Films are often considered to be definitive pieces of work. While the restaging of plays is passionately celebrated, peculiarly the industry of movie reboots has been vehemently decried by critics, supposedly symptomatic of a modern-day artistic slump. Despite the general disdain for the enterprise of re-interpreting narratives, the invisible culture guardians seem to grant exceptional ‘reboot privilege’ to one particular figure — William Shakespeare.
This year, there are two major Shakespeare films in production. First is Cymbeline, a contemporary reimagining which moves this lesser known play from Ancient Britain to modern day New York. Starring Ethan Hawke and Ed Harris, Cymbeline is here cast as a grudge war between corrupt cops and a drug-dealing biker gang. Though it sounds ludicrous, one has to admit it’s intriguing. Second in line is the hotly anticipated Macbeth, led by a stellar double act in Michael Fassbender and Marion Cotillard, this is an adaptation that promises to be electric.
With such a plethora of Shakespeare retellings gracing our screens, one witnesses the potential for the reboot as an artistically satisfying endeavour. Admittedly, the ‘Shakespeare license’ has spawned some absolute shockers, and last year’s Romeo and Juliet was head-thumpingly awful. However, 2013 also saw the bitingly funny and genuinely uplifting Much Ado About Nothing. Shooting the film at his home, in 12 days, with actors who are close friends, Joss Whedon’s monochrome vision of the woozy American elite is engineered with a profoundly personal touch.
It’s entirely unlike the formality of Kenneth Branagh’s (equally brilliant) 1993 adaptation, but the world is certainly a better place for having both.
By resisting the idea that any adaptation could be perfect, the history of Shakespeare on film is a singular testament to the medium’s natural capacity for reinterpretation. For example, Lawrence Olivier’s 1944.version of Henry V is unashamedly patriotic, designed to resonate with Second World War Britain. Olivier famously compounded his nationalistic, glorious vision by only shooting the Agincourt battle when the sun was out.
This stands in contrast with Branagh’s 1989 adaptation of the same play, which places Agincourt in a post-Vietnam world. Patrick Doyle’s heart-breaking score, the close-up shots of bodily wounds and the mud-strewn plain all underpin the film’s anti-war sentiment. The scene’s final shot is a stunning tracking shot as Henry carries one of these dead luggage boys across the array of bodies and away from the battlefield. The films are compelling in entirely different ways.
However, it was Baz Luhrmann’s production of Romeo + Juliet in 1996, with its MTV sensibility and filmic thriftiness that set the precedent for cinema as a bold means of reinventing Shakespeare. Consider how the film contains the story within a TV report – just another tragic news-item. It’s a bold opening, only possible in film, in which a seven second montage of 26 rapidly deployed images actually shows us the fated narrative of these ‘star cross’d lovers’, while a CGI statue of Christ is suggestively dwarfed by the buildings of Montague/Capulet business corporations. Cinema provides the opportunity for sensory assaults in a way which corresponds with Luhrmann’s violent, godless Verona.
If reboots have worked so well for Shakespeare, why hasn’t it worked for Hollywood movies? Unfortunately, the process has commonly been a mindless case of profit seeking – which is a shame with a medium that is so ripe for revisiting and rewriting established narratives. Editing, special effects, colour blocking, cinematography, sound design – these are all dynamics used particularly effectively.in film. They are devices that can be used to influence the way that we respond to a text.
In production currently are remakes of 1994’s The Crow, 1990’s Jacob’s Ladder and 1986’s Short Circuit. If these projects were handled with the same care and adventurousness as Shakespeare’s texts have been, Hollywood remakes would be a cause for celebration rather than a sigh.
