Modern Adaptations are Rubbish

I recently had to re-read Len Deighton's The Ipcress File in order to wash away the bad taste left in my mouth by ITV's recent 'adaptation' of the novel.  I also re-watched Sidney J Furie's 1965 film version again, in order to remind myself that it is possible to adapt the book in a way in which the end product is still recognisable as a version of the source material.  The ITV adaptation (if, indeed, we can call it that, so fundamentally did it diverge from the novel), is typical of many contemporary 'adaptations' of classic novels and films for episodic TV, in that it ends up having to expand the source material so much in order to fill the running time that it effectively 'dilutes' it, inserting so much new material that the original story becomes lost.  The ITV Ipcress File compounded these problems by attempting to also adapt the 1965 film, incorporating characters and situations from that which had no counterparts in the novel.  So it was not only an adaptation of the novel, but also and adaptation of an adaptation of that novel.  No wonder it was so poor.  In order to sustain six hour long episodes, the series had to expand upon the novel's plot and introduce supplemental characters in order to carry these new plot developments - the result is a sprawling narrative that failed to hold my interest due to its lack of focus, let alone plot progression.  Which is ironic, as the novel, superficially, appears, at times, unfocused, with its numerous apparent digressions and events, but, by the end, it is clear that everything has been moving toward an inevitable conclusion.  Deighton's genius is to present the novel as a first person narrative, a series of events experienced by the narrator that, at first don't seem obviously linked but, as both narrator and reader learn more, begin to coalesce into a coherent plot.  He keeps the narrative moving and the reader interested by ensuring that these events are intriguing and interesting and the narrating voice clever, witty and likeable.

The TV adaptation follows the film by effectively inventing a whole new, third person, protagonist: Harry Palmer.  In the book, we never learn the first person narrator's real name, although, via dialogue and his observations, we learn that he is from Burnley, in his late thirties and a career intelligence operative of considerable experience.  This contrasts with the young cockney NCO criminal conscript of film and TV adaptation, whose characterisation as a reluctant participant in espionage puts the whole narrative into an entirely different context.  Most significantly, it denies him agency in much of the plot development - he becomes much more of a passive pawn than a proactive protagonist, (this is much more pronounced in the TV version than the film).  It also means that his relationships with the other characters are completely different.  Mind you, the characters in both TV and film adaptations might share their names with those from the book, but are portrayed quite differently.  Indeed, most are quite unrecognisable from their namesakes in the book.  The film does at least get right that Chilcott-Oakes is a public school idiot, unlike the TV series, but the TV series follows the film's lead in portraying 'Jean' (retaining her film surname of 'Courtney' - in the book it is 'Tonneson'), as an already established agent senior to the protagonist.  In the book, the equivalent character is the protagonist's secretary and only enters the narrative at the half way point.  While, arguably, the film and TV version of the character is striking a blow for gender equality, it missed the point that Deighton was making in the novel about the class-ridden and patriarchal nature of sixties Britain: his 'Jean' is an intelligent and capable woman, but in the British intelligence community of the era is condemned to a secretarial role - by contrast, even the CIA is more advanced in equality terms as it has at least one black agent.

Perhaps the most ill-served character in TV and film versions is that of Dalby: in the film he is some kind of martinet, while the TV series turns him into an establishment cipher.  In the book he is the kind of laid back, public school and Oxbridge educated intellectual type who likes to play the role of 'gifted amateur' while, in reality, being a shrewd operator, that used to be common in senior civil service positions, (I've worked for a few).  Still, at least the film retained his role as (spoiler alert) the ultimately revealed villain who has been manipulating the hero in order to make him the scapegoat for his own deceit and treachery.  By denying him this role, the TV version thereby eliminates one of the main ironies of Deighton's novel: that the man that the protagonist has liked and respected not only betrays him, but is ultimately revealed to have simply used him, whereas his former boss, Ross, a man he detests and has no respect for, turns out to be both honourable and an ally.  Of course, the TV version chose to omit Ross altogether, along with several other key characters such as Barney, Jay, Carswell and Murray, while gratuitously inserting Colonel Stok, who didn't appear in the book series until Funeral in Berlin, although their version bears no resemblance to literary character.  Unfortunately, the new characters they substitute instead are bland and unconvincing, for the most part just convenient stereotypes.  Moreover, the substitution of the original's plot - a conspiracy to brain wash key members of the British establishment into unwittingly working for the Soviets - with a trite plot about an attempt to assassinate Kennedy and the replacement of Jay and his semi-private intelligence network with rogue US officials as villains simply didn't work.  It lacked the book's satirical undertones - that those with extreme right-wing views are more susceptible to brainwashing into serving Soviet ideals, for instance.

I suppose that what I really disliked about the ITV Ipcress File was that, like so many recent 'remakes', 'adaptations' or 'reimaginings' of classic books, TV series or films, it is really no such thing.  Instead, it is a case of the creators trying to sell their own original and inevitably inferior work by invoking the 'brand name' of something that already has an existing audience and established 'brand'.  Just look at the Guy Ritchie Man From Uncle film for an example: all it has in common with the TV series are the title, some character names and a sixties setting, otherwise, it is just a generic action film.  The most recent Star Trek films are similar in this respect, as are film adaptations of old TV series like CHiPs, Baywatch or The Equaliser.  Likewise, The Ipcress File isn't really The Ipcress File, it is instead a generic sixties set spy thriller, devoid of all the things that made the original novel distinctive and enjoyable.  The 1965 film, although superficially not bearing much resemblance to the novel, at least does retain its essential plot, albeit streamlining and simplifying it somewhat - the main changes (the absence of overseas locations, for instance) are dictated mainly by budgetary limitations.  Accepted on its own terms, it can be enjoyed as a variation of the original novel, rather than attempt to pass off something bland and generic under the novel's title.  As I said at the start of the post, I reread the novel recently and, as ever, it was a delight to experience: clever, witty, neatly plotted, full of vividly drawn characters and dialogue and giving a memorable portrait of early sixties London.  If you've never read it, I'd recommend it - it is certainly preferable to sitting through the travesty that recently showed on ITV.