Jorge Franco's Rosario Tijeras

Sex, drugs, crime, and love - - that's what is involved in the 3 way relationship between Rosario, Enrique and Antonio in Franco's novel.

Although the novel's character's and events may be fictional, what was astonishing to find out that the sort of events that happen in the novel-- shoot outs in clubs, drug exchange -- would have been entirely plausible in the setting the novel was written. The Medellín Cartel and the setting in Colombia in the time frame [although never explicitly said] of late 80's, early 90s sadly, make this story possible.

It was sort of refreshing, however, to have an unconventional female lead in the story, or at least through Antonio's eyes. Rosario was everything to him, consumed by infatuation and love, but she was clearly damaged as a result of her surroundings. Since she was young, had experienced hurt and violence-- so it was not surprising to see how she unravels throughout the course of the novel, namely in the sporadic killing of men. She does possess a sort of power through her sexuality, which is evident by the way men are captivated by her [Emilio, Antonio etc]. Since the second time she was raped and later killed her rapist, Rosario used her feminine sexuality to get what she wanted (revenge or otherwise) seeing as how it was the only thing in her unstable world she had any control over. Her modus operandi of killing her victims with a kiss beforehand symbolizes the double edged sword, or the fine line between affection [whether genuine or otherwise] and death.

The relationships between the three main characters is a tangled web of emotions. Although Rosario is in a relationship with Emilio, and may love him, in her own way, it seems she is more in love with her relationship with Antonio they have together-- she is able to trust him in a way she cannot trust her own boyfriend. The novel seems to question the intention of love and the implications that being in a relationship require (although Emilio is her so called boyfriend, Rosario indulges in relationships with other men, possibly drug lords? && Emilio never shows up to the hospital after Rosario is shot, something someone should do if they care for another person)

It will be curious to see how the adaptation stays true to Antonio's account of events and depiction of Rosario and whether the Emilio/Rosario relationship will be expanded instead.

Piñeyro's Money to Burn

Upon looking up this film in the cinematic waters that is imdb.com, the page for this movie has a link claiming it is among one of the "50 Best Gay Films" and that, it may very well be.

Ricardo Piglia's book, however, is not really able to boast that it is one of the best gay books ever written.

In the book, The Kid and Gaucho's [or Nene and Ángel, as they are known in the film] relationship is not really a prominent part of the novel but rather a fraction in the overall plot of the novel. The fact that The Kid and Gaucho were intimate on some level does not overshadow the real task at hand, the robbery. In the film, it seems as though in order to keep the relationship intact, Nene and Ángel are looking for this job to salvage whatever is left of their love affair. Nene begins in an affair with Giselle out of boredom and to in a way spite Ángel, even though Ángel has been hurting the whole movie trying to prove himself. The Kid turns to Giselle in the novel because he sees her as a type of refuge from the restlessness of having to wait around in Montevideo.

In the novel, there is more sense of history also, having the author give context of both criminal's life in prison, etc. As was discussed in class, the burning of the money seems to lose its symbolism against society in the film, becoming a symbol of rebellion--the two lovers against the world [Bonnie and Clyde? haha].

Yet, it wouldn't be right to say the film devalues the more political aspects of the novel; it is more an expansion of a smaller aspect of the novel's story. As Dudley Andrews states, "it is assumed that the task of adaptation is the reproduction in cinema of something essential about an original text" and while this may be assumed, it is not always true. What should also be taken into account is that everyone's artistic vision or take on things are not made the same; Piñeyro seems more inspired [rather than wanting to adapt] by the structure of Piglia's novel as the frame for a tortured love story.

Piglia's Money to Burn

In Piglia's Money to Burn, despite the questionable translation by Amanda Hopkinson, is in one aspect, about a band of thieves committing a heist. But perhaps the real thieves, as Piglia represents with his epigraph, is the corrupt society in which they live. As a lens through which to read the novel, this Brecht epigraph brings into question the reliability of this money. Is Piglia trying to insinuate that because the money from the banks is tainted with corruption and capitalism, it should get stolen and ultimately burned? It seems to evoke the most basic theme: nothing material truly matters. We give certain things significance in our lives, like money, to prove our worth. Money to Burn demonstrates, however, that there are ultimately consequences for when one gets a bit carried away with said material possessions-- others, like this gang, who feel one doesn't deserve it begin to want it more and try to find ways to get it, usually illegally.

It is also note worthy to note the style in which the past 3 texts we have read are written and how that affects the work. The considerable amount of heteroglossia and polyphony in this book can reflect the theme of confusion and loyalty. From the narrator's descriptions, to tv reports and certain characters internal thoughts, the reader can easily become lost. But such is the life of these bandits: so lost in the effects of their society, they turn to a life of crime to ultimately get what they feel they deserve from the people who don't. The form also brings about the question of trust: whose accounts can we believe over others? It's as though Piglia wants us to think about the choices we make in our lives and how they relate to and affect other people other than ourselves.

Lombardi's Captain Pantoja

Whenever one reads a book and later learns there is a movie adaptation of it, one has certain expectations; since having read the literature, one begins to form ideas on how certain things, characters, settings etc. should be visualized. More often times than not, the reader's expectations are not met in the movie version. Since we are all different, no two people will interpret a novel into film the same way and in most cases, the film is primarily the director's interpretation of the work.

Lombardi interprets Llosa's novel in his own way. It seems as though his hypertext of Llosa's hypotext was taken and put into the "grand" Hollywood plot machine. The result is a fairly enjoyable film which is more than anything, a crowd pleaser. To anyone with prior knowledge of Llosa's novel, the film can't help but to be a little disappointing.

It omits particular characters, such as Father Francisco and Captain Pantoja's mother, Leonor. Both characters were mostly connected to the radical cult subplot that forms in the Amazon; the main reason for this is omission is apparent; as discussed in class, not many people would want to go see a movie with those graphic crucifixtion scenes depicted in the novel, among other things. Lombardi instead, chooses to sensationalize the love affair between Captain Pantoja and the Brazilian, or as she is in the film, Colombian. In the novel, it is unclear whether Pantoja has genuine feelings for the Colombian, but the film heavily idealizes their relationship and after her death, the rest of the film unfolds like an exaggerated melodrama. Lombardi definitely keeps the humor and main story-line from the novel, but makes it more accessible to audiences...which isn't necessarily always a good thing.

Llosa's Captain Pantoja

Llosa's work, Captain Pantoja and the Special Service, definitely has filmic qualities. There is, however, an abundance of literary writing styles, termed as heteroglossia in class, which might make this a difficult work to translate to film; I am curious to see how Lombardi approaches the text. One of the things Lombardi probably struggled with when adapting this novel was the telescopic form of dialogue. It's interesting because, as one is reading, the back and forth pattern between events (like when Pantoja is being informed of his promotion and at the same time, there is dialogue of him speaking with Pocha and his mother earlier that morning) one can get a bit confused. Visually, though, it seems more plausible to have a constant to and fro of scenes between the past and present events. Another issue would be the visualization of the dispatches and letters exchanged between the generals and other officials. Most of how that might be seen on film deals with Lombardi's creative license and how he might want to include or exclude them. The letters are actually extremely important in the novel because they magnify the absurdity of Pantoja's task.

The humor will probably translate easily into film; it mostly lies in the seriousness with which the whole operation is taken. Pantoja dedicates himself fully to the project and tries to go above and beyond to do his best. As specified in his letters, he has tried to make the whole project into a series of technical events, timing situations, looking up information. It is ironic to note that it is Pantoja who is eventually punished for doing exactly what was asked of him.

The setting in the Amazon offers great scenery visually, but is also incredibly symbolic. This seems to be the place where repression is let loose. The need to have to resort to creating the service was to control the urges of the soldiers wild sexual appetite supposedly caused by the exotic heat of the Amazon; before the creation of the service, soldiers were going on rampants raping women in the villages. Father Francisco and his whole cult had their most successful gatherings in the amazon. The idea that the Amazon has certain properties which can altar you or your perceptions is chilling; a clever device used by Llosa to communicate themes of social and political types. Alas, these are some of the many interesting aspects that could make Captain Pantoja's journey into an enjoyable film.

discrepancies in Spider Woman film

Upon finishing watching The Kiss of the Spider Woman film adaptation, I didn't feel quite satisfied. There were a couple of things that I felt were missing.

First of all, the most apparent difference is the melding of the films Molina discusses into one major film that expands throughout the whole film. It is understandable that including all the six films in the movie would have probably made it tediously long, but I got a sense that the film moved into the affection phase of Molina and Valentin's relationship too quickly. With each film Molina describes, clear parallels can be made between what his feelings and the protagonist he is describing from his films. In the movie, I couldn't really tell Molina's was describing his feelings with the film as its guise.

Another change that really bothered me was the apparent change in Valentin's character. Instead of being a passionate political activist and having studied architecture, he is a journalist in the film. Such a change didn't really make sense, it sort of dulled the oppositions that were made in the novel: Valentin- a realist, Molina- an escapist. Babenco also excluded completely Valentin's pension for studying, a characteristic I felt was key in his character. It demonstrated his connection to the outside world, Valentin's studying was like Molina's films; they were his way of staying in touch with a certain reality and a form of escapism. Because of this, I feel Valentin in the movie is a less developed character in the film.

In the last scene where Valentin is dreaming, a huge part of the dream is missing. Babenco's film basically communicates that Valentin sees Marta and all is well; he technically still loves her and only her. In the novel, however, there is mention to the Spider Woman who is an extension of Molina; Marta even says she isn't jealous because he's never going to see her again. In other words, there is more proof that Valentin does love Molina more in the end in the novel than in the film. Also, the possible allusion to the death in the dream with the mention of being led to a light is omitted completely from the novel, which I feel takes away from the mystery of the novel's end.

In retrospect, despite all these differences, the message in both the novel and the film remains relatively the same. Two opposites come together through escapism and discover things about the other and themselves which leads them to change, and one to ultimately sacrifice themselves: all for love.

PUIG'S NARRATIVE STYLE

I have never read anything quite like Kiss of the Spider Woman; from the first sentence, I was immediately captivated. This pleasant reaction was a result of Manuel Puig's writing techniques.

Firstly, the heavy use of dialogue between Valentin and Molina sort of elminates a main narrator; there is a narrative authority to some extent, as discussed in class, with Molina's dialogue and the excerpts of the prisoner reports dispersed throughout. This choice in writing was refreshing to read because all sort of narrative expectations were thrown out the window and I could concentrate on what the two characters at hand were saying. In certain cases, It was like trying to solve a puzzle. For instance, in order to find out the setting, time and place these two characters lived in, I had to pay close attention to their dialogue as opposed to other books where one relies on the 1st or 3rd person narrator to explain such things. It read like a play or screenplay of sorts; I was glad too see such a method of writing could be translated this seamlessly for a novel.

I also was impressed by Puig's use of the films Molina tells Valentin as a vehicle to express their rawest feelings. Whether Molina is making up the films or reiterating a Hollywood film word for word is not important. As Michael Boccia states in his essay, "when Molina and Valentin embellish the films" they are really "revealing their human desires and needs." Molina and Valentin's love develops perhaps because they were able to get to know each other's most true selves through this artistic form of expression. There were no rules to telling these films, and Molina constructed them in order to reveal his most vulnerable feelings, which in turn, eventually allowed Valentin to do the same. Both these prisoners, literally trapped inside a cell, are able to at least be free metaphorically and discover their true selves through the powerful force of art.

Puig offers a very different and unique love story which is only enhanced by his inventive form of presentation.

Alea's Memories of Underdevelopment

Thomás Gutiérrez Alea's film could actually be summarized by a scene in the actual film: it is a tragically poetic shot in which Sergio is washing his hands in the sink and he leaves behind excess bubbles. He tries to wash them away but they continue to live in the sink. This shot encapsulates Sergio's journey throughout the film. He constantly tries to run away from this so called "underdevelopment" left behind by the revolution, but no matter how much he tries to wash it away, he is not able to escape it...the "bubbles" of his underdevelopment stay behind.

I was impressed with Alea's treatment of the source material. It is certainly an advantage that Desnoes himself worked with Alea on the film adaptation of the novel. This collaboration helped take the novel to the next level, I believe. Scenes such as the visit to the Hemingway house and the Kennedy and Castro speeches were even added to that of the original Spanish version, which have proven to be very valuable in the film. It was like the film was Desnoes's final draft.

One thing I am certainly pleased with was Alea's take on the narrative in the novel. In Desnoes's work, the narrator is speaking to us through what seem like journal entries, which are very precise and personal. At times, though, the narrative can seem like the random complaints of an ex bourgeousie Cuban who thinks he is somehow better than most of his peers when he himself is flawed in many ways. Many films tend to take advantage of the voiceover but I think it was a key element here. Whenever Sergio gave his voiceover speeches, something important was being depicted, whether it be scenes of the trial or the documentary pieces; the visualization of these monologues of Sergio's definitely add more meaning to the words and make him a more personable character than in the novel.

underdevelopment vs. inconsolable

Memories of Underdevelopment was once called Inconsolable Memories. The title change is more effective now as it describes the protagonist, Sergio's, inner isolation and turmoil in the face of this social climate change in Cuba.

Lessons of Experience by Michael Chanan states that underdevelopment is an "economic concept" but it can also be applied emotionally. Sergio has made a decision to stay behind and enclose himself in this environment which he cannot even stomach sometimes, calling his acquaintance Pablo, "a perfect moron." Sergio himself realizes that his country has "sunk in underdevelopment." I found it a bit disturbing, however, how unaffected he seems by the events that lead him to such insolation; he lets his wife leave him and willingly decides to stay home most of the time. he seems displeased with his environment, complaining about the bourgeouis and their faults but yet does nothing--does not flee, does not fight, just remains.

This state of paralysis is even more evident through the personal form of narrative Desnoes employs. Sergio is always consumed with talking about material things, such as his need for keeping in shape or fantasizing about Noemi. I feel like Sergio uses the Revolution and its effects as a mean to change, but ultimately does not take any grand steps towards achieving change more so because he was stuck in the past, underdeveloped rather than inconsolable.

Bertolucci: The Spider's Strategem

I was throughly pleased with Bertolucci's film, The Spider's Strategem. I would consider the film one of the better results of a hypertext developed from a hypotext, which in this case is Borges's Theme of the Traitor and the Hero.

Visually, the film was beautiful; Bertolucci seems to have paved the way for the films now in terms of shots and angles. The shot when Athos gets punched for no particular reason, showing just the fist and sound of a punch rather than filming the whole action. It felt a bit familiar, probably because others have been inspired by Bertolucci's genius. Also, towards the end while Athos is in the theater piecing the final clues in the quest for his father's murderer: it felt like a sort of a visual mind trick in how you see Athos on one side and his father's friends off in the distance in the box across the theater and as Athos is verbally piecing the clues together a friend disappears one by one until they all end up in the same box where his father was killed and the confession is revealed. When Draifa is speaking in the present but is placed in a flashback is something I also found incredibly clever. The music, I felt, was very effective in the film, particularly when Athos is taken to the Po River and begins to run out of fear of being harmed by his father's friends.

As Bertolucci states in his interview, he was inspired by the story and maintained most of its "mechanism." Changing some details, among them being the setting and characters, Bertolucci took Borges's story and made it his, applying it to his own experiences at the time; according to him, the film wouldn't have been possible without Bertolucci's experience undergoing psychoanalysis prior to writing the script. As a result, I figure this is a very personal work of art; without this prior knowledge, of both the Borges story or Bertolucci's interview, I don't know if I would have enjoyed it as much. They both gave me a deeper insight into the film's message which helped me appreciate it that much more.

Theme of the Traitor and the Hero

"All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players " comes to mind after reading Borges's piece. Although Kilpatrick played the role of saint in the public's eyes, he was ultimately the villian. I found it heartbreaking and somewhat humorous the amount of work put into making Kilpatrick's death seem like a noble one; the lengths some will go to cover up a secret is astounding.

The short story in itself has many references to other works; as Ryan is slowly piecing together the events that led up to Kilpatrick's demise, he discovers the "parallelisms" between Kilpatrick and Julius Caesar. Nolan takes ideas from Shakespeare's Macbeth and Julius Caesar to plan the whole spectacle. This is, of course, is done quite deliberately as a way of Nolan's to have someone discover Kilpatrick's truth one day. Still, the idea of fabricating a world to maintain appearances would make anyone wonder if anything in their life is true.

There is a tone of irony and even humor in the piece; Kilpatrick assigns Nolan to discover the traitor knowing the possibility of being found out himself. On the other hand, this could have been done purposely by Kilpatrick. The reference to Yeats's poem The Tower made me wonder about such a possibility. In researching a bit, it seems as though the speakers in both works encounter a similar dilemma. Much like Kilpatrick has to choose between dying a hero at the hands of Nolan or dying a traitor at the hands of the people, the speaker in Yeats's poem feels the need to choose between poetry and reason.

Perhaps Borges includes this piece of Yeats's text to display its possible inspiration to him. I think it just continues to proves intertextuality in all its forms and how it occurs throughout history.

What makes an adaptation?

After discussing Cortázar's "Blowup" or, " Las Babas del Diablo", as is the title in Spanish, I was struck by the notion of the speaker having to recount his story as a means to "get rid of that tickle in the stomach that bothers [him]." Describing his need to tell the story in this way, I figure the speaker does this as a form of relief. The details of the events that have transpired are much traumatic to keep to himself.

Then I wondered: how will Antonioni portray the speaker's sensation, his urgency to communicate his experiences to the reader? Will he mention or omit this reaction, which is crucial in the development of the story? This all depends on how Antonioni adapted the short story.

There have been many disagreements over the requirements for an adaptation. Many scholars, as noted in Stam's essay, "Beyond Fidelity," have thought that any digression from the novel to film is considered a "betrayal." Stam, however, tells us to lighten up.

In most cases, adaptations are more "translations" of the work rather than a strict adherence to it. Based on the director and other visionaries in charge of the film, there will be things lost in the translation from literature to cinema, as well as things added.

This brings about the idea of intertextuality, or as Gérard Genette describes it, the "effective co-presence of two texts." According to him, adaptation participates in a "double intertextuality" because it includes both the piece of fiction and the movie. Among the five types of intertextuality Genette mentions, Blowup is considered an "architextuality," simply because Antonioni changed the title of the short story for his film. One can hypothesize that from such a change, that Antonioni probably did not make an exact replica of "Las Babas del Diablo" in the form of a film. Does that then, not make it an adaptation? "Blowup" is also a part of Genette's theory of "hypertextuality," which is where an original work, or "hypertext," inspires other works based on it, or "hypotexts." If traced back far enough, it can be found that all art is, in some way, hypertextual.

Stam concludes that audiences should be open to different interpretations when it comes to adaptations of novel to screen. The "differences among the media" should be appreciated. Even though "Blowup" may not be "Las Babas del Diablo," it is still a work of art that has since inspired other film adaptations, alas, in the true form "hypertextuality."