Err... Hockity Pockity?

Merlin has, like all great men, been many things to many people. He first really appears in the chronicles of Geoffrey of Monmouth who, amalgamating a few historical figures into one, adding a dash of imagination and, it seems, whatever he hadn't managed to attribute to the Romans, Celts or Trolls. For Thomas Mallory (compiler of what, for most people, is THE book of King Arthur stories), he was a shrewd tactician, whose magic lay mostly in prophecy and being in the right place at the right time. Fair enough, if you really were at death's door, he might rustle up the odd potion but he wasn't exactly bandying around a wand willy-nilly. Then, over time and, as usual, with a bit of help from the Victorians and Walt Disney, he's become a sort of primogenitor for Gandalf, Dumbledore, Santa Claus and all the jolly, magical and bearded fellows ever to have roamed the planet.

Oh, and then there's the BBC who decided that he should be a bumbling, faintly amiable and jug-eared youth serving a future King Arthur who looks like he only just didn't make into the Bullingdon Club because he happens to have a wrenching crush on the girl from the local comprehensive.

But, and, here's the point - so what? All this really proves is that the character of 'Merlin' has never, ever been one thing and to start yelling from the rooftops "WHAT IS THIS? I DON'T EVEN" makes no sense. Fair enough, his latest aurally advantageous reincarnation is quite a large leap from tradition, but even so, I watch it. And why wouldn't I? As a 45minute distraction from existence it's more than sufficient (especially when Dr. Who's not running) and that's what all popular literature/poetry/art have ever thought much of doing.

And that applies to all you other adaptations out there too. The film version of Brideshead Revisited was recently on iPlayer: A little bit of a jaunt through Oxford, heaps of Catholic guilt and some posh bisexuality - a boiled down version and, ultimately, not accurate in any way version of whatever Evelyn Waugh himself might have been trying to get at. Fair enough. But still, it was a good 2 and a bit hours of film and certainly didn't deserve the reaction someone told me they gave it in the cinema - of walking out disgustedly. Especially from a man who willingly went to watch either/or both Sex and the City films.

The point is then, people have adapted everything since time immemorial. Shakespeare himself almost never wrote anything that hadn't been translated out of the original Latin/Greek/French three or four times before him. But his skill was precisely in the adaptation. In the original version of King Lear, Cordelia survives and keeps ruling for the next however many years in blissful happiness. But who wants to see that? It hardly evokes the futility of human pride and value of life if, at the end of all Lear's misguided ranting and railing, he just carries on as if nothing happened.

Here's another example. In my first year, I knew a tutor in Old English who genuinely liked the 3D Beowulf film. Now, even as a film, it wasn't outstanding (I mean, I liked it) but, as a literal adaptation, it was complete nonsense. I mean, Angelina Jolie, the sensual mother of Grendel, the terrifying (again, extremely gifted in the listening department - maybe there's a connection? I can't wait for the adaptation that makes a sort of Fantastic Four of Grendel, Merlin, Sauron and Errour from The Faerie Queene) monster, who Beowulf kills, and then Beowulf casually impregnates Angelina, and then their offspring turns out to be the dragon, and then the dragon kills Beowulf and then and then and then. It was mental. But hey, who cares, it was in 3D.

So next time the latest adaptation of something comes out, just chill. If it's terrible as a film, then fine but don't start crying about the plot. Coincidentally, I hear the new adaptation of True Grit's smashing.

Oh, and if anyone's wondering about the title: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7bd5YUEOwlE