“I hate to break it to you, but this is not an episode of Colombo.”

It feels like it’s been a minute since I’ve posted here, but I’ve been really busy with a project that took all of my time and focus for about two weeks. I have wrapped that up now, though, and the next project starts shortly, but I’ve decided to use this lull to continue the journey that is my master’s thesis. If you’ve missed the prior installments, there are many, so buckle up, but here’s where you can find parts 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5. Part 1 will introduce you to the concepts I refer to throughout the thesis, and parts 2-5 are my examination of León Felipe’s Macbeth o el asesino del sueño, which is a Spanish version from the mid 20th century. This is one of probably two entries on the next adaptation, Scotland, PA. Here my discussion of adaptation will veer a bit more into updates to things like diegesis (i.e. the world in which the action of a story/play takes places) and medium. Before I start, I will warn you, it is weirdly difficult to find a copy of this film to watch. I now own it on Rakuten TV, which I had never heard of before I found that it was the only earthly place to get a copy. Also Rakuten TV is no longer available in the country I now live in, which is not the country in which I wrote my thesis. I don’t know why, and the investigation into the Scotland, PA streaming rights conspiracy could, I’m sure, be its own entry, but that’s not what I’m here to do.

Billy Morrissette’s 2001 film, Scotland, PA is an interlingual translation and adaption of Macbeth. Roger Ebert accurately boils it down to a translation of “Shakespeare’s  Macbeth into a comedy set in a Pennsylvania fast-food burger stand, circa 1972.”^[1] Intralingual translation of Shakespeare on film is not at all uncommon: My Own Private Idaho[2] is a retelling of Henry IV and Henry V, 10 Things I Hate About You[3] turns The Taming of the Shrew into an teen rom-com, and even Disney’s The Lion King[4] is an animated adaptation of Hamlet. In addition to intralingual translation, these stories have also been rendered in the medium of film rather than onstage (although Scotland, PA was recently adapted into a stage musical as well[5]). This raises the question of whether this is also an intersemiotic translation then, and I would argue that it is, but stage and film are relatively  similar mediums that use similar sign systems, so it’s a less drastic intersemiotic translation than, for example, a novel turned into a film or a play turned into a dance piece (more on that later). This is reflected by Hutcheon; shifts in medium and their corresponding modes of engagement (telling versus showing) form the bulk of her theoretical focus,^[6] however both theatre and film remain within the showing mode, making the transition between them easier.[7]

In relation to their Shakespearian origins, all of these adaptations also exhibit what Genette calls diegetic transposition: “the hypertext transposes the diegesis of its hypotext to bring it up to date and closer to its own audience (in temporal, geographical, or social terms).”[8] Whether or not  Hamlet with lions is closer to an audience in any of these ways is debatable, but Scotland, PA effectively uses its diegetic transposition to achieve all three. In addition to diegetic transposition, Genette also gives us the term “contamination,”^[9] which describes influence from other hypertexts and/or genres, both of which can be seen in Scotland, PA. The textual contamination comes from American crime dramas, but the film’s overall genre has also been transposed. Macbeth is a tragedy, but Scotland, PA is a black comedy, and the tension created by tragic events in a comic setting – a  tension that is repeatedly highlighted by Morrissette – is, in my opinion, an important part of the film’s humor.

Genette somewhat encapsulates this transformation in his definition of burlesque travesty, which “modifies the style without modifying the  subject.”^[10] The contrast between genres is, of course, especially apparent when the film is viewed as an adaptation. Where Macbeth o el asesino del sueño does not rely on its palimpsestic doubleness (though it can be enhanced by it), Scotland, PA repeatedly points to its own status as adaptation, and relies on the gossiping effect to create both humor and sincerity within its new genre. While the story is largely the same, the film’s diegetic transposition leads to transmotivation – change in motive – as well.[11] Rather than a Thane playing for the throne of Scotland, Joe “Mac” McBeth is a dissatisfied fry cook at Duncan’s burger joint. He and his wife, Pat (who also works at Duncan’s) hatch a plot to murder their boss and take over the restaurant. Spurred on at various points by three stoner hippies (Morrissette’s answer to the weird sisters), Mac continues  down a path of murder and madness until he is stopped by Lieutenant McDuff, the detective in charge of investigating Duncan’s death. Hijinks ensue. The film is often silly, but its intentional self-awareness and skillful performances allow Shakespeare’s characters to shine through the small-town setting.

Regarding the film’s dialogue, there are certainly moments where Shakespeare’s verse echoes through. For example, Pat McBeth admonishes her husband, telling him, “Mac, it’s done. It can’t be undone,”^[12] echoing Lady Macbeth’s lines, “Things without all remedy/ Should be without regard: what’s done, is done” (III.ii.12-3) and her later lament: “What’s done, cannot be undone” (V.i.67-8). Most of the dialogue, however, bears little resemblance to Shakespeare’s language. Instead, the themes and ideas are what remain, and the tension between Shakespeare’s themes and Morrissette’s setting and language allows the film to poke fun even as it pays homage to its source. Palimpsestic doubleness is therefore a tool that lends the film both humor and credibility. On the one hand, it’s funny to recognize the complex psychology of Shakespeare’s characters when applied to the ownership of a fast-food restaurant. On the other hand, said complex psychology justifies the mental decline suffered by the McBeths, which is chilling to watch even amidst the film’s humor.

If Scotland, PA’s success lies in its palimpsestic doubleness, then its status as an adaptation must be clearly signaled in order to reach a knowing audience. It is of note that neither Scotland, PA nor Sleep No More includes the name of Shakespeare’s play (or indeed Shakespeare’s name) in their titles, as Felipe does. Maybe because these two texts were created within the English-speaking world, this type of labelling was considered unnecessary? Still, while the translation is not interlingual (between different languages), there is a definitive distance between Shakespeare’s early modern English and the English of Scotland, PA. In light of this distance, how does the film declare its adaptational status and refer to its source when the name Macbeth is absent from its title?

Obviously, Scotland refers to the play’s original setting, but the added “PA” marks this Scotland as a small town in rural Pennsylvania (a town that does, in fact, exist). It helps, too, that Scotland, PA sounds a bit like  Scottish Play, but even those tangentially familiar with Macbeth may not be familiar with this alternative name. Second, several of the character names are clearly Shakespeare’s, though with a twist. Macbeth becomes Joe “Mac” McBeth. This spelling change is made obvious by the sign he erects at his newly acquired restaurant with a giant “M” to rival that of McDonald’s. Duncan is Norm Duncan, whose two sons, Malcolm and Donald, stand to inherit his burger joint; just like in  Shakespeare, it’s Malcolm’s promotion – to manager in this case – that helps spur Mac to murder. Lieutenant McDuff and Anthony “Banko” Banconi respectively appear as a detective and Mac’s hapless co-worker, whom Mac kills when he starts to get suspicious. Third, the film nods to the source text author when the opening credits state, “Story by William Shakespeare,” though they don’t go in for the classic “based on” or “adapted from” structures that Hutcheon notes are often used to reference a source while excusing any liberties taken.[13] 

Lastly, there are hints of dialogue that clearly refer back to the source, like Pat McBeth’s lines, mentioned previously. Another example occurs before the opening credits; the weird sisters, a trio of stoners, are seated on a Ferris wheel at a country fair after hours. One of them drops a bucket of fried chicken about which he jokes, “the fowl was foul”; another responds “and the fair was fair,” at which point they engage in wordplay that leads them to “the fowl is fair” and “the fair is foul,”^[14] echoing the  witches’ “Fair is foul, and foul is fair” from Macbeth’s opening scene (I.i.9). In this way Morrissette handily (and immediately) introduces Shakespeare’s dialogue with a basic pun, anchoring the text in its updated diegesis. The next lines, however, offer a sharp contrast. After “the fowl is fair and the fair is foul,” the next line is “my ass hurts,” to which his companion responds, “I don’t think that one works.”^[15] This entire exchange, the first thing an audience sees and hears, immediately sets the tone for both the irreverence and ingeniousness with which the film will treat its source text. This pivoting from homage to parody will continue throughout the film, serving to repeatedly highlight its palimpsestic doubleness.

Returning to Genette’s idea of textual contamination, in addition to the many nods to Macbeth – the local bar is called the Witch’s Brew Tavern and Birnam Wood is where Mac and his friends go hunting each year – Scotland, PA engages with several other texts. The film’s opening credits appear over footage from the American crime drama McCloud and in several later instances, characters can be seen watching Colombo, another era appropriate crime drama. The film’s historical placement is  also striking; despite being released in 2001, it’s set in the mid ‘70s, and centers on the invention of the drive-thru fast food restaurant, an innovation that would come to characterize American consumer culture. The film’s fashion and design choices capitalize on the decade’s aesthetics, featuring bell-bottom jeans and restaurant decor complete with neon lights and mid-century accents. Because of this, and despite its origins in early-modern British drama, Morrissette’s story is overtly American and explores the economic and cultural tensions of its time and place, as observed by Thomas Cartelli and Katherine Rowe.[16] 

Still, Morrissette never loses sight of Shakespeare’s story and Mac helpfully reminds the audience of this when he tells McDuff, “I hate to break it to you, Lieutenant, but this is not an episode of Colombo. Alright? I’m not gonna break down, hand you the gun, and get waltzed out of here between a couple of good-looking cops with my head bowed down.”^[17] His assertion that he won’t go quietly echoes Macbeth’s desire to at least “die with harness on our back” (V.v.48-51). This is both an American crime drama and an early modern tragedy, and its ending is therefore far bloodier than that of an episode of Colombo or McCloud. This point is driven home when Mac is pushed off the roof of his restaurant and impaled on the horns mounted on his shiny new muscle car, a symbol of his ill-gotten wealth and the American dream. In the end, it is truly his greed that kills him.

Despite specific reminders of his source text, Morrissette’s primary focus is maintaining Macbeth’s overarching narrative rather than transferring its details. Plot elements are therefore transformed in order to maintain and serve both the original play’s  structure and the film’s updated diegesis and genre, as is the case with the scene of Duncan’s murder. It is worth noting that the film’s inclusion of this event at all and Pat’s presence during it are departures from the source, but they allow for the humorous  moments that characterize the scene. At one point, while Duncan is bound and gagged, Pat gives Mac a quick pep talk: “I know you don’t do this every day, and I think you’re doing a fucking excellent job, okay?”[18] Here, again, we see the tension that Morrissette establishes between the theme of murder and the comical situation in which it occurs. In keeping with the fast-food motif, Duncan is killed when he falls into a fryolator causing a drop of the hot oil to land on Pat’s hand. The resulting burn is the “damned spot” (V.i.35) that Lady Macbeth cannot clean from her hand, and Pat continues to feel and see the mark long after it has faded. In the film’s version of V.i, she screams at a pharmacist and his assistant (the Doctor and Gentlewoman) after they claim to see no burn, crying, “I don’t give a fuck what you see or don’t see. My fucking hand is falling off!”^[19] She ultimately dies when she cuts off said hand, unable to shake her guilt and its psychic manifestation any other way. For knowing audiences, her death scene will evoke Malcolm’s description of Lady Macbeth’s death: “Who, as ’tis thought, by self and violent hands/ Took off her life” (V.ix.36-7). In this case, Lady Macbeth has instead taken off her “self and violent hand” (Ibid.).

We have seen now how the circumstances surrounding Duncan’s murder and Pat’s death are effectively tied into Morrissette’s diegesis in order to maintain both Shakespeare’s plot and the film’s setting. Rather than changes made to take advantage of the diegesis, however, some changes are necessitated by it. In discussing such updates, Genette mentions the frequent need for  pragmatic transformation” as “an unavoidable consequence of diegetic transposition: one can hardly transfer an ancient story to modern times without modifying some of the action.”^[20] Pragmatic transformation allows the necessary plot elements to  function in a world that is removed from Shakespeare’s fictional Scotland in both geography and genre, as we saw with the film’s use of transmotivation. Some elements are less adaptable, however, and Morrissette, rather than ignoring major plot points, finds a way to omit them, while still referencing them. In doing so, he once again exploits the film’s palimpsestic  doubleness. The murder of Macduff’s family exemplifies this strategy; Morrissette includes a moment that allows him to sidestep the slaughter of women and children, while still offering evidence of Mac’s slipping morality and sanity. As Mac and the stoner witches (clearly established as a hallucination at this point) brainstorm how to get McDuff off their trail, one of them  suggests, “I’ve got it! Mac should kill McDuff’s entire family. That’ll stop him.”^[21] Before Mac can respond, however, another  witch sarcastically remarks, “Oh, that’ll work. About a thousand years ago… These are modern times. You can’t go around killing everybody.”^[22] With this exchange – another example of the film’s rapid shifts between tragedy and comedy – Morrissette evokes the murder of Macduff/McDuff’s family, but, in the same moment, dismisses it as unreasonable within the world of this adaptation, calling attention to the pragmatic transformation even as it occurs. This metatextual moment displays the film’s full awareness of its careful negotiation between Shakespeare’s text and the updated genre and diegesis in which Scotland, PA exists. This discussion has mostly been about how the plot and language has been updated, but next time I’ll dive into how <orrissette adapts to the medium of film specifically. Read it here.