The contemporary science-fiction scene hardly seems conducive to the effervescent ideas expressed recently by Frederik Pohl, who as presumptiously ignored (ever since becoming editor of Galaxy Publications, and, even earlier, with his redundant books on advertising) some 65 years of decisive development in the social sciences, coyly announcing that only "hard" sciences are worth serious consideration. John Campbell likewise grunts and clucks over his own type of ethnocentric, racist nonsense, demanding, like some character out of Animal Farm, that some groups are rightfully More Free Than Others, ostentatiously asserting that he is One of the Chosen. Damon Knight is no longer writing critical essays, and Judith Merril's columns, while excellent, occasionally devote much space to trivia. Hence, the mass confusion, the structural isolation of so many of science-fiction's writers from the heart of social movements, culminating in Robert Heinlein's Birchism, for example, is hardly material for a film.
But the field should feel somewhat lucky that there are those with enough intellectualism and knowledge who shirk Poul Anderson's putrescent answers to contemporary world problems, the bemusing ignorance of John Campbell in the arena of the social sciences. And one such person is the French director, Francois Truffaut.
Truffaut is adapting Ray Bradbury's moving satire, Fahrenheit 451 into cinematic terms; and, we hope, Bradbury's concern with the loss of perspective and rise of McCarthyism, etc. The plot concerns Montag, a fireman who goes to start fires for his society, rather than to extinguish them. What is extinguished, of course, is dissention. Consensus is the first rule of Bradbury's society, and Montag is its dedicated house-boy until he comes into contact with a book of fairy tales. His second contact is with Clarisse (niece of Bradbury's non-conformist in "The Pedestrian"), a young girl who is a constant harassment to her bland teachers and banal companions. Betrayed by a psychotic wife, Montag flees into the country, where he enters into a subculture of people whose memories preserve knowledge, passing memories from one generation to the next.
In speaking of Fahrenheit 451, Truffaut states that "Most science-fiction is rather like fairy tales for adults. In this sense Fahrenheit 451 might be seen as a fable set in the electronic age. There are two kinds of science-fiction. The first is about 'earthpeople' and the second deals with the extra-terrestial beings, e.g., Martians, Moon people, monsters, and the like. Fahrenheit 451 belongs to the first category; it takes place in the world as we know it, but with a slight anticipation in time...
"Inasmuch as the setting is anonymous and the nationality of the characters is not defined, the film is a fantasy. Yet, within this fantasy there are strong elements of reality. It is not unlike a story of the French Resistance -- except that there the men on the run are book lovers. In fact a concurrent theme of the picture is the love of books. For some people this is on an intellectual level. They value a book for its contents. For others it is a sentimental attachment to a book as an object. This might apply to a man who spent his childhood in the backwoods where books were rare, or a form of nostalgia associated with a book that was a birthday honour or a school prize. Here, quite apart from its contents, the book becomes a cherished object; and with the passage of time, even the binding, the cover, or the smell of leather will acquire a very special meaning to the owner.
"The fact that book burning has prevaliled throughout the history of mankind and that even today restrictions are being imposed on reading matter in various parts of the world, lends a strong element of reality to Fahrenheit 451..."
Various changes have been made to the plot, and "if I err," Truffaut insists, "it will be on the side of too great realism."
For example, because the film is being filmed in England by an American film company with a French director, the film is set in not discernably familiar country. The professor, which played such an interesting role in the novel, is absent in the film, his role as Montag's mentor now culminating in a strengthened role of Clarisse; in fact, at one point of the film, the viewer will see a very fascinating scene in which Clarisse returns to her school, and strikes stark terror into fellow pupils because she is a non-conformist.
Sexual interests, too, have been considerably expanded, between Montag and his wife. And, rather than annihilate the City and cause Clarisse to disappear forever, as in the book, Truffaut spares both in his adaptation. Humour, too, so rare in smug science-fiction works' desperate generally futile attempts to be "scientific", is present in Truffaut's film. This will be a welcome change. Crispin once quipped that "Humorous or satirical science-fiction nearly always curdles into facetiousness -- so that the phrase 'a humourous science fiction story' is in itself a sort of definition of misplaced jocularity -- for the very good reason that awe and laughter are to all intents and purposes wholly incompatible."
Like the recent adaptation of Edward Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, sets in Fahrenheit 451 are limited, in this case to Montag's flat, with kitchen, parlour, bathroom, and bedroom. Exteriors will be in Paris and London; and a tunnel at Pinewood Studios is being used as the exteriors in Montag's firehouse. However, the real achievement of this film will be the platonic relationship between the characters.
The actors are of excellent quality. Oskar Werner is Montag; Cyril Casack is the Fire Chief; Julie Christie is both Montag's wife (Linda in the film, Mildred in the book) and Clarissa, the latter idea, according to Truffaut, being that of producer Lewis Allen, who is quite interested in utilizing a skilled actress for two, completely different personalities.
Like the great Fritz Lang, Francois Truffaut takes an obvious pleasure and delight in experiment in his work. Originally a member of France's elite critics of the film (in Cashiers du Cinema, etc.), Truffaut decided that, rather than analyse, he would produce that which would be what he wanted to see more of. On the set, he is relatively easy to talk to between shots; and, unlike most directors, Truffaut takes the advice and comments of his actors fairly seriously, leading one technician to comment that "The trouble with this film is that there are too many damn directors." Whether or not there is truth in this statement remains to be seen, but discrepancies can be ascertained, e.g., during filming, according to many observers, words in the script are changed by an actor at a moment's notice, causing one magazine writer to recently observe that this "makes it possible to secure shots of considerable geographical elaboration with a very moderate number of takes."
Probably one important aspect of this will be seen near the beginning of the film (as in the book), when the two male "doctors" come to pump Montag's wife's stomach after an overdose of drugs while listening to her "sea-shell" radio. The camera is situated in the parlour, and the viewer sees Montag letting them through the front door. It then follows them down the hall, to the bedroom. The camera then switches back to Montag, which follows through the bedroom into the bathroom, into the hall, and out into the kitchen. In the background is the bedroom and the nurses, and Montag is seen sitting on a stool in the kitchen. Simple in description, but, during the actual taking of the scenes, the camera burst into a door frame, and the actors, too, "fluffed" their lines. But Truffaut took two shots, then a third to change the sequence of the film.
All of this astounds the interested critic. For one thing, Truffaut's command of English is very limited (his translator is also his secretary and is working on his book on Hitchcock). The "continuity girls" are Suzanne Schiffman and Kay Mander, and each has a familiarity with the others's language. And, the tribunal of girls seem to have a constant empathy with Truffauts's every command, although Werner, feeling that "the director is, after all, a newcomer to the stage" becomes defensive if one suggests that Truffaut's suggestions are "important".
All in all Truffaut's film should be a triumph. For once, someone finally takes presumptious claims seriously, and is turning a brilliant science-fiction novel into a cinematic excursion showing what sociology can do to the field... if the writers will only read, go to school, and abandon their nonsensical gimmicks.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Immediately following the completion of this article, we were pleased to discover that the English edition of Cashiers du Cinema is publishing the shooting diary of Francois Truffaut. The magazine is to be commended for this invaluable service to the serious science-fiction cinema student. The stills not only exemplify the fact that Truffaut's cinematic audaciousness has created a landmark in films, but the text, likewise, gives rise to the hope that the field will now be "invaded" by talented individuals. Also of pertinent interest, is the fact that Fahrenheit 451 was shown at the 27th Vienna Film Festival. In a fascinating review, New Yorker magazine stated that the film is "close to a chef-d'oeuvre, especially in its final intellectual, tender scenes. Being an artist, he has made it strictly apolitical. He has also avoided the clap-trap of mechanical gadgetry that afflicts most sci-fi celluloid creations, except for one excellent grotesque moment when the firemen, ... float down from the sky, their trousers filled by the wind like funnelled snails. He also evaded sadism." Considering the fact that Heinlein's works are little more than John Birch Society tracts, perhaps other writers will be the subject of a good film, perhaps several? The hope, we believe, is not a futile one.
[pp. 21 - 27, NO-EYED MONSTER #10, Winter 1966-67]
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