Like Peter Shaffer's Mozart, I may be a vulgar man, but I do not lust after vulgar entertainments. Though my thesis here is not centrally about Nathaniel Hawthorne and Ronald Joffe, the adaptation of The Scarlet Letter Joffe directed is a convenient paradigm for what Hollywood has done to a classic text, beautifully photographed, ornamented with splendid art direction, and, as the credits announce, "loosely adapted." You may recall, it stars Gary Oldman as a hunky Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale, Robert Duvall (who has seen far better roles) as a psychotic Chillingworth who has gone native and is given to scalping lustful Puritans. and Demi Moore as a strangely liberated Hester Prynne. This is not a retelling of the story Hawthorne would recognize.

The movie would have more accurately been titled "The Harlot Letter, or, Hester Fucked," for that is what Joffe's soft pornographic treatment is really about; that is its true content. What happens to Hester also happens to Hawthorne. Later on Hester is nearly raped by a randy Puritan named Brewster, but Hawthorne has been utterly raped.

I mention The Scarlet Letter of 1995 only because it is so campy and outrageous. It is not at all about language and literature, as will be clear when one revisits the scene in which Hester is so moved by the "passion" of Mr. Dimmesdale's sermon, which is fragmented and incoherent, no doubt because screenwriter Douglas Day Stewart would not have a clue about how to write a "passionate" sermon, particularly if it touched upon religion and morality: the fil in is primarily about infidelity (in more than one sense), revenge, and humping, and secondarily about witchcraft. intolerance, and colonial abuse.

Stanley Kauffmann, a critic of taste far too ratified for the movies, really, even though he has reviewed them for decades for The New Republic, has often protested the absurdity of attempting to adapt classic novels or plays to the cinema. If a literary or dramatic work has achieved a high level of near perfection in one medium, the best a film could hope to achieve is merely an approximate parallel statement that would be bound to fall short of the original achievement. Hollywood would do better to fix its sights on lesser works, such as the novels of Margaret Mitchell, Stephen King, or Mickey Spillane, or, a few notches better, Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Chandler, or James M. Cain. Hollywood should have the decency to let Nathaniel Hawthorne rest in peace.

My thesis concerns not Hawthorne, however. so much as Shakespeare, whose plays were obviously written to be performed. In fact, the dialogue and poetry should work just as well on either stage or screen, if the actors are sufficiently gifted, and, in fact, Shakespeare has not fared too badly through the first century of cinema, despite the extravagant treatments of Derek Jarman, Baz Luhrmann. and Julie Taymor. All of these directors took liberties with the text, but all of them remained relatively faithful to Shakespeare's language. The more recent trend, however, has been to update Shakespeare in such a way that the original language has been thoroughly changed, corrupted, and dismissed, which brings me back to my theme: cinematic rape and pillaging. Jan Kott entitled his groundbreaking book Shakespeare Our Contemporary, but in many ways the Bard is not really "our contemporary." Two examples may suffice:

Othello (2002) Directed by Geoffrey Sax, adapted by Andrew Davies for LTW and WGBH Boston, in association with the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Cast: Eamonn Walker (John Othello), Keeley Hawes (Dessie Brabent), Ben Jago (Christopher Eccleston), Christopher Fox (PC Adey), Allan Cutts (PC Stiller), Patrick Myers (PC Gaunt), Del Synnott (PC Alan Roderick), Andrew Charleson (Tommy Rogers), Bill Paterson (Sinclair Carver), Nicholas Gecks (Home Secretary), Richard Coyle (Michael Cass), Carl McCrystal (Geoffrey), Tim Faraday (Chief Superintendent), Michelle Newell (Alma Carver), Rachael Stirling (Lulu), John Harding (Prime Minister), Gerrard McArthur (Jim Gordon), Joss Ackland (James Brabant), Anna Niland (Estelle).

Andrew Davies, whose previous television credits include "Moll Flanders" and the impressive "House of Cards" series about a cynical politician ambitious of becoming Prime Minister, adapted Shakespeare's plot (but not his poetry) in this version, updating the action to contemporary London, where Scotland Yard's "John" Othello (Eamonn Walker) becomes the newly-appointed Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police after quelling a race riot. The adaptation was influenced by a real-life controversy over the 1993 killing of a black teenager and the botched police investigation that followed. The film begins with Othello at a formal reception, intercut with the police riot. Othello leaves the reception and goes out to calm the rioters: "We're not about to surrender the streets to mob rule," Othello tells the rioters, speaking to them of dignity and justice, "justice under the law."

Because of the controversy, former Commissioner Sinclair Carver (Bill Paterson) is forced to retire. He favors Ben Jago (Christopher Eccleston, the lago figure) to replace him, but the Home Secretary (Nicholas Gecks) and the Prime Minister (John Harding) have other plans. Michael Cass (Richard Coyle, the Cassio figure) is ordered to bring Othello to No. 10 Downing Street to the Prime Minister, who intends to promote Othello over his mentor, Ben Jago, to Police Commissioner. At that meeting Othello is advised to find someone in whom he can confide, and, of course, true to form, he chooses Jago. After the meeting Jago throws a private fit, venting his outrage, protesting: "It should have been me!" He then begins to plot against Othello. Hence this adaptation gives Jago a clear motive for his campaign to destroy Othello, as he begins to e-mail neo-Nazi hate groups.

Othello is married to Dessie Brabant (Keeley Hawes, the Desdemona figure), who has married Othello against the wishes of her father. James Brabant (Joss Ackland). Lulu (Rachael Stirling, the Emilia figure) is Dessie's friend and former classmate at boarding school, rather than her servant. Roderigo, Shakespeare's "gulled gentleman," becomes PC Alan Roderick (Del Synnott). but he is less important here than was the case in Shakespeare's play. Otherwise, the updated adaptation generally follows Shakespeare's tragic trajectory, except that Michael Cass. assigned to protect Dessie while Othello is at work, at one point makes a pass at her, though he finds her unreceptive.

Christopher Eccleston is impressive as Jago and dominates the production from beginning to end. His monologues both open and close the drama: "It was all about love. Don't talk to me about race. Don't talk to me about politics. It was love. Simple as that." After Othello stifles Dessie with a pillow at the end, he then gets on the bed and shoots himself. When he realizes that Jago has lied to him, he asks "Why?" Jago's answer is plain and simple: "Because you took what was mine!" The ending of the drama is far more cynical than Shakespeare. After Othello's death, Jago simply walks away and is rewarded at the end of the picture by being made the next Police Commissioner.

The Davies Othello features strong performances but has difficulty emerging from the shadow of Shakespeare. Presenting the program for the PBS "Masterpiece Theatre" (28 January 2002), series host Russell Baker could hardly contain his contempt for an adaptation that discarded Shakespeare's poetry for the "modern English of TV cop shows:' Baltimore Suit television critic David Zurawik found "poetry in the performances by Walker and Christopher Eccleston," however, also claiming that "the camera can have poetry, too." Perhaps, but this is not exactly equivalent to what Shakespeare wrote, and many who know the play will be in sympathy with Russell Baker's comment on Davies, "He throws the poetry out." However, the alleged "poetry" of the images does transform the play into a powerful racial spectacle of miscegenation and violence.

O (2001) U.S.A., directed by Tim Blake Nelson and adapted by Brad Kaaya for Lions Gate Films. Cinematography: Russell Lee Fine. Editor: Late Sanford. Cast: Mekhi Phifer (Odin James), Martin Sheen (Coach Duke Goulding), Josh Hartnett (Hugo Goulding), Andrew Keegan (Michael Casio), Julia Stiles (Desi Brable), Rain Phoenix (Emily), Chris Freihofer (Assistant Coach), Elden Henson (Roger), John Heard (Dean Brable), Anthony "A.J." Johnson (Dell), et al.

O, directed by Tim Blake Nelson and adapted by Brad Kaaya, might have been titled "Othello Goes to High School." It follows the trend started by 10 Things I Hate about You (1999), which also starred Julia Stiles and could have been tagged "The Taming of the Shrew goes to High School." But Othello is more problematic: not only is it far more serious, but it is also far more difficult to update and dumb down. As the only black male in an all white high school, screenwriter Brad Kaaya presumably might have experienced some of the anguish ascribed to his version of Shakespeare's tragic protagonist. Kaaya somehow thought it might be a good idea to turn Othello into a backcourt tragedy, without realizing that a basketball star lacks the authority and tragic dimension of the Moor, elevated to a position of military leadership. Shooting hoops instead of Turks is a less than subtle difference.

And all this without even taking into consideration the problem of Othello's distinctive rhetoric, even though, as Todd McCarthy pointed out in Variety, Kaaya "has been faithful to the play's emotion and plot mechanics," at least to a degree. The trouble is, can the high passions and extreme violence of the Shakespearean original survive a text that has not one whit of the original language? Language was the scaffolding upon which Shakespeare erected his improbable set of characters with their equally improbable motivations and behaviors. But without that glorious linguistic superstructure, can this pre-fab movie long endure?

Odin James (Mekhi Phifer as Othello's counterpart) is the star player of the Palmetto Grove Academy basketball team in Charleston, South Carolina. He's also the only black man in the school. Like his namesake, he's a warrior in battle-only in this case the combat is played out on the basketball court, a weak substitute. He's in love with Desi Brable (Julia Stiles plays this Desdemona), and makes little attempt to conceal it. When Desi's father, the school's dean (John Heard, the Brabantio figure), reproaches her, she defends the relationship.

Meanwhile, Odin's best friend and teammate, Hugo Goulding (Josh Hartnett as lago) is nursing a deadly grudge: His place on the team, coached by his father, Duke Goulding (Martin Sheen), has been usurped by Odin. Hugo feels displaced both as the team star and as the coach's son. In revenge, Hugo contrives a way to make Odin jealous of Desi. He starts rumors that Desi is seeing teammate Michael Casio (Andrew Keegan as Cassio). He fuels the rumors with allegations that Desi and Michael have cast racist slurs on him. He pilfers the scarf that Odin had given Desi and gets it into Michael Casio's hands. He even stage-manages a conversation with Michael intended to mislead Odin into thinking Michael is talking about an affair with Desi (instead of another girl). Even Hugo's girlfriend, Emily (Rain Phoenix), succumbs to Hugo's machinations, participating in the conspiracy.

Odin's jealousy takes its toll. He loses his concentration in practice. During a dunk contest, he angrily shatters the backboard glass. He turns to drugs. Finally, he falls in with Hugo's scheme to kill Desi. Desi awaits him one night alone in her room. While the basketball team is warming up for its big game, Odin steals into her room and strangles her. Then, several things happen very quickly, and all at once. Hugo and a confederate, Roger Rodrigues (Elden Henson), who will do anything to be popular, have taken Michael Casio out on a joyride with the secret intention of having the confederate kill him. The scheme backfires and Hugo has to kill him and the confederate himself. Back in Desi's room, Odin confronts Hugo and realizes at last that he has been betrayed by Hugo. Odin shoots himself, his last words declaiming that he really loved Desi. Hugo is hauled away by the cops.

The story is framed by images of cooing doves and a marauding hawk. Hugo's voice-- over intones a litany about wanting to fly, about wanting to be a hawk, a predator. Odin is such a hawk, and soon Hugo will be one, too. This framing device is very contrived and awkward. It is worsened by the use of the hawk as the basketball team's name and mascot. The ill-advised treatment turns Shakespeare's tragic plot into an absurd teen melodrama that cannot stand alone without the support of Shakespeare's diction and rhetoric. The twisted plot cannot survive the attempted transformation and the whole thing seems quite silly. Odin's mounting rage and violent actions likewise strain credibility. On the other hand, events at Columbine High School two years before the film was made were enough to withhold this film from circulation. Apparently, a lot of people thought the film mirrored rather too closely the sort of repressions and unleashed violence that can happen among teenagers.

The cast members acquit themselves well enough on the basketball court, especially Mekhi Phifer, who is more convincing on the basketball court than as a betrayed lover. He convincingly demonstrates that he might have had plenty of hardcourt experience and skill. Variety predicted that Phifer and Stiles "are two fine, intelligent young people destined for bright futures." Also, there's some plausible attention paid to the extremes that Palmetto's basketball coach, Coach Goulding (Martin Sheen), will go to recruit and develop Odin. The coach is like a Bobby Knight in miniature. Odin is not only the team's ticket to a state championship but to the Coach's possible future in the ranks of college ball.

As a story about racism and basketball in the American South, the film makes some sense, but not as a version of Othello to be taken seriously. Odin's initials are "O.J.," which might have made a better title than "O." Like O.J. Simpson, Odin is a promising young athlete who has difficulty functioning in white America. In Shakespeare's play the Moor is also an outsider in Renaissance Italy, but the circumstances are culturally different.

This is the second film directed by Tim Blake Nelson, memorable for his portrayal of the dimwit in the Coen brothers comedy 0 Brother, Where Art Thou? (1999), "loosely" based upon The Odyssey. Owen Gleiberman of Entertainment Weekly praised Nelson's direction (and the film, for that matter) but questioned "one extraordinary moment of primal anger" when Odin shatters the backboard in the dunking contest, the first demonstration of Odin's escalating rage that carries "uncomfortable-if unintentional-racist overtones." In the violent conclusion Odin becomes O.J. "Unlike Othello," Gleiberman concluded, Odin "withdraws in his very vengeance, from the audience, and the movie, for all of its feeling, recedes from tragedy."

"Textual Nostalgia"?

Linking me with a fictitious journal she called "Film and Lit Quarterly" (rather than Literature/Film Quarterly, which I have edited for 30 years), Jamie Barlowe quoted my review of Joffe's The Scarlet Letter in her book The Scarlet Mob of Scribblers: Rereading Hester Prynne: I called that film "an insult to literature of the highest order." I should have called it "an insult of the highest order." Thus I became a part of that "Scarlet Mob of Scribblers," hopelessly old-fashioned and given to what Barlowe called "textual nostalgia." This put me in good company, since my ridicule was more than matched by Joyce Carol Oates in The New York Times and Anthony Lane in The New Yorker, whose negative reviews were also cited.

The point is well taken, and I am no doubt even more guilty of "textual nostalgia" when reacting to corruptions made to the poetry of Shakespeare. Although the recent "loose" contemporary adaptations of Othello follow the general design of Shakespeare's plot, the dialogue has been vulgarized beyond recognition. But surely it is a mistake to value Shakespeare mainly for his plots, which were shamelessly borrowed from other sources, rather than for his poetry, which was distinctive, admirable, and unique. Can the plot still be tragic if the language is debased? Can the situation be tragic if the protagonist experiences a decidedly shallow fall? In the PBS adaptation Othello is at least a highly placed bureaucrat, a police commissioner and a man of some power and authority. But can this tragic play be reduced to a teenpix about a basketball star at a South Carolina prep school without losing its bearings and gravitas? Owen Gleibermann gave the film credit for capturing something of the Shakespearean "mood," but noted that at first glance it may "reek of opportunism, of the ultimate in cynically chic teen-niche pandering," even though he ultimately gave the film a passing grade. To my mind, however. both films reduce the tragedy to a spectacle of miscegenation and pathetic identity confusion. Now, that's a pity, and that's the point. In the case of Hawthorne the story is demolished. In the case of Othello, the language is debased. For those who value the text of Shakespeare. Othello without poetry may be as disagreeable as The Scarlet Letter made "sexy."

Works Cited

Arnold, Gary. "High School 'Othello' a Poor Study." Washington Times 31 August 2001: C5.

Barlowe, Jamie. The Scarlet Mob of Scribblers: Rereading Hester Prynne. Carbondale: Southern Illinois UP, 2000.

Gleiberman, Owen, "Class Warfare" Entertainment Weekly No. 612 (7 Sept. 2001): 132-33.

Kott, Jan. Shakespeare Our Contemporary. Trans. Boleslaw Taborski. Garden City, NY: Anchor Books. 1966.

Lane, Anthony. "Scarlet Women" The New Yorker (30 October 1995): 112-14.

McCarthy, Todd. "O" Variety (June 11-17): 18.23.

Mitchell, Elvis. "The Moor Shoots Hoops." New York Times 31 August 2001: B I.

Oates, Joyce Carol. "Rewriting The Scarlet Letter: Hawthorne's Heroine Goes to Hollywood." New York Times (15 October 1995); Op Ed.

Zurawik, David. "Othello on PBS an Arresting Drama." The [Baltimore] Sun (28 January 2002): DI-2.

James M. Welsh

Salisbury University