Classic science-fiction novels do not have the greatest track record when it comes to movie adaptations. The most successful was arguably Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, but his work is far more extensive. I, Robot converted Asimov’s nuanced ideas about robotics into a blunt Hollywood action movie; the upcoming Foundation series on Apple TV seems completely divorced from the source material. Dune’s adaptations so far have struggled to accurately reproduce the complexity of the novels; I have serious doubts whether Denis Villeneuve will achieve something better with his much-delayed movie. And nobody dared to touch the gut-wrenching 1984. The SF writer with the most successful film adaptations is likely Philip K. Dick, whose works inspired Blade Runner, Total Recall, Minority Report and The Adjustment Bureau.
Having said that, the resurgence of TV has allowed longer and more complex stories to be shown onscreen, and I think Brave New World makes a good example of successful adaption from a book that is almost a century old. The setup and plot follow the novel closely, while adding new elements that complement it rather well.
In a distant future, New London is a shining oasis of order and advanced technology in a desolated world. Each citizen has a well-defined place in the social hierarchy, predetermined at birth by his genetic makeup: Alphas at the top, enjoying the most privileges and occupying the positions of leadership; then Betas as knowledge workers and sexual companions for the Alphas; Gammas serving as house-staff for the upper casts; Epsilons doing repetitive, menial work like gardening, cleaning, and maintenance. As in the novel, despite their distinct roles, everyone is content to play their part for the greater harmony because negative emotions and thoughts are actively suppressed by the regular use of soma, a mood-altering drug that comes in many flavors for each of humans’ many feelings.
These iron-tight demarcations are further supported by early conditioning through education and constant reinforcement through social pressure. This is an area where the show builds upon the original material with modern elements: residents use neural implants that monitor their mood, suggesting a new dose of soma when their ‘levels’ are not optimal, and broadcast their social status to people nearby. There is no concept of privacy, property, family, or personal attachment; in fact, these are strict tabus, monitored and corrected by higher status Alphas. In New London, ‘Everyone belongs to everyone else’.
In this superficially perfect society, Lenina Crowne, a genetic technician Beta+, is admonished because of her near-exclusive sexual relationship with an Alpha+. Her counselor Bernard Marx, another Alpha+, invites her on a trip to The Savage Lands, an amusement park that preserves the old way of living in a remote part of America. In the wake of a violent riot of the natives, Bernard and Lenina escape the park together with John, the son of a Beta, stranded there years ago after an illicit affair with a high-ranking Alpha. Once in New London, John struggles to adapt to a way of life so radically different from his upbringing. Refusing the implant and without an official birth rank, he is allowed to wander the city freely, from the most exclusive Alpha parties to the drab quarters of Epsilon, under Bernard’s lax supervision.
In only nine episodes, the series manages to touch upon a wide range of issues, reflecting and amplifying our own society. Under its utopian façade, New London is the perfect embodiment of an authoritarian nightmare: an obedient community kept artificially happy to prevent dissent and revolt. Individuality and critical reasoning have – almost – been eradicated in favor of top-down control. Despite their overtly hedonistic and care-free lifestyle, Alphas are bound by the same restrictions as the lowest Epsilon: constantly watched, their full range of emotions suppressed, their personal time and intimacy denied.
The pervasive surveillance and ranking of citizens based on their compliance to imposed rules reminds me of China’s experiments with social scores for its citizens. Western society is of course not immune from such practices, except here surveillance is distributed among giant corporations and security services. Social media can contribute to escapism and a distorted view of reality, from fake news to the curated environment on Instagram, which discourages people to share and discuss negative experiences and creates unrealistic expectations in terms of appearance and lifestyles, especially for teenagers.
The stratified social structure makes an obvious reference to economic inequality and racial segregation. The visit to The Savage Lands might as well be an exaggerated version of a liberal American from a coastal metropolis wandering for the first time in a backwater town in the Mid-West; both sides ridicule each-other without realizing their own flaws. The gap between Alphas and Epsilons reflects widening income inequality, exacerbated this past year by the pandemic: the wealthiest people getting richer off a booming stock market, while ‘essential workers’ have to keep everything going, despite low wages, job insecurity and health risks.
Assigning value to individuals primarily based on genetic traits was a key aspect of Nazi ideology. As the book was written in the third decade of the 20th century, maybe Aldous Huxley was hinting at this in the original work. The movie Gattaca has presented this issue exemplary; here it is more subtly present, but just as significant in certain scenes.
In an added twist, an AI named Indra is monitoring and adjusting human actions behind the scenes, with the overt purpose of continuing stability and prosperity. The concept of an economy steered by artificial intelligence appeared later than the original novel, in Asimov’s writing, but it was far more benign, as his positronic brains were bound by the three laws of robotics to act in service of humanity. The Matrix universe, with humans enslaved in a simulation, oblivious to their reality, is a closer match to the situation here, since only the World Controller and the Director of Stability, the highest-ranking Alpha, are aware of the existence of Indra, and her true motives remain obscure to the end. Despite her original directives, Indra uses the arrival of John-The-Savage to undermine the intricate balance of New London, ultimately leading to its destruction. An interesting parallel with Westworld also comes to mind: in Westworld humans were programming hosts, placing them inside the park’s various scenarios, with Ford in particular running his secret experiments to spark consciousness in his creations, whereas here the AI Indra is conducting a city-size experiment on human society. Come to think about it, this plotline mirrors Westworld’s third season closely, where Rehoboam oversaw stability and ‘guiding’ human behavior.
Another departure from the novel that works very well is shifting focus away from John to Lenina. John still holds to role of discovering the universe on behalf of the viewer and providing a unique outside perspective to highlight its flaws and injustice. But his rushed attempts to change attitudes are met with disdain, confusion, or amusement by heavily indoctrinated locals. In most cases he does not realize when his impulsive actions leave lasting impressions, particularly among the Epsilon, who learn from him the possibility of violence.
Lenina is instead the character who develops the most throughout the series. After surviving in The Savage Lands without soma, she starts reflecting on the experience, silently and privately questioning the established rules. She starts realizing how limited her emotions were, how repetitive and hollow the life of constant parties without meaningful lasting connections, how her role is mainly providing quick distractions for the ‘superior’ Alphas, that she would never be considered their equal. She slowly rejects this predefined, automaton-like existence and begins to develop personal tastes and desires, a longing for something elusive, which we might call the meaning of life.
Her arc is even more remarkable considering that others from New London could have developed this new self-awareness and failed. Bernard shares her extraordinary experience in The Savage Lands, but back in New London he quickly reverts to his previous routines, suppressing painful memories with soma and attending to his ceremonial Alpha duties. Lenina’s best friend Frannie tries to mimic her by quitting soma, but the intensity of emotions shocks her so much that she voluntarily submits to reconditioning.
Despite the somewhat open ending, the series works perfectly as a contained story – and for the best, because I understand it was not renewed. I would have loved to see it continue, although without additional source material there is no guarantee the writing would have stayed consistently good. I was pleasantly surprised how well it was adapted and can definitely recommend it.
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