The Art of the Adaptation - Guest Post By Megan Hennessey
Warning! Spoilers for Macbeth, or the Scottish Play, ahead.
Anna Karenina. Hamlet. Pride and Prejudice. These texts are part of a well-established cannon; not reading them (or liking them) feels akin to committing a literary misdemeanor. But I’ll admit it: Hamlet… doesn’t really do it for me. Ophelia doesn’t get enough time on stage and the plot thickens to tapioca-pudding levels in later acts. That’s why I love adaptations. When the original story feels inaccessible, a good modern adaptation brings the central themes and conflicts into twenty-first century life.
But writing an adaptation comes with challenges. I’m seeing this firsthand as I write a retelling of Macbeth set in the cut-throat world of fine dining titled The Woman Who Would be King.
What to Keep and What to Lose
In the Writer’s Digest article “Adapting to the Adaptation Process,” Joel Haber writes that when diving into an adaptation, the question to start with is, “What is this story really about?”
So much of Macbeth’s story hinges on receiving the prophecy that will become King of Scotland. When Macbeth encounters the three witches, they say:
First Witch
All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, thane of Glamis!
Second Witch
All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, thane of Cawdor!
Third Witch
All hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter!
Macbeth is surprised, then dismissive. But after he becomes thane of Glamis and Cawdor in quick succession, a seed of ambition takes root. That single-mindedness transforms him: determined to kill the reigning King Duncan, Macbeth becomes obsessed with killing anyone who would dethrone him.
That prophecy fascinates me. Macbeth can’t happen without it. It’s impossible to know if Macbeth would’ve stooped to murder if the witches hadn’t shown him his future. His ambition may have been sated had he become thane of Cawdor and nothing more (though Macbeth would be a much shorter play).
In my professional life, I’ve found the promise of a title bump, new responsibilities – they work like a prophecy. These promises let me gloss over my frustrations with my current situation. Once the prophecy comes true, I tell myself, all this struggling will have been worth it.
I wanted to create a main character that looked to a prophecy to keep her in a bad work situation. The challenge was to create a prophecy strong enough to make her want to endure the unendurable for just a little longer.
Reading kitchen memoirs and current accounts from sites like Eater, I’ve learned how rough life can be inside the world of fine dining. The only way to survive, it seems, is to adapt to the grueling work schedule and let the snarky, sexist comments slide off your chef’s whites. For the restaurateurs, sommeliers, and chefs who manage to make it, a mini type of celebrity awaits: Cookbook deals, TV shows, and (potentially) a lot of money. Enter Mackenzie: worn out from dealing with sexist colleagues and nearly at her breaking point. And then she receives a prophecy: If she can hang in there a little longer, she will be King of all of Boston. All hail King of Boston!
Updating the central storyline & characters
Macbeth and Lady Macbeth are not good people. Hell, they’re not even likeable people. They lie, scheme, and murder for power. They stand in contrast to King Duncan, who is kind, respectful, and wise. The story treats them like villains: Lady Macbeth goes mad by the end, sleepwalking and compulsively washing her hands of blood that is no longer there. Macbeth is defeated by MacDuff, who outwits and beheads him.
I got to decide if I wanted Mackenzie and her second-in-command to befall a similar narrative arc. And I found I was more interested in looking at how being in an unbearable situation – one you feel you have to endure – warps you. Mackenzie knows to not bring up the head chef’s sexist temper-tantrum behavior. She swallows her rage when the owner of the restaurant dismisses reports of sexual harassment. It’s Mackenzie, not her Lady Macbeth counterpart, that “stop[s] up the access and passage to remorse” in order to get what she wants.
Mackenzie isn’t the only one butting up against the expectations of her. Jamie, her love interest, comes up against the expectations of men. If Mackenzie swallows the belief that she must be cold and calculated to succeed, Jamie refuses to play by the sexist rules of the kitchen: he directly confronts rude, inflammatory behavior and he doesn’t take part in the jokes that ping around the grill line.
My next challenge is one I haven’t conquered yet: How to get them an ending that makes them triumphant.
The prophecy, the madness, the importance of ambition and power – all of those elements have stayed with me. It’s what keeps me coming back to the play. As I keep working on this adaptation, I’m excited to see how the characters come into their own. What are your favorite adaptations?