light of my life, fire of my loins

an essay on film adaptation by nabila sajjad

Vladamir Nabokov’s novel, Lolita, begins with a series of the most compelling and memorable sentences ever written; “Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of my tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. “ (Nabokov, 9) What makes this series of sentences so impactful lies well beyond its extensive use of alliteration; but rather in its meaning. It encourages readers to journey to understand the significance of Lolita, but also to understand the curiously absurd mind of the narrator, Humbert Humbert.

Adrian Lyne’s film, Lolita, begins with Humbert Humbert, wearing disheveled clothes, covered with dirt and blood, toying with a plastic bobby pin, driving with a carelessness marked by inquisitive thought. He narrates to the audience and says, “She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on a dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul, Lolita.” This opening to the film functions similarly to Nabokov’s novel’s opening paragraph; it encourages an audience to journey to understand both Lolita and Humbert Humbert. Yet it is portrayed entirely differently; the film includes an image track, a sound track, positions Humbert Humbert in an actual physical environment, and decides to re-structure the order of Nabokov’s own sentences. Since the 1955 novel preceded the 1997 film it can serve as a model for the film to be compared to. Therefore, the question of whether this transfer of the novel from one medium to another works effectively arises.

Film adaptation, or the transfer of a written work into a film, has prompted various heated debates regarding the cultural value of an adapted film, a debate that generally favors the written work over the film. For Nabokov’s novel, Lolita, and Adrian Lyne’s film, Lolita, it seems as though the artistic prowess of Nabokov has historically been far more appreciated and glorified than that of Lyne. The reasons for this are numerous, but whether it is well deserved and substantive is questionable.

In Robert Ray’s essay, “The Field of Literature and Film”, Ray discusses the concept of the original vs. the copy, a concept that critics of film adaptation commonly use to justify their claims that film adaptation is inherently lacking. To these critics, film adaptation includes two forms of narratives, one being the original, such as the novel, and the other being the copy, the film. To critics, “the aura of an original is dissipated by…modernity’s rapidly accumulating tools for mechanical reproduction.” (Naremore, 45) In other words, film, in reproducing a narrative that already exists, generally ruins the inherent value of the “original” narrative. Andre Bazin sums up the attitude of the critic when he states that, “a novel is a unique synthesis whose molecular equilibrium is automatically affected when you tamper with its form.” (Naremore, 19) This excerpt from Bazin’s article, “Adaptation, or the Cinema as a Digest”, further exemplifies the attitudes of critics that simply view film adaptations as “copies”.

By identifying a novel as the original and the adapted film as a copy, critics are constructing labels that play on stereotypes. It is a well known fact that our culture has been encouraged and constructed to believe that anything that has is original is far more prestigious than those that are considered mere copies. Take for example commercial re-prints of famous paintings, such as Van Gogh’s Starry Night. These re-prints are valued at close to nothing compared to the original Starry Night, a painting whose worth is infinite in society. Therefore, labeling a film adapted from a novel as a copy is in itself enough to explain why a film is not of the same cultural value of a novel.

Nabokov’s novel is thus the original, and Lyne’s flim is the devalued copy. For critics, Lyne’s film is nothing more than a mimic of a significant art piece that has already been created, and for Lyne to tamper with its form represents a certain thievery and mechanical reproduction that is denied respect. Critics generally argue that a film must have fidelity towards the novel, and that without fidelity the film is ineffective and lacking. The argument as to why film adaptations are not of the same cultural value as the novel they are based on can be understood more completely in Dudley Andrew’s essay, “Adaptation”. Andrew states, “More difficult is fidelity to the spirit, to the original’s tone, values, imagery, and rhythm, since finding stylistic equivalents in film for these intangible aspects is the opposite of a mechanical process.” (Naremore, 32) What Andrew is thus saying is that fidelity, or in other words the extent of similarity between the novel and film, to certain elements belonging to the novel is increasingly difficult to transfer into a film, and this difficulty, sometimes impossibility, is what causes films to be considered devalued copies, considering the fact that fidelity is considered an impertinent aspect in film adaptations to critics.

What really is this spirit of Nabokov’s novel that is so difficult to translate into Lyne’s film? In my opinion, the spirit of Nabokov’s novel lies firstly in Nabokov’s use of language and secondly in the characterization of his characters; the intriguing and controversial Humbert Humbert and his nymphet lover, Dolores Hayes, aka Lolita.

First of all, the literary style of Nabokov is one that has earned real distinction for its genius. Take for example, this excerpt from Lolita, “The only definite sexual events that I can remember as having occurred before my thirteenth birthday (that is, before I saw my little Annabel) were: a solemn, decorous and purely theoretical talk about pubertal surprises in the rose garden of the school with an American kid, the son of a then celebrated motion-picture actress whom he seldom saw in the three-dimensional world; and some interesting reactions on the part of my organism to certain photographs, pearl and umbra, with infinitely soft partings, in Pichon’s sumptuous La Beaute Humaine that I had filched from under a mountain of marble-bound Graphics in the hotel library. ” (Nabokov, 11) The genius of this long and complex sentence lies in its inordinate detail, its overwhelming yet perfectly manicured form, and its creativity; a pedigreed eloquence that to even attempt to actualize in film seems entirely impossible. How would a film-maker portray this one sentence, a sentence that gives the reader a glimpse of the style of Humbert’s own thoughts, a style that marks him as pedantic, meticulous, and incredibly smart in film?

Andre Bazin, states that to the critic, “Essentially, no detail of the narrative can be considered secondary; all syntactic characteristics, then, are in face expressions of the psychological, moral, or metaphysical content of the work.” (Naremore, 20) What Bazin is saying is that to the critic, every detail of a novel is significant, and to not include these significant details in a film will undermine the quality of that film. Thus, making it incredibly important to the critic that Lyne’s Lolita contain an essence of the literary style of Nabokov, which is so important in the novel. Yet, it is entirely impossible to reproduce Nabokov’s language into a film, without every sentence from Nabokov’s novel having to be narrated in the film. This task would be essentially reading the book aloud with an image track running along with every sentence; yet, this is undoubtedly impossible due to the primary differences between the mediums. Does that mean that every film, due to its inability to capture every “syntactic characteristic” of a novel, is therefore always merely a devalued copy? Can no great film, based on a novel, be made?

Bazin doesn’t seem to believe so. For example he states, “…the problem of cinematic adaptations, is not absolutely insolvable, and the history of the cinema already proves that this problem has often been solved in various ways. “ (Naremore, 20) Bazin continues in justifying his claim by providing examples of films that were able to capture attributes of the novel in all together creative ways. For instance, he uses the example of how the film, The Pastoral Symphony, directed by Jean Delannoy, uses the actress Michelle Morgan’s “beautiful eyes” to “communicate the blind Gertrude’s innermost thoughts.” (Naremore, 20) Essentially, even a shot of Morgan’s eyes can stand symbolic to the personal thoughts contained inside the character of Gertrude, thoughts that are generally held as only perceivable through the novel. This concept of being able to achieve aspects of the novel in the film, however in stylistically different ways can be understood more clearly when Bazin states, “all it takes is for the filmmakers to have enough visual imagination to create the cinematic equivalent of the style of the original, and for the critics to have the eyes to see it. “ (Naremore, 20)

Based on this assumption, how does Lyne then portray Nabokov’s literary style, a crucial element of the novel, into his film? In the film, the first three minutes are completely narrated by Humbert. He speaks eloquently, slowly, and makes use of Nabokov’s own poetic language. His narration is accompanied by instrumental music, primarily employed to set a certain inquisitive and pedantic tone, and the beauty that lies in his own narration is parallel to Nabokov’s literary style in the novel. A more specific instance of how Lyne portrays Nabokov’s literary style can be seen in the scene in which Humbert is writing in his journal while watching Lolita from the window. What is being written, essentially his thoughts, are then narrated in the film. As he writes in his journal, the narration goes, “A normal man, given a group photograph of school girls, and asked to point out the loveliest one, will not necessarily chose the nymphet among them. You have to be an artist, a mad man, full of shame and melancholy and despair, in order to recognize the little deadly demon among them. She stands unrecognized by them, unconscious herself of her fantastic powers.” The narration, although divergent from the original series of sentences in the novel, still captures the same pedigreed eloquence that Nabokov exhibits through-out his novel. Thus, although Nabokov’s literary style is not completely captured in the film; the magic of his story-telling is most certainly understandable in the film.

Second of all, Lolita is most famous for the character of Humbert Humbert, a European literary scholar with an insatiable addiction to “nymphets”; making him essentially a rather smart pedophile. Readers find that Humbert Humbert, although 37 years old, is inexorably in love with a twelve year old American girl, Dolores Hayes. Humbert Humbert is undoubtedly one of the most controversial and intriguing fictional characters to have ever been created. He is unforgettable not simply for the fact that he defies all that has been deemed as forbidden in the eyes of society and religion, but because of the way in which Nabokov has characterized him. Nabokov has given his readers, ultimately the jury in Humbert’s own trial against law and society, a complete unmasking of the queer yet fantastic character of Humbert Humbert. What readers carry with them most after having read Lolita, is a fragment of Humbert’s soul rather than the story itself. It is as though every reader has a chance to be Truman Capote and treat Humbert as their own Perry Smith. Nabokov characterizes Humbert as a complex character who is a heinous usurper of young female innocence, a victim of the nymphet’s relentless spell that enchants and immobilizes his heart, yet is infinitely humorous, smart, and hopelessly romantic. Humbert’s own thoughts are as follows, “you have to be an artist and a madman, a creature of infinite melancholy, with a bubble of hot poison in your loins and a super-voluptuous flame permanently aglow in you subtle spine (oh, how you have to cringe and hide!), in order to discern at once, by ineffable signs – the slight feline outline of a cheekbone, the slenderness of a downy limb, and the other indices which despair and shame and tears of a tenderness forbid me to tabulate – the little deadly demon among the wholesome children; she stands unrecognized by them and unconscious herself of her fantastic power. “ (Nabokov, 17) From this sentence alone, readers can understand that Humbert is most certainly a sexual predator, he is most certainly under a “fantastic power” that allows him no control, and that most importantly he is completely aware of both, almost humanizing a character who otherwise would be considered a “freak.”

Yet, Nabokov allows for his readers to solicit only a certain degree of sympathy for Humbert, and often times makes his more perverted side reign superior. For example, Humbert continuously describes his sexual inclinations towards pre-pubescent girls, “ with awe and delight (the king crying for joy, the trumpets blaring, the nurse drunk) I saw again her lovely indrawn abdomen where my southbound mouth had briefly paused; and those puerile hips on which I had kissed the crenulated imprint left by the band on her shorts …” (Nabokov, 39) Making Humbert’s perverse inclinations as well as his hopelessly romantic nature increasingly evident throughout Lolita, makes it clear to readers that although they may identify with many of his positive characteristics, he is still an unforgivable pedophile.

In Adrian Lyne’s film, Lolita, the characterization of Humbert is similar yet strikingly dissimilar. Lyne brings to the screen a Humbert who is much more likeable, identifiable, and seemingly innocent than Nabokov’s depiction of Humbert. Lyne’s Humbert is soft-spoken, clumsy, optimistic, romantic, and made to seem more victim than villain. For example, in the scene in which Humbert is watching Lolita leave for boarding school, we see real and endearing sadness in Humbert’s eyes as he watches her get into a car from behind a window. He then sees Lolita turn back to run into the house, and immediately he fixes his attire, his hair, and starts shaking from anticipation and excitement. When Lolita finally enters the room, he embraces her awkwardly and seems completely smitten and enthralled by her. Later in the film, there is a scene in which Humbert suspects Lolita of conspiring with a mysterious man to run away, he then proceeds by pinning her against the bed and begging her to tell him who the mysterious man is with severe emotional angst. Humbert is overtaken by tears; he shakes, and cries into her arms. Lolita, responds by giving him a smile, which is ironic given the situation, and continues to control his emotions with her sexuality. Lolita, in Adrian Lyne’s film, is characterized as a nymphet with complete understanding of her sexual powers and has no fear or inhibitions regarding how to use this power. In a way it brings an unnatural sexual maturity to Lolita, which she uses for manipulative purposes, making Humbert the victim rather than the villain. In Nabokov’s novel Humbert is characterized as being in the midst of a mutual seduction, of which he is more guilty. On the other hand, in Lynne’s film, Humbert is characterized as being the prey to Lolita, a precocious siren and predator who exalts supreme power over the otherwise helpless and romantic Humbert. Essentially, Lyne is compelling audiences to be far more sympathetic towards Humbert than Nabokov himself intended.

For film adaptation critics, this discrepancy in characterization, which ultimately represents the spirit of the novel, is enough evidence to support the notion that the film lacks fidelity towards the novel. To most critics fidelity is supreme, however, Stam’s article, “Beyond Fidelity: The Dialogics of Adaptation” states that, “…it is questionable whether strict fidelity is even possible.” (Naremore, 55) Stam further explains this idea by stating that a novel is essentially what the reader makes out of it; a novel mostly describes, whereas the rest is up to the reader to construct.

Take for example, the characterization of Lolita. In the novel, to certain readers it may seem as though Lolita is nothing more than victimized and completely in servitude of Humbert. Yet, to others it may seem as though Lolita carries with her a certain sexual intelligence, that even at the young age of twelve, she uses to her own benefit, making her far less innocent. Take for example this excerpt from Lolita, “She had entered my world, umber and black Humberland, with rash curiosity; she surveyed it with a shrug of amused distaste; and it seemed to me now that she was ready to turn away from it with something akin to plain repulsion. Never did she vibrate under my touch, and a strident “what do you think you’re doing?” was all I got for my pains. “ (Nabokov, 166) For these two sentences, readers can decide for themselves whether or not entering Humbert’s world stands as a metaphor describing Lolita’s attitude towards Humbert’s sexual invitations, or whether it simply refers to Lolita’s attitude towards becoming Humbert’s adoptive daughter. When Nabokov writes that, “she had entered my world…with rash curiosity…never did she vibrate from my touch”, it could read to certain readers that Lolita was not any normal twelve year old, who would most likely be fearful of any sexual contact, but was rather curious and exploratory. Yet, to other readers it could read that Lolita had no choice but to accept Humbert’s sexual invitations, as she had no other guardian and was completely dependent on him. Essentially, to claim that portraying Lolita as the inescapable serpent and Humbert as her loyal slave in Lyne’s film, may or may not be a instance of transgressing fidelity, as that may have been entirely the characterization that Lyne himself understood from Nabokov’s novel. To say that a character is in fact one way or the other, is actually dependent on the individual reader, as every novel works simply in guiding the imagination of a reader, never to make the story or characters concrete and inflexible.

However, it could also be argued that Nabokov’s portrayal of Lolita’s sexuality is ambiguous; she is neither overtly sexual, nor completely ignorant of her sexuality and that is precisely his characterization of Lolita, and for a director to make her one or the other is in itself distorting Lolita’s characterization, and thus Lyne portraying Lolita as overtly sexual is what causes a lack of fidelity in the film. Yet, considering the general notion that Nabokov’s portrayal of Lolita’s sexuality is ambiguous is itself an opinion, which certain readers may agree with or completely disagree with. Therefore, Lyne’s portrayal of Lolita’s sexuality can only be fully appreciated to those who agree with Lyne, and for all others the film may seem completely disloyal to the novel. Considering this argument, how do you satisfy every member of an audience, if every individual has their own understanding of a novel? You just can’t.

In Thomas Leitch’s essay, “Twelve Fallacies in contemporary adaptation theory”, Leitch presents an argument against the notion that novels create more complex characters than movies because they offer more immediate and complete access to characters’ psychological states. For a film based on a novel, such as Lolita, the notion that Humbert is presented as far more complex in the novel than he is in the film, is a consistent argument. It is true that the novel allows for more direct characterization of Humbert, through its extensive use of text to describe not only Humbert’s thoughts, but his actions, and dialogue. Take for example, when Humbert first sees Lolita in Ramsdale, the text describes the scene as such, “I find it most difficult to express with adequate force the flash, that shiver, that impact of passionate recognition. In the course of the sun-shot moment that my glance slithered over the kneeling child (her eyes blinking over those stern dark spectacles – the little Herr Doktor who to cure me of all my aches) while I passed by her in my adult disguise (a great big handsome hulk of movieland manhood), the vacuum of my soul managed to suck in every detail of her bright beauty, and these I checked against the features of my dead bride. “ (Nabokov, 39) The film presents the same scene in precisely one single minute, Humbert sets eyes on Lolita, simultaneously the soundtrack explodes with soft and romantic instrumental music, and Humbert proceeds by staring at Lolita, who is lying in the grass reading a magazine soaked by the sprinkler, he then whispers “beautiful” and walks away. It may seem as though the text allows for a better understanding of Humbert’s initial reaction to Lolita, however Lietch argues that, “the conclusion that follows is not that externalized thought is no longer thought, but that the pleasures of many non-novelistic media are based to a large extent in the invitation they extend to audiences to infer what characters are thinking on the basis of their speech and behavior, and that thoughts that are inferred can be just as subtle and profound as thoughts that are presented directly. “ (Lietch, 6)

Therefore, it may be that the exact same scene in the film, although lacking in words or graphemes, but nevertheless containing an image track, sound track, and relying on connotations can be just as significant a scene. It may be that Humbert’s reaction to Lolita depends entirely on the audience being able to decipher and make connections between Humbert’s facial expression, body language, the sound track, and the image track to understand that he had just the “nymphet” he so desired, however does that make this same scene any less profound than the same scene in the text?

Perhaps the best way to really understand whether or not this same scene is as profound to a film viewer as it is to Nabokov’s readers is to find out whether viewers of the film, who have never read the same scene in the book, seem to understand the real significance of this scene for both Humbert and the story. It allows for a certain unbiased response to the film. I had initially viewed the film before having read the book, and I found that the same scene, although almost completely free from dialogue and spanning over one single minute, created a similar significance to me. The body language, the look on Humbert’s face, the sound track, the shot sequence, the framing, the close-ups, and even the simple word “beautiful”, made me understand just how pivotal this specific scene would be in Humbert’s life.

It seems that although a critic may claim that the film Lolita is a devalued copy of the novel Lolita, on the basis of a lack of fidelity to the spirit of the novel, which is essentially both the literary style of Nabokov as well as the characterization of Lolita and Humbert Humbert; the reality is that firstly the literary style of Nabokov can in fact be captured in film, although through more creative and stylistically different means. Secondly, the notion that Lolita and Humbert Humbert are depicted differently in the film, than in the novel and thus the film is less effective an art piece, can be argued against by the fact that fidelity is almost impossible to achieve, considering that characters and themes may be perceived differently from reader to reader. In addition, critics hold onto the general notion that novels can create more complex characters than film due to the fact that a novel offers complete access to a character’s thoughts and psychological states; however, this can be proven untrue by the fact that a film can actually create complex characters as effectively as novels through the usage of a multitude of tracks; an image track that allows for audiences to read body movement and facial expressions, a sound track that can create a certain emotional tone, as well as a track of dialogue and narration that can directly display the overall significance of the scene to a character.

Therefore, is a critic’s accusation that a film is a copy that betrays the original really justifiable? If both a film and a play were based on a specific novel, should these three narrative forms be compared with another? According to Bazin, they shouldn’t. Bazin argues that it should be considered “…a single work reflected through three art forms, an artistic pyramid with three sides, all equal in the eyes of the critic.” (Naremore, 26) In Bazin’s opinion, comparing a film to a novel is essentially the same thing as comparing a painting to a sculpture; it just doesn’t make sense.

Furthermore, what critics hold onto is the notion that film adaptation is a mechanical process that attempts to reproduce the original, or the novel, in such a way that it almost insults the quality of the original; much like most reproductions or copies are immediately labeled as lacking in authenticity. However, there are many cases that counter this notion. Take for example paintings that borrow from the same Biblical theme, although these paintings all represent the same ideas, they are appreciated for their own unique and artistic abilities. Their concept may be the same; however their impressions are completely different, making each painting its own unique piece of art. Similarly, a film may borrow from the same central ideas and style as a novel, but to consider one narrative form as the original, and the other as a copy is incorrect. A critic’s attempt at labeling Nabokov’s Lolita as an original and Lyne’s Lolita as a copy is like comparing a Van Gogh to a Dali; a comparison that is entirely futile as these two pieces of art are incomparable. Alfred Hitchcock once said, “When I read an interesting or promising story, I finish it and put it down. Then, when I start to filming I let my film grow out of the seed of that story.” (Frank) Therefore, film adaptations are not merely devalued copies, but are rather their own forms of art, based on the same source of inspiration.