Heritage, Hispanic, and Hollywood

“‘The making of a film out of an earlier text is virtually as old as the machinery of cinema itself. Well over half of all commercial films have come from literary originals, though by no means all of these originals are revered or respected.’ ” (Karen E. Kline)

We’ve all heard it countless times, walking beside an annoyed movie-goer while exiting the theater, or have even said it ourselves– “The book was so much better,” or “It was nothing like the book,” or perhaps “Did (insert name of director) even read the book?” Film adaptations of novels have suffered the scrutiny of hard-to-please audiences for decades, whether they are bringing Harry Potter or 19th century classics to the screen. If we are so often dissatisfied with seeing the words on the page come to life in costumes and gestures, why do these films continue to be made? Why don’t the directors of adaptations simply create something new if they aren’t going to “stay true” to the novel? Is it even possible to successfully translate the novel into visual language? Can the movie ever be better than the book?

This blog aims to examine such questions, and others, through an analysis of three film versions of Emily Bronte’s infamous novel Wuthering Heights (1847). These versions include: Abismos de Pasion (Mexico, 1954), directed by the well-known and controversial hispanic filmmaker Luis Bunuel; Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights (UK, 1992), directed by Peter Kosminsky, featuring Juliette Binoche as Cathy Linton and Ralph Fiennes as Heathcliff; and Wuthering Heights (USA, 2003) an adaptation of the novel directed by Suri Krishnamma for the popular television channel MTV.

From the fledgling years of filmmaking to the present day, adaptations of novels seem to make up their own genre of sorts, having acquired a wide range of criticism concerning their merit. More often than not, critics and scholars seem to stand behind one of two broad beliefs about adaptations: either adaptations are inherently problematic, or they “deserve a break” because the novel and the film cannot even occupy the same realm.

How, then, do we approach this “genre?” Karen E. Kline offers four “critical paradigms of film adaptation,” and they are as follows:

1. The “translation” paradigm. This perspective “judges the film’s effectiveness primarily in terms of its ‘fidelity’ to the novel, particularly with regard to narrative elements, such as character, setting, and theme” (70). This particular perspective can sometimes be reductive, since it may ignore the cinematic merit of a given film, instead judging it solely on its “equivalency” (or lack thereof) to the novel.
2. The “pluralist” paradigm. This perspective values “the film’s ability to present a coherent fictive world within itself which bears significant traces of the novel operating at a somewhat abstract emotional/intellectual level” (71). This model of criticism is concerned not with the film’s absolute “fidelity” to the novel, but with its “ability to exist in its own right but also convey such qualities as the novel’s mood, tone, and values” (72).
3. The “transformation” paradigm. Those who agree with this perspective “consider the novel raw material which the film alters significantly, so that the film becomes an artistic work in its own right” (72). This perspective considers the adaptation as an artistic venture, thus rendering “equivalency” and “fidelity” unnecessary. This kind of criticism may become problematic if it ends up “privileging the cinematic text over its literary source” (73).
4. The “materialist” paradigm. “Critics adopting this approach examine the film as a product of cultural-historical processes” (74). This perspective is interested in examining how the social, political, and economic (etc.) atmospheres of a given time effect the making of a film, even if it is adapted from a novel; “the materialist paradigm recognizes that both novel and film ‘have histories and are in turn grounded in history…” (74).

Steve Punt offers a very different set of criteria for the adaptation “genre” in his review for The Sunday Times (London) titled “Full Metal Dustjacket.” Through his bitingly sarcastic outline of “the ground-rules for adapting books for the screen,” Punt makes explicit commentary on the nature of filmmaking as formulaic and uninspired. Some of Punt’s ground-rules are as follows:

1. Buy any fashionable book, regardless of its suitability.
3. All novel-readers are sophisticated liberals, whereas moviegoers are retarded cretins.
5. Always give preference to a star name, regardless of whether they even remotely suit the part.
6. No special effects budget can equal human imagination.
7. If at all possible, write the screenplay from the dust-jacket synopsis rather than the book.
8. If all else fails, it is possible to make a film which has nothing to do with the book.
10. Avoid above pitfalls by finding a ready-made genre. (If you can’t pigeonhole the book, forget it.)

Punt’s suggestion that film adaptations of novels lack creativity and artistic merit above all else is as bold as it is controversial. In a way, Punt may be right–how many times can you really turn Bronte’s novel into a film? However, there is something to be said for such a novel’s timelessness. Its story has been proven to be a universal one, transcending the boundaries of location, language, and time; what is it about Heathcliff and Catherine’s romance that makes it just as appealing to a Mexican audience in the 1950s as it is to teenagers of the 21st century?

One of the key issues to keep in mind when considering film adaptations is that our generation is one that is prone to turn away from the written word, instead turning towards visual media. In an age when television and the internet are dominant forces in our every day lives, it is easy to see why most would much rather hit a switch than flip a page. Robert A. Rosenstone calls film “a disturbing symbol of an increasingly postliterate world (in which people can read but won’t)” (50). He goes on to say that film has even “invaded the classroom, though it is difficult to specify if this is due to the ‘laziness’ of teachers, the postliteracy of students, or the realization that film can do something written words cannot” (51).

If Rosenstone’s assertions are correct, it is then important to evaluate how the postliteracy of our society compromises literature as a whole, especially within the classroom. Assuming it will remain crucial for students of the future to be taught such “classic” and canonical literature as Bronte’s Wuthering Heights, it then becomes necessary to figure out how an increasing lack of interest in reading such literary works can be reconciled with their importance. If people (primarily students) refuse to read, can film adaptations impart the knowledge of such texts satisfactorily? Is it better to have some understanding of such works, as portrayed through visual media, than to have none at all?

Unfortunately, visual media–film, in particular–is inherently problematic. Apart from film’s basic inability to fit 300 pages worth of text into 90 minutes worth of film, Rosenstone suggests that “Films are inaccurate. They distort the past. They fictionalize, trivialize, and romanticize people, events, and movements” (50). Rosenstone also addresses the issue of invention,and how it is an unavoidable part of filmmaking; he says “the camera’s need to fill out the specifics of a particular…scene, or to create a coherent (and moving) visual sequence, will always ensure large doses of invention” (60).  These very issues come up in the three films that are analyzed closely in this blog, particularly in relation to the construction of Heathcliff and Catherine’s relationship (i.e. inserting romantic scenes that do not exist in the novel). 

While it is easy to disregard film adaptations as failed attempts at portraying the written word through visual language, it is important to remember that the novel and the film are distinct from one another. “The word works differently from the image. The word can provide vast amounts of data in a small space. The word can generalize, talk of great abstractions…film must summarize, synthesize, generalize, symbolize–in images” (Rosenston, 62). By examining Abismos de Pasion, Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights, and Wuthering Heights (MTV) in terms of cinematography, mise-en-scene, the portrayal of Heathcliff and Catherine’s relationship, and the portrayal of Heathcliff as Other, this blog aims to determine how well film can actually “summarize, synthesize, generalize, and symbolize” Bronte’s original novel.

Ultimately, this is the question: Do these three adaptations of Wuthering Heights cheapen Bronte’s original work in their inability to stay wholly faithful to the text, or do they enhance it, by perpetuating its relevance?

 

 

Just for Fun

If this is getting too intense, check out some of these less serious adaptations of Wuthering Heights.

In the mood for some interpretive dance? Kate Bush is just what you need. Listen closely to the lyrics!

 

In the mood for some laughs? Monty Python’s interpretation of Wuthering Heights is just what you need. (Fast-forward to the 1:25 mark)