The Art of Adaptation

by Linda Seger

  When I watched the film I was ready to enjoy it, to be amused immediately, but just in case the style wasn’t clear, the filmmakers gave us more cues. At the dinner table Mr. Emerson makes a terrible faux pas, saying in a loud uncouth voice, “We have a room. You can have our rooms.” The ladies at the table are perfectly aghast. This is not how civilized people talk. We realize the immensity of the problem: if they change rooms, perhaps dear young Lucy Honeychurch would end up sleeping in the same bed that young handsome George had slept in the night before.

  In case someone still doesn’t see the humor, George puts his vegetables into the shape of a question mark, questioning the meaning of existence, and turns the plate toward Lucy.

  After a few more “Oh dears,” the Reverend Beebe kindly offers to help negotiate this fragile situation, the trading of rooms.

  Here, although the character is taking this seriously, the filmmaker isn’t. Throughout is the gentle, affectionate, human tone of writer Ruth Prawer Jhabvala and director James Ivory toward the subject. The style is tongue-in-cheek with a tone of affection toward the characters.

  One of the most beautifully played moments of the film occurs after Lucy Honeychurch has broken off her engagement with Cecil. Here James Ivory and the actor Daniel Day-Lewis made the choice to shade the scene by playing out the human dimension, showing Cecil sadly, but with dignity, putting on his shoes. In this scene, the director chose to darken the mood just a bit so the audience feels for Cecil. But the scene is not shaded too darkly because the audience still needs to be rooting for George and Lucy. If it’s shaded too much, the audience’s compassion for Cecil might make the audience think that Lucy should go through with the marriage. This careful shading kept the audience’s emotional reaction on the right note.

  A Room with a View is an exceptionally fine film. It won the Academy Award for Best Adaptation, and was nominated for Best Picture and Best Director. But it’s the kind of movie that might not have worked. If there had been a false note in this film, it would have fallen apart.

  INTEGRATING THE STYLE

  It’s not enough simply to set up the style. The style also must be integrated and continue to move through the whole movie. Once you commit to a style, you need to stay with it throughout.

  Once the filmmakers have established their tongue-in-cheek style in A Room with a View, they don’t want to lose it. They use a number of different techniques to keep the style paramount. Think about the title chapters in various places in the movie that maintain the tone and attitude and keep us from taking it too seriously. Every once in a while the film stops to title the next section of the film. These titles (taken directly from the book) include “The Reverend Arthur Beebe, the Reverend Cuthbert Eager, Mr. Emerson, Mr. George Emerson, Miss Eleanor Lavish, Miss Charlotte Bartlett, and Miss Lucy Honeychurch Drive Out in Carriages to See a View: Italians Drive Them”; “How Miss Bartlett’s Boiler Was So Troublesome”; “Lying to George”; “Lying to Cecil”; “Lying to Mr. Beebe, Mrs. Honeychurch, Freddy, and the Servants.”

  We’ve probably all seen films where the styles become a hodgepodge. In the early 1980’s there was a film called Ice Pirates, which began with a science-fiction, almost Star Wars style, and then about halfway into the film moved into a very broad, funny, campy style. But by that time nobody laughed. We had not been told at the beginning that we were supposed to laugh. In spite of its original and even workable approach in the last half of the film, the movie died very quickly.

  The John Hughes film She’s Having a Baby also combined styles. It began with a serious dramatic tone, moved into a certain amount of light comedy, had a marvelously funny scene of suburbanites mowing the lawn in a broadly choreographed farcical style, moved into romanticism, and then back into drama. Chances are that this variety of unintegrated styles was partially responsible for its lack of box office success.

  You must have an integrated style throughout the film. The style choice you make at the beginning will affect the choice of dialogue, images, costumes, acting style, even character and story choices. The style needs to be balanced. If the script is a horror comedy, the horror and comedy must work together. It cannot be a film with horror in some parts and comedy in a scene or two. If it’s a fantasy-farce, keep both fantasy and farce present for the duration of the film.

  Let the style fit the material. The Liberace docudramas contained a certain flamboyant style that worked well. If you were going to do a film about Douglas Hemmings or David Copperfield and their world of magic, you might create a magical, colorful style, perhaps adding more wonder and enchantment to the Hemmings story and more sensuality to the Copperfield film.

  MORE THAN JUST STYLE

  Style, in itself, won’t hold an audience. When working with a project that is highly stylized, give the audience more than just the style. If they don’t understand the style, they can still connect with the material through the story, theme, or characters. The film will work in spite of the style, and the audience can enjoy the other elements because of the style. There are no barriers to the audience’s enjoyment.

  Sometimes audiences feel that they didn’t like the style because they couldn’t follow the story. Or they couldn’t identify with any of the characters. Or they thought the story was without meaning or substance. Audiences can only enjoy the film if all the other elements, such as story, character, and theme, are clear, as well as the expression of these elements.

  One of the most important elements comes from the emotions that are elicited by the film. Audiences need to feel with and for the characters. Even though the characters will not be realistic, their emotions still need to seem real. If audiences can’t connect emotionally, it will be difficult for them to sustain interest.

  Think about how you connect emotionally to such highly stylized films as Edward Scissorhands or the films of David Lynch (Eraserhead, Wild at Heart) or Ken Russell (Women in Love).

  In stylized films that work, you appreciate the art of the filmmaker while never losing sight of what is being expressed.

  Setting the style, eliciting a mood, setting the right tone, and shading a scene or action are some of the most difficult aspects of adapting any material to film. These are the areas where adaptations often reach their highest level of art.

  APPLICATION

  The Phantom of the Opera is bigger than life. The roots of the play in the horror story and the romance implicitly give it a style that is more theatrical than realistic. There are broad characters that reinforce the style. The Phantom character is a powerful creation that can’t be equated with any ordinary realistic villain. The humorous characters are also broad and theatrical, such as Carlotta and the managers of the opera house, who are people we easily laugh at. The theatrical style reinforces the mythic themes and seems to be an essential part of the power of the story. But it is not a realistic style—and it is a story that does not seem to work well within a realistic framework. In 1990 a television miniseries of The Phantom of the Opera used a more realistic style. Although I found the story line of that production clearer than in the play, much of the magic and power were lost.

  Much of this theatrical style comes from the music. The music is passionate, emotional, melodic, soaring, compelling, and memorable. There is little dialogue—the music dominates.

  How will this musical style translate into film? There has not yet been a commercially successful film where the music dominates. Carmen did well as an art film, but I’m sure this Phantom is meant for mainstream audiences. Other successful musicals such as The Sound of Music, My Fair Lady, and Oliver! have been stories with music. In the previous chapters I mentioned that the film of Phantom warranted further character and story development. These additions could easily be expressed through dialogue, giving the musical style of Phantom a similarity to the musical style of other successful films in this genre. Some thought could be given to the riskier stylistic choice of letting the music dominate the other elements, which would mean adding additional music wh
ere story and character need further development. The prospect is intriguing, but might not work. In spite of the power of the music, the dominance of the musical style has the potential to make the film less accessible to mainstream audiences.

  The setting also sets the theatrical style. The play takes place mainly within the opera house. The settings are varied—a stage, a dressing room, the Phantom’s lair, an office, the roof, the opera ball around the main staircase, a graveyard, underground passageways, beyond the lake. Setting most of the play within an opera house makes the play fluid and cohesive. In a film this limited setting could feel claustrophobic. In the play there is one setting outside the opera house, the graveyard. This implies another world outside the opera house that could be explored. With further development of the relationship of Christine and Raoul, any number of locations could be chosen to further reinforce the dark-light, underworld-versus-above-world, imprisonment-versus-freedom themes.

  Although the style is not realistic, it’s identifiable. We’ve seen many broad styles in films, including farce and broad comedy, horror, and even the theatrical styles in such musical comedies as Gigi and An American in Paris. The translation of the style could be brilliant—provided it’s accessible and well worked out through the writing, directing, and art direction.

  SUMMARY

  The last four chapters have begun a process that you can use for the translation of any source material into film. Some of this analysis will be done unconsciously—you’ll start with a feeling about whether the original story would make a viable project. Some analysis will need to be done consciously, even methodically, to ensure a successful adaptation.

  In our analysis of The Phantom of the Opera, as with any source material, we still need to ask the essential question: “Will it work? Does this look like a viable adaptation, or are the dangers greater than the chance of success?”

  In the case of The Phantom of the Opera, we can see that this play has many elements that should make a workable translation. But it is not without its dangers. It is by no means a “sure thing.” The inherent problems we discussed, such as the need for clarity of backstory and further development of characters and story, all have to be addressed. There needs to be some thought to how to focus the theme, and how the characters will express those themes. There needs to be some refocusing and rethinking of the play, including deciding on the balance between the musical and theatrical styles. Most of the solutions, though, are implicit in the material. That is a good sign of a potentially workable adaptation.

  It is hoped that as you finish the initial evaluation of your source material, you’ll clearly be able to see the problems. Then, by analyzing the story, character, theme, and style you’ll be able to find workable solutions. In the case of The Phantom of the Opera, it looks as though it has the potential to be a brilliant film—and I, for one, am eagerly awaiting its adaptation.

  PART THREE

  TWICE TOLD—TWICE SOLD

  9

  OPTIONING A STORY

  I’m not a lawyer, but I know a good one. And that’s one piece of information you’ll need to know in order to protect your rights, and to protect whoever owns the rights to the story you want to option.

  As you read this chapter, remember that what I say does not substitute for the advice of an attorney. It is true that even if you have little money available, you can still option material. Under these circumstances, you may decide to use the model option agreement shown here to option original source material. But the agreement is not airtight. Only an attorney can guarantee your protection.

  WHAT CAN YOU OPTION?

  Consider these possible scenarios. Perhaps years ago you read a little-known novel and loved it. Since then you’ve written one screenplay, and for your second you’d like to adapt that novel into a film. What do you do to option the material? And do you have a chance of getting the rights?

  Last summer you were enraptured by your second cousin’s story about her trip to the Amazon. She was the first American scientist allowed into the rain forest to evaluate possible land uses. For a short time she was a friend of Chico Mendes, who worked to save the rain forests. With the renewed interest in ecology, the subject should be both topical and dramatic and make a good film. But how do you protect your rights—and hers?

  Everybody is talking about a new Off-Broadway play. You know there’s currently a bidding war over the rights between 20th Century-Fox and HBO, but the playwright seems reluctant to do business with them. You’d like to get in on the action—and you think you could give better guarantees to the playwright. How do you proceed?

  Stories that would make good films are everywhere. Often they’re in our own backyards. In my own immediate experience there are three stories that, if I were a writer or producer, I would consider optioning.

  1. Eugene Hasenfus, the mercenary who was shot down in Nicaragua, is from Marinette, Wisconsin, the city neighboring my hometown. For a short period of time I considered optioning rights to his story, because I thought he might be more apt to give me the option than a company he didn’t know and might not trust. My mother knew his wife, and kept me informed about his homecoming. This was a very hot story several years ago, and the kind of true-life experience that might make a good film.

  2. Sergeant Medina also lives in Marinette. You may remember that Sergeant Medina was accused, along with Lieutenant Calley, of shooting civilians during the Vietnam War. Although some people consider Vietnam to be passé as a film topic, this was a crucial incident in the Vietnam War that could possibly be made into a film. My mother used to teach his children, and had a connection that would have been useful to me if I wanted to option his rights.

  3. A few years ago, a book was published called The Cold War Romance of Lillian Hellman and John Melby, by Robert New-man. It was the story of a long-term relationship between the well-known American playwright and an American diplomat. Because of Melby’s relationship with Hellman he was believed to have Communist leanings and was called before the House Un-American Activities Committee. Soon afterward he lost his job. At no time was there any proof of any compromising circumstances, nor was there any proof that Lillian Hellman was a Communist. Yet he wouldn’t deny his relationship with her, and their relationship ended his career in the diplomatic service. The book takes the viewpoint that it was John Melby who was the great love of Lillian Hellman’s life, not Dashiel Hammett. If I had wanted to, I might have had a shot at obtaining the rights because I have a special connection to one of the main characters: John Melby is my husband’s uncle. Shortly after the book was published Robert Greenwald Productions optioned the book, with plans for either a feature film or a television movie.

  Chances are that even if you’re an inexperienced writer, there are stories like these within your reach that could make good films, and might even be your entree into film. This chapter is designed to help you understand the optioning process—how to proceed as you find books, plays, and stories that seem adaptable.

  AN OPTION VERSUS A SALE

  An option means that for a certain amount of time you have the exclusive right to purchase the rights to a novel, play, or true-life story. No one else can develop the material while you hold the option.

  An option is the right to buy something. You want to option a project (rather than buy it) so that you have tied up the rights for the smallest expense. This gives you time to try to sell the project, without tying up all your money in one project that may or may not sell.

  You do not need to option or buy a project that is in the public domain. When you decide you want to adapt a book, play, article, or true-life story, you first need to know if it is in the public domain. If not, you will then need to option or buy the material.

  WHEN IS A WORK IN THE PUBLIC DOMAIN?

  If the material is in the public domain you won’t need an option. Public domain material covers two different areas.

  Expired Copyright

  Current copyright laws protect works for t
he life of the author plus fifty years. If you want to base a script on a book that is no longer under copyright, you should be safe. This means that there are many famous works available. Probably all of the works of Mark Twain and Jack London would be in this category, along with the novels of E. M. Forster, Jane Austen, Charlotte Brontë, Charles Dickens, or any of the other classics from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Of course, there are no problems at all if you want to do a Shakespeare play.

  But you need to have some knowledge of copyright law to make sure the works are in the public domain. For instance, before January 1, 1976, the copyright law protected the writer for an initial term of twenty-eight years, plus a renewal term of twenty-eight years if the author and/or heirs renewed it before the expiration of the first term.

  Before optioning a book, you would need to examine whether the work was protected under the pre- or post-1976 law, and whether the original copyright term was extended for the second term. About the time of the enactment of the new law, Congress extended certain copyrights that were about to expire in the years between the late 1960’s and 1976. So if you are basing your script all or in part on a book that was originally copyrighted, make sure you know for sure whether it is in the public domain.

  Material That Is Part of the Public Record

  Public domain also refers to the wide body of material taken from the public press, from court documents, from recorded public documents, or from public agencies. If you’re writing a script about someone in the public eye who’s been the subject of many articles, you may not need their rights. If you’re writing about a trial, the court record may give you all the information you need.