Theatre is a media of adaptation: playscripts are written with the prerequisite that they will be adapted. But what should an ‘adaptation’ entail? Should it be as close as possible to the source material, or should it create something new and separate?
My favourite Shakespeare play is Hamlet which, like most Shakespeare plays, has been adapted countless times. I have seen many adaptations, both in person and on screen: I have seen a one-man clown Hamlet, a circus Hamlet, and a version of Hamlet without any of the parents, just to name a few.
Kenneth Branagh’s 1996 version has been praised as the most ‘faithful’ adaptation of Hamlet, so I expected to enjoy it, as it would be the closest to the script that I loved so much. However, I found it to be unnecessarily long and uninspired. Hamlet is a play that is meant to be cut down when it is adapted, so that certain themes can be prioritised over others. I felt that Branagh took the play at face value and did little more than put the words to action, providing minimal personal input.
‘Faithful’ is an interesting term when it comes to adaptations. It is often used in praise, suggesting that when an adaptation is closest to the original author’s intent, that is when it is best. I would instead argue that an adaptation becomes most exciting when it is unfaithful — when a completely new artwork stems from another. There are new minds at work in an adaptation, and I expect to see their influence as well as that of the original creator.
Stage adaptations of movies have been an increasingly popular phenomenon. Theatre and cinema as forms are relatively close, though there are obviously limitations and opportunities that arise from both. When a film is adapted into a stage production, it is crucial that the difference between the mediums is respected. A film to stage production will appear half-hearted when it is treated solely as a novelty, when it is just a different way to watch the exact same film.
The Noël Coward Theatre in London recently had a run of Dr Strangelove, adapted from Kubrick’s film and starring Steve Coogan. As a fan of Armando Iannucci and Steve Coogan’s collaborations, I was looking forward to seeing Dr Strangelove through their lens. Despite Coogan’s impressive and hilarious performance, very little was actually changed from the film. It seemed as though I was just watching the film again but with a different actor, and I was getting very little sense of Iannucci and Coogan’s influence. Even the set, though visually stunning, appeared almost as an exact replica of the film set. I was sitting there, thinking that I had Dr Strangelove at home.
In contrast, a stage adaptation of Studio Ghibli’s My Neighbour Totoro, incorporating puppetry and actors, is currently showing in London’s West End. This adaptation steers from the source material to explore the new opportunities that theatre brings about, taking advantage of the space on the stage to create an enchanting visual experience. A Guardian review praising the production stated that “there is another imagination at work here,” which is precisely what I have come to desire from an adaptation. A new imagination sparking from the old one.
In a cultural climate where it seems like almost every major production is an adaptation of some sorts, it is especially important to bring something new, so that theatre does not become a constant replica of itself. Theatre is such an imaginative and deeply personal form, with the actors and audience participating in one room together, that it feels a disservice to the form to be regurgitating the same ideas and themes with no further input. When change and opportunity is embraced, rather than avoided, that is when theatre can be at its most compelling. Adaptations are meant to adapt, beyond just the form.
Photo by stefano stacchini on Unsplash