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
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