Lord of the Flies (1963)In the Book of Genesis, Adam and Eve are cast out of Eden by eating an apple, one which they were expressly forbidden to eat. Many point out that it was the serpent who tempted them to do so, but the message is that they chose to disobey because it is--and was--always in their nature: original sin. Adapted from the novel by William Golding, Lord of the Flies (1963) is the story of a group of English boys stranded on a deserted island, and the disintegration of their concept of civilized society in favor for one born from the heart of darkness. Their paradise may be beautiful, but even Eden had snakes.
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Lord of the Flies begins simply with a montage of photographs, the backstory of the life before the island for the children. It depicts academia and playful sport, as a chorus of boys sing "Kyrie Eleison". Juxtaposed with this are images of warfare, missiles and jet planes, implying the inherent cruelty in children, and in all of us. This cruelty is felt most of all in Piggy (Hugh Edwards), the wise young lad who is unfortunately made the subject of persecution for his weight and physical ailments by many of the more able boys. His ally--and the first boy we meet--is Ralph (James Aubrey), who defends Piggy, although he has the bad luck to disclose Piggy's unpleasant nickname when provoked, leaving Piggy's real name never to be revealed in this tropical otherworld. The introductory scene with Ralph reminds me of the opening of J.J. Abram's television show, "Lost", as well as the overall context of the story of survival and fortitude in the absence of civilization, and the television series was no doubt influenced by Lord of the Flies. Piggy is the first to observe that one can blow into the discovered conch shell to make a trumpet sound, which draws the surviving children of the plane crash to him--including Jack (Tom Chapin) and his cadre of elitist fellows, all singers in a chorus eventually turned hunters in their new environs at Jack's direction. In very little time, although Ralph is elected chief of the boys, Jack exerts his dominant megalomania over the others, preying on their fears and intimidating the weak into following his direction, leading them down the rabbit hole of regression into a primal state. At first, Ralph accepts that Jack's aptitude--and his eerie foresight at having a knife at hand--makes him a valuable resource for sustaining their group, but his irresponsible disregard for maintaining the fire designed to secure their rescue is but the first straw leading up to an inevitable schism, one which is as much a conflict of personalities as it is of ideologies.
The music of Lord of the Flies is as pronounced as the contrast of black and white in the film. The Arcadian woodwinds and flutes evoke a peaceful, serene paradise which the island might offer; as Ralph at first observes, it is one seemingly without predators and capable of sustaining the boys, provided they don't lose their heads. But in equal measure, there are the pounding drums, a percussion calling to something primeval in the young boys, of a reckless abandon of their manners and dignity, an anti-intellectual dismissal of the lessons they have been taught back home in England, designed to protect them, but likely taught without context, since those like Jack find they are quaint and are quick to adopt the warpaint-and-spear routine. Jack and his faction identify themselves as hunters, and wear their caps as a designation of their alignment with Jack and his strength, who in turn pumps them up with his bravado and rallies them to join his clan when challenged by Ralph and Piggy. Games which are innocent at first--such as swimming in the ocean--turn dark and violent, like the full-on tribal ritual at the bonfire by the sea, with tragic and brutal outcomes. The actors portraying the children do not feel so much like professional actors--they are more than competent, however--but feel like actual schoolboys, giving the film a raw, documentary-like feel, and a naturalistic quality. The result is that when things start to spiral out of control more and more, the threat of real danger is more acute. Lord of the Flies extols simple virtues--kindness, generosity, and civility, just to start--by presenting the children as a microcosm for society, and showing how quickly those virtues can be abandoned when people are stripped away of their creature comforts. There are numerous moments in the film which make this point abundantly clear, with a personal favorite being the young boy named Percival (Kent Fletcher), who when first asked his name recounts his full name, address, and phone number, but slowly begins to lose pieces of himself by forgetting these things bit by bit. Piggy ultimately issues a statement about the destruction of the humanity in the boys, when he shouts a question to Jack's tribe about whether it is better to be sensible or wild. It is as philosophical of a statement about society as one could ask for; unfortunately, an audience is only an audience when they are willing to listen.
Recommended for: Fans of a solid and faithful literary adaptation from a classic novel. It is a cautionary tale about the dangers of getting swept up in fervor or hysteria, be it political, ideological, or otherwise. It is also a reminder of the simple, but crucial, golden rule, relevant in all times and places.
The music of Lord of the Flies is as pronounced as the contrast of black and white in the film. The Arcadian woodwinds and flutes evoke a peaceful, serene paradise which the island might offer; as Ralph at first observes, it is one seemingly without predators and capable of sustaining the boys, provided they don't lose their heads. But in equal measure, there are the pounding drums, a percussion calling to something primeval in the young boys, of a reckless abandon of their manners and dignity, an anti-intellectual dismissal of the lessons they have been taught back home in England, designed to protect them, but likely taught without context, since those like Jack find they are quaint and are quick to adopt the warpaint-and-spear routine. Jack and his faction identify themselves as hunters, and wear their caps as a designation of their alignment with Jack and his strength, who in turn pumps them up with his bravado and rallies them to join his clan when challenged by Ralph and Piggy. Games which are innocent at first--such as swimming in the ocean--turn dark and violent, like the full-on tribal ritual at the bonfire by the sea, with tragic and brutal outcomes. The actors portraying the children do not feel so much like professional actors--they are more than competent, however--but feel like actual schoolboys, giving the film a raw, documentary-like feel, and a naturalistic quality. The result is that when things start to spiral out of control more and more, the threat of real danger is more acute. Lord of the Flies extols simple virtues--kindness, generosity, and civility, just to start--by presenting the children as a microcosm for society, and showing how quickly those virtues can be abandoned when people are stripped away of their creature comforts. There are numerous moments in the film which make this point abundantly clear, with a personal favorite being the young boy named Percival (Kent Fletcher), who when first asked his name recounts his full name, address, and phone number, but slowly begins to lose pieces of himself by forgetting these things bit by bit. Piggy ultimately issues a statement about the destruction of the humanity in the boys, when he shouts a question to Jack's tribe about whether it is better to be sensible or wild. It is as philosophical of a statement about society as one could ask for; unfortunately, an audience is only an audience when they are willing to listen.
Recommended for: Fans of a solid and faithful literary adaptation from a classic novel. It is a cautionary tale about the dangers of getting swept up in fervor or hysteria, be it political, ideological, or otherwise. It is also a reminder of the simple, but crucial, golden rule, relevant in all times and places.