I actually never read William Golding’s seminal novel Lord of the Flies for school -the required readings differed from class to class, so I got books like Flowers for Algernon and In the Heat of the Night instead. Nevertheless I was very aware of the story, and its grim themes on human nature -which are perfect to instil in students at a young age lest they enter the adult world with any hope in humanity. Peter Brook’s 1963 movie version I understand is considered an accurate adaptation, particularly of the story’s themes and mood. Certainly it left me with a feeling of dread and hopelessness, meaning the film probably did something right. But it’s quite a fascinating movie apart from that.
If you don’t know the story, it’s about two groups of English schoolboys who are the only survivors of a deadly plane crash on a deserted island. Believing they can create and maintain a civil structure until rescue comes, they designate a leader in Ralph (James Aubrey), a boy who found a conch shell which he used to assemble everyone. But while this order prevails for a time, it’s not long before a rival boy Jack (Tom Chapin) revolts and secedes, and various unforeseen problems arise, causing their initial child utopia to descend into anarchy, savagery, and violence.
This movie is disorienting right from the start, opening not on a conventional prologue or set-up, but rather a series of still images of schoolboys, choirboys, English institutions, and war. There’s some dialogue over it, excerpts from a Latin lesson it seems, and the sound of children singing the Kyrie eleison (a liturgy “Lord Have Mercy”). This choice is very interesting, as it not only conveys in the most economical way the vital context necessary to get to the island as soon as possible, but contrasts the civility and innocence of where the boys are coming from with what they ultimately become. Also, as critic Geoffrey Macnab notes, “You can’t help but notice the extreme pains that Brook takes to tell us at the beginning that these are English schoolboys of a certain type… they are from a privileged background. Their fathers are leaders, military commanders, politicians, captains of industry.” We see as much from early on given their language, their manners, the outrageous uniforms of Jack and the choirboys –these are posh, extremely well-off children, likely being groomed to be the inheritors of England’s power. And this is crucial to the message Golding wanted to get across: no matter your background, anyone has it in them to succumb to barbarism.
The film is also a great study in the development of fascism. It doesn’t take long for Jack to take advantage of both the feeling of hopelessness amongst the boys and the fear of an imagined beast to seize power for himself and rally hate. Macnab also points out the classist roots in these, with Jack highly resenting Ralph’s second-in-command Piggy (Hugh Edwards) implicitly due to him coming from a slightly more modest middle-class background, breaking his glasses (which are also the only source the boys have of creating fire) as a symbol of power. Jack is arrogant, ignorant, violent, and cruel, and thus an especially potent character in an age when those tendencies are gaining significant political traction in the world. The story is a cautionary tale about the horrors of our base impulses, so it makes sense, but it’s a nonetheless terrifying notion that fascism is a degeneracy we’re all capable of.
What subtly aids in this effect is the naturalistic style with which Brook directs the film. Peter Brook isn’t well-known as a filmmaker; his career has mostly been denominated as a director in theatre. But judging from his experimental affect in stagings of La boheme and Salome (the latter of which was a collaboration with Salvador Dali), realism seems to have been rather alien to him. But in choosing this way to tell the story it’s made much more relatable and believable than it otherwise might be. The children are not actors, in fact only Aubrey and Chapin are terribly convincing in their parts, but they’re genuine, impulsive, and reacting to the circumstances. The film was actually shot on an island with a minimal crew creating an authentic atmosphere for the boys. The camerawork and editing is not substantial, natural lighting seems to be in effect, and the dialogue is, excepting perhaps from the precocious Piggy, quite organic. And as such, when the narrative enters its chaotic realm, it’s that much more unsettling. We may be watching the collapse of an actual society.
There are disadvantages to this however. Brook’s commitment to realism means the movie can’t depict Simon’s (Tom Gaman) Gollum-like hallucinations with the pig’s head on a stick –the titular Lord of the Flies, which more literally spells out the monstrous nature within the hearts of the boys. In general, the movie doesn’t delve into outright insanity all that much, with Simon merely being somewhat entranced, and it may have been a missed opportunity to examine the human psyche under pressure. Indeed some higher allegories, such as the meaning of the beast and the cult Jack’s tribe form around it, are lost in the grounded atmosphere of this movie. The ending with the naval officer arriving on the beach still carries an intrinsic purpose: showing that what happened on the island, including the deaths, were in vain –and the one child unable to remember his name is striking. But we never see his warship, merely a landing party –making the parallel between what’s happened on the island and the brutal war England’s waging less stark.
The vividness of certain scenes definitely makes up for these omissions though. Obviously given its transgressive subject matter, this was a movie heavily subjected to the whims of the British censors, so scenes like the deaths of Simon and Piggy couldn’t be shown with the brutality they’re likely given in the book. However they still hit hard (no pun intended) with the darkness and incomprehensibility that leads to Simon’s fate being suitably dreadful, and Piggy’s demise managing to shock for the harsh way it’s edited. Subsequently, Ralph’s flight through the burning woods is conveyed with excellent claustrophobia and intensity. Another great factor is of course the music, which affects a lot of the mood and suspense through the whole movie. It heralds death and disorder with exceptional finesse.
Really though, what makes Lord of the Flies a good movie principally is the fact it’s a good adaptation. The story is incredibly strong and interesting, deep, harrowing, and metaphorical, and all of that comes across. A second Americanized version came out in 1990, and I’ve heard Warner Bros is developing a new adaptation with an all-female cast which sounds like a very bad idea. Generally I don’t have a problem with all-female inversions of previously all-male stories, but this one seems like a mistake. Lord of the Flies deals a lot with masculinity and toxic masculinity, the pitfalls of male ego, power, and hubris. Boys are much more liable to turn order into chaos than girls, and so an all-girl version of this story I don’t think can ever believably work.
But it’s worth noting that we keep coming back to Lord of the Flies, attempting to rework it or homage it, because of its persistent relevancy. It’s another of the common curriculum schoolbooks that feels incredibly significant in todays’ world. So much of it can be connected to contemporary politics, movements, figures, and systems that it is worth still examining sixty-five years after its first publication. Peter Brook’s movie above all understood that, and thus is equally timeless and insightful.
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