The book was better

I had an argument a few days ago about a film that came out last year, of Dumas’ classic book The Three Musketeers. If you haven’t seen it… Don’t. It’s absolutely awful, and I don’t think anyone would argue much with that. It's not only not worth the price (any price), it's not worth the time taken to watch it. The argument was more over why it was terrible – specifically, over the ahistorical aspects of the film. Like airships. I was actually defending this part – I always get a little annoyed about the idea of someone defending the purity of literature and not allowing anything to get in its way. The concept of adding supernatural elements to a previously mundane story is one that goes back to Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

Well, actually, it goes back a lot further than Shakespeare’s Hamlet, but the point is that Shakespeare did it in Hamlet. The number one rule of English Literature is ‘If Shakespeare did it, it’s OK’*.  And some of the most beloved tales of the English Language have come from the steady addition of fantastic elements to stories. By which I mean the King Arthur Mythos, even if he was originally a Welsh story.

Hell, whilst I’m going on with this, Dumas himself wasn’t exactly married to historical accuracy. I’m not going to try to give you a shopping list, but if memory serves, D’Artigan didn’t actually join the Musketeers until about ten years after the novel takes pace. The purpose of the storyteller, regardless of medium, is to entertain the audience. If I want to read The Three Musketeers, I have a copy. Even if I didn’t, there’s one in the library, and if it has been lent out, lost, or eaten by a tribe of hungry pigmies, the book also appears on Project Gutenberg. So I can read the original story, thank you very much. Now, that’s not to say that there’s anything wrong with the adaptation of books to film. Doing so can expose stories to a wider audience, and themes can become clearer and more comprehensible to the audience than they were in the original book – but that means that what makes it worthwhile is that it is to some extent changed from the original novel.

True, there is something to be said for sticking as close as possible to the original – if you’re adapting to film a brilliant and beloved novel which is universally agreed to be a work of true genius, then there’s a good chance that whatever changes you make are going to be for the worse**. But when something’s been adapted to film as often as The Three Musketeers has, you’re going to have to come up with something better than improved graphics and new actors to make the thing interesting. That’s why you have things like Muppet Treasure Island, The Wiz and Snow White Blood Red. It’s why the last time I went to see Macbeth, Patrick Stewart was carrying automatic weaponry. So frankly, some flashy new visual effects – which have significantly less actual effect on the plot than the fact that d’Artigan didn’t actually join the musketeers for about ten years after the beginning of the novel, don’t really do much except add some much needed perceived innovation to a film which would otherwhise have been about as interesting and well attended as last time I threw a party. Plus, it let us show off the one thing that’s inarguably gotten better since the last time someone made a Musketeer film, the graphics. There is nothing sacred about the works of previous authors. They made stuff up, and you can make stuff up that you think will improve their work*****. It’s admirably like natural selection – the good stuff survives, and the bad stuff dies out (oh hey, look, I made a biologist cry).

The only other thing I could mention is the conversion from ‘fiction’ to ‘fantasy’. A lot of people who wouldn’t demand slavish devotion to the books, will complain when said book changes genre. I understand that one. I probably wouldn’t go to see a Sherlock Holmes Rom-Com. Actually, I might, but I’d be seriously iffy about the quality of the thing. I don’t think that this applies to fantasy, because fantasy doesn’t actually dictate anything about the plot. The requirement of fiction is that it is that which is not. The requirement of fantasy is that it is that which could not be. There are far more ‘fantasy’ possibilities than non-fantasy ones, and you can write literally anything under the umbrella of the fantasy genre – there are whole genres that are possible in fantasy which can’t possibly be done outside of it. Which means that fantasy is kinda stupid as a genre in the first place. Plus, unless you’re omniscient, you actually can’t tell the difference between ‘fantasy’ and ‘not-fantasy’ anyway.

I must remind myself at some point to spend much too long ranting about Tolkein’s influence on the entire fantasy genre. But I’m pretty sure that I’ve made my point on this particular line. Bye bye.

*Actually, that’s untrue. There are certain things that Shakespeare did that you can’t do today, either because it’s a product of his time, like the sexism of Taming of the Shrew, the racism of The Merchant of Venice, and the constant writing in Iambic pentameter, or because he’s Shakespeare, and has the literary talent to pull off things that would make anyone else look like a complete idiot. The addition of fantasy elements to existing tales is not in either category.

**Let us take, for example, the 2011 edition of The Three Musketeers. Ignoring the fantastic elements, it was actually pretty close to Dumas’ original novel. Which is good thing, because most of the changes they did make were for the worse – the heroes were boring in pretty much every way, the fights were uninteresting and tension-free***, the level of inter-heroic conflict made my social skills look… extant, anyway.  Seriously, you had to make Athos give the whole ‘love is awesome’ speech. Bloody Athos? I know I said that I don’t mind changes to the source, but you’re throwing away a source of conflict, removing depth and complexity from a character, and not improving the film in any way above if Aramis had said it – which would have given the guy some much needed development. And the presumably conventionally attractive female turns out not to be too bad right at the end. Give me a break. In the atmosphere of Dumas’ novel, that might’ve helped create an interesting and somewhat morally ambiguous character****. In an atmosphere so black and white it makes a zebra look uniform, it’s just a stupid out of place ‘beauty equals goodness’. Plus, it was so predictable I spontaneously developed clairvoyance. I could go on, but you get the point.

***Which can be fine, or even good. Just not in a film where the entire focus is on the fight scenes. It means that everything is basically visuals. Again, not necessarily bad. I will willingly defend Avatar purely as a kind of three-hour long moving painting. The visuals, unfortunately were not those of Avatar.

****Actually, I might be wrong, but if memory serves, Milady is actually probably one of the least morally ambiguous of the characters in the entire series – beaten out only by d’Artagnan himself.

***** No, I’m not missing the word fictional up there.

Dialogues on the arts

Happy Leap Day, everyone*. In celebration of such a rare day, I thought I’d do something special (other than updating, which is pretty rare anyway).  Also, the number of pageviews this blog gets seems to be going up. I feel all responsible and important and stuff.

Seriously, though. This blog has nothing to do with Shakespeare (usually). Or flowers (ditto). If you want help with those, you’d probably be better off looking at Sparknotes or something.

And to those people who’re sending their friends here as a joke, come on. A friendly joke is one thing, but forcing people to read my writing? That’s just cruel (joking – please send your friends here, even as a prank, since the ‘pageviews’ bar is tightly tied to my ego, and it rising is the only way of protecting my fragile self-worth).

Anyway. This blog was originally mainly meant to be about politics and philosophy. That’s why I got a blog in the first place. So here’s something vaguely political for you. And in honour of my domain name, it’s vaguely Shakespeare related. There was other stuff I wanted to say, but it’s late, and I can’t think of it, and I plan to do another post very soon (hopefully this week), so I’ll leave it.

Except this: Happy birthday to everyone born on 29/02 (or on 02/29 and who’s American). You have the awsomest birthday ever.

Ben James: What?

Finn Carter: I didn’t say anything.

Ben James: I know. But you have the kind of look you have when you’re about to say something specifically designed to annoy me.

Finn Carter: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Ben James: Good.

Finn Carter: Incidentally, the arts and humanities are less valuable than the sciences.

Ben James: Of course you do. Would you mind explaining exactly what you mean by ‘arts and humanities’.

Finn Carter: OK, I’m pretty sure you know what arts and humanities are. You cost the state thousands by studying the bloody things.

Ben James: Really? So what’re the political sciences? Science or humanity? Psychology? Sociology? Economics? Philosophy? Can you give me an actual definition that won’t leave me with corner cases?

Finn Carter: You are so bloody pedantic. You know that?

Ben James: Yes. Yes I do.

Finn Carter: Let’s limit it to just the arts then.

Ben James: Great. You still need to explain what ‘arts’ means.

Finn Carter: The arts are those disciplines where the main purpose is the creation of beauty.

Ben James: Really?

Finn Carter: For now, anyway.

Ben James: OK then.

Finn Carter: We’ve finished the boring definitional bit then?

Ben James: So what about Atlas Shrugged?

Finn Carter: …What?

Ben James: Books like Atlas Shrugged, which were written mostly for the purpose of propagating a particular political or philosophical viewpoint. Or what about Paradise Lost? They’re not art then?

Finn Carter: I’m not sure…

Ben James: If you’re going to object to my characterisation of Atlas Shrugged and Paradise Lost, I hope you realise how utterly fallacious refuting the example is. Just because one of my examples is wrong, the principle of literature or other works theoretically existing primarily for political or philosophical reasons still stands. Unless you’re willing to spend about the next three hours refuting the political and philosophical motives of The Waste Land, 1984, The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ…

Finn Carter: Fine. You’ve read Plato’s Republic, yes?

Ben James: Yes…

Finn Carter: Then you know what Glaucon’s response to that would be?

Ben James: It’s only art insofar as its purpose is the creation of beauty? I’m not sure I accept that.

Finn Carter: Regardless. You can end this conversation whenever you feel like it if you’ll just accept that I’m right about the uselessness of books that actually are for the creation of beauty, and about the aesthetic aspects of political books.

Ben James: Then I’ll accept your definition for the moment. Care to explain why, exactly, the arts are so utterly useless?

Finn Carter: It’s not obvious? I mean, they’re so utterly useless. The scientists? Even the humanities to some extent? They actually improve people’s life in some way. The arts don’t do anything for anyone.

Ben James: Would you mind defining ‘improve’ for me?

Finn Carter: Oh come on. Improve. Make better. Provide benefit.

Ben James: What makes you think the arts don’t, then?

Finn Carter: …Science has more than tripled people’s lifespans since the Neolithic era. It’s reduced every aspect of labour. Everything you do is made easier and better by scientific advances. We can do things today without effort that people a hundred years ago couldn’t even have imagined.

Ben James: To what end?

Finn Carter: I’m sorry?

Ben James: Why? What about making people’s lifespan longer, and people’s work easier is good?

Finn Carter: You aren’t normally this dumb. Are you feeling OK?

Ben James: Oh, I’m not saying they’re not good. I’ll even concede that one might see making people’s lives longer as inherently valuable for no other reason than that human life is something that should be preserved. But what about making people’s lives easier, or about doing things that are predecessors couldn’t have?

Finn Carter: I think I see where you’re going with this.

Ben James: As far as I can see, there are only two possibilities. Either there’s the fact that people are made happier by improved technology, or the fact that learning and discovery are inherently valuable.

Finn Carter: Or because freedom is good.

Ben James: Explain?

Finn Carter: Like I said. The sciences have allowed us to do things people a hundred years ago couldn’t even imagine. Unlike your two possibilities, you can’t say the arts have done that.

Ben James: And technology has never been used to restrict freedom.

Finn Carter: They increase the possibility of freedom. Besides, the benefits far outweigh the problems.

Ben James: I’ll accept that. And I’ll accept that the arts have never provided a direct increase in possible actions, despite their inspirational properties. But one’s freedom isn’t just restricted by what it’s technically possible to do. It’s also restricted by what one even thinks of doing. That’s one of the most effective way of controlling people. The arts can provide increases in freedom. Not through direct increases in physical freedom, but the increases are just as important all the same.

Finn Carter: That’s stretching it, and you know it. But you’ll accept that life-extending sciences are of particular value.

Ben James: For now.

Finn Carter: But now you’re running into problems with definitions. Scientific discoveries tend to have unexpected consequences. Preventing people from starving to death. Eliminating disease. Improving transport of food and medicine. Preventing global warming.

Ben James: Which was caused by the sciences to start with.

Finn Carter: Details. Even something like relativity has lead to GPS working. Are you really telling me that you can’t think of a situation where being able to find where you are, or being able to find someone who’s got lost is lifesaving.

Ben James: If you’re going to have things that broad, the arts can save lives too.

Finn Carter: This I have to hear.

Ben James: The arts are pretty much the best ways available to communicate ideas to others. They help educate and spread ideas. They help foster understanding between people, and they help warn people of particular dangers. How many tyrannical regimes and reigns of terror haven’t happened because of the arts?

Finn Carter: We agreed that we’re defining the arts as dedicated to creating beauty.

Ben James: But you contradicted that when you said that the sciences had unpredictable consequences. So do the arts. It’s impossible to tell what works will have a great influence on politics and philosophy, especially with Death of the Author theory**. And anything you do to promote that kind of art promotes all the other kinds as well. So the other kinds end up being a cost-free benefit to society.

Finn Carter: Not as great a benefit as the sciences are, though.

Ben James: I don’t think you can really measure that.

Finn Carter: Sure you can. Remember Aaron Vontrell?

Ben James: No. I’m pretty sure there’s no such person.

Finn Carter: There used to be. He was a writer and artist, and his works ended up uniting most of the world. He prevented World War II, since everyone rallied around to help Germany, and they were never driven to elect an extremist leader, and he severely thawed the Cold War. Then some idiot time traveller killed him when he was still in his twenties.

Ben James: Proves my point.

Finn Carter: The shooter was inspired by The Catcher in the Rye.

Ben James: …

Finn Carter: That’s what he claimed, anyway. To be fair, he probably didn’t know what would happen.

Ben James: …

*Actually, where I am that ended about half an hour ago. This took some time to write. Sorry.

**There’s no natural way to work this into the dialogue, and you don’t need to know, but DotA theory is basically ‘what the author thinks is irrelevant’.

Asexual Visibility Week 4: Asexuality and the arts.

This is up late, isn’t it? The power cut really didn’t help. Still. It’s technically today (if this goes up literally instantly), at least where I am*.

Asexuality and the arts. I’m going to make a sweeping statement again: the arts are about creating beauty. You might argue that, but I think we can all agree that art which isn’t in some way beautiful isn’t really very good art. And I’m not just including the more traditional arts here, like drawing, sculpting and writing, but everything else under that category, like dance**, architecture and fashion design. I think those are art anyway, for the record, but they aren’t always what people think of when someone says ‘the arts’, so I thought I should make that clear.

The thing about beauty, though, is that there are, as I’ve said before (although possibly noone’s read it, since it was the last post before old acanthus was locked) two kinds: sexual and aesthetic. Sex has become a lot more acceptable in the last few years, and western society is, to put it mildly, rather sexual. It’s slightly annoying when it gets too blatant***, but I’m not going to say that ninety-eight and a half per-cent of the population should be silenced for my comfort.

The thing about the arts is visibility. There don’t tend to be that many asexuals in the arts. That’s partially because of visibility, but it’s a vicious circle – there aren’t many asexuals in the media****, so noone knows about them. Since noone knows about them, the media doesn’t include them. But there’s another thing too. Probably most asexuals don’t know they’re ace - we don’t exactly get a manual. Most of us don’t even know the word ‘asexual’ as anything other than a means of reproduction. And it’s rather hard to be absolutely sure you aren’t attracted to anything. And the arts have a tendency to portray sex as something you absolutely have to want. If you don’t clearly there’s something wrong with you. That’s not really a helpful message guys. Basically, the arts tend to be focused on sex, from TV and books with sex seen as an ultimate goal, a highly desirable prize, to fashion and dance which are often focused on bringing to attention to sexual characteristics of the subject.

The other thing is in how we can relate to things. Art is often seen by asexuals in a rather sexual way – there are asexuals who use art (like architecture, as well as painting and sculpture) to understand sexual attraction – indeed, some asexuals, as I understand it, treat humans as basically works of art (partially natural, but I personally tend to view humans mostly as a frame for clothing, jewellery, etc. So art has a rather odd relationship with aces – the culture of art tends to be a bit too sexual for our tastes – which isn’t bad for aces who know about it, but it’s rather annoying for people who don’t know they’re asexual. On the other hand, one asexual in popular bit of media**** can raise awareness massively, and aesthetic beauty is one of the easiest ways to try to relate to sexual beauty we have.

I’m pretty sure that’s not what I intended to write about when I planned out this week, but it’ll do. Tomorrow is the relationship between asexuality and gender. I do remember what I’m going to write about for this one, but I don’t know how well I’ll manage it.

* If it isn’t today where you are, please seek help from the department of temporal anomalies.

**Yes, that includes things like pole dancing – which is why I felt the need to mention it.

***Personally, I tend not to notice sexual content until it gets to the point where large numbers of people have already set off to storm someone’s office.

****Shut up Doctor. Noone ever notices that you’re asexual, since you never actually mention it, and it’s left slightly ambiguous anyway.