The Film That Almost Was: John Fowles’s “The Black Thumb” and His Collaboration with David Tringham

Abstract

When first considering relationship between author John Fowles and adaptation of his work, it is interesting to remember that this novelist's writing career was launched not with sale of his manuscript Collector to American publisher, Jonathan Cape, but instead on contingent purchase of film rights to that novel that accompanied publication deal. As Fowles notes in his journal entry of July 4, 1962, James Kinross, director and literary manager negotiating with publisher, made this contingency clear in his original offer letter for Collector, explaining, I have had to allow them a 10% interest in any possible stage or film rights, but under circumstances this is fair enough, since in return, they guarantee to give book extensive publicity. . . . Normally we don't encourage publishers to take this stand, but circumstances are rather exceptional with fiction taking such a beating these days.1 Indeed, doleful state of British fiction in 1960s and 1970s was no secret to anyone at time. John Barth had famously stated that novel was exhausted2 in 1967; and B. S. Johnson reflected that role of storyteller appeared to have been taken up by cinema.3 Fowles's willingness to see his works on screen, large or small, is therefore not surprising; rather, it should be viewed as a pragmatic reaction to circumstances faced by an aspiring writer in a rather bleak vocational landscape.However, by 1974, year in which Fowles and David Tringham began their collaboration on work that will be focus of this essay, Fowles was no longer in such a tenuous financial position. After huge box office success of William Wyler's Collector (US, 1965), author was able to turn his attention to writing full time; his novels and short stories going on to yield numerous adaptations for large- and small-screen audiences: from infamous Magus (UK, 1965) directed by Guy Green, and for which Fowles-perhaps imprudently with hindsight given disappointing result-insisted he write screenplay, to star-studded and critically acclaimed French Lieutenant's Woman (Karel Reisz, US, 1981) with a screenplay by Harold Pinter.By time Fowles and Tringham were about to embark on film that never was, Fowles was an established and, at least in US, a highly respected author. As Sarah Lyall notes in her obituary for author,For whatever reason-he always said it was because he was mistrusted by British literary establishment he had rejected-Mr. Fowles was always far more celebrated, both critically and popularly, in United States than he was in his native country. In America, his books became mainstays of college literature courses while managing to achieve that rare combination: admiring reviews from serious-minded critics and best-selling sales in stores. . . . Not so in England.4The focus of this essay, therefore, does not follow what Thomas Leitch characterizes as the one-to-one case study that takes a single novel or play or story as a privileged context for its film adaptation.5 Indeed, as Leitch points out in his article, study of adaptation genre itself yields interesting insights into both author (both novelist and screenwriter) and audience, and should not be focused entirely on relationship between privileged original work and adaptation of that work. This study is unable to pursue an analysis of relationship between origin and transformed adaptation quite simply because adaptation never made it to screen. Instead, this examination will consider equally fascinating progression of author's screenplay to director's revised version, an adaptation that provides a rare insight into creative process of author and resulting work. The Black Thumb, as it emerges after Tringham's adaptation of work, is a remarkable departure from author's well-established artistic trajectory. …