Queer Classics in Jane Campion’s Adaptation of Thomas Savage’s The Power of the Dog

In her article "A Cross-Cultural Approach to Brokeback Mountain" Jono Van Belle draws on insights from film theory and cultural narratology in order to analyse Annie Proulx's short story "Brokeback Mountain" and its filmic adaptation by Ang Lee. Van Belle's analysis is about how culturally different worldviews play a role in the construction of meaning by audience and she links the different narrative levels of semantics, genre typology, and worldviews in the short story and the film to the scholarship of the story. Further, Van Belle argues that worldviews and the problematics of gayness represented in "Brokeback Mountain" and its filmic adaptation would gain insight following in-depth research by comparative analyses between Eastern and Western epistemologies.

Western American literature figures the western landscape as offering clarity about the individual and about “America.” In this model, projects of self-discovery and national discovery and of self-definition and national definition merge and collude: To explore the West is to excavate the self, and to come to terms with the self amid the stark landscape of the West is to confront, and finally to understand truly, what it means to be American. But the paradox of the genre is that the space of self-discovery and self-reinvention, seemingly limitless under the endless sky and prairie, has stark boundaries. One's past inevitably catches up with one's present as soon as the landscape reveals intrusive signs of civilization: outposts, railroads, fences. Of course, the limits of the West reveal the limits of reinvention itself: The retired sheriff returns to duty reluctantly, the outlaw is exposed and made to answer for his previous misdeeds, the lone explorer returns to the settlement. Western American literature's investment in heterosexuality and heteronormative desire function similarly, butting up against their inevitable social and representational limits. The intense male homosociality of travel and exploration, of lonesome days on the range and all-night cattle drives, is heavily bounded by investments in heterosexuality and heteronormativity: the husband's relentless defense of the family homestead against attacks by Indians and drunken outlaws; the settlement school mistress's instructing children in reading and arithmetic and “civilization” amid the ever-encroaching wilds of the West; the male adventurer's, explorer's, or prospector's inevitable return to his waiting wife or his eventual, long-overdue marriage. All of this changed with the publication of Annie Proulx's short story “Brokeback Mountain” in 1997 and Ang Lee's film adaptation in 2005. The story and the film recount the lives of the ranch hands Jack Twist and Ennis del Mar over a twenty-year period. The two meet in 1963 as twenty-something summer sheepherders working on Brokeback Mountain in Wyoming. After a night of whisky drinking, Jack makes a sexual advance toward Ennis, who, although momentarily reluctant, quickly responds in kind, and the two embark on a sexual and emotional relationship that lasts through the summer and over the ensuing twenty years, during which both men marry women.

This article examines the dynamic interface between literary works and their film adaptations through the lens of various critical theories, with a significant focus on queer theory. It explores how adaptations preserve the thematic essence of the source texts while adding unique audio-visual elements that enhance the storytelling experience. Additionally, the paper discusses the historical resistance to film adaptations within literary circles, highlighting the bias against perceived technological intrusion into the purity of literary creativity. The broader implications of queer theory in analyzing both literature and film are elaborated upon, particularly in terms of depicting and normalizing homosexuality against a backdrop of heteronormative dominance. This exploration underscores the adaptation process as not merely a translation of text but as an enriching dialogue between the original and the adapted forms, challenging and extending the narrative and thematic boundaries of the source materials.

Over the past several decades, mainstream films have gradually featured queer content and characters. Depicted covertly at first, these characterizations have become much more prominent in recent years, most notably in such films as Philadelphia, Boys Don’t Cry, and Brokeback Mountain. In Queer Males in Contemporary Cinema: Becoming Visible, Kylo-Patrick R. Hart explores both latent and manifest representations of queer males in noteworthy cinema from the mid-20th to the early 21st century. Hart examines films pertaining to bisexual, gay, and transgender men, as well as transsexuals, transvestites, queer people with HIV/AIDS, queer teens, and others. Throughout, this book continually reminds readers that both mainstream and independent films communicate, reinforce, and perpetuate culturally pervasive notions of “normalcy,” “deviance,” and “social otherness,” in ways that frequently have real—and sometimes detrimental—effects on actual people. Covering a range of films, including From Here to Eternity, The Boys in the Band, Saturday Night Fever, Cruising, Point Break, The Doom Generation, Boys Don’t Cry, Hedwig and the Angry Inch, Kinsey, Brokeback Mountain, Transamerica, and Shortbus, this book shows not only how much has changed since the mid-20th century, but also how much has remained the same. Queer Males in Contemporary Cinema provides perceptive insights for students and academics interested in film history, cultural studies, gender studies, media studies, popular culture, and LGBTQ studies.

Every once in while film comes along that changes our perceptions so much that cinema history thereafter has to arrange itself around it . . . is just such film. Even for audiences educated by decade of Queer Cinema phenomenon ... it's shift in scope and tenor so profound as to signal new era. -B. Ruby Rich on Ang Lee's film adaptation of Annie Proulx's short story Brokeback Mountain has widely been praised as brave and daring film. Supposedly it takes on iconic image of cowboy as epitome of American heterosexual masculinity and exposes fact that, in words of singer/ songwriter Ned Sublette, are frequently, secretly fond of each other.1 Review after review referred to Lee's film as first ever (Clark, New Vistas; Clark, Westerns; A. Thompson) or cowboy (Stein; Clarke 29; A. Thompson; D'Angelo) and hails it as bending (A. Thompson) groundbreaker (Clark, Westerns, A. Thompson,) of movie that has queered Western (Rich 8). When won three Academy Awards in 2006 (for Best Original Score, Best Adapted Screen Play, and Best Director), critics saw this official approbation as sign of radical breakthrough in representation of on screen and commended Hollywood for its boldness in humanizing love between two men in mainstream film for very first time.2 Ingrid Sischy, former editor-in-chief of Interview, interpreted this purported change in representation of male-male affection as a sign of America's readiness to humanize and civilize its attitude towards homosexuality (88). Claims of such seismic shifts in social attitudes towards are greatly exaggerated. Now that discussions in mainstream and queer publications, in blogs, and on-line chat rooms are themselves history, there is sufficient critical distance to reconsider assertions concerning historic significance of Lee's film. In particular, this essay will examine definitions of as genre-busting (Johnson 988) queer Western and first gay love story, which supposedly not only constituted radical break in history of in American movies, but also ushered in kinder, gentler attitude towards in American society. In fact, neither of these claims will hold up if one considers Lee's film in context of history of representing in American cinema. Cowboys, Queers, and Western When it comes to analyzing representation of in American films no book has been as been as influential as Vito Russo's The Celluloid Closet: Homosexuality in Movies (1981). No doubt, impact of Russo's text was further enhanced by Rob Epstein and Jeffrey Friedman's 1995 documentary film based on book. While The Celluloid Closet may lack theoretical sophistication of much contemporary queer film criticism, it will prove helpful here for two specific reasons. To begin with, as Michael Bronski argues in recent review essay, the continuing power of Russo's book resides in its political analysis of social and cultural (emphasis added). In addition to Russo's critique of homophobia as socio-cultural phenomenon (rather than mere personal aversion), The Celluloid Closet is also notable for its sheer encyclopedic coverage of in films ranging from silent era to early 1980s (in Russo's book) or early 1990s (in Epstein and Friedman's eponymous documentary). One thing The Celluloid Closet makes clear is that Ennis del Mar and Jack Twist are no more first gay cowboys in American film than is first queer Western. Perhaps what comes to mind most immediately when one thinks about and Western genre are Western spoofs, from Andy Warhol's Lonesome Cowboys (1969) to Mel Brooks' Blazing Saddles (1974). …

This article attempts to describe and then explain a set of viewing encounters with a four-minute sequence in the film adaptation of Brokeback Mountain (Brokeback Mountain 2006), directed by Ang Le...

A Country Bumpkin in Cosmopolitan Shanghai

Introduction: Shaw and Classical Literature—What You See Is Not Always What You Get

This chapter investigates how white homonormative narratives perform tyrannous acts that distort understandings of queerness for people of color. As white queerness romanticizes and celebrates “coming out”—becoming the universal marker of liberation—these fascinations forge a space where other, discrete ways of being in the world appear anachronistic, backwards, or rare. McCune re-opens the case of “white men on the Down Low (DL),” if you will—to elucidate how the larger discourse of the queer triumphant, or queer progress, activates an erasure of all queers (white included) who do not fit the mold of the “out and proud” gay subject. This elision constructs a cultural amnesia around other ways of knowing sexuality outside of coming out—which enables a mis-remembering of a white queer past and present, devoid of discretion. Secondly, these constructions of a white queer past sanitize white queerness and enable a discourse that not only impacts how white queers perpetually privilege progress narratives, but potentially demonizes or distorts queers of color who perform often more illegible enactments of queerness. Bringing back the film Brokeback Mountain as a shape-shifting cultural text—globalizing an understanding of the foregone closet—the chapter forces an interracial non-romance between discretion in whiteface and blackface. Brokeback Mountain and other resonant texts perform a popular queer historiography, which misreads or under-reads the broader histories and social realities of queer people within and outside of the U.S.

Kidnapped is the most Scottish novel Robert Louis Stevenson ever wrote. Set in the aftermath of the Battle of Culloden, it integrates historical with fictional events and features detailed Highland topography, along with a gallery of Scottish character types. Yet despite its regional ambiance Kidnapped is imbued with classical references that broaden its focus, illuminating issues of class and education within the story and of genre and narrative structure without. At the close of the novel David Balfour’s grasp of a Latin tag proves crucial to establishing, if not his identity as heir to a Scottish estate, at least his position as an educated gentleman. This status contrasts with his earlier identity as ‘the lad with the silver button’. A cluster of motifs connects the novel to the epic genre, while the observance of narrative principles set forth in Horace’s Ars Poetica adds an authentic eighteenth-century touch.

Adapting musical theater into film involves the mediation of performance language from stage to screen. While stage language depends on live singing, spatial ensemble, and performer–audience co-presence, screen language relies on framing, editing, and audiovisual control. Although musical theater film adaptation has attracted increasing scholarly attention, audience-based research on how this transformation is perceived remains limited, especially in Chinese and Anglo-American contexts. This study examines how stage language is transformed into screen language through four stage-to-screen cases: the musical theater Les Misérables, first staged in 1980, and its 2012 film adaptation; the musical theater Dear Evan Hansen, first staged in 2017, and its 2021 film adaptation; the original Chinese musical theater Jinsha, first staged in 2005, and its 2023 film adaptation; and the original Chinese musical theater The Long Night, first performed in 2021, and its 2022 screen version. Guided by the Cultural Adaptability Symbolic Stratification (CASS) model, the study adopts a mixed-methods approach combining case analysis, content analysis, questionnaires, and focus group discussions with 27 participants. The findings identify three pathways of transformation: Cinematic Translation, Direct Transplantation, and Fragmented Reconfiguration. Among them, Cinematic Translation generated the strongest audience engagement, especially in emotional immersion and narrative clarity. Direct Transplantation preserved visible stage conventions but often weakened narrative and emotional coherence. Fragmented Reconfiguration produced more variable responses, depending on viewers’ interpretive expectations and familiarity with non-linear form. Some age-related tendencies also appeared within this sample, but these should be treated cautiously given the limited number of middle-aged and older participants. Overall, the study shows that successful adaptation depends less on preserving theatrical form than on cinematically reorganizing performance language. It also refines the application of the CASS model to performance analysis and offers practical insight into the adaptation of Chinese original musical theater works into musical theater film.

The grotesque, a staple of the comic book vernacular is a defining characteristic of Alan Moore's graphic literature. Moore's work often transcends the traditional grotesque and blends this aesthetic with erotic elements, evoking the subversive spirit of the carnival, foregrounding bodily transformation, deformation and the connection between interior bodily functions and the external world. Bakhtin describes this 'festival of the body' as essential to an understanding of the literary and artistic carnivalesque. Moore's literary take on the erotic-grotesque adds resonance to some of his central themes such as invisible connections between class, gender, social groups and moral opposites. His artistic collaborators have expressed this effectively throughout Moore's literary oeuvre. Unfortunately, the film adaptations of Moore's work tend to de-emphasize this critical aspect. I assert that the artistic success or failure of the Moore film adaptations rest to a large extent on the degree to which they grapple with the erotic-grotesque. From Hell (2001), which I argue is the most successful cinematic adaptation of Moore's literature in these terms, retains the essence of Moore's erotic-grotesque sensibilities even while altering much of the principal narrative and themes. By contrast, the film adaptation of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen (2003) also alters the narrative and characterization to a great extent, but also removes much of the novel's sense of the erotic-grotesque. This omission, I argue, is the key element that leads to the film's relative artistic failure. A truly satisfying cinematic adaptation of a Moore novel, therefore, must embrace this key element of his literature.

Patriarchy has sought to subjugate women and consolidate male supremacy throughout history. Unfortunately, the systematic oppression of women also prevailed in the Victorian era. Jane Eyre (1847) by Charlotte Brontë, one of the masterpieces of the Victorian novel, not only displays but also challenges the patriarchal oppression of the Victorian era. Likewise, Jane Eyre (2006), one of the recent film adaptations of Brontë’s novel directed by Susanna White, successfully questions the subordination of women in that era while employing diverse narrative techniques. This study primarily investigates the factors contributing to the oppression of Victorian women, such as gender roles, the objectification and sexualisation of women, clothing, and the male gaze, by referring to several feminist critics and analyses how the novel and the adaptation challenge patriarchal oppression. Next, the study discusses how the nonconformist protagonist Jane Eyre functions to defy the patriarchal norms in these works. The study highlights that both the novel and the film adaptation subvert the patriarchal imposition of the male-dominated order by emancipating the protagonist from being a subordinated woman in Victorian society.

We're Not Through Yet:The Patrick Bateman Debate Casey C. Moore During the Abu Ghraib prison scandal, the Baroness received a flood of phone calls. The photographs that ran in the newspapers and on television, the images and descriptions of torture, especially the picture of an Iraqi standing on a box with a hood over his head and electrical cables running to his hands, stirred a surge of requests. Could she do that for the caller, inflict that kind of fear followed by jolts of electricity? Daniel Bergner, The Other Side of Desire The confrontation with the dark, the violent, and the different inevitably results in a pressing desire to explain, define, and categorize. That darkness, which causes the split subject to move into a state of crisis, can be termed the abject, the uncanny, the grotesque, the monstrous, or the absurd. Subjects faced with the abject—from ancient readers to modern theorists, to contemporary horror film viewers—engage in a process of labeling, naming, or somehow rationalizing what horrifies the subject away from him or herself, after the initial seduction of the subject causes them to align themselves with that very horror. Putting the horrifying into linguistic terms gives an illusory sense of relief, wholeness, and separation from the horrifying; however, what happens when the failure of this linguistic relief becomes apparent? As writers and filmmakers employ ironic language or imagery, multiple meanings are created that expose the reader/viewer to something that neither means what it presents nor presents what it means. Truth lies somewhere in the gaps between meanings that are ungraspable and indefinable, a truth that violently confronts and allures the subject because of an erotic draw to the things that cannot be relegated into categories. This paper, using Bret Easton Ellis's American Psycho and its film adaptation, as well as Daniel Bergner's non-fiction account of paraphilia, The Other Side of Desire, explores the link between gaps in meaning and erotic desire. I contend that the draw to the abject is something unequivocally human, and it is the portrayal of individuals who are fully immersed, obsessed with the desires outside the realm of what is deemed normal by society, who force others to recognize the universally erotic allure of what disgusts them. [End Page 226] Individuals who display facets of character that stray from the societal relegation of the "normal," in fiction or non-fiction, are labeled in order to linguistically provide reason and stability to the perceptibly unstable—from serial killers termed "sociopaths" to fetishists consigned as "paraphiliacs." These linguistic markers, however, cannot encompass all meaning that resonates with the terms themselves, and the gaps with which the subject grapples possess an erotic allure that both horrifies and arouses. The moniker "serial killer" is horrifying because of the violent acts s/he commits, but within the revulsion a subject feels for the serial killer lies the subject's fear that s/he is also able to commit murder. When subjects see their own likeness within the serial killer, they grapple with the gaps, between serial killer and citizen, between inhuman and human. The subject is overcome with desire to make meaning out of the disjointed aspects of the abject so that s/he can push the abject as far away as possible, taking pleasure in both the abject's allure as well as its eradication. Julia Kristeva's Powers of Horror discusses the separations necessary for the ongoing process of self-identification. Kristeva details the process of abjection, during which individuals and nations both separate from and identify with what she terms "abject" (Moore 4). For Kristeva, the abject is not necessarily what is considered grotesque or unclean, but that which does not "respect borders, positions, rules," and "disturbs identity, system, order" (Kristeva 4; Moore 4). The abject lies on the border and, because of its position there, is both alluring and frightening. A living subject's confrontation with the abject causes horror within the subject because the abject lies outside of the symbolic order, where meaning collapses, and the place where "I" am not (Kristeva 2). Because of the threat to subjecthood that it presents, the abject must be "radically...

Art Imitating ArtThis article discusses the global, historical and literary references that are present in the video game franchise Bayonetta. In particular, references to Dante’s Divine Comedy, the works of Dr John Dee, and European traditions of witchcraft are examined. Bayonetta is modern in the sense that she is a woman of the world. Her character shows how history and literature may be used, re-used, and evolve into new formats, and how modern games travel abroad through time and space.Drawing creative inspiration from other works is nothing new. Ideas and themes, art and literature are frequently borrowed and recast. Carmel Cedro cites Northrop Frye in the example of William Shakespeare and Charles Dickens. These writers created stories and characters that have developed a level of acclaim and resonated with many individuals, resulting in countless homages over the years. The forms that these appropriations take vary widely. Media formats, such as film adaptations and even books, take the core characters or narrative from the original and re-work them into a different context. For example, the novel Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson published in 1883 was adapted into the 2002 Walt Disney animated film Treasure Planet. The film maintained the concepts of the original narrative and retained key characters but re-imaged them to fit the science fiction genre (Clements and Musker).The video-game franchise Bayonetta draws inspiration from distinct sources creating the foundation for the universe and some plot points to enhance the narrative. The main sources are Dante’s Divine Comedy, the projections of John Dee and his mystical practices as well as the medieval history of witches.The Vestibule: The Concept of BayonettaFigure 1: Bayonetta Concept ArtBayonetta ConceptsThe concept of Bayonetta was originally developed by video game designer Hideki Kamiya, known previously for his work including The Devil May Cry and the Resident Evil game series. The development of Bayonetta began with Kamiya requesting a character design that included three traits: a female lead, a modern witch, and four guns. This description laid the foundations for what was to become the hack and slash fantasy heroine that would come to be known as Bayonetta. "Abandon all hope ye who enter here"The Divine Comedy, written by Dante Alighieri during the 1300s, was a revolutionary piece of literature for its time, in that it was one of the first texts that formalised the vernacular Italian language by omitting the use of Latin, the academic language of the time. Dante’s work was also revolutionary in its innovative contemplations on religion, art and sciences, creating a literary collage of such depth that it would continue to inspire hundreds of years after its first publication.Figure 2: Domenico di Michelino’s fresco of Dante and his Divine Comedy, surrounded by depictions of scenes in the textBayonetta explores the themes of The Divine Comedy in a variety of ways, using them as an obvious backdrop, along with subtle homages and references scattered throughout the game. The world of Bayonetta is set in the Trinity of Realities, three realms that co-exist forming the universe: Inferno, Paradiso and the Chaos realm—realm of humans—and connected by Purgitorio—the intersection of the trinity. In the game, Bayonetta travels throughout these realms, primarily in the realm of Purgitorio, the area in which magical and divine entities may conduct their business. However, there are stages within the game where Bayonetta finds herself in Paradiso and the human realm. This is a significant factor relating to The Divine Comedy as these realms also form the areas explored by Dante in his epic poem. The depth of these parallels is not exclusive to factors in Dante’s masterpiece, as there are also references to other art and literature inspired by Dante’s legacy. For example, the character Rodin in Bayonetta runs a bar named “The Gates of Hell.” In 1917 French artist Auguste Rodin completed a sculpture, The Gates of Hell depicting scenes and characters from The Divine Comedy. Rodin’s bar in Bayonetta is manifested as a dark impressionist style of architecture, with an ominous atmosphere. In early concept art, the proprietor of the bar was to be named Mephisto (Kamiya) derived from “Mephistopheles”, another name for the devil in some mythologies. Figure 3: Auguste Rodin's Gate of Hell, 1917Aspects of Dante’s surroundings and the theological beliefs of his time can be found in Bayonetta, as well as in the 2013 anime film adaptation Bayonetta, Bloody Fate. The Christian virtues, revered during the European Middle Ages, manifest themselves as enemies and adversaries that Bayonetta must combat throughout the game. Notably, the names of the cardinal virtues serve as “boss ranked” foes. Enemies within a game, usually present at the end of a level and more difficult to defeat than regular enemies within “Audito Sphere” of the “Laguna Hierarchy” (high levels of the hierarchy within the game), are named in Italian; Fortitudo, Temperantia, Lustitia, and Sapientia. These are the virtues of Classical Greek Philosophy, and reflect Dante’s native language as well as the impact the philosophies of Ancient Greece had on his writings. The film adaption of Bayonetta incorporated many elements from the game. To adjust the game effectively, it was necessary to augment the plot in order to fit the format of this alternate media. As it was no longer carried by gameplay, the narrative became paramount. The diverse plot points of the new narrative allowed for novel possibilities for further developing the role of The Divine Comedy in Bayonetta. At the beginning of the movie, for example, Bayonetta enters as a nun, just as she does in the game, only here she is in church praying rather than in a graveyard conducting a funeral. During her prayer she recites “I am the way into the city of woe, abandon all hope, oh, ye who enter here,” which is a Canto of The Divine Comedy. John Dee and the AngelsDr John Dee (1527—1608), a learned man of Elizabethan England, was a celebrated philosopher, mathematician, scientist, historian, and teacher. In addition, he was a researcher of magic and occult arts, as were many of his contemporaries. These philosopher magicians were described as Magi and John Dee was the first English Magus (French). He was part of a school of study within the Renaissance intelligensia that was influenced by the then recently discovered works of the gnostic Hermes Trismegistus, thought to be of great antiquity. This was in an age when religion, philosophy and science were intertwined. Alchemy and chemistry were still one, and astronomers, such as Johannes Kepler and Tyco Brahe cast horoscopes. John Dee engaged in spiritual experiments that were based in his Christian faith but caused him to be viewed in some circles as dangerously heretical (French).Based on the texts of Hermes Trismegistas and other later Christian philosophical and theological writers such as Dionysius the Areopagite, Dee and his contemporaries believed in celestial hierarchies and levels of existence. These celestial hierarchies could be accessed by “real artificial magic,” or applied science, that included mathematics, and the cabala, or the mystical use of permutations of Hebrew texts, to access supercelestial powers (French). In his experiments in religious magic, Dee was influenced by the occult writings of Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa (1486—1535). In Agrippa’s book, De Occulta Philosophia, there are descriptions for seals, symbols and tables for summoning angels, to which Dee referred in his accounts of his own magic experiments (French). Following his studies, Dee constructed a table with a crystal placed on it. By use of suitable rituals prescribed by Agrippa and others, Dee believed he summoned angels within the crystal, who could be seen and conversed with. Dee did not see these visions himself, but conversed with the angels through a skryer, or medium, who saw and heard the celestial beings. Dee recorded his interviews in his “Spiritual Diaries” (French). Throughout Bayonetta there are numerous seals and devices that would appear to be inspired by the work of Dee or other Renaissance Magi.In these sessions, John Dee, through his skryer Edward Kelley, received instruction from several angels. The angels led him to believe he was to be a prophet in the style of the biblical Elijah or, more specifically like Enoch, whose prophesies were detailed in an ancient book that was not part of the Bible, but was considered by many scholars as divinely inspired. As a result, these experiments have been termed “Enochian conversations.” The prophesies received by Dee foretold apocalyptic events that were to occur soon and God’s plan for the world. The angels also instructed Dee in a system of magic to allow him to interpret the prophesies and participate in them as a form of judge. Importantly, Dee was also taught elements of the supposed angelic language, which came to be known as “Enochian” (Ouellette). Dee wrote extensively about his interviews with the angels and includes statements of their hierarchy (French, Ouellette). This is reflected in the “Laguna Hierarchy” of Bayonetta, sharing similarities in name and appearance of the angels Dee had described. Platinum Games creative director Jean-Pierre Kellams acted as writer and liaison, assisting the English adaptation of Bayonetta and was tasked by Hideki Kamiya to develop Bayonetta’s incantations and subsequently the language of the angels within the game (Kellams).The Hammer of WitchesOne of the earliest and most integral components of the Bayonetta franchise is the fact that the title character is a witch. Witches, sorcerers and other practitioners of magic have been part of folklore for centuries. Hideki Kamiya stated that the concept of” classical witches” was primarily a European legend. In order to emulate this European dimension, h