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
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