The Art of Adaptation: Brian Jacques' Redwall
I grew up without cable in what turned out to be the waning days of Saturday Morning and Weekday Afternoon Cartoons. It was enough though to make me an animation junkie for life though (no insult to people with actual, debilitating addictions). Channels 9 (PBS) and Channel 11 (back when it was the WB Network) were my two sources of entertainment. Anyone who grew up in a situation like that, however, knew one thing: Sundays were the worst day of the week. Why? Because it was the one day when there were not cartoons on any station.
Well, with one exception. Every Sunday, for several years, one show would air on Channel 9, and for those of us who watched it, it was embedded into our memories. That show was Brian Jacques' Redwall.
It was years after seeing this show (and its two subsequent seasons), that I discovered it was in fact an adaption from a well-known and popular series of children's fantasy books. However, I didn't get around to reading them until recently. After revisiting the show and at last acquainting myself with the source material, I've decided to take the time to compare the two works to see whether or not Redwall did justice to its source material.
(In particular, I've chosen to limit this essay to both the first book and the first season of the show).
Everyone in the world who loves books--particularly those who take pride in reading the books before seeing the film or TV show--has a list of such works that they absolutely despise, all for the same reason condensable into one sentence: it ruined the book. I have my own such list. I can't however claim that the Redwall tv show is on it though.
Adaptation is a tricky thing to get right. When it's done well, it can produce a new work of art that takes on a life of its own. The film or TV show can stand on par with its source material. L. Frank Baum's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is a children's book still read today, and its musical adaption by MGM back in the 30s with Judy Garland is a masterpiece in and of itself. The same is true of John Steinbeck's masterpiece The Grapes of Wrath. The film adapted from that masterwork was placed into the Library of Congress' Film Archive for preservation.
In rare cases, an adaption can even surpass its source material. For example, did you know that both Jaws and The Godfather were both adapted from novels? Who has read, to their entirety either of them? How many people alive today, besides my nerdy self, even know that fact? But, who has seen both of those films? Thousands, perhaps, millions of people.
There are two things to keep in mind when adapting. Things are always going to either get cut or changed. You cannot cram an 800 page novel, word for word, line for line, page for page, into a two hour film. You're lucky if you can get the essence of it into a 10-episode HBO series (looking at you, Game of Thrones). Things are going to end up simplified.
Also, you must keep in mind that a adaptation is almost invariably changed so as to appeal to the broadest possible audience. A book can have a small, niche audience who loves it, but a film or TV show, where millions of dollars are being invested?--you'd be a fool to think those business-minded suits wouldn't want to make their money back. So things are changed for the sake of casting that wide-net.
The best adaptations though do manage one constant thread: they preserve and stay true to the heart of the story while also enhancing the original's best qualities. And, from a close inspection, I'd have to say that the Redwall TV series manages this. But first, let's discuss the book.
Brian Jacques wrote the original Redwall novel as a standalone book. In fact, it wasn't even meant for publication. It was a gift he created for his "special friends," the students of the school for the blind in Liverpool, England because he was sick of the angsty, contemporary young adult and children's fiction he was regularly reading to them. What he produced was one fantastic story.
Redwall is a tightly woven story. I liken Jacques' structure of this book to the weaving of a lanyard, comprised of many threads, with his bard-like Omniscient Narrator acting as the weaver. You have the tale of Matthias and his quest to become The Warrior of Redwall with help from his great mentor and friend Methuselah . You have the malevolent machinations of Cluny the Scourge, who wishes to lay claim to the sandstone abbey and enslave its inhabitants. And, of course, you have the many subplots, like the plotting of Chicken Hound and his mother Sella, the escapades of Basil Stag Hare, Jess Squirrel, and Constance Badger, the fruitful steps of Silent Sam, and the quiet bravery of Cornflower. It's a genuine verbal tapestry that though composed of many parts, manages to stay together to form a cohesive tale of adventure, courage, and the triumph of Good over Evil.
If, however, you were to turn this story into a 22 minute, children's episodic TV show that precisely mirrored the structure of the book, kids would go crazy. Because of the structure of the book, readers are strung along by the shifting of focus that Jacques' chosen viewpoint allows. We're always anxiously curious to learn what happened to certain characters or what developments will arise next from this ongoing plot point. But episodic TV can't work that way.
With episodic TV, as shows like Game of Thrones have illustrated, you can shift from one point to another (if you have a time allotment that allows you to do so). However, with a show airing on PBS (in the US) or any network for that matter, every episode needs its own arc. Every episode, even if it contributes to an ongoing story, needs to have a satisfying beginning, middle, and end all of its own. You can't simply move one plot two inches forward, only to cut away to another one.
So, how did the showrunners of the TV show go about adapting this complicated novel into an episodic series that would nonetheless remain true to the story. From my observations, they did it in two way: they simplified the story beats, and they enhanced the most memorable and significant characters by giving them greater agency.
One of the most memorable parts of the novel is the time that Matthias spends with the Sparrows of the Redwall loft. Now in the book, that plot thread stretches for the better part of the second third of the story. Yet, in the show, its condensed into one episode. The show depicts the events almost--almost--exactly as they occur in the book, but it speeds it up. What amounts to nearly the whole middle section of Matthias' story gets 22 minutes in the show.
Let's examine this. Why would the showrunners condense a huge part of the hero's story to one episode? Answer: because it takes Matthias out of the narrative for a full third of the story. For a major character to be out of play on a TV show for more than an episode, they'd need to be in a coma.
They do the very same to Cluny. Cluny's recovery from his fall during his first assault on the abbey--in the book--sidelines him from the story for nearly a third of the story as well. Yet, in the show, his recovery, and his dealings with Sella and Chicken Hound, last a single episode. After that, he's back to actively trying to seize the abbey by every possible scheme his devious mind can conjure. Again, why do this? Taking your main antagonist removes your single greatest threat. Without a threat, there is no conflict. Without conflict, there is no story.
This simplification of story beats directly ties into the second positive of this adaptation. Because of this, many of the most prominent characters are given more to do, and thus, they are made more active, interesting, and engaging characters.
To return to my first example, Matthias in the book is held hostage by the Sparrows for nearly a whole third of the novel. Even though he does manage to accomplish much in this section (e.g. gaining an ally in the Sparrows, learning of the whereabouts of Martin the Warrior's sword, etc.), he could be more active. The shortening of such plot points therefore enables him to be so. In the show, he's able to engage directly in other smaller subplots that, in the book, because he's indisposed, he's unable to do so. In the show, he helps Basil and Jess recapture the stolen tapestry (which he doesn't do in the book). In the show, he helps Constance build her crossbow (which, again, he doesn't do in the book). These small shifts in plot make enable him to be a more active protagonist.
Other characters benefit from this reimagining as well.
Secondary, but memorable, characters like Basil, Constance, Foremole, and Jess are actually given more to do in the show than in the book. How is this done? By dropping characters who appear, but play even smaller, minor roles. Ambrose Spike and The Solitary Beaver for example appear in the book, but their roles are so small, they may as well not be. Thus, in the show their activities are given to more present characters (see the previous list above). Warbeak and the Sparrows also appear in more active roles as well, along with the GUOSIM, Captain Snow, and Squire Julian.
Also important, the villain get this treatment too.
Cluny, since he isn't kept sidelined for so long, becomes a greater threat because of his constant trial and error strategies for breaking into Redwall. Also made more prominent is the menacing character of Asmodeus, who is more of a Sauron in the book. He gets a few on-page appearance before his final showdown with Matthias, but they're fleeting (terrifying, but fleeting). This allows him to be built up much more as a menacing threat that Matthias must overcome before he can truly call himself a Warrior Mouse.
Most interestingly, however, is how the showrunners chose to handle the characterization of Cornflower and her relationship to Matthias.
In the book, Matthias and Cornflower's affection for each other is mostly hinted at until the very end (which is identical in the show in nearly every detail). However, likely to try and give parents watching this show with their kids something enticing, the showrunners opted to play up the mutual affection and bring it to the foreground.
Cornflower, in the book, is pretty much a background character. She does have a few moments to shine, most notably her torching of Cluny's boarding tower, but she otherwise remains in the background. Jacques likely did this because, lets face it, the audience of the original book (kids), were not interested in a romantic love subplot. Kids don't really even know what that is, and thus, they don't care about it.
To bring Cornflower forward though, the showrunners incorporated whole plot points into the show that do not appear in the original book, but keep very much to the spirit of the story. Two episodes in particular that add to this are Cluny's Clowns and The Visitor (episodes 5 and 9 respectively). Not only do these episodes allow audiences to see their feelings come to the surface, but they make Cornflower into a more present character. And, I have to say, despite the noncanonical additions, I think this was actually a great improvement to the original story.
No matter what medium you encounter this story in though, Brian Jacques' Redwall is a marvelous work of fantasy fiction. In print, it's a beautifully written story that takes advantage of what prose fiction can do best, which is, to use Jacques' own words, "Paint pictures with words." And on the small screen, it wonderfully shows that a great, complicated story, fully of development can make the transition with its heart intact and still engage and enthrall its audience.
Well, with one exception. Every Sunday, for several years, one show would air on Channel 9, and for those of us who watched it, it was embedded into our memories. That show was Brian Jacques' Redwall.
It was years after seeing this show (and its two subsequent seasons), that I discovered it was in fact an adaption from a well-known and popular series of children's fantasy books. However, I didn't get around to reading them until recently. After revisiting the show and at last acquainting myself with the source material, I've decided to take the time to compare the two works to see whether or not Redwall did justice to its source material.
(In particular, I've chosen to limit this essay to both the first book and the first season of the show).
Everyone in the world who loves books--particularly those who take pride in reading the books before seeing the film or TV show--has a list of such works that they absolutely despise, all for the same reason condensable into one sentence: it ruined the book. I have my own such list. I can't however claim that the Redwall tv show is on it though.
Adaptation is a tricky thing to get right. When it's done well, it can produce a new work of art that takes on a life of its own. The film or TV show can stand on par with its source material. L. Frank Baum's The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is a children's book still read today, and its musical adaption by MGM back in the 30s with Judy Garland is a masterpiece in and of itself. The same is true of John Steinbeck's masterpiece The Grapes of Wrath. The film adapted from that masterwork was placed into the Library of Congress' Film Archive for preservation.
In rare cases, an adaption can even surpass its source material. For example, did you know that both Jaws and The Godfather were both adapted from novels? Who has read, to their entirety either of them? How many people alive today, besides my nerdy self, even know that fact? But, who has seen both of those films? Thousands, perhaps, millions of people.
There are two things to keep in mind when adapting. Things are always going to either get cut or changed. You cannot cram an 800 page novel, word for word, line for line, page for page, into a two hour film. You're lucky if you can get the essence of it into a 10-episode HBO series (looking at you, Game of Thrones). Things are going to end up simplified.
Also, you must keep in mind that a adaptation is almost invariably changed so as to appeal to the broadest possible audience. A book can have a small, niche audience who loves it, but a film or TV show, where millions of dollars are being invested?--you'd be a fool to think those business-minded suits wouldn't want to make their money back. So things are changed for the sake of casting that wide-net.
The best adaptations though do manage one constant thread: they preserve and stay true to the heart of the story while also enhancing the original's best qualities. And, from a close inspection, I'd have to say that the Redwall TV series manages this. But first, let's discuss the book.Brian Jacques wrote the original Redwall novel as a standalone book. In fact, it wasn't even meant for publication. It was a gift he created for his "special friends," the students of the school for the blind in Liverpool, England because he was sick of the angsty, contemporary young adult and children's fiction he was regularly reading to them. What he produced was one fantastic story.
Redwall is a tightly woven story. I liken Jacques' structure of this book to the weaving of a lanyard, comprised of many threads, with his bard-like Omniscient Narrator acting as the weaver. You have the tale of Matthias and his quest to become The Warrior of Redwall with help from his great mentor and friend Methuselah . You have the malevolent machinations of Cluny the Scourge, who wishes to lay claim to the sandstone abbey and enslave its inhabitants. And, of course, you have the many subplots, like the plotting of Chicken Hound and his mother Sella, the escapades of Basil Stag Hare, Jess Squirrel, and Constance Badger, the fruitful steps of Silent Sam, and the quiet bravery of Cornflower. It's a genuine verbal tapestry that though composed of many parts, manages to stay together to form a cohesive tale of adventure, courage, and the triumph of Good over Evil.
If, however, you were to turn this story into a 22 minute, children's episodic TV show that precisely mirrored the structure of the book, kids would go crazy. Because of the structure of the book, readers are strung along by the shifting of focus that Jacques' chosen viewpoint allows. We're always anxiously curious to learn what happened to certain characters or what developments will arise next from this ongoing plot point. But episodic TV can't work that way.
With episodic TV, as shows like Game of Thrones have illustrated, you can shift from one point to another (if you have a time allotment that allows you to do so). However, with a show airing on PBS (in the US) or any network for that matter, every episode needs its own arc. Every episode, even if it contributes to an ongoing story, needs to have a satisfying beginning, middle, and end all of its own. You can't simply move one plot two inches forward, only to cut away to another one.
So, how did the showrunners of the TV show go about adapting this complicated novel into an episodic series that would nonetheless remain true to the story. From my observations, they did it in two way: they simplified the story beats, and they enhanced the most memorable and significant characters by giving them greater agency.
One of the most memorable parts of the novel is the time that Matthias spends with the Sparrows of the Redwall loft. Now in the book, that plot thread stretches for the better part of the second third of the story. Yet, in the show, its condensed into one episode. The show depicts the events almost--almost--exactly as they occur in the book, but it speeds it up. What amounts to nearly the whole middle section of Matthias' story gets 22 minutes in the show.
Let's examine this. Why would the showrunners condense a huge part of the hero's story to one episode? Answer: because it takes Matthias out of the narrative for a full third of the story. For a major character to be out of play on a TV show for more than an episode, they'd need to be in a coma.
They do the very same to Cluny. Cluny's recovery from his fall during his first assault on the abbey--in the book--sidelines him from the story for nearly a third of the story as well. Yet, in the show, his recovery, and his dealings with Sella and Chicken Hound, last a single episode. After that, he's back to actively trying to seize the abbey by every possible scheme his devious mind can conjure. Again, why do this? Taking your main antagonist removes your single greatest threat. Without a threat, there is no conflict. Without conflict, there is no story.
This simplification of story beats directly ties into the second positive of this adaptation. Because of this, many of the most prominent characters are given more to do, and thus, they are made more active, interesting, and engaging characters.
To return to my first example, Matthias in the book is held hostage by the Sparrows for nearly a whole third of the novel. Even though he does manage to accomplish much in this section (e.g. gaining an ally in the Sparrows, learning of the whereabouts of Martin the Warrior's sword, etc.), he could be more active. The shortening of such plot points therefore enables him to be so. In the show, he's able to engage directly in other smaller subplots that, in the book, because he's indisposed, he's unable to do so. In the show, he helps Basil and Jess recapture the stolen tapestry (which he doesn't do in the book). In the show, he helps Constance build her crossbow (which, again, he doesn't do in the book). These small shifts in plot make enable him to be a more active protagonist.
Other characters benefit from this reimagining as well.
Secondary, but memorable, characters like Basil, Constance, Foremole, and Jess are actually given more to do in the show than in the book. How is this done? By dropping characters who appear, but play even smaller, minor roles. Ambrose Spike and The Solitary Beaver for example appear in the book, but their roles are so small, they may as well not be. Thus, in the show their activities are given to more present characters (see the previous list above). Warbeak and the Sparrows also appear in more active roles as well, along with the GUOSIM, Captain Snow, and Squire Julian.
Also important, the villain get this treatment too.
Cluny, since he isn't kept sidelined for so long, becomes a greater threat because of his constant trial and error strategies for breaking into Redwall. Also made more prominent is the menacing character of Asmodeus, who is more of a Sauron in the book. He gets a few on-page appearance before his final showdown with Matthias, but they're fleeting (terrifying, but fleeting). This allows him to be built up much more as a menacing threat that Matthias must overcome before he can truly call himself a Warrior Mouse.
Most interestingly, however, is how the showrunners chose to handle the characterization of Cornflower and her relationship to Matthias.
In the book, Matthias and Cornflower's affection for each other is mostly hinted at until the very end (which is identical in the show in nearly every detail). However, likely to try and give parents watching this show with their kids something enticing, the showrunners opted to play up the mutual affection and bring it to the foreground.
Cornflower, in the book, is pretty much a background character. She does have a few moments to shine, most notably her torching of Cluny's boarding tower, but she otherwise remains in the background. Jacques likely did this because, lets face it, the audience of the original book (kids), were not interested in a romantic love subplot. Kids don't really even know what that is, and thus, they don't care about it.
To bring Cornflower forward though, the showrunners incorporated whole plot points into the show that do not appear in the original book, but keep very much to the spirit of the story. Two episodes in particular that add to this are Cluny's Clowns and The Visitor (episodes 5 and 9 respectively). Not only do these episodes allow audiences to see their feelings come to the surface, but they make Cornflower into a more present character. And, I have to say, despite the noncanonical additions, I think this was actually a great improvement to the original story.
No matter what medium you encounter this story in though, Brian Jacques' Redwall is a marvelous work of fantasy fiction. In print, it's a beautifully written story that takes advantage of what prose fiction can do best, which is, to use Jacques' own words, "Paint pictures with words." And on the small screen, it wonderfully shows that a great, complicated story, fully of development can make the transition with its heart intact and still engage and enthrall its audience.
Comments