The Importance of Knowing the Classics

Many people have the warped idea that in order for a finished written work to be considered a creative masterpiece, it must be an entirely new idea— like a never before told story, or a marketing strategy that turns traditional advertising on its head.

But if you read between the lines of some of the most successful creative endeavors of the past few decades, you’ll find a simple secret that can yield dramatic personal and financial gain in creative industries.

The secret? Genius is about adaptation.

Nothing illustrates this concept better than the film industry. Producers, writers and directors have repeatedly adapted old stories into epic sagas on the big screen that have audiences lining up at midnight to attend. Andy and Larry Wachowski’s 1999 blockbuster, The Matrix, grossed a lifetime of nearly 200 million dollars in the box-office, was hailed by critics for the supposed ingenuity of its plot, and adored by fanboys for its unique special effects. The entire Matrix franchise, including Reloaded and Revolutions, went on to gross nearly 600 million dollars. And yet, the core concept of The Matrix is quite archaic. So archaic, in fact, that it dates back to 400 B.C.E. with the philosopher Plato.

Plato’s Theory of the Forms asserts that the sensations of the world around us are only representations of higher forms or ideas that exist elsewhere. So basically, if Keanu Reeves eats a thick juicy steak while he’s in the Matrix, the sensations he thinks he’s experiencing mirror an idea that physically exists elsewhere—the real world, which is ruled by robots.

Plato’s famous “Allegory of the Cave” suggests that the world we see before us is the one we will accept as reality. In the allegory, shadow puppets are the only creatures that the inhabitants of the cave believe to exist. Likewise, in The Matrix, the computer-generated replica of what life was like before robots took over is the only world Mr. Anderson knows—until he's unplugged of course, and becomes "Neo." The film is full of creative stunts, bullet dodging, and great catch phrases, and yet, it’s rehashing an idea that came thousands of years before the film industry existed.

Blade Runner, the 1982 adaptation of Philip K. Dick’s novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? is another example of this. The film essentially asks the same question that Mary Shelley asks in her masterpiece novel, Frankenstein, through the infamous monster: What does it mean to be human? The only difference is that Blade Runner uses androids to pose it. It’s the same question that screenwriter Terri Tatchell asks at the end of 2009 science fiction thriller District 9, when the protagonist, who has transformed into an alien, makes a flower out of scrap metal and leaves it on his wife’s stoop. Combined, Blade Runner and District 9 earned close to 150 million dollars. This might not have been possible had Mary Shelley never written Frankenstein.

Disney is the champion of borrowing ideas. The Lion King tells the story of Shakespeare’s Hamlet. The Lion King 2 uses the setup of Romeo and Juliet. Oliver and Company—the one with the talking animals in Manhattan—adapts Charles Dickens’ classic novel, Oliver Twist. The Little Mermaid, The Princess and the Frog, Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (very recently adapted into Snow White and the Huntsman, which has already grossed over 90 million dollars in the box office), are all spin-offs of fairy-tales by The Brothers Grimm. The list goes on and on, The Hunchback of Notre Dame is based on Victor Hugo’s novel written in 1835. The Great Mouse Detective couldn’t exist without Sherlock Holmes; Disney’s estimated value is upward of 60 billion dollars, thanks in large part to dead writers.    

The screenwriters, directors and producers of many  high grossing films must have been well-read people. They knew the classics well enough to know how to adapt the questions they raise into their own cultural climate for modern audiences to enjoy, and ponder. Technically, they even borrowed the concept of creative borrowing from classic authors, like John Milton. His Paradise Lost, after all, is the world’s earliest fan fiction of The Bible.

Sir Isaac Newton once said, “If I have seen farther, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” Willa Cather, author of My Antonia says in Oh Pioneers! “Isn’t it queer: There are only two or three human stories, and they go on repeating themselves as fiercely as if they had never happened before.” So knowing the classics is essential. If you create a work of genius that is entirely original, that’s great—especially since so many modern art movements, and today’s cultural landscape in general, strive for individuality. But sometimes, the best way to be creative is with a little bit of guidance from the old masters.

That’s kind of what we’re all about here at For Beginners—acquainting our readers with the classics.


-Dominick Sorrentino
Editorial intern