Andrew Davies will probably go down in history as the man who
had the epoch-makingly brilliant idea of putting Mr. Darcy into a
wet and thus clingily transparent blouse. But the blinding success
of his version of Pride and Prejudice aside, he has also
written the scripts for many of the great and memorable TV and film
adaptations of the past decades: House of Cards, Middlemarch,
The Line of Beauty, Bleak House, Tipping the Velvet, Bridget
Jones’s Diary and The Tailor of Panama, to name only
a few. He spoke to Australian screenwriter Jan Sardi
(Shine) about the delicate art of adaptation and what it’s
like to be the writer who channels Dickens and Austen for the
contemporary world.
The session opened with the screening of a ‘teaser’, in every
sense of the word, from the beginning of the BBC’s 2008 Sense
and Sensibility (yet to be seen on free-to-air Australian
television.) It’s a sexual seduction scene between a young girl and
a man whose face isn’t revealed, and needless to say, it’s not a
scene that’s written in Austen’s novel (Austen has the seduction
happen well and truly offstage.) As an illustration of Davies’
method the clip showed his willingness to stretch, bend, and
generally play fast and loose with the material supplied by even a
novel as well-known and revered as this, to be a little bit saucy
even when adapting Austen, in the interests of making a wonderful
novel catch the attention of a television audience with itchy
remote control fingers.
Jan Sardi asked just the right questions of Davies, drawing out
his views and feelings about the novels he works with, his sense of
exactly what his task is as an adaptor, and the cheerful confidence
and aplomb with which he seems to make some extraordinarily
difficult calls.
Before becoming a writer Davies taught English in schools and
universities, and I got the sense that he still unashamedly thinks
in terms of an educational mission – the basic value of opening up
unfamiliar books for novice readers matters more to him than
preserving all the superficially off-putting and remote dignity of
books written hundreds of years ago in disused language.
It was extremely refreshing to hear him acknowledge the value of
this unfashionable ideal, and he has done more than anyone alive to
keep books like Middlemarch and Bleak House in
front of readers. He spoke rather delightfully about his efforts to
ensure Bleak House would be accessible to children. But,
of course, when he talked in more detail about what he’s done with
Sense and Sensibility (which I’ve seen on DVD) it grew
complicated. He has made the two heroes more heroic and Willoughby
more of “a shit”, feeling that without these changes the men are
“seriously underwritten” and we don’t understand why the women are
interested in them.
I think Davies is right that the novel has serious structural
problems, but failure to clearly communicate what Marianne sees in
Colonel Brandon isn’t one of them, because the novel says, as clear
as crystal, that she doesn’t see much in him at all. This is a case
of adapting storytelling to the demands and conditions of a new
medium, but it’s also an example of a revision that softens away
the radically unromantic quality of the original novel and that’s
rather a wrench. The visual and emotional beauty of the series will
certainly bring new readers to Sense and Sensibility but
will they find the novel they were expecting?
Asked why he does so many classic novel adaptations rather than
modern ones, Davies gave an answer I liked: he simply prefers them.
The Line of Beauty, which Davies optioned on his own
behalf, seems to have struck him as somewhat exceptional among
modern novels in terms of having both strong plotting and
psychologically interesting characters. In general, he suggested,
modern fiction of the prize-winning, book-clubbing kind is thinly
plotted, and airport novels have flimsy characters. The classics
have both, and that’s why they have stuck around.
The session closed with Andrew Davies describing the
delightfully Narnian beginning to the working day that he now
enjoys, a recitation that must have struck envy into quite a few
hearts of those in the audience. Having bought the Edwardian house
adjoining his own to use as an office, to go to work in the morning
Davies steps into the built-in wardrobe in the corner of the
bedroom, passes through the clothes and through a hole knocked into
the wall, and climbs out of the identical wardrobe next door. If a
morning of writing goes well, he said, he hops back through the
hole and goes back into bed.
Laura Carroll teaches in the English Program at La
Trobe University.