Friday, April 10, 2020 — 5
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

BOOKS NOTEBOOK

“OK, Boomer,” I mutter, as I follow Laurence 

Cook, a senile Iowan farmer who foolishly attempts 

to divide his agricultural empire among his three 

daughters, with disastrous consequences. If this 

story sounds familiar, that’s because you’ve likely 

heard it before: It’s the plot of Jane Smiley’s 1991 

novel “A Thousand Acres,” which in turn is an 

adaptation of Shakespeare’s “King Lear.” As far as 

adaptations go, “A Thousand Acres” is surprisingly 

faithful to the source material, yet Smiley manages 

to infuse the novel with her own personality 

and flair, exploring topics such as second-wave 

feminism and ecocriticism. Of course, with 

Shakespeare adaptations, this is not uncommon: 

There have been numerous critically acclaimed 

Shakespeare adaptations set in radically different 

settings, such as the 1957 film “Throne of Blood,” 

which places Macbeth in feudal Japan, or a 2013 

production of “Julius Caesar” set in contemporary 

Africa. And who could ever forget the Disney 

classic “The Lion King”? This list goes on, and is 

only a testament to the transcendent relevance of 

the Bard.

To be fair, theater lends itself well to creative 

liberty: The cast and crew are what imbue a 

play with life, and no one production will look 

the same as the next. Western culture seems 

comfortable with the malleability that theatre 

permits, but this comfort seems to dissipate when 

the same malleability is introduced in book or film 

adaptations. A common complaint of adaptations 

is that they “are nothing like the book,” or didn’t 

“capture the magic of the source material.” I’ve 

made these complaints myself about a multitude 

of adaptations and reboots. A few that come to 

mind are the infamous Percy Jackson films, the 

Broadway musical “Fun Home” and HBO’s “Game 

of Thrones.” However, whatever one’s thoughts 

are on these, these works still possess artistic value 

(OK, maybe that isn’t true for the Percy Jackson 

movies) and perhaps shouldn’t be expected to 

adhere perfectly to the source material. In fact, 

I’d argue that we should push for more liberal 

adaptations, ones that aren’t afraid to be different, 

even if the deviations cause discomfort among fans 

of the original source.

Such deviations exemplify the beauty and value 

art has: Art is living and transcendent yet deeply 

intimate. Jane Smiley shows that relative fidelity 

can be highly effective, and there is nothing wrong 

with adaptations that adhere perfectly to the 

subject of adaptation. But more drastic divergence 

from the original creator’s vision allows the adapter 

to explore different themes and create a distinct 

standalone artwork. Take Stanley Kubrick’s “The 

Shining” as an example. The 1980 masterpiece is 

based on Stephen King’s eponymous novel, and 

has remained a staple in cinema since its release. 

However, King has stated his dislike for the 

movie, and has repeatedly expressed frustration at 

Kubrick’s numerous alterations from the book. And 

King is right about one thing: The movie bears little 

resemblance to the book. But that’s a good thing. 

Whereas King’s novel paints the main character as 

fundamentally good, Kubrick’s film portrays him 

as fundamentally evil, and these two drastically 

different messages stretch the basic narrative far 

beyond what either artist originally intended. The 

supernatural and psychological evils portrayed 

present entirely different layers of fear and tension, 

and both works have their own strengths and goals. 

The novel allowed King to draw upon his struggles 

with alcoholism and writing, and the film allowed 

Kubrick to explore whether madness is inherent or 

created. The horror genre would not be the same 

without either of these masterpieces, and I think 

that illustrates the value in changing a work of art 

to create something new.

“The Shining” isn’t the only film to draw the ire 

of the source material’s creator and the praise of 

everyone else. Peter Jackson’s legendary “The Lord 

of the Rings” film trilogy has undoubtedly shaped 

the West’s relationship with high fantasy since its 

debut in 2001, but Christopher Tolkien, the son of 

author J.R.R. Tolkien, was not as impressed. And, 

controversial opinion, I’m not a fan of the films 

either: I feel that they eviscerate Tolkien’s original 

work, trading depth in exchange for excitement and 

thrill. 

That being said, I still believe that these 

films are irreplaceable, and that, in spite of my 

distaste for how the source material was treated, 

I can appreciate the directions Jackson took the 

film in. Tolkien’s three-volume saga simply is not 

translatable directly into film. In fact, his identity 

as a European white man who was born at the turn 

of the twentieth century further complicates this. 

“The Lord of the Rings” books are predominantly 

descriptive affairs, with indulgent commentaries 

on religion and Germanic history. Further, 

Tolkien’s seminal work is built upon an extensive 

internal history that cannot be explained by a bit 

of mere exposition, and is self-referential to an 

absurd degree. It can be a bit intimidating to jump 

into his universe and be hit with the feeling that 

you skipped a book in the series, and to the general 

moviegoing audience, this would be a huge turn off. 

Peter Jackson managed to condense much 

of this lore into a digestible plot, alluding to bits 

of in-universe history as was necessary, and 

substituted lengthy descriptions with stunning set 

design and scenery. Jackson even manages to make 

the films just a *little* less of a sausage fest than 

what Tolkien’s books were, which helps offset the 

clear male identity Tolkien was writing from. Thus, 

as I gain more perspective, I grow to appreciate the 

beauty in what Jackson made, and have come to 

terms with the fact that, in a few ways, his trilogy 

even improves upon what Tolkien wrote. 

Sometimes, though, adaptations can go a step 

further, and deviate almost completely from the 

source material, even in terms of themes and 

tone. The musical “Fun Home,” based on Alison 

Bechdel’s graphic novel memoir of the same name, 

is a perfect example of this. Both the musical and 

the graphic novel depict the same set of events, 

and the same individual’s life. However, whereas 

Bechdel’s memoir portrays specific episodes in her 

life that she clearly remembers, the musical plays 

around with the structure, drawing from multiple 

scenes to create one scene that is representative of 

many. The text-to-stage translation isn’t “literal,” 

but it uses this to its advantage and explores the 

narrative with a different sort of vibrancy and life 

from what the memoir had. Likewise, the memoir 

captured elements that the musical could not, such 

as the depth and genuineness Bechdel poured into 

her work. 

I listened to the musical before I read Bechdel’s 

memoir, and the difference was clear to me. At 

first, it was difficult for me to reconcile these two 

works with one another, as they were so different in 

tone, and I became unsure of which one I enjoyed 

more, or if they were even comparable in quality. 

Eventually, I came to the conclusion that the 

differences between the two enhanced one another, 

and I stopped measuring them against each other. 

I began to enjoy them as separate entities, and my 

appreciation for both has increased as a result.

Why we need less faithful adaptions of literature

TATE LAFRENIER

Daily Arts Writer

MUSIC REVIEW
On new album, Yves Tumor turns into a rockstar

JIM WILSON
Daily Arts Writer

Some say the place you’re from is what makes 

you who you are. If that truly is the case, then 

Sean Bowie certainly is a complex person. Born in 

Miami and raised in Knoxville, Tennessee, they 

attended college in Southern California and briefly 

resided in Leipzig, Germany. Bowie, better known 

by their recording name Yves Tumor, now lives and 

works in Turin, Italy. If that was too much, here’s 

a streamlined version: first Miami, then Knoxville, 

then Southern California, then Leipzig and now 

Turin. That’s a lot of places, and somehow, not a 

single one sticks out as a prominent influence on 

Tumor’s music. 

Yves Tumor’s brand of rock is unlike that of any 

other artist. They have so many influences it’s hard 

to pinpoint exactly where the Yves Tumor sound 

comes from. However, it has been said that Tumor 

started making music as a way to escape their 

conservative and growth-stunting surroundings 

in Knoxville. Of all the places that have shaped 

Tumor, this is the most important one. Their music 

is an artful, expressive escape from the bland 

and monochrome ordinary, established by 2018’s 

outstanding Safe in the Hands of Love. Their most 

recent album, Heaven to a Tortured Mind, keeps 

that same momentum.

Heaven to a Tortured Mind is a bit of a throwback 

album, calling back to the massive sounds of ’90s 

behemoths like Smashing Pumpkins and Pearl 

Jam, but the record is like the weird kid brother 

to that style. The album’s foundations are laid in 

huge choruses and soaring riffs. Tumor is never 

afraid of exploring other genres, but this project 

always seems to return to its rock roots. Somehow, 

all this mixing and matching works, and it works 

really well. Thanks to Tumor’s fearless exploration, 

Heaven to a Tortured Mind is 

as sticky and enjoyable as an 

album can get.

Take “Medicine Burn” 

as an example of this 

fearlessness. Outwardly, it 

sounds like a standard rock 

song, but there’s a whole 

lot more going on beneath 

the hood. The cacophonous 

guitars live on the verge 

of noise, and around the 

middle of the song they 

suddenly 
and 
abrasively 

break the noise barrier, 

erupting 
into 
nothing 

short of pure madness. Surprisingly, the track 

eventually fades into nothing more than a handful 

of futuristic blips and bleps, with no trace of the 

earlier instrumentation to be found. But somehow 

this combination works, resulting in one of the 

most infectious songs on the album, all thanks to 

Tumor’s ability to wrangle any sound exactly the 

way they want to. Their lyrics perfectly accentuate 

the noise, with lines like “He’s got scarlet colored 

teeth, she had severed heads / And six hundred 

teeth, and six hundred / And six hundred, and six 

hundred,” making the song even stickier than it 

already was. 

Some of the tracks, like “Gospel for a New 

Century” and “Kerosene!,” lean more heavily 

toward the rock end of the 

spectrum, and they’re all the 

better for it. These rock songs 

are something of a cheat 

code for Tumor. They pull 

them out like a winning card 

hidden in their sleeve; these 

songs cannot be beat. They 

sound like they’re made for 

stadium tours, even though 

they incorporate typical non-

rock instrumentation like 

bombastic brass or dreamy 

keys and synthesizers. They 

both have gigantic hooks 

that practically beg to be 

screamed out loud for the whole world to hear. 

Miraculously, these aren’t the only songs that stand 

out on the record.

When Tumor begins to slow things down and 

turn a bit darker and more insular, they begin to 

shine brightest. “Hasdallen Lights” is the best 

example of this, though “Strawberry Privilege” 

and “Super Stars” deserve to be mentioned as well. 

“Hasdallen Lights” kicks off with a little warped 

guitar lick that is quickly joined by a moody string 

section, supporting Tumor as they ask questions 

like “What are your running from? / What do you 

miss? / Tell me, what do you crave? / How do you 

feel?” in a delicate falsetto, as Tumor is asking 

themself these very questions. After a couple 

of repetitions, Tumor, drenched in despair and 

reverb, finally begins to piece the answers together: 

“Her song, her song, her song … Running from my 

shadow … I miss the sound of you … trouble, trouble, 

trouble.” It is in these moments that Tumor begins 

to show who they really are and how the places 

they grew and developed in affected them.

Heaven to a Tortured Mind is the perfect follow-

up record to Safe in the Hands of Love. It takes 

Safe’s already accessible version of rock-infused 

avant-garde music and makes it simultaneously 

more rock-centric and more experimental. It’s a 

bit of a tough combination to wrangle together 

without sounding like you’re trying too hard to be 

experimental, but Tumor managed to pull it off 

with ease. Given that Heaven to a Tortured Mindl 

builds off of Safe in the Hands of Love, where Tumor 

goes next remains up in the air. They might go more 

toward rock, they might go more toward ambience 

or noise or they might go somewhere completely 

different. Tumor’s trajectory remains cloudy and 

uncertain, but that uncertainty is what makes their 

music so captivating and exciting.

‘Heaven to a Tortured 

Mind’

Yves Tumor

Warp

Read more online at 

michigandaily.com

