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Netflix’s Audacious Riff on The Decameron Is Tons of Fun. But Is It Really The Decameron?

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Netflix’s Audacious Riff on The Decameron Is Tons of Fun. But Is It Really The Decameron?

As someone who has devoted a significant portion of my life to the study of literature and its adaptations into various media, I find Netflix’s “The Decameron” to be a refreshing and thought-provoking take on Boccaccio’s classic work. Having spent countless hours poring over dusty tomes in libraries and debating the merits of different translations with fellow scholars, I have come to appreciate the value of interpreting texts through a modern lens.

In the dreadful year of 2020, marked by the devastating spread of COVID-19, a generation unaccustomed to such widespread calamity sought solace and guidance in art. The popularity of contemporary speculative fiction about deadly viruses, including Ling Ma’s “Severance” and Steven Soderbergh’s “Contagion,” skyrocketed. Readers also revisited classic tales of pestilence like Daniel Defoe’s “A Journal of the Plague Year” and Gabriel García Márquez’s “Love in the Time of Cholera.” However, no ancient text gained more attention than Giovanni Boccaccio’s “The Decameron.” Virtual book clubs formed to discuss its content. The New York Times even enlisted Margaret Atwood and Tommy Orange for their own adaptation, titled “The Decameron Project.” As reported by the fashion magazine Vogue, which prides itself on being in the know, “The Decameron Is Suddenly the Book of the Moment.”

In the midst of the Black Death that ravaged Europe in the 14th century and claimed half of Florence’s population, I find myself drawn to Boccaccio’s timeless masterpiece, “The Decameron.” As survivors, ten young nobles and I fled our diseased city in search of refuge in a rural idyll. To while away the days in our newfound haven, we shared stories – one for each day, hence the name.

could it be that the elite, whether they are Florentine nobles in 1348 or wealthy New Yorkers in 2020, will invariably forsake their less fortunate peers when the plague strikes? Intrigued by the frame narrative rather than the tales themselves, Jordan’s unconventional take proves captivating. The success of this series raises an intriguing query: which adaptations, eagerly consumed by platforms seeking to exploit popular intellectual property (regardless of copyright laws), truly merit the title “adaptation”?

Netflix’s Audacious Riff on The Decameron Is Tons of Fun. But Is It Really The Decameron?

In simpler terms, a version of “The Decameron” without its stories seems as intriguing as an “Inferno” sans circles of hell. However, if anyone can make something remarkable out of an improbable idea, it’s Jordan and her executive producer Jenji Kohan. With “Orange Is the New Black,” Kohan transformed a middle-class white author’s prison memoir into a compelling ensemble dramedy addressing carceral injustice and featuring predominantly Black and brown women who are disproportionately affected by it. Jordan and Kohan demonstrated with their short-lived “Teenage Bounty Hunters” that even the most seemingly absurd concepts, when handled with care and humor, have the potential to result in an excellent television show.

In a similar vein as the original “The Decameron,” this modern adaptation is filled with the same bold wit and humor. The story begins in the plague-stricken Florence of 1348, where a group of nobles and their servants escape to a lavish countryside villa to ride out the crisis. Although the characters share names with Boccaccio’s crew, their likenesses barely extend beyond that.

Netflix’s Audacious Riff on The Decameron Is Tons of Fun. But Is It Really The Decameron?

Upon reaching the villa, the group is greeted by the gracious butler Tony Hale and the cranky cook Leila Farzad in place of their absent host. The affluent youths remain unfazed and are set on enjoying their vacation despite the chaos brought about by the plague. “We’re here to savor food, drink, and look forward to a better tomorrow,” declares Pampinea, who sees herself as the future mistress of the estate and takes charge, albeit in a bossy manner, as the hostess.

For a while, they indulge in excessive wine drinking and secretly indulgent sexual adventures, much like the fictional characters in Boccaccio’s Decameron used to exaggerate. The lengthy episodes and seasons of this series, similar to many streaming shows, provide them with the opportunity. As their subordinates work tirelessly to fulfill their unreasonable demands, these nobles seize the societal upheaval as a time for self-reflection. According to one character trying to coax Panfilo out of his closet, “The pestilence has shown us that we must decide which aspects of ourselves to keep and which to discard.”

If you’re certain of your ability to weather the situation, this philosophy is commendable. However, viewers who have experienced the past four years can attest that relying solely on wealth and seclusion as impenetrable fortifications against a pandemic is unrealistically optimistic. In reality, the villa has never provided true safety, and its barriers offer no protection from not only the infected but also the violent mobs they have incited. One of the many delightful aspects of Jordan’s vibrant, gritty, and humorous Decameron is observing the privileged come to realize that they are the desired targets for the ravenous horde encircling their sanctuary.

Netflix’s Audacious Riff on The Decameron Is Tons of Fun. But Is It Really The Decameron?

Does the production truly bear the name “The Decameron,” one might ask? Given the extensive nature of Boccaccio’s work – an 860-page tome comprised of 100 stories – it seems an insurmountable task to bring every tale to life on screen. Authors and filmmakers alike have borrowed from this rich source, with Shakespeare drawing inspiration for “All’s Well That Ends Well” and Jeff Baena for “The Little Hours,” both selecting merely a couple of tales. Translations of the book often omit significant portions, while even more faithful adaptations like Pier Paolo Pasolini’s 1971 film “The Decameron” only present a fraction of the stories. However, the notion of retaining Boccaccio’s title while disregarding his narratives leaves an uneasy feeling.

Hollywood’s eagerness to slap a familiar, if unearned, title on every project is one red flag. Yet Jordan has a solid justification for her approach. While the brief stories didn’t strike her as right for TV, she has said that she “loved the armature and skeleton” around them, “this idea of a group of wealthy people who think that they can escape a pandemic.” It’s through this COVID-informed interpretation that she accesses the soul of Boccaccio’s work. Her Decameron doesn’t just reference the famous story where an adulterer hides from his lover’s husband in a barrel; it also captures the author’s ribald sense of humor, his scorn for a corrupt Church, the glee with which his characters scheme and transgress, his prescient insight about a pandemic’s potential to remake society.

A faithful adaptation to the source material’s letter or fundamental framework is not what makes an excellent adaptation. Instead, the key is for the retelling to capture the essence and meaning behind the original work. In some cases, like Netflix’s “Decameron,” a great adaptation goes beyond merely reflecting the spirit of the work and even challenges established interpretations of it. As Licisca, a shrewd character from the show, states during the onset of chaos at the villa: “Independence is the ultimate luxury.” This notion holds true for modern TV creators adapting classic literature as much as it does for a servant escaping an oppressive mistress amidst the ravages of the plague.

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2024-07-25 11:06

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