Could James Joyce's Ulysses Ever Be Adapted Into A Film?
Written by Andreas Babiolakis
Today is Bloomsday, and that might mean a lot to you. If not, I’ll give you the quick run down. Today celebrates a few things, and they all tie to one master of literature. Bloomsday honours writer James Joyce, his masterpiece Ulysses (which takes place all on one day, which happened to be today back in 1904), and all of the events that happen to character Leopold Bloom in said novel. Of all of these causes to honour, I’ll focus just on the middle one that ties everything together: Ulysses. This novel is one of the great treks in all of literature, because of its incredible length and insanely challenging nature. Named after the English variant of the protagonist Odysseus of Homer’s The Odyssey, Ulysses is mapped very similarly to the hero’s numerous interactions, trials, and thresholds.
The difficulties that stem from Ulysses is that each of these parts — divided into episodes — carries their own nature and purpose. “Cyclops” is full of hyperboles. “Circe” is a written play full of directions and cues. “Sirens”, appropriately, is full of musical connotations to describe everyday life. The novel even zips from perspectives occasionally. I adore the parts where you can read the inner thoughts of everyone within your vicinity, as if all walks of life are the protagonists of their own tales. “Penelope” ends off with the toughest challenge of all: a stream-of-consciousness free-for-all that proves why Joyce really is the master of the English language. Parts of Ulysses forgo punctuation. Moments are chopped up in article form. Apparitions come and go. Joyce’s perverse sense of humour can always be found, even in the most abstract of ways.
As great as this novel may sound to those of you who haven’t read it, you may already be seeing the purpose of this think piece: Ulysses seems virtually impossible to turn into a visual story. Can Ulysses ever be turned into a film? The short answer is yes, because anything can be. The important thing is whether or not this is a particularly good film. We’ve seen enough works get butchered. I’d want to see Ulysses be done the right way, but I suppose that’s how many filmmakers have felt. The one major adaptation that exists already is Joseph Strick’s 1967 adaptation of the same name. This Ulysses is only two hours, which will already show you some of the problems it has: it’s far too condensed, and focused on the literal aspects of the novel, that it misses all of the unique idiosyncrasies that make the writing special. This is also the late ‘60s we’re talking about, and I’d like to think that we have some major advantages now. Still, Ulysses had polarized responses: some Oscar and BAFTA nominations for its screenplay (even attempting to adapt this counts for something) and critical love, while other viewers felt that this was a tribute at best that misses enough of the novel’s essence to be noticeable.
What would have to happen is an extremely meta take on the novel: a film that is fully aware that it is a film (or, better yet, aware that it is a film of a novel that is aware it is a novel). A perfect director would be someone like Charlie Kaufman, but there is a catch here. Anything Kaufman directs is authentically his own, and this includes adaptations. We wouldn’t have an official Ulysses film if we got one from Kaufman, but we would have his own version of Ulysses, which may be perfect enough. However, I’m trying to see if Ulysses itself can just be a film, and bringing up Kaufman (as well as Strick’s 67 version) reminds me that this is purely a James Joyce novel. This is done in such a particulate voice, that it almost feels impossible to try another’s in its place. I feel like Ulysses is a crazily made house, that is secured only on stilts, crooked beams, some weird substitute for common house building fundamentals (let’s say playdough and Lego), and it’s secure only like this. If anyone intends on moving it or replacing any of its parts, it could collapse at any second. Joyce broke the rules he knew how to stick to, so he could reinvent his own writing strategies and blueprints. Not just anybody can swoop in and make sure this structure stays.
So, what if we get a filmmaker who is willing to play ball with Joyce’s oddities, but isn’t going to push their own voice too heavily into the film? That would eliminate many auteurs right off the bat. Who is a filmmaker that is wise but also capable of incorporating Joyce’s voice as their own? I feel like Jane Campion would definitely nail his depictions of Dublin of 1904, and she has shown signs of meta storytelling, but it may not be enough levels of it. Abbas Kirostami would have been another great candidate, considering how many times his own films — documentaries or features — would blur the lines between reality and fiction. Sophia Coppola’s films also carry a great self awareness, and she can tackle period pieces as well, but would her vision best match the source material? We could cycle through a ton of directors, which may or may not help to do.
What we can also consider is how to best approach the duration and nature of this adaptation. A film would be ideal, but that term can be shaped in a number of ways. I feel like so many miniseries and television shows today have pulled off some amazing one-off episodes of different natures (look at Bojack Horseman, Atlanta, and Watchmen for some examples). Perhaps this could be the ticket: having each episode be a literal television episode. Ulysses could be an eighteen part miniseries, with each episode varying in length (The Underground Railroad had such a quality, with episodes ranging from twenty or so minutes to well over an hour), to match whatever part of the novel they are set to. Instead of trying to combine episodes or adapt the novel in a more streamlined way, the blocky episodic nature of the novel has to be kept in this case.
With this miniseries, I feel like there could also only be one great way to go about this. Look. James Joyce is a big enough name. Ulysses is about to celebrate its one hundredth birthday next year. It’s common knowledge that even just reading the novel is a massive undertaking, so adapting the novel would be a massive challenge as well. I’ve raised my concerns about one’s authorial voice not matching Joyce’s, or posing other problems. A possible solution would be to have Ulysses be a tribute piece done by eighteen different filmmakers. One director could be attached to each part. Maybe each episode could have different screenwriters as well. There’s such an issue with capturing Ulysses’ different parts and Joyce’s singular voice, so why not fully embrace the different natures of each part? Part of the appeal is the story that takes place over a day, but the other major components that make the novel special are the eighteen different identities the novel carries.
I feel like this could be the only proper way to even start this project. Otherwise, we have some other options. A competent director captures most of the literal portions of Ulysses and have only a taste of the post modernist nature of the book (like the 67 adaptation). We could also have a well known unorthodox filmmaker make their own version, which ultimately becomes theirs and not the proper version that the book warrants. Or we fully honour the insane project as it is, turn it into a high form of respect, and have eighteen filmmakers and/or writers do each part. Hell, even have different cast members on screen for some episodes to really sell the loopy nature of the novel. Let’s see if I can pick some directors for each part now, just for argument’s sake.
Episode 1, Telemachus: Chloé Zhao (the opening to everything; Zhao could capture the start of a brand new day so well).
Episode 2, Nestor: Jane Campion (this chapter is known for its dialogue, so Campion’s period piece expertise and literal adaptation style could come in handy).
Episode 3, Proteus: Terrence Malick (the first stream-of-consciousness episode, and Malick’s style would compliment the previous two directors so well, and wrap up the final episode in the “Telemachia” section of Ulysses).
Episode 4, Calypso: Barry Jenkins (the story restarts from a different perspective for the “Odyssey” portion of the novel, and Jenkins could make for a nice segue from the previous portion here).
Episode 5, Lotus Eaters: Guy Maddin (the comedic perversions of this episode need a touch of humour, and we should probably start implementing some more eccentric filmmaking by now).
Episode 6, Hades: Robert Eggers (death is a major theme in this episode, and Eggers can display darkness incredibly well; he also is a given for any period piece, given his expertise with reviving old ways of life, specific accents, and interesting jargon that is very well needed for a Joyce adaptation).
Episode 7, Aeolus: Wong Kar-wai (this episode is broken into various newspaper articles of sorts, and Kar-wai is amazing with vignettes. I think he could capture the humility and warmth found within the unusual in this chapter).
Episode 8, Lestrygonians: Guillermo del Toro (this episode has Bloom’s thoughts all attached to foods, and Del Toro can most certainly frame food well in his films. He could also match the parts of whimsy and wonder here very well).
Episode 9, Scylla and Charybdis: Tom McCarthy (the majority of this episode is based on the discussions of other literary works, and a neutral voice that can handle dialogue [internal and external] would suffice).
Episode 10, Wandering Rocks: Don Hertzfeldt (this episode dips into the minds and lives of side characters, and Hertzfeldt’s ability to place us awkwardly in these positions would be a riot. Besides, this episode calls for a major departure, and his stick figure animation could be exactly what it calls for).
Episode 11, Sirens: Sophia Coppola (music dominates this part of the story, and Coppola is a master at incorporating music into her films. Whether she makes it contemporary or time appropriate is up to her; I think either or should work, given the nature of the novel).
Episode 12, Cyclops: The Coen Brothers (no O Brother, Where Art Thou? connection [at least not an intended one], but the Coens could capture the aimlessness of this episode perfectly, whilst still maintaining the heart of each moment as planned).
Episode 13, Nausicaa: Greta Gerwig (this episode is a satire of schmaltzy romantic novels, so having that tongue-in-cheek romantic style, as well as Gerwig’s acute awareness of her own works in a metaphysical sense [see Little Women] would be perfect).
Episode 14, Oxen of the Sun: Ang Lee (throughout episode 14, Joyce shows an evolution of language in such a peculiar way. Lee has taken on another “impossible” novel adaptation with The Life of Pi. Ulysses would be way harder, but at least this highly interesting chapter seems feasible for him to pull off. Maybe this evolution can be shown via narration, the dialogue itself, and a changing presence of the film’s aesthetics themselves).
Episode 15, Circe: Edgar Wright (Circe is displayed as a play’s script, and I can only imagine Wright’s manic style would match this seamlessly; cues would be narrated, of course).
Episode 16, Eumaeus: Mike Leigh (this first episode of the final part “Nostos” is full of nonsensical drivel, which Leigh pulled off with ease in Naked. I could only imagine him taking on this chapter, to be honest).
Episode 17, Ithaca: Alex Garland (there are loads of complicated scientific terms and expressions, also intentionally butchered by Joyce. Garland could achieve the technicalities of this episode, as well as knowingly acknowledge the intended gaffs with his own brand of sarcasm).
Episode 18, Penelope: Charlie Kaufman (The surreal, stream-of-consciousness finale feels like it would be Kaufman’s time to shine, with a highly self-aware conclusion that would wrap everything up wonderfully).
One could dream for such a stacked team. There’s no way this could be pulled off. Realistically, this would be one person’s job (or maybe only a couple of minds would be behind this, but not over eighteen), and they could only get so far with adapting Ulysses (which we have already seen happen before). The most interesting way that this novel could be made into a visual work of art is through the kinds of over-complications that it warrants. This will never happen. We will likely see something far more watered down, despite the nice attempt. My idea is that many creators could express what Ulysses means to them, given the highly personal connection each reader makes with James Joyce’s many styles of writing. What can absolutely happen is that you can celebrate the novel in your own way. I guess this was my own version of that. With that in mind, happy Bloomsday to you! Honour Joyce, Ulysses, and everything in between however you see fit; not many works deserve this level of lifelong commitment and adoration on such a scale.
Andreas Babiolakis has a Masters degree in Film and Photography Preservation and Collections Management from Ryerson University, as well as a Bachelors degree in Cinema Studies from York University. His favourite times of year are the Criterion Collection flash sales and the annual Toronto International Film Festival.