#somehow arthurian retellings as a genre is both over saturated and in dire need of a rennaissance

[queer-ragnelle]

An Arthurian adaptation need not resemble its source when the creator cares about thoughtful storytelling and themes. This transcends medium and genre. I’m not a snob about “accuracy” so much as a stickler for adherence to the respect of one’s audience through sustained narrative quality.

Examples forthcoming.

Camelot 3000 comic is set in the far future. Everyone is reincarnated. Tristan is reborn as a woman, and has to overcome dysphoria and questioning of sexuality in order to properly embrace their new life with Isolde, another woman. Kay explains that he was unruly all those years ago to deflect criticism off of Arthur and direct it at himself, an attempt to subtly aid his brother in maintaining a positive public image. Guinevere is a military commander whose role in the love triangle remains intact aside from the ending. The fellowship of the Round Table are battling aliens while grappling with their new identities and personal journeys. It concludes after Arthur dies, and Guinevere reveals to Lancelot she is pregnant, but doesn’t know by who. He says he will love the baby regardless. So they escape their doomed fate of the medieval source.

Monty Python and The Holy Grail movie (and musical) takes one of Arthurian Legend’s darkest and most tragic stories and retells it as a comedy. Every trope is subverted to an extreme. King Arthur’s supremacy and the conventions of his story are constantly challenged. Serfs question the Divine Right of Kings and “didn’t vote for” Arthur. The Black Knight denies his inevitable defeat, suffering “but a flesh wound,” until he’s nothing more than a torso and a head. French sentries refuse Arthur’s appeals for entry and mock him from the battlement. Meanwhile Galahad endures the Castle of Maidens only through the help of a queer-coded Lancelot (which becomes explicit in the musical when he marries a man). Not only a complete reversal of their medieval roles, but conflict from Guinevere and Elaine is entirely absent (except in the musical which includes a character named Sir Galahad’s Mom). The group then faces the Bridge of Death. Lancelot contrasts his medieval counterpart yet again by answering a simple question and succeeding, OC Robin the Not-Quite-So-Brave-as-Sir-Lancelot fails an absurdly challenging one, followed by Galahad’s failure of another easy one. It ends with Arthur and Bedevere searching for Lancelot, and ultimately results in their arrest by the police.

High Noon Over Camelot is a folk album that retells the story as a dieselpunk western. The three Pendragons—sheriff Arthur, quick-draw Guinevere, and sharpshooter Lancelot—run Camelot as a polyamorous throuple. The love triangle conflict is turned on it’s head which opens the story up for exploration of side characters and their niches. Arthur’s daughter Morgause is not killed by the Ghouls (Saxons) as he thought but instead raised by them, eventually transitioning to Mordred. The Hanged Man, a robot named Merlin, gives three prophecies: Arthur’s son is alive, Gawain’s hatred of the Ghouls is unjust, and Galahad the preacher should sit in the Siege Perilous. Only Galahad heeds the prophecy. Driven mad by the power of the Siege Perilous, he has visions of the space station’s imminent danger, which can only be helped by restarting the GRAIL system on board. So the Pendragons depart with the Grail Knights, leaving behind Mordred and Gawain in charge of Camelot. Mordred tries and fails to pass a peace treaty between Ghouls and Camelot when a fight breaks out and Gawain goes berserk. A hopeless Mordred ends up abandoning his convictions and heads for the space station. He corners the Pendragons as they reach their goal, the Grail Knights having fallen to get them this far. Mordred kills Lancelot and Guinevere, wounds Arthur, then ejects him into space inside a life-pod. Lastly he crashes the station, killing everyone on board and himself.

The Knights of Breton Court is a trilogy by Maurice Broaddus that retells King Arthur’s story in a modern inner city American setting. Street hustler King attempts to reconcile a group of drug dealers, gangbangers, and well-meaning but lost street kids into a uniform front. All kinds of issues arise to comprise his vision, sometimes borne of character flaws within his crew and sometimes otherworldly forces. In some ways, this series could’ve stood to divert even further from the medieval literature that inspired it, as it suffers from the same pitfalls causing modern readers to drop antiquated literature. The meandering plot, inconsistent pacing, and multitude of characters can read nonsensically to someone unaccustomed to the style. The central thread, King [Arthur] and his goal, is sometimes lost. In trusting Broaddus, I think this criticism relates not to his ability as a writer, but can be traced and attributed Le Morte d’Arthur. Regardless, that’s neither here nor there. The point is that The Knights of Breton Court’s shortcomings are unrelated to its divergence from medieval sources. Although it’s not my favorite, it illustrates beautifully how far a novel can stray while keeping itself firmly under the retelling umbrella. The Indianapolis setting and reimagined personas for the knights is it’s greatest strength, but would be fundamentally broken if Broaddus had stripped it of its original essence. They are intrinsically linked. Also Kay is an unfriendly Rottweiler.

These examples offer thought provoking changes while utilizing the framework of existing characters and their established dynamics/traits to subvert or deepen the meaning behind them. For all the differences between the adaptations and their shared source material, it works, because the creators committed to the bit. This isn’t to say all retellings toe that line effectively.

Cursed is a novel and Netflix series written by Tom Wheeler, illustrated by Frank Miller, and produced by them both. Considering the amount of involvement these two had on both the book and series, it’s safe to assume their creative control was absolute, and each of these mediums fully realized their vision for the story. However, regarding Miller and Wheeler as storytellers with a vision implies they are creatives. It assumes a passion for the project, some semblance of personal expression through art, which is unsubstantiated by the artificial depth of significance displayed in Cursed. The series was green lit before the book even published, so that should give you an indication of the true motivations behind this retelling. It wasn’t made for the love of the source material realized through an artist’s unique perspective, but quickly drawn up and produced to capitalize on the joint products as much as possible.

I will spare everyone a long-winded review of this wretched book and show. They fulfill none of the promises made in the back cover blurb and series description. It’s an insult to the audience’s intelligence. But the point is, the Arthurian elements are not integral to the story, but rather recognizable set pieces and props artificially painted on like a brittle veneer. They exist solely to capitalize on what Miller and Wheeler hoped was an existing audience without the need to develop worthwhile story and attract an audience on their own merits. What they’ve done feels not like inspiration or transmutation, but appropriation of something they neither respect nor care to understand. That is the stipulation, for me, to garner enjoyment from a retelling, regardless of how far it strays from the sources it claims aspects from. An artist must comprehend their material, their muse, their emotional connection to the piece in order to properly manipulate and utilize it. Miller and Wheeler are not artists and their lake is a puddle.