Analyzing Literature-to-Film Adaptations: A Novelist's Exploration and Guide

321 Pages·2011·1.41 MB·English

by  Mary H. Snyder

Analyzing Literature- to-Film
Adaptations
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Analyzing Literature-t o-Film
Adaptations
A Novelist’s Exploration and Guide
Mary H. Snyder
2011
The Continuum International Publishing Group
80 Maiden Lane, New York, NY 10038
The Tower Building, 11 York Road, London SE1 7NX
www.continuumbooks.com
Copyright © 2011 by Mary H. Snyder
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a
retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written
permission of the publishers.
Library of Congress Cataloging- in- Publication Data
Snyder, Mary H.
Analyzing literature- to- fi lm adaptations: a novelist’s exploration and
guide / by Mary H. Snyder.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN- 13: 978- 1- 4411- 4998- 5 (hardcover: alk. paper)
ISBN- 10: 1- 4411- 4998- 8 (hardcover: alk. paper)
ISBN- 13: 978- 1- 4411- 6818- 4 (pbk.: alk. paper)
ISBN- 10: 1- 4411- 6818- 4 (pbk.: alk. paper) 1. Film adaptations—
History and criticism. 2. American fi ction—Film and video adaptations.
I. Title.

PN1997.85.S59 2011
791.43’75—dc22
2010022592
ISBN: HB: 978- 1- 4411- 4998- 5
PB: 978- 1- 4411- 6818- 4
Typeset by Pindar NZ, Auckland, New Zealand
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Introduction 1
Part One The Creation and Study of Literature 19
1 Premeditation 21
2 On Literary Creation 25
3 Before the Beginning: Understanding the Study of
Literature to Understand the Role of Literature in Our Lives 31
4 Literary Criticism/Analysis: Putting Theory into Practice 39
5 The List 73
6 A First Close Reading — Maria: The Injustices of Being
a Woman 77
7 Beginning Maria, Beginning Sentences, Beginning Literary
Creation 81
8 Critics on W omen’s Creations 87
9 Women Writers and Strategy 95
10 Deconstruction and Monsters 111
11 The Multiplicitous Nature of Intertextuality: Maria
andSentences 121
Part Two On Literature Becoming Film 135
12 My Novel as a Film 137
13 A Marriage of Media? 143
14 Attempts at a Screenplay 151
Part Three The Creation and Study of Film 155
15 My History with, and an Abbreviated History of, Film 157
16 Film Production 171
vi ANALYZING LITERATURE-TO-FILM ADAPTATIONS
17 The Elements of Film 177
18 Film Analysis 183
Part Four The Literature- to- Film Adaptation Conundrum 195
19 Approaching Literature-to-Film Adaptation 197
20 The Conundrum in Practice 201
21 Twelve Observations about Literature- to- Film Adaptation
Studies: A Disgruntled Novelist’s Perspective 239
22 Literature- to- Film Adaptation Analysis: Charting Some New
Territory 243
23 Why Teach Literature- to- Film Adaptation Analysis? Why
Learn It? 261
Appendix A1 “The Bear Came Over the Mountain”: Formalist
Questions for a Close Textual Reading of the Story 265
Appendix A2 Questions to Ask of Film — Away from Her 267
Appendix A3 Questions of Away from Her (and its source text) —
To Discuss in Class 269
Appendix A4 Intertextual Comparison of a Literature- to- Film
Adaptation 271
Appendix A5 Grade Sheet for Intertextual Comparison Paper 275
Appendix A6 Sample Paper One 277
Olga Roque

Appendix A7 Sample Paper Two 281
Kara Welch
Appendix B ENG 260: Lit, Flicks, and Chicks 285
Appendix C Sample Academic Essay: A Study in Intertextual
Comparison 289
Bibliography 301
Index 311
Introduction
This book explores the adaptation of literature to fi lm from the perspective of a novel-
ist, or fi ction writer. Admittedly, I would love to try my hand at a screenplay, as John
Irving did, and successfully, for the fi lm adaptation of one of his novels, The Cider
House Rules. I even wonder how it would be to direct a fi lm, although I’d probably
end up tearing out all of my hair by the time I fi nished, if I made it that far. John Irving
himself writes in My Movie Business, his memoir about the making of the fi lm The
Cider House Rules, that it’s his job to give his notes to the director, “. . . but, in the end,
there can only be one director . . . When I feel like being a director, I write a novel”
(Irving 1999b, 152).
As much as I like to imagine partaking in the role of director, or screenwriter for that
matter, the truth is the reality of doing so does not attract me. I love to write stories but
without the necessity of collaboration or frequent interruptions by the perspectives of
others as fi lmmakers must endure, and unfettered by a specifi c format as screenwrit-
ers must follow. In fact, I revel in making up stories about people in my spare time. I
lie in my bed in the morning for at least an hour and think of hypothetical people, or
characters, and their lives and their stories, and I let my imagination take over. I refer
to them as waking dreams of a sort. And, when it seems time to capture these stories
for the sake of posterity (and possible public display), the medium I slide into as if it
were my favorite, comfortable chair, softly worn, cushiony, and inviting, is the written
word, welcoming me to shape a narrative that best suits my subject, my characters, my
story — or, my plan of my imaginary world.
Writers of novels, and short stories, always have a plan, a strategy. And, this plan
unravels as they begin and continue in their process of creation. The plan and the pro-
cess vary for each writer. John Irving, for example, explains his process:
Most of my friends who are novelists have told me that they never know the end of
their novels when they start writing them; they fi nd it peculiar that for my novels I
need to know, and I need to know not just the ending, but every signifi cant event in
the main characters’ lives. When I fi nally write the fi rst sentence, I want to know
everything that happens, so that I am not inventing the story as I write it; rather, I am
remembering a story that has already happened. The invention is over by the time I
begin. All I want to be thinking of is the language — the sentence I am writing, and
1
2 ANALYZING LITERATURE-TO-FILM ADAPTATIONS
the sentence that follows it. Just the language. (Irving 1999b, 156)
When I wrote my novel, I started with two short stories about two different women
whose lives I began overlapping. I didn’t know my beginning, my middle, or my end
when I began. The novel grew as I grew with it. Irving employs the method above
for writing each of his novels, he reiterated during a talk he gave at a writer’s confer-
ence. I, on the other hand, am looking to another novel, beginning with a vague idea
of a plan, and letting the subject matter and characters carry me along for a while.
Then I’ll know what to do. I rely on an inner guidance while Irving prefers to focus
on the language of his work as he begins. Other writers have other processes. Michael
Cunningham, for The Hours, began the novel as a contemporary version of Virginia
Woolf’sMrs. Dalloway. He almost threw away his fi rst attempt, until he considered
adding a character based on his mother, changing the dynamics of the novel. When
he came upon this revelation about the novel, he decided not to “kiss it goodbye,” and
explains that at this point all he had to do was write it.
Misconceptions of the creation of a novel, when looking at literature- to- fi lm adapta-
tion, seem to abound. Those who study fi lm adaptation do not consider with much depth
what goes into making a novel, while they are quite focused on defending the multitude
of factors that go into making a fi lm. I’m not disputing the latter, but I expend quite
a bit of this book addressing the former. I do so not only to justify my own work, in
elaborating on what went into creating my own novel and all the factors leading to its
production, but also to justify the work of novelists and fi ction writers, which it seems
necessary to do. I’ve discovered that approaching literature-t o-fi lm adaptation from a
novelist’s perspective is a rather unique perspective, in that most of the scholars and
experts on the subject that I’ve read began with some form of a literary training, and
developed an educational and often experiential background in the art of fi lm, and fi lm
theory and analysis. Some of these scholars are strictly trained in fi lm studies. Many
of these individuals teach fi lm, and are referred to as fi lm experts.
I hail from a literature department, but my interest in fi lm is limited. And, primarily,

it’s limited to fi lm adaptation. I appreciate fi lm, and I respect the art and see it as art, but
my focus is literature, and the dynamics of adaptation of the literary to the fi lmic have
become fascinating to me. At fi rst, I was intimidated by the concept, especially from
the personal perspective that my novel could be made into a fi lm. However, through
my research and as my own thoughts on the topic have developed and evolved, I’ve
become more comfortable with literature- to- fi lm adaptation. I don’t see the process
as one medium hacking away at the other, or disrespecting the other, although that
can occur if the process is mishandled. I also don’t see the fi lm adaptation process
as requiring “fi delity” or “faithfulness” to the original text on no uncertain terms. I
believe a literature-t o-fi lm adaptation process-t o-p roduct can be successful within
parameters that are not necessarily narrow or limiting, but that are mindful, however,
of the source text.
I’ve come to see literature-t o-fi lm adaptation as a form of intertextuality worthy of
intense study and exploration, from many angles, allowing for critical study that can be
made accessible not only to high school or undergraduate college students, but also to
the layperson. By layperson, I refer to any individual with an inquiring mind, although
Introduction 3
not necessarily one with a scholarly mind who wants to probe the more intricate aspects
of fi lm adaptation, or who wants to write a book or make a movie. Perhaps the book
clubs begun several years ago might even consider taking on discussions of fi lm adap-
tations, once given the basic tools for doing so. What I want to do is make those tools
available to those individuals interested in viewing literature- to- fi lm adaptation from a
more informed perspective. This book is for the student who would like to turn a more
discriminating eye towards the practice and theory of adapting literature to fi lm. Where
does one begin to analyze the process? Where does one begin to analyze the produc-
tion? Where does one begin to scrutinize the entire system of adaptation? Where does
one begin and how does one continue?
The main objective of this book is to put forth a means to analyze literature- to- fi lm
adaptations, and from this point, I will refer to literature- to- fi lm adaptations as lit-
to- fi lm adaptations, for the sake of writing and reading ease. I do not defend the fi lm
aspect of lit- to- fi lm adaptation, but instead introduce specifi c critical approaches that
can be applied to analyzing lit-t o-fi lm adaptation, contending that to do so fairly is to
reinstate the importance of the literature in lit- to- fi lm adaptation.
Since I am approaching lit-t o-fi lm adaptation from the perspective of a novelist
who has written a text that could be considered for fi lm adaptation and I examine the
complexities that accompanies this action for a writer, I’ve taken note that in the midst
of all the discourse surrounding lit- to- fi lm adaptation, most attention by some quite
fi ne minds has been focused on a defense of the fi lm piece of lit-t o-fi lm adaptation.
For example, fi lm theorist Robert Stam in his introduction to Literature and Film: A
Guide to the Theory and Practice of Film Adaptation devotes an entire section entitled
“The Roots of a Prejudice” to an examination of how the literature has been privileged
automatically in the discourse on the quality of its adaptation to fi lm, due to its assumed
superiority to fi lm. Yet as he continues, his discussion of originality and source texts
from a poststructuralist perspective signal to me quite problematic issues, especially
for the novelist. Thomas Leitch, Brian McFarlane, Timothy Corrigan, among others,
also present arguments concerning fi lm adaptation studies that, even if subtly, spend a

good amount of time and energy defending fi lm and its quality and value, and its limi-
tations and specifi cities, which I don’t feel is necessary. (That is, they often contradict
themselves by being almost overly defensive of fi lm. If fi lm needs to be so defended,
does this not imply that it is not only seen as less, but that it might be less? I don’t see
fi lm as less, but I also don’t see it as more, or in need of so much protection.)
I am fair to both the literature and fi lm in my presentation of lit- to- fi lm adapta-
tion, or at least that is my design. We’ve come to a point in our culture where fi lm has
become increasingly respected as a text and has begun to fi nd its place in academia, to
the point that perhaps its defense has been successful. However, now it’s time to con-
sider both literature and fi lm and the parts they both play in a lit-t o-fi lm adaptation, in
an equitable manner.
I’ve searched endlessly and have not found a book about lit-t o-fi lm adaptation from
the perspective of the writer. A few writers have chronicled their personal experience
with fi lm adaptation, but these are not analytical approaches to the “discipline.” I’ve
wondered about that. It seems most scholars that speak to lit- to- fi lm adaptation analy-
sis and theory assume they understand unequivocally the creation process of fi ction or