship of a hypertext to a hypotext.

Similarly, the actual drowning is also omitted and substituted for a shot of the flowers which play an important associative role in relation to Ophelia in both hypo- and hypertext and are discussed below. Her death is rather shown through a combination of water and flowers, for Ophelia exits the frame and is replaced by flowers and as the camera moves on, following her, only a stretch of remarkably still water is shown. The diegetic representation of both her fall and her drowning in an offscreen space could also be seen as a "fidelity in the infidelity" to the hypotext; it somewhat echoes the narrative properties of the original play.

Symbolism

Throughout the hypertext as a whole, realism seems to be secondary to symbolism e.g. with Elsinore represented more as a mindscape than a realistic castle, and in the hypotext the imagery of water, plants and flowers was especially prominent in relation to Ophelia (xvi). This is also, albeit with a few moderations, true of the hypertext.

The willow, a powerful symbol from the hypotext, visually frames the account of Ophelia falling in the water and drowning. The willow in itself played an instrumental role in the original play, but as Ophelia is not shown to be in contact with the tree one must assume that the willow is present for its symbolic and associative value. Interestingly, the hanging twigs of the willow covers the inverted space of the shape of a tombstone for the better part of the scene further emphasising its symbolic aspect.

The flowers surrounding Ophelia and immediately following her downstream like a funerary arrangement are not easily identified. However, through the voice over monologue the audience is led to believe that they are the flowers mentioned. Thus, with the flowers visually representing Ophelia's death, directly following her being alive and preceding her drowning, the centrality of floral symbolism is retained from hypotext to hypertext. Bearing in mind that scene 4.5 in the hypotext is shown directly preceding the representation of Ophelia’s death in the hypertext the symbolic meaning of each flower, so central to that scene, remains so in this representation. The omission of Gertrude's notes on the long purples, particularly on the meaning-laden name "dead men's fingers", might be because the reference to Polonius, any motivation for suicide or the added botanical information seemed unnecessary in a scene with added visual symbolism. This also seems natural given Olivier’s editorial situation.

The properties of the water could act as a commentary on Ophelia’s role in the hypotext. Only fleetingly described in the original, the nature of the brook gains some significance in a visual representation. The water is remarkably still, even Ophelia's impact barely ripples the surface, raising doubts as to how controlled her descent was and thus furthering some of the ambiguity of the original (xvii). Then, the current of the brook becomes central as a contrast to Ophelia's inactivity. The current controls Ophelia and in this way becomes symbolic not only of her death but also of the causes of it, i.e. the forces in the play for which Ophelia is a pawn. This, combined with the above mentioned sudden replacement of Ophelia with a calm stretch of water seems to foreshadow the underrepresentation in the following scenes, comment on her role in the original play and also echo the definite tagline of the play; "the rest is silence" (xviii).

The motif of water in relation to death therefore is present, but seems strangely underrepresented compared with the hypotext. Although many of the foreshadowing associations mentioned in the original are present in the hypertext, Laertes’ response to Gertrude's account is omitted, the clown's thoughts on death and water at the beginning of act 5 are also excluded and only the image of water as an agent of decay is retained (xix). This serves to undermine the role of Ophelia by limiting the references to her originally prompted in the hypotext. Whether this is done due to editorial concerns, which is an aspect of the generic transposition, or acts as a commentary on the expedient role of Ophelia is beyond the spatial scope of this essay. What is certain, though, is that despite omissions Olivier’s film shows closer links to the hypotext than the next hypertext: Matt Haig’s novel.

Matt Haig’s The Dead Fathers Club

Matt Haig’s novel is an appropriation of the hypotext. It is a complex transposition, most notably in genre, setting and perspective. The characters are similar and the plot of the hypertext mirrors that of the hypotext relatively closely. However, they deviate decisively when the reader reaches the section corresponding to the Representation of Ophelia’s death in the original (xx).

Cover
(Source: Fantasticfiction.co.uk)

The Deviation

In this hypertext the Ophelia character clearly tries to commit suicide, but survives. While Ophelia’s death is described as a solitary event on her part in the hypotext, it is far from so in the hypertext. An issue mentioned earlier was that of who were present and why Ophelia was not saved but in this section Haig offers another answer than that given by Olivier by rewriting the original sequence altogether. The appropriated Ophelia, Hamlet, Ghost and Claudius are all present as Leah, Philip, the ghost of Philip’s father and Uncle Alan and Philip and Alan ultimately saves Leah who tries to commit suicide by hurling herself off a weir. This is not as much an interpolation as a consistent deviation from the hypotext or in layman’s terms; an alternative ending. However, the drowning is retained by having Uncle Alan drown.

By having several characters present in this section, Haig is able to comment more directly on characters and their relationships in the hypotext. When faced with a suicidal Leah Philip recognises that he is to blame, something which seems far distant from Hamlet’s mind in the funeral scene (xxi). Furthermore, when having jumped in after Leah, he partly experiences the drowning of the hypotext Ophelia but where Ophelia both in the hypotext and in Olivier’s hypertext seemed strangely passive, Philip kicks off his shoes and presents a diametrically opposite alternative (xxii). This fits in well with Haig’s alternative plot. Uncle Alan whose middle name is Peter is also present, fishing (xxiii). Throughout the hypertext it is unclear whether Alan really is a bad person, as most of his actions are ambiguous. When he is the one who ultimately saves both Philip and Leah, the image of the appropriated Claudius proves to be a distorted product of the appropriated Hamlet’s mind . Without actually redeeming Claudius, Haig comments on the one-sided depiction of him and the disruptive effect of Hamlet’s mind (xxiv). However, the reader is left guessing as Alan suggestively and suddenly appears to see the ghost, precipitating his drowning but in the process having his hands washed clean (xxv).

Furthermore, other scenes from the hypotext are represented in this suicide-section. Leah has the words “dead” and “gone” written in blood on her arms before jumping. This, coupled with her earlier singing, echoes scene 4.5 in the hypotext (xxvi). Philip confronts the persistent ghost of his father, who is responsible for upsetting the situation as in the play, and then defies him by jumping after Leah. This is reminiscent not only of his doubts of the authenticity of the ghost throughout the play, but also of his resolve from scene 5.2 onwards. Philip’s decision to defy the Ghost is also indicative of Haig’s decision to defy the hypotext. Bearing in mind the symbolic value of water, also present in this hypertext, Philip’s jump mimics Hamlet’s entering Ophelia’s grave for a scuffle in scene 5.1 (xxvii). In general, Haig seems to react to the excessively tragic ending of the hypotext by merging and editing the extended last act into one section including Leah’s attempted suicide and its aftermath.

Narration and genre

In the hypotext, the account of Ophelia’s death was narrated by Gertrude. In Olivier’s hypertext the narration was done through visual means and recitation. As mentioned above, the narration in this hypertext sets it distinctly apart from both.

The narrative situation of the hypotext is briefly alluded to when the Laertes of the novel, Dane, breaks the news to Philip and his mother Carol that “she [Leah] is gone” and asks “where” (xxviii). However, one of the generic properties of a novel is a prominent narrator, often more so than in drama. Therefore, as Philip is the narrator, he intrudes on the sequence like Hamlet intruded on Ophelia's funeral. Whereas in the hypotext Ophelia's death in every practical sense was kept separate from the Hamlet character, in the hypertext the appropriated Hamlet must have an active or at least influential part because he is the narrator. In the play, however, this could be avoided by transferring the narrative voice to Gertrude. Also, through the transgeneric process of transposition Haig can emancipate himself from the confinements of dramatic narration, most notably the audience’s need for immediate appeal and stimulation. Where the hypotext had to be brief and the Olivier hypertext had to be visually appealing, the novelist is able to extend his narration, include whichever elements he wants and structure the narration freely due to this (xxix). It is of course also a question of the communicative medium employed; where dramatic forms of art communicate through sound and images, novels do so through text.

The proximated language of the narration yields more links to the hypotext. The language used is that of the 11-year-old protagonist which entails capital lettering and text size for emphasis, lack of punctuation and playful arrangement of words on the page. Throughout the relevant section, language plays an important part. At the climax of the section, which arguably is the climax of the novel, the narrator switches from past to present tense and for the duration of the climax uses minimal punctuation (xxx). This is similar to Olivier’s use of the potential techniques of his medium for effect. It also works as a comment on what in the receptive context of the novel must seem like an archaic form of English in the hypotext and argues a certain immaturity in the original Hamlet character.

Furthermore, the formulations of the associations made by this pre-adolescent mirror elements from the hypotext. Leah is described as “an animal that might climb trees”, the motif of the bestial and grotesque as well as the morbidity of the clowns from the hypotext are noted through the formulations on blood and insects and his child-like comparison of himself to Spiderman reflects Hamlet’s notions of the Ghost and the association between him and gods (xxxi). Also, formulations like “my words got drowned” mimic the wordplay of the hypotext (xxxii).

Symbolism

While the floral symbolism, so prominent in the hypotext and the Olivier hypertext, is largely absent in this, the imagery of water, fish and death is more prominent. The willow is exchanged for a weir which nicely incorporates many of the actual and symbolic properties of the willow and is a proximation probably more easily recognisable for the modern reader. The current beneath the weir is the main agent of death exhibiting many of the same qualities as in Olivier’s film but much more prominently and extensively. This may again have to do with the generic and dimensional properties of the original scene and the appropriation. In the water, Leah initially seems very passive, as in the hypotext, but Philip’s intervention makes her spring into action (xxxiii). If the water and the current symbolises the destructive forces affecting Leah this comments on Ophelia’s basic submissive and unassertive role in the hypotext.

The fish imagery is also highly present in the section. An often evoked image in the hypertext, the aquatic creature symbolises and at times foreshadows death (xxxiv). This is due to the habitats of the characters and the fish; both die if they enter the other’s. Thus, when Philip feels a fish brush is face and sees his disadvantage the fish is an symbol and a harbinger of death (xxxv). Alan acts as a figure of transition; moving Philip and Leah into their element but dying in the process symbolically represented as a fish on land (xxxvi).

Conclusion

Both the adaptation and the appropriation were generic transpositions of the hypotext. This has been fundamental in their versions of Ophelia’s death as each genre offers alternative tools for narration to the hypotext. In Olivier’s film the visual representation and the use of flashback with voiceover gave the scene a distinctly different outlook and the novel’s potential for narrative technique and extent proved beneficial for Haig. While the latter uses the death of Ophelia to more actively engage with the hypotext both can be seen to comment on Ophelia’s role in the entire hypotext through their versions of her death. Whether retaining or closing gaps of ambiguity or appropriating the original scene artistically or realistically, both in some way engage with her originally passive unassertiveness.

With a hypotext representation so heavily dependent on linguistic imagery, Gertrude’s account being rather short, it is interesting to see how symbolism is retained or abandoned and to study how it evokes and modifies the original account. Why is the water important and not the flowers in Haig’s appropriation and would Olivier’s representation have been the same without the flowers?

How the representations of Ophelia’s death inform our view of the character, how appropriations engage with the iconicity of each of the representation’s constituents and also how Ophelia’s madness is represented in the original and appropriations are fertile grounds for further analysis. Also, the role of the subplot of Ophelia’s life, death and relations in relation to the main plot and the Hamlet character as represented in appropriations could also prove a good basis for a work much more extensive than this. What is certain is that the complexity of the character and the ambiguities surrounding her death will continue to engage scholars and appropriators alike in the times to come

Endnotes
i. William Shakespeare: Hamlet, ed. by Philip Edwards, 2nd edn, Cambridge 2003
ii. Laurence Olivier: Hamlet, [1948] (DVD), Matt Haig: The Dead Fathers Club, London 2007
iii. Julie Sanders: Adaptation and Appropriation, London 2006, The Yale Film Studies web pages: http://classes.yale.edu/film-analysis/, last visited 07.06.2010
iv. Rowena Shepherd et.al.: 1000 symbols, London 2002, Texas A&M University’s web page: http://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/archives/parsons/publications/flowers/flowers.html, last visited 07.06.2010. Also, Tate Gallery has a very informative and relevant page on the floral symbolism in Millais’ painting of Ophelia: http://www.tate.org.uk/ophelia/subject_symbolism.htm, last visited 07.06.2010
v. Shepherd et.al. 2002. The willow was a popular symbol for Shakespeare; it also appears in Othello and Twelfth Night.
vi. Shakespeare 2003: 5.1.145, 4.5.185-189, 5.2.12-62
vii. Ibid: 2.2.172, 4.3.19-29
viii. Kenneth Branagh: Hamlet, [1997] (DVD)
ix. Unless otherwise stated, the scene discussed will be Olivier 1948: 1:49:42-1:51:05
x. Branagh (1997) in this respect keeps closer to the hypotext with stage directions more or less as indicated in the play with only a minor shot of Ophelia submerged at the end of the scene.
xi. Tom Stoppard: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, London 1968
xii. The Yale Film Studies web pages, last visited 07.06.2010
xiii. See Elaine Showalter: Representing Ophelia: Women, Madness, and the Responsibilities of Feminist Criticism in William Shakespeare: "Hamlet", ed. Wofford, Susanne, New York 1994, pp.220-240
xv. Olivier 1948: 1:51.06- 1:59:37
xv. Monroe C. Beardsley et.al.: The Intentional Fallacy in Vincent B. Leitch et al (eds): The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism, New York 2001, pp. 1374-1387
xvi. See Elaine Showalter (1994) for more on this symbolism
xvii. As a curiosity, one might notice how the scene has been edited by initially playing the tape forwards and backwards to match Ophelia’s appearance with the monologue. This can particularly be seen in the direction of the ripples of water.
xviii. Shakespeare 2003: 5.2.337
xix. Olivier 1948: 1.43.32
xx. Haig 2007: 281-295
xxi. Haig 2007: 286, Shakespeare 2003: 5.1
xxii. Haig 2007: 289
xxiii. The biblical Peter was a fisherman.
xxiv. Haig 2007: 292-294
xxv. Ibid: 294, 312
xxvi. Shakespeare 2003: 4.5.29, Leah’s song in Haig 2007: 273
xxvii. Note that this is according to an early dramatic custom based on Q1. A short text on this can be found in the footnote to the appropriate line on p. 235 in the cited Hamlet edition.
xxviii. Haig 2007: 281, Shakespeare 2003: 4.7.164-165
xxix. A very good publication on this is Clayton Hamilton: Materials and Methods of Fiction, New York 1911, 95-102.
xxx. Haig 2007: 291 onwards
xxxi. Ibid: 273, 286-287, 291 (the comparison to gods can be found from Shakespeare 2003: 3.4.55 onwards)
xxxii. Haig 2007: 286
xxxiii. Ibid: 289
xxxiv. This image is established as early as Haig 2007: 14.
xxxv. Ibid: 291-292
xxxvi. Ibid: 310

Bibliography

Beardsley, Monroe C. et.al.: The Intentional Fallacy in Leitch, Vincent B. et al (eds): The Norton Anthology of Theory and Criticism, New York 2001, pp. 1374-1387

Haig, Matt: The Dead Fathers Club, London 2007

Hamilton, Clayton: Materials and Methods of Fiction, New York 1911, also available on http://www.gutenberg.org/files/30776/30776.txt, last visited 07.06.2010

Sanders, Julie: Adaptation and Appropriation, London 2006

Shakespeare, William: Hamlet, ed. by Pilip Edwards, 2nd edn, Cambridge 2003

Shepherd, Rowena et.al.: 1000 symbols, London 2002

Showalter, Elaine: Representing Ophelia: Women, Madness, and the Responsibilities of Feminist Criticism in Shakespeare, William: "Hamlet", ed. Susanne Wofford, New York 1994, pp. 220-240

Stoppard, Tom: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, London 1968

Films
Branagh, Kenneth: Hamlet, [1997] (DVD)

Olivier, Laurence: Hamlet, [1948] (DVD)

Web pages
Tate Gallery’s web page: http://www.tate.org.uk/ophelia/subject_symbolism.htm, last visited 07.06.2010

Texas A&M University’s web page: http://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/archives/parsons/publications/flowers/flowers.html, last visited 07.06.2010

The Yale Film Studies web pages: http://classes.yale.edu/film-analysis/, last visited 07.06.2010

(Original article written for the course ENG3243, 05.06.2010)
Literature

Friday, 23 April 2010

“Don’t worry, I’m okay” - An analysis of “The Sopranos" as an appropriation of “Hamlet”

Introduction
In the following I will analyse the HBO hit television series The Sopranos as an appropriation of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Although one might write extensively on the subject, I will limit this essay to discussing how the setting, protagonist and some themes can be seen as appropriations of the original play. All relevant terms are from Julie Sanders' Adaptation and Appropriation (i). I will focus my attention mainly on the first season, although my conclusions are representative for the series as a whole.

Setting
The plot in Sopranos takes place in a relatively limited setting. The crime family controls the New Jersey area in New York and, apart from a few very brief excursions like Tony’s visit in Italy in the second season and sporadic visits to Florida, most of the action takes place in the northern East Coast area. Most of the episodes are located in New Jersey with local sights frequently represented in order to emphasise its importance. Whenever the geographical setting changes in the series, it is always tied up with a parallel plotline interpolated in the episode in order to maintain the connection to the basic geographical setting. Likewise, the show never leaves its Italian American, masculine mobster milieu. At times, characters visit other social, vocational or ethnic groups, but always as emissaries if not in the context of the plot then as a tool for contrast and social commentary.

The temporal setting is also quite limited. Although there are a few flashbacks in episode 7, season 1, time in the series is often remarkably linear. The interconnectedness of the episodes further underlines this linearity. The series is built around the protagonist’s handling of different situations, conflicts and challenges that arise. Since there often is an overlap between these situations and since they often span more than one episode, the timeline does not only seem linear. It also seems to be rather limited and in real time. The show is supposed to be following the everyday life of Tony’s families and we see his private family developing like a family would; children passing through their teens and various educational institutions. The show was shot more or less consecutively from 1999 to 2007 so the visual development of characters closely follows that of the actors. In this way, the audience gets the impression that nothing is left out and that the order of events is genuinely linear.

Although transposed in time and geography, the setting shares several of these characteristics with Hamlet. Hamlet’s excursions from Elsinore are limited both in time, frequency and extent in much the same relative proportions to the play as those of the series. While both time span and geographical setting might differ in extent, “Hamlet” taking place in and around the royal seat of Denmark within a few months and Sopranos being played out across several states and several years, this may be seen as a product of genre since a television series generically can accommodate a more extensive setting. Features of the setting, like the general linearity of time and the relative conformity of geographical location are thus received in another genre. Furthermore, both source text and appropriation is located within a masculine power sphere, an environment of macro- and micro political struggles where perhaps the micro political dynastic conflicts are most clearly linked. However, even though Tony’s brushes with the FBI as a representative of overarching society are more prominent in the appropriation, the threat from Norway and the ambiguous role of its representative Fortinbras as representatives of macro politics are also ever present in the hypotext, albeit admittedly not as explicitly as in the hypertext.

This proximation entails added potential for both the hypotext and the hypertext. Sopranos, by mimicking the setting of Hamlet, can more easily explore personal issues that are accommodated by a limitation of the physical environment and like the play focus viewer attention on these issues rather than distracting them with constant change of setting and the implications this has for the plot’s effect in conveying themes. It also makes a further reception of themes, characters, character relationships, conflicts and other forms of analogy possible. Finally, the proximation gives Hamlet relevance for a new audience, one which might under other circumstances have remained unfamiliar with the archetypes, plot structures and issues discussed in the play.

Character, Characterisation and Conflict
Both the hyper- and the hypotext are dramatic forms of art, which puts an obvious stock in characters. Therefore, it is to be expected that many aspects of the appropriation’s relationship to the original would be somehow represented by the characters. A clear indication of this is given in the titles of the play and the series; Hamlet referring to its protagonist and The Sopranos referring to Tony Soprano and the two families that bear his name. With the connection between the protagonists made, we may proceed to explore how the characters of the series may have corresponding characters in the play, how relationships may compare and how the characters may represent received themes.

The eponymous Tony Soprano is the troubled prince of a feudal construct. The acting boss leads his own society, the Soprano crime family which partially overlaps with his private family and “there’s the rub”(ii) . Tony’s father, Johnny, is dead and his brother, Corrado “Junior” Soprano, thinks he is entitled to be the next boss. He strikes a note with Tony’s mother, Livia, and these two become a constellation with which Tony frequently has to grapple. Throughout the series, Tony acts as the de facto boss while Junior, without his knowledge, acts as a cover.

There are numerous ways in which the Tony character echoes and imitates Hamlet. Firstly, their situations are similar. Both have lost a father whose example guides them but also instils a sense of inadequacy. The series, in fact, opens with Tony seeking help from Dr. Melfi, the psychiatrist, because he feels that the golden age is passed and that his world is on the decline. He feels that his father requires him to run his criminal organisation as smoothly as he did. Both protagonists have trouble with similar constellations of elderly family members, and in a sense, both are individuals whose basic existence, at least for the duration of the play/series, is founded on opposition against established society. In Tony’s case this is an alternative form of government which pitches him both as an opponent of the established order but also as an individual within a limited dynasty. This, drawing on notions of American anti-statism, is an intercultural form of analogue as the basic motif of the individual vs. society is echoed, although in a different cultural setting (more on this below)(iii).

Secondly, and perhaps most decisively, the two protagonists correspond in personality. Both present a combination of violence and meditation. In Hamlet’s case, this is shown in his treatment of most of the other characters and in his soliloquies. For Tony, as well as for the medium, a soliloquy would be out of place but the basic motif for the series, a mobster in therapy, provides a channel for Tony’s inner self. Both characters have to put on a show to their surroundings for the sake of their being, the twist being that Tony has to act stong and mentally stable to avoid being seen as weak, while Hamlet has to act mad to avoid being seen as a threat. This is represented in the following passage from The Sopranos:

“Junior: Are you okay? You’ve been acting [mental] lately. I haven’t seen a long face like that since you were a kid.
Tony: I’m okay […] don’t worry about it” (iv)
While the hypotext presented aspects of Hamlet’s personality through soliloquies and the at times actual presence of his father the ghost, the proximated form of the hypertext does not allow such supernatural tools. The characterisation of Tony is brought about through the presence of his son Anthony Junior (AJ), Dr.Melfi and by some brief flashbacks. The relationship to Anthony Junior works as a tool for representing Tony’s relationship to his dead father, as crucial in the series as in the play. In episodes 4 and 7 in the first series, Tony worries about how his actions influence his son who is taking to fighting and stealing. In episode 7, we are also given some of the very few visual representations of the Tony’s father figure through flashbacks. Johnny Soprano is presented as what Tony in his therapy sessions presents as ideal; a loving family man and a tough and decisive mafioso. This influences how he relates to his role in society, which is closely linked to his idea of the idealised father, and also to his depression and dilemma of action vs. inaction (see below). As in Hamlet the father-son relationship largely dictates the characterisation of the protagonist as well as the plot, which revolves around the conflict of reality imposing itself between the ideal and the protagonist.

As mentioned earlier, Hamlet’s soliloquies are proximated as therapy sessions in the hypertext. These sessions are vehicles of characterisation in The Sopranos much like the soliloquies were in Hamlet. It is here Tony ponders many of the dilemmas and issues presented below and it is through the sessions the audience is brought into the characterisation of the protagonist; Tony and Hamlet both grapple with the same question; “Am I a good person?” Both behave badly towards their fellow characters, often with questionable justification. Hamlet has to deal with this question himself and does so, e.g. in the soliloquy at the end of act 2 (v). In Tony’s case, this task is given to the audience. In other words, where the hypotext provided both the process of characterisation and the conclusion, the hypertext only provides the process through the therapy sessions. This is one of the central functions of the series, for where the play settles the virtue of the protagonist, the series engages the audience in deciding whether the deplorable acts of Tony are justified by his intentions. In this way, the appropriation comments on what can be seen as a closed discussion of motivation and an assertive characterisation in the play. However, the mode of characterisation can also be seen as another privilege of genre as a series of six seasons can accommodate greater uncertainty of characterisation than a five act play.

Themes
Both the play and the series are structured around the personalities of the two protagonists and these are the basis for the themes and conflicts discussed. Since both hypo- and hypertext fundamentally deals with the personal issues of the protagonists, an analysis of these as central aspects of appropriation would fit logically alongside that of the protagonist.

Both characters struggle with depression brought on by dilemmas of action vs. inaction and how to relate to the world as individuals. At the start of the series Tony admits to being depressed just like Hamlet more or less directly does at the start of the play (vi). Indeed, later episodes, such as episode 11 of the first season, are episodes in which a thematical appropriation of Hamlet is apparent. In the episode, he knows some of his friends are working with the FBI and is unsure who to trust. His wife confronts his mother with regard to her effect on his mental state, and the following passages ensue:
(The following monologue ensues, interspersed with protestations and exclamations by Carmela)
“Carmela: You are bigger than life, you are his mother, and I don’t think for one second that you don’t know what you’re doing to him. […] I know [Junior] stops by a lot.”

Livia: He is my husband’s brother. He can’t check up on me once in a while? That’s not of anybody’s business. I know what you’re hinting at. Wait until you are abandoned. Johnny was a saint. Junior couldn’t carry Johnny’s socks. Do you think I would blacken my Johnny’s memory by getting mixed up with his brother? At least with Junior I’ve got some purpose in life. Somebody listens to me and doesn’t treat me like an old shoe” (vii) 
The reference to Hamlet is obvious. Later, Dr. Melfi diagnoses Tony’s feelings as one of impending doom, and not long after he says he’ll “take a gun and blow my brains out”(viii) in a vein reminiscent both of Hamlet’s suicidal ponderings in the “too too solid flesh” and “to be” soliloquies (ix). Hamlet’s depression is brought on by the lack of standards represented by his father, his perception of corruption within the world and all the other characters and by the union of his uncle and mother. For Tony, these causes are replicated in relation to his crew, Junior and his mother. Like Hamlet and Horatio, Tony only feels he can trust Dr. Melfi and that everyone else fails to live up to the standards he has inherited from his father. It is worth noting that he holds his mother responsible for his father’s death:

“Tony: my mother wore him down to a little nub, he was a squeaking little gerbil when he died.
Dr. Melfi: Quite a formidable maternal presence.”(x)
In an interesting analogy of plot, Tony’s preoccupation with his mother’s destructive powers is justified when she and Junior hire two assassins to kill him. In a proximated imitation of Hamlet’s account at the start of act 5, scene 2, the two assassins die in the attempt to kill the protagonist in a vehicle, just like Hamlet brings about the death of his erstwhile friends turned implicit assassins Rosencrantz and Guildenstern on a boat (xi). The scene nicely encapsulates the causes of Tony’s depression, and like the corresponding scene in Hamlet together with the closet scene (3.4) which is later mirrored in The Sopranos (xii), brings about a resolve and a new understanding of the causes for his depression. This is of course another reference to Hamlet’s resolve in act 4.

One might expect revenge to be a theme appropriated into a gangster series and it is, but three examples will show how, as in the play, revenge is tied with overarching dilemmas. First, in episode 9 of the first season, Tony considers having the coach of his daughter’s soccer team killed for molesting one of her teammates. He sees it as his responsibility to avenge “foul deeds”, implicitly because that is what his father would have done, but Melfi confronts him more or less directly citing Hamlet; “Why do you think you, Anthony Soprano, always have to set things right?”. As a telling twist, Hamlet informs our understanding of Tony’s conundrum as Hamlet more explicitly attributes this mission to his father, him being “born to set it right” (xiii). From episode 11, season 1 and onwards Tony struggles with issues of loyalty. Several times revenge becomes a response to members of his crew betraying him for the FBI or rival gangs. Especially the case with his close friend Salvatore Bonpensiero, whose fate is sealed on a boat, is not only analogous in plot to Hamlet but also in theme. Sal’s demise at the end of the second season is preceded by 16 episodes of mental stress and pondering for Tony which at times leads to suicidal thoughts and paranoia (xiv). When Sal proves to have betrayed Tony, Tony fails in his mission of running a crew after his father’s idealised standards. In both cases revenge acts as a motif for Tony’s idea of his role as an individual in a larger society and it also explores the dilemma of action vs. inaction. Finally, as a more direct form of appropriation, the motif of avenging a father is imitated in the opening episode of season 4 where Tony’s nephew Christopher, whom he sees as a potential heir to the position of boss, avenges his father’s murder by killing a policeman Tony identifies as his murderer. Throughout the episode, Tony functions like the ghost did for Hamlet, spurring him on.

As hinted earlier, the theme of individuality and conformity, or how the individual should relate to the world around him is present in both hypo- and hypertext. Tony is, as a mafia boss, fundamentally opposed to established society although he feels obliged to uphold some of its morals. In episode 10, season 1, the tries to enter established society for the sake of himself and his family (see AJ above), but he finds this lifestyle repulsive and hypocritical and decides to act in society from his alternative approach of organised crime. The episode debates breaking with one’s destiny, which for Tony is following his father’s example and acting as a boss, or to “suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” as Hamlet similarly pondered in the “to be” soliloquy. Like Hamlet, Tony decides to “let be” (xv), that is to adhere to his father’s command even though this will leave him outside and opposed to the established order.

Conclusion
I have analysed some of the ways in which The Sopranos is an appropriation of Hamlet. The most prominent are the proximated setting, the many aspects and relationships of the protagonist and many of the central themes to both texts. It seems that a certain open-mindedness is needed for such an analysis as few aspects of the hypotext have unambiguous or even consistent counterparts in the hypertext. It is also debatable whether what is appropriated stems from the play or from the universality of character traits, conflicts and themes represented in it. That being said, the play and the series share too much to ignore the possibility of the latter being an appropriation of the former. The director, David Chase, has made no allusions to the play, but that in itself does not effect this theory. Perhaps it’s fitting to conclude the essay the way the series was concluded in 2007, with The Sopranos’ take on “the rest is silence” (xiv); the sudden cut to black.

Endnotes:
(i) Julie Sanders: Adaptation and Appropriation, London, 2006
(ii)William Shakespeare: Hamlet, ed. by Philip Edwards, 2nd edn, Cambridge, 2003: 3.1.65
(iii)Sanders 2006: 99
(iv)David Chase: The Sopranos Complete Series 1-6 Box Set, [1999-2007] (DVD), season 1, episode 6, 42:33. (Henceforth referenced as s #, ep. #, ##:##)
(v)Shakespeare 2003: 2.2.501-558
(vi)S 1, ep. 1, 28:00
(vii)S 1, ep. 11, 17:00-19:00
(viii)S 1, ep. 11, 11:08, S1, ep.12, 17:50
(ix)Shakespeare 2003: 1.2.129-159, 3.1.56-89
(x)S1, ep. 1, 30:53-33:22. This scene is a very good representation of Tony’s state of mind and perception of reality.
(xi)S 1, ep. 12, 27:40-28:40, Shakespeare 2003: 5.2.1-62
(xii)S 1, ep. 13, 52:00
(xiii)S 1, ep. 9, 41:26, Shakespeare 2003: 1.5.189-190
(xiv) This is especially apparent in s 1, ep. 12
(xv)Shakespeare 2003: 3.1.56-89, 5.2.196. For this analysis to work, one must assume that Hamlet in his soliloquy equates following his father’s command and killing Claudius with ”suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune” and suicide/remaining passive with “by opposing end them”. Lines 83-87 might suggest that suicide and remaining passive is the same thing. One might easily imagine Tony Soprano considering a life outside the mafia a slow suicide. His definitive break with established society echoes Hamlet’s conclusion when he answers “I’ll live” (S 1, ep. 10, 50:06)
(xvi)Shakespeare 2003: 5.2.337

Sources:

Literature:
Julie Sanders, Julie: Adaptation and Appropriation, London, 2006
Shakespeare, William: Hamlet, ed. by Philip Edwards, 2nd edn, Cambridge, 2003

Television series:
Chase, David: The Sopranos Complete Series 1-6 Box Set, [1999-2007] (DVD)

Monday, 5 April 2010

It's Good to be Bad - The Appeal of the Villain

Recently I went to the cinema to watch Tim Burton’s ”Alice in Wonderland”. The film was visually astonishing and very Burtonesque but all the while I felt there was something amiss. It might have been the notion that all the 3D graphic splendor was obscuring something lacking, perhaps an erratic and unclear plotline or possibly an ad hoc, disconnected and irrelevant ending. Be that as it may, and granting Burton some leeway due to some rather erratic source texts, I came away with a newfound fondness for another literary character.

Two weeks later, the only character from the film that really sticks in my mind and retains its puzzling appeal is the Red Queen. In the film, she is a waterhead combination of Helena Bonham Carter, who portrays her, and Elizabeth I. In fact, for those with some knowledge of the British monarchy a study of the Red Queen’s family, castle and its dĂ©cor in the film should add to the experience of the film. I spent the two weeks reading Lewis Carroll’s books and became further enchanted with the character after which it was promply initiated into my pantheon of literary exclusifs.

What characterises this exclusive society is that its members are all on the morally wrong side of their respective texts. The Red Queen joins Emily BrontĂ«’s Heatcliff, Shakespeare’s Iago and Victor Hugo’s Javert, neither of whom would be asked to be the best man or expected to bring an apple for the teacher in class. None of the members can be said to have made their worlds better places by their sunny disposition or by their souls’ overflow of the milk of human kindness, which begs the question; why are bad guys so much more interesting, not to mention appealing, than the good guys?

Samuel Johnson meant that authors had a moral obligation to make the good seem rewarding and pleasant and the evil abhorrent. However, he seems to have been disregarded. To seek an answer to the question above I will take a closer look at the three members, starting with the first member accepted, Heathcliff. Heathcliff holds the peculiar position of being the protagonist of his text but embodying many of the characteristics generally attributed to the antagonist. Not only does he bring death and damnation to his rural Yorkshire community, but he probably does not do any good for anyone at all apart from himself. Probably as a result of a bad childhood, being abandoned by his parents and bullied by his foster family, Heathcliff spends 30 years getting his own back and succeds in doing so. (For those interested in BrontĂ«’s motivation for this elaborate and time consuming revenge, I will soon be posting one of my papers discussing that very topic.) Heathcliff’s appeal is for me twofold; firstly, he is tenacious and consistent and secondly, he is justified. The commitment with which he exacts his revenge without losing sight of his goal and the effort he puts into achieving what he think is right is exemplary. This and empathy we have for him as he sets the record straight gives him an appeal which his actions, or rather the surface actions of the supraplot, don’t directly communicate. Perhaps it is the combination of doing something consistently bad, being able to justify it and getting away with it that is appealing for those of us who do neither.

It is suprisingly easy to find modern echoes of Heathcliff, especially in Hollywood movies. Beatrice Kiddo in Quentin Tarrantino’s “Kill Bill” shares many of Heathcliff’s characteristics, although her revenge is swift by comparison. John Travolta’s character in “Swordfish” similarly lives by the creed that to deter acts of terrorism one should respond to them by doing something so terrible that other acts of terrorism would be unthinkable. This also bears an eerie resemblance to the attitude of certain neo-con White House advisors and a certain ex-Vice President.



The Original and Three Copycats


Iago’s forte is his ability to lay great plans and to understand the personality, response and behavioural pattern of the pawns in his play. Even though his ends are foul the tenacity and the skill with which he creates appearances and steers the other characters of “Othello” towards their doom are astonishing. Thus, you might call him a Heathcliff with social skills.

Javert also shares the tenacious character of Heathcliff. His animosity with Jean Valjean, like Heathcliff’s to his foster family and neighbours, spans several decades during which his drive for what he sees as justice never diminishes. He is the only credible character, the others being flat; either too idealistic or too villainous. Javert, cold as he may be, is a man determined to do his duty even though he is a diametric foil to the angelic protagonist Valjean. There is a liberation in having a task to stick to irregardless of moral considerations which, I think, the reader envies Javert. This is not to say that one would like to be one of the many anonymous henchmen in literature, who do their duty without too much hesitation. Javert has an established and in the novel clearly presented view of his world and has a conscious relationship to his task. The crisis for Javert occurs when this understanding is rocked with Valjean’s mercy disproving the infallibillity of the law Javert follows. However, up to this point, Javert seems a force larger than life, as reliable a friend as an enemy or employee and in a world of constant distractions his doggedness and efficiency when on the case appears admirable.

"You'll Wear a Different Chain"

The Red Queen is a bad guy of a different sort. She is a mad bad guy. Her appeal lies in her mad and for her consequence free impulsivity. Her catch-phrase “off with her head” is uttered in an offhand manner as if resolving the most trivial requests rather than matters of life and death. In Carroll’s books, these sporadic death sentences are never carried through due to the Red King pardoning the unfortunate convicts. In the film, however, Alice has to jump across a moat using heads as stepping stones.

Helena Bonham Carter as The Red Queen

Perhaps the allure of the Red Queen is her whimsical use of her absolute power. Both man and beast bows for her often childish whim and she is allowed to act unquestioned by anyone but Alice. The Red Queen can do as many bad things as she like without having to face the consequences while we seldom can. Even if we avoid the judgement of our peers, there will always be some part of us which reacts to our transgression. However, all the characters above seem devoid of such qualms and, as they evade punishment from without, they appeal to an aspect of us which craves this freedom of action, possibly originating in our childhood.

We may trace the appeal of the villain way back, to Milton and further. Milton’s Satan in “Paradise Lost” serves to exemplify the allure of the villain. While God is aloof and rather flat, an unforgiving, immovable character, Satan is a dynamic force which overcomes obstacles and struggles to achieve. I think we are able to identify with bad guys because we recognise this struggle as our own justifiable existence. What we find sufficient reason for our actions can often be reflected in that of the villain. While the good guy’s actions get their virtue from being performed by the good guy, the bad guy’s actions are driven by more familiar motivations. Very few would consider “I’m a good guy” a valid reason for any action, but they might find zest and zeal for one’s job, pursuit of personal happiness or setting the record with your childhood bullies straight mitigating. As for the Red Queen, that might be a question of personal freedom and independence from social standards which is to some extent what the Alice books are all about.

In addition, it is easier to be really bad than to be really good…



Sources: http://blog.pennlive.com/pennsyltucky/2008/01/AP080123017792.jpg,
http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs49/f/2009/237/2/c/Heathcliff_by_Vestergaard.jpg,
http://i17.photobucket.com/albums/b73/wingman735/Favorite%20Movie%20Characters/swordfish1.jpg,
http://buldra.altervista.org/immagini/beatrix_2.jpg,
http://www.mtholyoke.edu/courses/rschwart/hist255-s01/students/Kelly-E-Buttermore/images/javert.jpg,
http://www.shockya.com/news/wp-content/uploads/alice_in_wonderland_helena_bonham_carter_red_queen.jpg