I have never read King Lear before (minus the first 3 acts I have just read and a prose/summary of the play). I decided to read the folio version mainly because I found it to be more detailed and easier to understand--in way. After briefly discussing the concept of adaptations and authenticity in class, I decided that I would discuss in this blog post Jane Smiley's book adaptation of Shakespeare's King Lear---A Thousand Acres and the film adaptation of the book. I have not read the book, but I did watch the movie and it was intriguing to experience the limitations and capacities of adaptations.
A Thousand Acres does not stick closely to the original Shakespeare, which makes for an interesting and insightful adaptation. The setting is changed to a small farm town in Iowa during the 1980s and the break or downfall of the family occurs when the father (Larry Cook) decides that he is getting old and needs to divide and equally distribute his farm amongst his three daughters (Ginny, Rose, and Caroline). Ginny (Goneril) and Rose (Regan) are excited to hear the news, while Caroline is reluctant and doubtful. This hesitancy angers the father and he quickly disowns Caroline.
There are major differences in the novel that I think were interesting decisions made by the author. First of all, the story is narrated and told from the perspective of Goneril. In Shakespeare’s original play, Goneril is the first to turn against the king and is basically made to be cruel and villainous, while in the novel, the reader listens to the unexplained side of the daughters and the king is made to be cruel, tempered, and cold-hearted.
Smiley won a Pulitzer prize for this novel, but she has also received a lot of criticism—the main attack being that she attempted to “fix” what Shakespeare did not do well or at all. She explains, “Tyranny went unexplored [in King Lear]. In fact, tyranny seemed to be embraced, and for no reason that I could discern. Was I supposed to pity Lear because he was a father? Because he was the king? Because he was foolish and/or senile?”
I think Smiley asked questions that had not been asked before and offered an imaginative and thought-provoking adaptation of King Lear. She was especially bothered by the fact that the women were not excused for being cruel (or given no background to their reasoning) while the King’s actions go unquestioned and even pitied. As a separate entity, I appreciate that the women are given the voice of reason and clarity, while the traditional misogynistic father/king is allowed no sympathy.
Lastly, after reading numerous reviews on both the book and the film, it was surprising and interesting to see how even the film adaptation of A Thousand Acres strayed or failed in capturing what the book succeeded in. The fact that the film did not capture the essence of the novel really made me think about theatre adaptation today, but especially in Shakespeare’s time. Each performance could not have been the same because actors changed, and even if they didn’t their performance could not be identical for every single showing. The director of a film has a tremendous influence on the direction of the film, just like directors of Shakespeare’s plays have the power to influence how the audience will interpret or experience the play.
Below are links to the trailer of A Thousand Acres as well as a few reviews on the book and film.
As I mentioned in class today, I had no idea that Smiley's novel was an adaptation of King Lear. When I read it in high school, I was aware that Smiley was purposely portraying the father as a tyrannical figure, but because I did know about the link between him and Lear, I now see the novel in a completely different way.
ReplyDeleteI think it's interesting that Smiley takes a completely different approach to the Lear story by telling it from a daughter's point-of-view, since I've never really been convinced of Lear's position as the victim. In Shakespeare's play, Lear is shown as the poor father who is rejected and mistreated by his daughters, and much of the dialogue compels the reader to feel sympathy for the "unfortunate" king. Although I do admit that Lear has reason to feel like the victim in some ways, I also believe that he brings much of his problems upon himself. Lear's decision to banish Cordelia and his power games (i.e. the "contest" he holds in the beginning of the play when dividing his kingdom) leads to his misfortune in the later parts of the play.
Therefore, Smiley's decision to look at Lear from an entirely different perspective allows the idea of Lear as a tyrant (not a victim) to unfold. In my opinion, an adaptation should bring something new to the table, and Smiley's novel does just that. It's easy to see Lear as the sad old man who has been abandoned by his daughters, but I think it's important to remember that he doesn't help his situation when he makes foolish decisions and acts rashly. While it is harsh that Goneril and Regan see him as a senile man who has lost his authority and status, Lear's brash actions only serve to highlight this senility--whether it exists or not.
I liked your comment in discussion, Tammy, and I like the way you elaborate on it here. I'm particularly intrigued, not just by your (and Smiley's) interpretation of Lear as more tyrant than victim, but with the idea that an adaptation allows a new idea about a character or text to "unfold" (your verb). So, I'm trying to think about the relationship between adaptation and source text that your comment supports...an adaptation "brings something new to the table" and also allows something to develop or again "unfold" from the original text. I guess my question to you would be: is Smiley rewriting Lear and in the process adding IN something to the text that didn't previously exist? or is she emphasizing something that was already present, albeit in a subtle manner? At least one of the reviewers that Gerri cites sides with the latter position:
ReplyDelete"I’m not persuaded, either, by Smiley’s argument that “tyranny [goes] unexplored” in Lear, or that Shakespeare “took for granted Lear’s claims as a king and a man.” To me the power of Lear lies in showing how flimsy those claims are, and how rapidly they can disintegrate. Lear’s tyrannical commands in the first scene (the infamous “love test”) prove disastrous, while his misogynistic rants (“Down from the waist they are centaurs, / Though women all above”) are clearly shown to be the product of impotent fury—as well as an increasingly unstable mind."
On a different note, I was very struck by Smiley's claim, paraphrased in this review, that while working on the Lear adaptation, "she caught a glimpse into the mind of Shakespeare—and found it less godlike than many would imagine." Any responses to this comment? How might the act of adapting a text allow access (or the illusion of access) into an author's mind? Why might the experience be a disillusionment of sorts?
Its ironic that Smiley would argue Shakespeare to be "less godlike than many would imagine" when she is the one who pens a novel based upon Shakespeare's work: It is an awful lot of work to go through in order to comment upon someone's work that is in Simley's view, less than.
DeleteAlthough I'm getting to this comment a little late, I wanted to answer your questions. I think that Smiley, in her adaptation of King Lear, doesn't really write something completely new but builds on something that already exists. However, as you said, that existing element is subtle in Shakespeare's King Lear. There are moments when Lear's "tyranny" is evident. I don't have the book with me at the moment, so I won't be able to quote anything directly, but the scene in which Lear commands his daughters to express their love for him is a pretty good example. As we discussed in class, this display of love seems to be a show of power rather than a result of Lear's sincere desire to know how much his daughters love him. This is clear in the fact that Lear seems to have divided his kingdom already, so his daughters' professions of their love are simply shows for his benefit. It's as if he can see what he can do from his position of status--how far his daughters will go in order to get their parts of the kingdom.
DeleteHowever, this scene--which compels the reader to question Lear's judgment most of the time--is overshadowed by the suffering Lear endures throughout the rest of the play. After he is abandoned by his daughters and forced to roam the land, Lear appears as a poor old man who has been unfairly punished, and his former displays of tyranny are lost. However, Smiley, then, develops and elaborates on an aspect that already exists; it is just that the same aspect is not as obvious in Shakespeare's Lear. As I said before, Smiley's decision to tell the Lear story from another perspective--the perspective of a character readers would normally see as the antagonist--brings out the element of tyranny to the forefront.
Lear's insistance on receiving praise from his daughters and egotistical tendencies-that continue even until his death-only illuminate his humanity. Ultimately, don't we all want to hear how wonderful we are and how much everyone loves us? It's wrong to demand that others to express it on command because of the awkwardness involved. However, in this case, Lear is in a lot of ways being more truthful to himself than any of the other characters. Even Cordelia, admits much later on-when she sees her father for the first time as a crazy person-something to the effect of, "I should have just sucked it up and told him what he wanted to hear". Lear, never retracts his request to hear how much his daughters love him, because in his mind being truthful is all a person has to offer- their "dowry" as he says. As manipulative as Lear comes across in that scene, Lear was unapologetically practicing the truthfulness he preaches about. In that regard, if the scene had played out differently and Lear was a typical kind father, not the tyrant as Smiley views him as, Lear would have been a hypocrite and his character would have been even more flawed and inherently dishonest than he already is. Are we all tyrants because we have desires we don't express-such as hearing how wonderful we are, or is Lear only viewed as a tyrant because he's male and he expresses those desires?
DeleteI think it is really interesting to read Lear as the most overtly honest participant in this scene --honest in the sense that he is shamelessly advertising his desire for flattery. So, honest in the sense that he is asking for hypocrisy, or acknowledging that the world runs on hypocrisy. (elsewhere, when he says to Cordelia, "Thy truth, then, be thy dower" he doesn't sound as if he is endorsing truth, exactly. I guess I read that response slightly differently than Sarah does).
DeleteI don't quite follow at the end that we could all be tyrants if we have desires that we don't express--do you mean that, if we define Lear's tyranny on the basis of his expression of his desires--we all have the potential to be tyrants, but most of us spend our lives as hypocrites instead?
anyway, all these comments really inform the closing lines of the play: "speak what we feel, and not what we ought to say." a lot here about speaking about, or as Gloucester later says, seeing the world "feelingly.
In response to Gerri's post, Smiley's A Thousand Acres sounds fascinating! The first time I was exposed to King Lear in high school, my gut instinct was to side with the pitiable, ill-treated father whose two eldest daughters appear to focus on the possession of power and land instead of their father's misery. However, after watching an excerpt of the opening act in the film adaptation we viewed in class, my view of the characters, particularly King Lear and Cordelia, changed significantly. The creators of an adaptation definitely hold the power to take an original text in any direction depending on their interpretation of tone and facial expressions alone, both of which are left to our imagination when reading Shakespeare's original work.
ReplyDeleteIn response to Smiley's claim that "she caught a glimpse into the mind of Shakespeare-and found it less godlike than many would imagine," it seems understandable that the act of adapting a text would allow access (or the illusion of access) into the writer's mind. In many cases, following in the footsteps of an author, but intending to fix what he or she "did wrong" the first time around or merely tailoring a twist to it, results in thinking about what the writer intended to do originally. By writing about a character in such a way, what was the author's intention? What was the intended message by creating a happy ending or a tragic downfall? In answering these questions, the writer may realize (justly or falsely) that he or she now understands the reasons behind the artistic choices the author made. Unfortunately, this experience could be a disillusionment in that a formerly unexplored and unquestioned aspect of the story would normally be accepted and even embraced; however, as with most things, asking questions sometimes results in the loss of magic or luster. Although Smiley's comment is understandable, more often than not, an author's original intentions are not always as they seem as adapting a text is not a foolproof access to the mind.