The Economy of Adaptation (Scattered Thoughts in Death in Venice)

One could write a whole paper on the economics of adaptations, but I'm interested in the other meaning of the word - how do adaptations get transferred from original text to adapted text and in that, how is the original "meaning" (a concept I'll problematize later) transferred?

I think that novellas, in their economy of style, could seem to require more of their content to be included in an adaptation. Part of that is due to how we read: it's easier to hold onto descriptive phrases and small details in a book that has fewer of them (or even fewer words). Sparer prose is easier to remember but harder to film, in part, I'd like to suggest, because each word's role is deeper (not more important) than those in a longer work. By deeper, I mean that the overall sheen of a short work is more impacted by a given word than in a longer work.

Let's take some phrases from Mann's Death in Venice (trans. Michael Henry Heim). His lengthy description of Aschenbach at the beginning of the book is easily cast: just find (or adapt, through makeup and camera angles) an actor who looks the part and can also play it. However, take a detail like one about the hotel manager: "a short, quiet, obsequiously courteous man"(42). Short is easily cast. Obsequiously courteous may not be so easily directed, especially for such a small role. (I can imagine it being overdone, but it's harder to imagine it being as subtly struck as Mann's description.) Maybe I'd have an easier time of this if I were a better actor myself?) Even more complex is this description of the gondolier: " A "lightweight" outfit (52) is more easily portrayed than a "washable" one (ibid.).

This is a text of introspection more than action. There isn't even any dialogue until a third of the way through. In that vein and in contrast to what I've been arguing, the beach scene on 54-55 is written like a painting. It's easily reproduced, almost as through Mann were himself a set dresser, until Aschenbach starts musing on the sea and the "deep-seated reasons" that he loves it (55). I'm not sure that a voiceover would do any of the musings justice, although that's the easy solution to the problem I'm setting up.

One other complication that Mann's book throws in is that of translation. Michael Cunningham's introduction to the Heim translated edition (Ecco, 2004) foregrounds the issue of translation right away. He says that fiction in particular in "an ongoing process of translation" (vii) -- and his point that Aschenbach changes in the new Heim translation.

Mann himself offers something of an answer to my conundrum. In describing Tadzio and Aschenbach's preoccupation with watching him, Mann has Aschenbach say, "What discipline, what precision of thought was conveyed by that tall, youthfully perfect physique!" (81) and "he longed to work in Tadzio's presence, to model his writing on the boy's physique" (85).