The schoolkid in me punched the air today to see that one of our readings for next week was actually a video (score!). Have a look:

The video – and our other readings as well – brought up some really interesting points about originality that I felt linked really well to my course in literary studies.

The video above (by Kirby Ferguson) basically claims that everything is essentially a remix of everything that came before it, which is a concept we have been exploring in literary adaptations. At first, this may sound just plain wrong; surely there are plenty of stories that haven’t been told before?

That’s quite true, and to say that everything is a remix isn’t to say that it doesn’t have significant creative merit. It’s merely an acknowledgement of the fact that audiences have come to expect certain codes and conventions from media texts (see my post on semiotics for more information about this), and that most media texts will use – or ‘remix’ – these expected elements. It’s not, as Ferguson points out, a ‘conspiracy theory’, or even an attack on Hollywood originality; in fact, it’s often the adaptations of these conventions that makes a media text enjoyable.

For example, in addition to exploring direct homages and copies, Ferguson talks about adaptation of genre. Every media text that we consume can be seen to fit into a genre of some kind, and this is because of the conventions of the genre it adopts. For example, a film that ends with two protagonists falling in love would probably be described as a romance. In literary adaptations, we qualify this genre classification as an adaptation (or, in Ferguson’s words, a ‘remix’), because in adopting that stereotypical romance ending the film can be seen as adapting the storyline of every other romance film that ended the same way, from Romeo and Juliet to Twilight.

Furthermore, I would argue that, contrary to popular belief, this adaptation is not representative of a lack of originality but in fact contributes to the pleasure of engaging with a text. If the film showed the two protagonists dancing around each other for months, scared to profess their love and engaging in various catastrophic, comical events, but then ended without them getting together, I think as an audience we’d be disappointed. It’s because we’re so used to that genre’s formula that its unsatisfying when a media text doesn’t adapt that traditional storyline. That’s not to say that a film with an unhappy ending has to be unsatisfying, so much as it means it’s of a different genre. It’s this constant ‘remixing’ of existing plot structures that has led to cultural theorists such as Christopher Booker (what an appropriate name) to argue that all stories can be classified in certain set categories.

But having said all that in favour of adaptation, where do we draw the line? Where does something stop being a pleasant re-imagination of our existing expectations and start being a truly unoriginal copy? It’s an issue that’s particularly fraught with controversy when using the specific terminology of ‘remix’, so highly associated with the music industry. One of the other readings, which I personally felt was a little lengthy and irrelevant to our actual studies, nonetheless brought up the interesting idea of the impact of technology on remix or adaptation culture. Once upon a time, although you could use someone else’s idea in your own media text, you still needed to create the work from scratch. Now, technology has allowed users – from Hollywood producers to dolts like me with a decent laptop – to physically incorporate existing material into their own work.

At times, I think this can be a good thing for all parties involved. Earlier in the year, I wrote an essay for literary adaptations on the new Stephen Moffatt series Sherlock, and discussed in detail the enormous amount of fanfiction surrounding it. In addition to writing textual fanfiction, fans of the show have used graphic editing software to not only reimagine the show’s characters but to collide it with other texts. For example, there is a wide internet following of fanfiction known as SuperWhoLock, that combines the shows Sherlock, Doctor Who and Supernatural, such as this amazingly well-edited video by John Smith in which graphic editing allows two of the shows’ protagonists to meet:

I don’t think anyone can question the creativity of this work. Not only does this phenomenon of remixed fanfiction allow fans greater interaction with the show (I argued in the essay), it seems to have been well-received by the producers who playfully allude to Sherlock‘s fans in the show itself and who have suggested a cross-over episode may be in the works.

But of course there is a sinister side to this as well, especially when it comes to music culture. When artists such as Robin Thick or Colin Hay can be sued under the law for their songs merely having the same melodic structure as others, there’s no doubt that songs that actively use existing material will be held accountable as well. But is there no originality in remixed songs? I know I personally own a few Cedric Gervais remixes of Lana Del Ray songs that I wouldn’t have bought otherwise, simply because I like the remix far more than I like the original, despite their clear similarities. The remixes in question have actually sold quite well, so I can only assume that Lana Del Ray has recognised this creative input and is accepting of it.

It’s a fine line, and one that many have argued is still yet to be drawn as copyright and intellectual property law struggles to catch up with the technology that allows this new sensation of ‘remix culture’.

And considering that was my 963rd word (sorry for the essay guys!), I’m off to verify my credentials as the admin of a blog called Couch Potato. Toodle pip!