My wife and
I are in a season of watching BBC TV adaptations of great literary works. The
works of Eliot, Tolstoy, Austen, Hardy and Dickens have graced our TV screen in
recent weeks, and they make for pleasant viewing. And as a funny aside, when we
moved in, we named every room in our house after great authors or scientists,
with 4 of the above 5 each proudly bearing a sign - all except poor Tolstoy,
who has yet to find a room. But while watching the TV adaptation of
Middlemarch, I sensed more and more of an issue I have with these
dramatisations – they are so far removed from the written content of the book
that their viewing is at best a pale imitation of the terrific works of
literature they claim to represent.
When watching Middlemarch, I noticed that the adaptation rarely uses George Eliot’s actual words - and for a novel so dependent on its narrator's wise, ironic and deeply humane voice, that absence leaves a noticeable gap. I’d put Middlemarch up there with the greatest ever literary works – and reading Middlemarch is a profound experience in large part because of the way George Eliot guides us through the inner lives of her characters as the narrator. Her narration offers one of the broadest insights of the multiple characters you will ever read, often pausing the story to reflect on human nature, morality, and the quiet dignity of ordinary lives. Without this voice, the drama lacks much of the book’s power, because it is devoid of the means to convey Eliot’s brilliant, intricate and meditative prose.
Much of the book’s brilliance lies in inviting the reader to bathe in superb long sentences, philosophical digressions, and subtle ironies - none of which fit easily into the rhythms of spoken dialogue. I suspect the BBC thought that adapting Middlemarch faithfully would mean laying out the story in psychologically sophisticated voiceover narration and long cerebral speeches that might alienate modern viewers – but if they were prepared to sacrifice that, then it’s no longer authentic Middlemarch, it’s just a fairly decent TV period drama.
I felt the same about the adaptations of Jane Austen’s works. Her novels are also rich with irony, wit, and precise social observation, much of which lies not in what her characters say, but in what the narrator says about them. Austen’s tone is also difficult to capture without quoting her directly – and the adaptations we watched (Pride and Prejudice, Emma, Mansfield Park, Northanger Abbey and Persuasion) kind of…kind of… preserve the broad strokes of her stories and the charm of her characters, and with great casts of actors too, but they lose the razor-sharp narrative voice that gives Austen’s work its enduring brilliance.
I find there’s a slightly different problem with the Dickens TV adaptations. Dickens was a master of theatrical dialogue and memorable caricature, and much of his writing does lend itself to performance. But I found his adaptations often underplayed his darker satire, his biting political commentary, the fierce sense of justice conveyed with such energy and invention, and the rhythm and richness of his prose.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m sympathetic that it’s difficult to adapt novels like the above without flattening some of their depth, but I lament the fact that these adaptations feel like a sketch of something much fuller – so brutally stripped of the artistry, rhythm, and soul that made the original profound. It must be a deliberate decision on the part of the creators – but it’s a bit like listening to a symphony through our 20 year old Honda’s car speakers, where the melody remains, but the nuance, texture, and emotional resonance are muffled and diminished.
