Updating The Classics
On March 27th 2011 Radio 3 broadcast a new adaptation of of Emily Bronte's classic novel, "Wuthering Heights". What made the new adaptation notable was director Jonathan Holloway's insistence of re-inserting the redactions made to the original script by Bronte's editor in 1847.
"On publication the book was felt to be too shocking for gentlefolk," Holloway explained. "And that was after heavy editing. It must have been absolute filth before. So we set out to broadcast a version that was truer to Emily's intentions, even if some of the language is riper than a three year old Stilton."
He cited an edited passage from page 100 of the original manuscript to back his claims:
| “ | "No, I was told the curate should have his ██████████ teeth shoved down his ██████████ throat if he stepped over the threshold..." | ” |
"Thanks to the heavy-handedness of the editor we can't be sure exactly what Emily Bronte wrote but it's not difficult to fill in the blanks, is it?" Holloway commented. "The only sensible conclusion is that she swore like a pissed-up sailor."
The subsequent furore about Holloway's F-word-extravaganza guaranteed Wuthering Heights an audience of millions and its success encouraged the BBC to make plans to re-adapt a number of other fondly-remembered classics - as did the opportunity to make yet more costume dramas that might sell overseas.
"Pride and Prejudice" - Jane Austen
BBC AudioBooks immediately released a new reading of Jane Austen's powerful 1813 tale, bringing its tale of sexual politics up-to-date by replacing much of the nineteenth century coyness. Giving it a distinctly twentyfirst century feel, the narration was performed by Gordon Fucking Ramsey.
| “ | It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, may buy his way into the panties of any wife he so chooses. However little known the feelings of such a man on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families, that he is instantly invited to lodge his nether regions within the tightest nooks and cranies of some one or other of their daughters.
"My dear Mr. Bennet," said his lady to him one day, "have you heard that Netherfield Park is let at last?" Mr. Bennet replied that he had not. "But it is," returned she. Mr. Bennet made no answer though he paused momentarily to reflect that, had he been a wealthy man, Netherfield Park would have made a most satisfactory place in which to house a harem. Why, with such a fine establishment, a wealthy man might collect whores from every corner of the planet. Indeed, he might give himself over to the pleasures of the flesh entirely without comment from the neighbours. Mr. Bennet wondered what it might be to be pleasured by an Eskimo wench in the morning while watching his Hottentot ho' orally delight one or other of the Siamese twins he would surely buy if God had seen fit to provide the means. "Do not you want to know who has taken it?" cried his wife impatiently, intruding into his most pleasant fantasy. "You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it." This was invitation enough. "Why, my dear, you must know that Netherfield is taken by a young man of large fortune; that he came on Monday to see the place and agreed with Mr. Morris immediately. He is to take possession before Michaelmas. Some of his servants are already in the house installing a jacuzzi on the terrace and iron-mongery in the cellar such as would suit hand-cuffs or other such retstraints." "The jammy bastard!” Mr Bennet expostulated admiringly, with not a little jealousy. “What is his name?" "Bingley." "Oh! single, my dear, to be sure!” “The jammy bastard!” Mr Bennet repeated, though this time silently for if he were ever again to gain access to his wife’s favours he knew he would do well to be tactful; she was most stingy with her minge. |
” |
Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
Perhaps the most surprising hit was the complete works of Charles Dickens as recounted by 1970s rockstar and noted humanitarian, Gary Glitter.
| “ | Child as he was, Oliver was desperate with hunger, and reckless with misery. He rose from the table; and advancing to the master basin and spoon in hand said, somewhat alarmed at his own temerity:
"Please, sir, may I have some more?" The master was a fat, healthy man; but he turned very pale. He gazed in stupified astonishment on the small rebel for some seconds, and then clung for support to the copper. The boys were paralysed with fear. "What!" said the master at length, in a faint voice. "Please, sir," replied Oliver, "I want some more." The master aimed a blow at Oliver's head with the ladle, pinioned him in his arm, and shrieked aloud. "More, you greedy little shit! More? What the fuck do you thinks I am? Lord Moneybags. If you wants more food you can earns it the way little blond boys has always earned money.” And with this the fat Mr. Bumble un-buttoned his breeches and looked around. “And there’s more than enough Bumble to go round for the rest of you. There’s no such thing as a boy so poor he needs live in the workhouse so long as he has comely lips and strong knees!” |
” |
Gone with the Wind - Margaret Mitchell
BBC television soon joined in with a lavish production of Margaret Mitchell's 1937 block-buster. Though they acquired the rights to re-adapt the original book from the author's estate they chose instead to adapt the script of the 1939 classic to avoid losing the feel of the multi-Oscar smash. Questioning voices were raised at some of the production decisions, however. Scarlet's costumes came in for particular criticism, by combining period plunging neck-lines with distinctly un-nineteenth century raised hems, forming what one TV critic described as "A succession of crinoline belts".
Perhaps unsurprisingly audiences were unconcerned by this lack of authenticity and it is thought that up to 25 million viewers tuned into episode seven; "Tit-wank at Tara", up to 24,565,000 of whom are thought to have been male. The adaptation was such a success that even the most iconic lines of dialogue from the original Clark Gable/Vivian Leigh version have been largely replaced in the collective psyche of Britain.
RHETT: I'm leaving you, you slut. Your dreams of Ashley can come true.
SCARLETT: No! No, you're terribly wrong! I don't want a divorce. Oh Rhett, I knew tonight I loved you. Ashley was only interested in coming on my tits so he could boast about it to his friends. I ran home to tell you, oh darling, darling. Only you and I will ever be truly sexually compatible!
RHETT: Please don't go on with this. Leave us some dignity to remember out of our marriage.
SCARLETT: Oh Rhett, do listen to me. I’ve loved you for years only I was such a stupid fool I didn't know it. Please believe me. You were my first... Don't look at me like that! I did a lot of gymnastics as a child...
RHETT: But what about Ashley Wilkes?
SCARLETT: I......I never really loved Ashley. He just promised to let me have a go on his sister. Rhett! He’s not half the man you are... literally, it can't be more than four inches, if that. No man will ever complete me the way you did...
RHETT: Oh, Scarlett, I tried everything to please you; the tongue-stud, the ribbed ticklers. If you'd only met me halfway, even when I came back from London...
SCARLETT: I was so glad to see you, I was Rhett, but, but you were so nasty! I know now it was just the infection from the cock-ring making you angry...
RHETT: And then when you were sick. And it was all my fault, what with the syphilis and the genital warts. I hoped and against hope that you'd call for me. But you didn't.
SCARLETT: I wanted you. I wanted you desperately, but I didn't think you wanted me! Then you came home unexpectedly and found me exercising the Dalmatian – it wasn’t how it seemed, you know how frisky puppies can be and young girls need to feel loved.
RHETT: You're such a child. Such a sick, sick child who wasn’t paying attention when her mother told her not to be over-friendly with servants. Or slaves. Or pets. You think that by saying I'm sorry, all the past can be corrected.
SCARLETT: Rhett, Rhett where are you going?
RHETT: I'm going to Charleston. Back where I belong. Where the whores are honest enough to accept credit cards!
SCARLETT: Please, please take me with you, I accept credit cards. You don't need paws to make me happy!
RHETT: No. I'm through with everything here. I want peace. I want to see if somewhere if there is something left in life with charm and grace. Do you know what I'm talking about?
SCARLETT: No. I only know that I love you.
RHETT: That's your misfortune. I need to explore my feminine side. I need the feel of silk on my skin and a good man by my side as I sleep at night
SCARLETT: Rhett! If you go, where shall I go? What shall I do?
RHETT: Frankly my dear, I couldn’t give a fuck!
Little Women - Louisa May Alcott
The success of the BBC re-apaptation of Gone with the Wind with US audiences persuaded executives to begin work on other American classics. Few thought that Louisa May Alcott's family saga could be brought into the modern world as an animation. But the skills of Jonathan Holloway showed that even the most stilted nineteenth century dialogue could grip modern audiences brought up on The Simpsons with only the slightest editing.
MARMEE: I fear you would have a long engagement, three or four years. John must secure a house before you can marry and do his service to the union. A gentleman should never marry simply because his bits are in want of exercise.
JO: John? Marry? You mean that poky old Mr Brooke? How did he weasel his way into this family? I dare say he can barely see his bollocks for his beer-belly.
MARMEE: Jo! Mr Brooke has been very kind to visit father in the hospital every day and bring fresh reading material with every visit.
JO: He's dull as powder Meg, can't you at least marry someone who can do more amusing tricks with his private parts? Mr Brooke just pulls out the lining of his pockets, out pops Mr Floppy and it’s the “White-eared Elephant” again. It's the same every Thanksgiving.
MEG: I'm fond of John, he's kind and serious and you must own that he’s hung like a stallion.
JO: Marmee, you can't just let her go and marry him.
MEG: I'd hardly just go and marry anyone.
MARMEE: I would rather Meg marry for love and be the wife of a well-endowed poor man than marry for riches and lose her self-respect being overly intimate with the servants just because God has better blessed them in the trouser department.
MEG: So, you don't mind that John is poor.
MARMEE: No, but I'd rather he have a house. I wouldn’t like to see Meg having to blow his horn in a stable!
JO: Why must we marry at all? Why can't things just stay as they are? I thought we'd agreed to hire one of the Mexicans in the village to come round and give us all a proper seeing-to once a week.
MARMEE: It's just a proposal, nothing can be decided on. Though I’d rather like a dark, handsome stranger to come round and give some attention to my lady's front-garden. It’s been months since it’s seen any action.
See Also
Tim Glanfield "Exclusive: Radio 3 to broadcast Wuthering Heights with the f-word" BBC, March 22, 2011
