With my mind on The Brightest Thread, I’ve been pondering retellings lately, retellings of all sorts and all formats. Books. Movies. Fairytale retellings. Superhero reboots. Book-to-screen adaptions. We’ve been seeing an influx of all of them–and perhaps a decline in original ideas, but that’s another topic for another time.
What I want to talk about today is the vast spectrum of responses these retellings get from people. One retold fairytale or rebooted movie from the 90’s might be adored, loathed, criticized, apathetically ignored, or anything and everything in between. Now, of course any work of art, original or retold, will elicit a variety of responses, but it seems that people become rather vocal when it comes to retellings.
Why is that?
I propose it’s because of people’s deep emotional attachment to the original story.
Take Beauty and the Beast, for instance. (And we’ll remove the LeFou issue from the equation for the moment, so we can focus on the bare bones of a retelling without whatever social agendas a director might shoehorn into a story.) Some people loved it. Some people strongly disliked it. Others feel conflicted, because they liked some parts and not others.
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Maybe the big deal is because a lot of the people who went to see the movie love the original tale of Beauty and the Beast–either the animated Disney movie or the Grimm fairytale or perhaps both.
Let’s take a look at an imaginary person for a moment. We’ll call her Jane. Jane grew up with a big fat book of fairytales, a book whose pages she wore ragged with use. She grew up watching B&B and sang “Tale as Old as Time” often enough to drive her brother mad. She’s eighteen now, and when she saw the preview for the new movie, she was ecstatic. Getting to see her favorite story brought to new life with modern special effects and great actors? Of course she’s thrilled!
On opening night, she settles into the theater folding chair, bucket of popcorn in hand, and her breath catches as the first scene starts.
Two hours and nineteen minutes later, Jane staggers out of the theater with her mind whirling.
Now, this could go many ways. She could be euphoric over the magical adaptation, the perfect songs, the many little nods to the original Disney film, the new twists.
Or she could feel angry and betrayed because of how, in her mind, the heart of the original was lost.
Or she could feel anything in between! But chances are good that she’s going to feel something, and it’s probably going to be a strong something. Because Beauty and the Beast is her favorite, and she wants the retelling to do it justice.
This goes for any adaption on the screen or on the page, and it’s an interesting topic to explore whether you’re the consumer or the creator.
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I think of the plethora of superhero films. They reimagine the comic books. And some of them reimagine the first reimaginings of the comic books. I mean, we’ve had three different Spider-Mans in the last fifteen years. If you like superhero movies, you probably have a favorite rendition, right? Even if you never read the comics (I never have), you have a certain expectation of who Spider-Man should be, and you’ll judge the movies accordingly. Nothing wrong with that; it’s just how it is.
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Stray too far, and you’ll upset someone. Stick too close, and you’ll still upset someone. Because Sleeping Beauty matters to this audience, otherwise they wouldn’t pick up a book based on it.
I’ve already come to terms with the fact that I can’t please everyone, so I’m not even going to try. But still, it’s worth figuring out what expectations your audience might have when they crack open your book.
I don’t know where I’m going with this post, really . . . I was just puzzling over why people react strongly to retellings, and I think I stumbled over one key reason. What do you guys think?