Netflix’s adaptation of Alias Grace is strongly tied to the source text,
yet it is interesting how this intricately woven work is quilted together. Fidelity
to the plot, the characters represented, settings, and tone are remarkably
accurate, but it is the omissions and additions to the television mini-series that enhanced the experience. Utilizing the
multiple elements available with film (versus the single-medium of the written
word), director Mary Harron is able to both
move the story forward and take the audience back to key moments. Grace’s
voice-over narration through the series cleverly shares her thoughts, allows
visuals to show what she is saying
simultaneously, and reads letters aloud. Intercutting is used to symbolize
memories and/or thoughts, but it is not specified as to whether Grace’s
repeated vision of Nancy Montgomery’s (Anna Paquin) body being unceremoniously
dumped into the cellar is imagined or remembered. However, we do know that the
image of James McDermott (Kerr Logan) butchering the bodies and holding up a
severed leg does not actually happen. Further, Dr. Jordan’s frequent fantasies
and daydreams of Grace are clearly imagined, but the first few cause the viewer
to do a double-take. The ambiguity Atwood (as relayed in Katrina Onstad’s NY
Times article) intended is honored.
Literary elements omitted from the mini-series
are not missed. Dr. Jordan’s mother thankfully sends no notes regarding his
marital status or her failing health. Mrs. Humphrey’s financial downfall and
the details of her affair with Dr. Jordan are summed up in just a few scenes;
rough sex and a room with only a carpet and plant stand are enough to satisfy those
who have read the novel without causing loose threads for viewers. Neither is
Dr. Jordan’s college friend mentioned, with whom he corresponds via letter on
numerous occasions in the novel. The landlady and potential relationship with
Grace’s father, as well as the efforts to keep the children fed (upon their
immigration into Canada) are excluded as well. Also, nowhere to be seen are the
frequent peonies from the book, but roses take center stage at the Kinnear
house. As in the novel, Nancy is holding roses in front of the home, and we see
this identifying image as an intercut flashback shot repeatedly.
Further, performance enhances the overall presentation. The two most memorable
instances involve Grace (Sarah Gadon) herself, and they begin with the opening
of the first episode. While the novel
provides words, the actress communicates visible emotions and a corresponding
facial expression for each term used by others to label her. She becomes an
inhuman female demon, an innocent victim, a person above her humble station, cunning and devious, and an idiot soft in the head. Ms. Gadon’s other incredible performance that
embellishes the program occurs after Grace’s old friend Jeremiah becomes Dr.
Jerome DuPont and hypnotizes the protagonist. Atwood wrote “The voice is thin,
wavering, watery; but fully present, fully alert,” but Gadon’s change
in voice and personality traits are portrayed so convincingly that it could
have been a different actress. “Really,
Doctor, you are such a hypocrite! You want to know if I kissed him, if I slept
with him. If I was his paramour! Is that it?” Grace truly becomes Mary-gone-wild
under Sarah
Gadon’s skillful portrayal and
Mary Harron’s directing experience with “characters crossed with madness.”
As
for culture, two distinct themes are present, with women and their lower station
prevailing. From the beating Grace’s mother receives when she falls boarding
the ship, to battering and attempted sexual abuse from her father, Grace’s
childhood is just the beginning. Mary acts as an older sister after Grace
arrives at the Parkinson residence, but the mentor is foreshadowing her own
future while teaching Grace: “The worst ones
are the gentlemen, who think they are entitled to anything they want;
and it is always better to lock
your door, and to use the chamber pot. But any kind of man will try the
same; and they’ll start promising things… you must never do anything for them until they have performed what they
promised; and if there’s a ring, there must be a parson to go with it.” (75) George Parkinson suffers no
consequences or ramifications for his actions, but Mary dies, and George
then set Grace in his sights. The visual image of her locked doorknob turning is
unsettling even for those who read the novel and know he will not gain entry. Grace’s
exposure to the nature of men continues on her journey to the Kinnear farm. In
the carriage and after arrival to Richmond Hill, she endures the drunkard’s
advances and assumptions. McDermott also speaks coarsely to her, insinuating a
loose nature, and Kinnear may or may not be making improper
advances. Certain abuse occurs while Grace is institutionalized. Seeing Grace strapped to a
chair in the asylum with a doctor reaching up her leg is deeply disturbing. Even
Dr. Jordan himself not only has sexual fantasies about Grace, but he
disrespectfully violates Mrs. Humphrey before discarding her. A woman’s
prospects in the workforce are limited, and prostitution is “easier work than a coal mine or a mill,”
but “many of them got diseases, and
were old by the time they were twenty.” (67) Yet, without income or financial
stability, one is susceptible to subjugation, no matter their gender.
The great difference between
social classes in 19th-century Canada
was also a poignant cultural touchstone in the book and adaptation. A rebellion
had just been fought, led by William Lyon Mackenzie, against the gentry. This
war not only provided McDermott with employment (with the Glengarry Light Infantry) prior to the Kinnear
farm, but it was also responsible for Mary’s employment at the Parkinson residence. Her father died “through
illness caused by hiding in the winter woods; and her mother had died of grief.” Additionally, the gentry’s
public opinion of Grace almost threw the trial. Per Reverend Verringer, “The Tories appear to have confused Grace with
the Irish Question, although she is a Protestant; and to consider the
murder of a single Tory gentleman – however worthy the gentleman, and however
regrettable the murder – to be the same thing as the insurrection of an entire
race.” (32) The cultural preference toward the wealthy Tories would have caused Grace’s execution had she been tried for
Nancy’s death. Per Mr. MacKenzie, Grace’s lawyer, “I couldn’t have got her off. Public
opinion would have been too strong for me. She would have been
hanged.” (183)
It
is not surprising, as Margaret Atwood herself was the supervising producer, that the Netflix adaptation of Alias Grace is a remarkably faithful representation of the novel. However, this straight adaptation
from literary work to
television mini-series is surprising in its ability to draw in the viewer and
entertain while simultaneously educate. Information about Canadian culture and
history, women’s lack of rights in the 19th-century, relationships,
mental health care, and even the penitentiary system was relayed.
No comments:
Post a Comment