As critics like Robert Stam[1] and Imelda Whelehan[2] have noted, the study of film adaptations is wrought by an overarching trend which perceives the original literary text, usually the novel, as being superior to the secondary filmic representation of it; a kind of hierarchy of the arts.[3] This trend is exacerbated by the related textual, technical and commercial issues which surround the actual exercise of adaptation. Issues such as fidelity tend to support it, while symbiosis and the auteur theory aim to challenge its axiomatic nature. Likewise, Stam’s quote above recognises the inherent technical shifts that occur when translating from novel to film, and suggests that with changed technical formalities innately comes change in a text’s textual features and its political-commercial purposes. Stam dismisses the ‘hierarchy’ trend, and instead advocates a framework which systematically evaluates adaptations in terms of the two medium’s contrasting textual, technical and commercial aspects; seeing that an interdependent relationship exists among the three and each has a profound effect on the final text.
Indeed, such a dynamic framework seems appropriate and highly worthwhile as it permits a less prejudicial analysis of adaptations and helps to better discern the relevant advantages and disadvantages of translating from one medium to another. Moreover, a variation on this theme is Geoffrey Wagner’s classification of adaptations into three types – transposition, commentary and analogy.[4] Wagner’s model focuses more so on the textual and narratological manoeuvrings of adaptations. Thus accordingly, I will utilise both Stam’s implicated framework and Wagner’s model to investigate Adaptation’s[5] transformation of Susan Orlean’s The Orchid Thief[6] – emphasising on the contentious notion that film adaptations are essentially creative close readings of the original text; readings that are not necessarily subordinate to the source novel.[7]
Adaptation, directed by Spike Jonze and written by Charlie Kaufman, is ‘a film about a man writing a film about a woman writing about a man’.[8] It credits and is meant to be based on Susan Orlean’s The Orchid Thief. However, this film is certainly not a typical adaptation or as Wagner would define it: a transposition – when a novel is directly given on screen.[9] Wagner would probably pigeonhole the film somewhere between a commentary and an analogy; the former is where an original is taken and either purposely or inadvertently altered in some respect, and the latter is when the film shifts the action of the fiction forward in time or otherwise changes its essential context.[10] These categories are useful because they generate expectations within the audience regarding the adaptation’s textual and political-commercial aspects, for example, it is myopic to criticise Adaptation for its condensing of The Orchid Thief because this ignores what Adaptation aims to do on a larger scale which, though open to interpretation, is to comment on the personal and professional forces that affect the screenwriter when composing.
Stylistically, Adaptation is highly self-referential and ironic, and it is in this manner by which Jonze and Kaufman reflect upon the critical discourses which prioritise the original novel over the filmic representation. As we view the film, we also view the creative process behind its composition, that is, Kaufman’s ruminations on the obstacles of writing a screenplay which not only is faithful to Orlean’s book, but also adheres to film technicalities and Hollywood conventions. Henceforth, Adaptation functions as both a conspicuous discussion on the challenges of adaptation as well as an embodiment of the positive contributions that film brings to the original literary text.
The potency of the auteur theory as a practice in filmmaking is examined in the first scene of Adaptation. François Truffaut, a pioneer of this theory, recognised that filmmaking is an industrial process and proposed for the director to use his commercial apparatus the way that a writer would use a pen and, through the mise-en-scène, imprint his personal vision on the work.[11] These concepts are exhibited and captured in the simulated re-enactment of “on the set of Being John Malkovich, summer 1998”. The use of the blurry, unsteady handheld camera provides a sense of ‘behind-the-scenes’ and being involved in the collaborative effort. The contrived verisimilitude of this scene is further sustained by the documentary-style name tags of the ‘actor’, ‘first assistant director’, ‘cinematographer’ and then ‘screenwriter’ – who is told to “get off the stage”. Here the subtle manipulation of natural dialogue and figurative speech affirms the minimal role that the screenwriter plays under the auteur theory.
Jonze’s creative interpretation and actualisation of the auteur theory promotes and justifies an authoritarian role for the film technicians seeing that they are ones who realise the ‘essence’ of the original text on a physical and cinematographic level. The auteur theory challenges the ideal of literary fidelity and superiority because it recognises and respects the underlying technical disadvantage of translating from novel to film, and views technical decisions as essentially the director’s close reading of both the script and original novel. In this way, the auteur theory represents quite a closed paradigm in film theory as it prioritises the director’s distinct vision over other forms of criticism – treatment of the film adaptation on its own terms. Furthermore, Whelehan adds to this argument by recognising some of the practical realities and limitations involved in producing a commercially successful – such as pruning culturally-anachronistic features of the original text and trimming sophisticated narrative strategies into a recognisable popular film genre;[12] the commercialisation and ‘Hollywood-isation’ of film adaptations.
The process of adaptation – both as a literary phenomenon and a biological one – is pervasive and thoroughly discussed in Adaptation. In the scene where John Laroche and Orlean visit an orchid exhibition, Laroche uses scientific terms to describe to Orlean and to the audience the natural significance of insect-flower cross-pollination. This dissemination of factual knowledge is aided cinematically through the lush orchestral soundtrack and the camera’s brief shift to images of orchid-insect ‘love-making’. There is a moment of enlightenment when Laroche says “By simply doing what they’re designed to do something large and magnificent happens. In this sense they show us how to live. How the only barometer you have is your heart.” Such a statement is also conducive to human romance.
Moreover, this knowledge is complemented extra-textually through an excerpt of The Orchid Thief: “Orchids are ancient, intricate living things that have adapted to every environment on earth. They have outlived dinosaurs; they might outlive humans. They can be hybridised, mutated, cross-bred, and cloned.”[13] The adaptive nature of orchids is thoroughly established in the film, and consequently appropriated by Jonze and Kaufman to parallel that of literary adaptation; highlighting the intricate, symbiotic and cross-pollinating relationship that exists between the original novel and film adaptation. For example, in a contrasting scene Charlie Kaufman, the character, is visiting an orchid show and Orlean’s passages cascade through his mind: “There are more than 30 000 known orchid species… one looks like a turtle/a monkey/an onion.” This is then appropriated with sexual connotations to depict Kaufman’s absent love life: “one looks like a school teacher/a gymnast… one looks like Amelia.” This illustration of symbiosis emphasises the positive contribution that an adaptation can have on the original literature – where intertextual associations create new textual meaning on top of the original. Adaptation offers a reading of The Orchid Thief through the lens of the adaptation process.
Gabriel Miller controversially states that the novel’s characters undergo a simplification process when transferred to the screen, for film is not very successful in dealing either with complex psychological states or with dream or memory, nor can it render thought.[14] Whelehan firmly refutes this claim and declares that such a position demonstrates an ignorance of film narrative strategies and undermines the possibility of serious study of the verbal, visual and audio registers of the medium.[15] Miller suggests that film is incapable of metaphor or symbolism, which if tested against Adaptation is clearly not true. Adaptation reveals Kaufman and Orlean’s personal thoughts and psychological states not only through voiceovers but also note-taking. This technique maintains textual integrity because both characters are bourgeoning writers. For instance, when Orlean rides in Laroche’s van, and he is telling her abruptly of his life missions, she humours him by agreeing whilst writing contradictory and belittling comments in her notepad: “Delusions of grandeur.” Here Jonze depicts Orlean’s psychological state by contrasting her thoughts with her façade performance. Another example of this technique is at the dinner party, where Orlean first mockingly impersonates Laroche in front of her middle class academia friends – giving the impression of indifference, but then when alone in the bathroom Meryl Streep’s voiceover: “I wanted to want something as much as people wanted these plants, but it isn’t part of my constitution. I suppose I do have one unembarrassed passion; I wanna know what it feels like to care about something passionately.” and the sudden change of facial expressions confirm that Orlean feels otherwise.
In addition, the tone, enunciation, pace and content of the voiceovers also represent the different approaches and lifestyles of the two writers. Orlean’s systematic and professional style of writing and researching is deliberated through the piles of books on her office desk and voiceover of historical and scientific-based passages: “Orchid hunting is a mortal occupation. Victorian-era orchid hunter William Arnold drowned on a collecting expedition…” This is sequently contrasted to Kaufman’s anarchic and shapeless approach; with only a typewriter in his bedroom and thoughts of coffee and muffins in his head. Likewise, dreams and memories are also portrayed and add effectively to characterisation. Kaufman’s struggle with his work and love life is manifested in a dream where he and Susan have sex; this is aided cinematically by Meryl Streep’s encroachment of Nicholas Cage and soft but climaxing orchestral music.
One scene where cinematography works remarkably well to reveal the character’s inner state is where Orlean and her husband are in their home. The sequence of the shot begins first with Cage’s voiceover description of the women he sees at the exhibition: “one has eyes that contain the sadness of the world”, and then the transition to a close up of Streep’s stoic face, next the voyeuristic camera angle reveals Orlean’s husband eating and reading in the next room, and then back to Streep, followed by Laroche’s explanation of his failed marriage. This brief scene lasting fifteen seconds is highly poignant and, via semiotics, symbolises Orlean’s emotional movement away from her husband. Henceforth, demonstrating film’s capability of portraying life’s ephemeral moments.
Another existential scene is when Kaufman realises “The only thing I’m actually qualified to write about is myself… bald, old, fat, repulsive.” This rhetoric is reminiscent of the film’s opening voiceover. The segments in Adaptation where Kaufman writes or dictates ideas for his script are in fact exercises in textual self-reference as these ideas have already been shown to the audience. For example, Kaufman’s verbal description of the scene where he lunches with Valerie the film executive in a Hollywood restaurant. Later on, these exercises become very drastic and minute when Kaufman begins to dictate scenes that occur just seconds ago – culminating in his realisation of Ourobouros.
However, there are other sections in the film where self-reference is utilised effectively, especially in its creation of meta-cinema. This is seen in Kaufman’s declaration to Valerie: “I’d want to let the movie exist rather than be artificially plot driven … don’t want to cram in drugs, sex or guns or car chases or characters learning profound life lessons.” Juxtaposed to the dramatic Hollywood-isation of when Kaufman finally meets Orlean. Another example is when Kaufman realises the structure of both his script and Adaptation – “It’s a journey of evolution. Adaptation… a journey that unites each and every one of us. Darwin writes that we all come from the very first single-cell organism. Yet here I am. And there’s Laroche. There’s Orlean. And there’s the ghost orchid. All trapped in our own bodies in moments in history.” This transcendent thought is overlayed by fast-moving images of Darwin writing, Kaufman in his car, Laroche in his lab, Orlean typing and a close-up of the flower. Hence, it is in this way, in which the filmmakers maintain the ‘essence’ of The Orchid Thief in Adaptation; by internalising, exploring, adopting and appropriating the novel’s core themes of obsession, lust, biological and natural adaptation, and the Holy Grail. Jonze and Kaufman demonstrate how even with a changed medium and apt manipulation of technical, textual and political-commercial features one can still remain faithful to the original – by faithfully producing their creative interpretation or reading of it.
From the above analysis of Adaptation, it becomes apparent that the ‘hierarchy’ trend is indeed not axiomatic, and in some cases – such as when viewing commentary and analogy film adaptations – inapplicable. Instead, the worth of the ‘secondary’ filmic text should be derived from an independent study which considers the changed textual, technical and commercial aspects that occur when translating from novel to film. Furthermore, I have employed Adaptation to question and explore not only the problems of translation that the film itself explicitly expresses through its narrative, such as the auteur theory and fidelity, but also tested it against the concerns that other film theorists have raises such as film’s supposed lack of an emotional range. This exploration has led me to conclude that in order to guard one’s self against the disappointment of, and to liberate, this form of text, one should regard and respect film adaptations as essentially a kind of creative criticism or reading of the novel – one that is not necessarily subordinate to the source novel.
Bibliography
Adaptation. Dir. Spike Jonze. Columbia Pictures. 2002.
Orlean, Susan. The Orchid Thief. 1998. New York: Random House, 1998.
Orlean, Susan. Susan Orlean Official Website – Adaptation weblog.
http://www.susanorlean.com/adaptation/index.html. Last accessed: 16/09/07.
Stam, Robert. “Beyond Fidelity: The Dialogics of Adaptation”. Literature through Film:
Realism, Magic and the Art of Adaptation. Malden, MA, USA: Blackwell Publications, 2005. 28 – 40.
Whelehan, Imelda. “Adaptations: The Contemporary Dilemmas”. Adaptations: From
Text to Screen, Screen to Text. Ed. Deborah Cartmell and Imelda Whelehan.
London, New York: Routledge, 1999. 3 – 19.
[1] Robert Stam, “Beyond Fidelity: The Dialogics of Adaptation”, in Literature through Film: Realism, Magic and the Art of Adaptation, (Malden, MA, USA: Blackwell Publications, 2005), p. 28 – 40.
[2] Imelda Whelehan, “Adaptations: The Contemporary Dilemmas”, in Deborah Cartmell and Imelda Whelehan, eds., Adaptations: From Text to Screen, Screen to Text, (London, New York: Routledge, 1999), p. 3 – 19.
[3] Stam, p. 30.
[4] Whelehan, p. 8.
[5] Adaptation, dir. Spike Jonze, Columbia Pictures, 2002.
[6] Susan Orlean, The Orchid Thief [1998], (New York: Random House, 1998).
[7] Stam, p. 30.
[8] Susan Orlean, Susan Orlean Official Website – Adaptation weblog, http://www.susanorlean.com/adaptation/index.html, last accessed: 16/09/07.
[9] Whelehan, p. 8.
[10] ibid.
[11] Wikipedia contributors, Wikipedia – Auteur Theory, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auteur_theory, last accessed: 16/09/07.
[12] Whelehan, p. 4.
[13] Susan Orlean, The Orchid Thief [1998], (New York: Random House, 1998), p. 63.
[14] Whelehan, p. 6.
[15] Whelehan, ibid.
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