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鈥淲hat does it mean to follow a ghost? And what if this came down to being followed by it, always, persecuted perhaps by the very chase we are leading?鈥�

- Jacques Derrida

Jacques Derrida鈥檚 trenchant reflections on Hamlet as a Shakespearean psychic detective wrestling with his paternal phantom could be profitably appropriated to illuminate the parallel trajectory of the film adaptor contending with the spectre of ancestral authorship. Like Hamlet, in fact, the film adaptor is a haunted haunter whose aesthetic stalking of the Other transmutes him/her into a 诲辞辫辫别濒驳盲苍驳别谤 of Harold Bloom鈥檚 spectralized poet who likewise struggles to deflect influential textual wraiths from constricting his/her creativity, thereby achieving 鈥減ositive apophrades鈥� (142). Being anything but the slavish imitator of pre-structuralist adaptation theory, the film adaptor embarks on the Bloomian poet鈥檚 undertaking of compelling inspiring spirits to 鈥渞eturn in our colors, and speak 鈥� in our voices, at least in part, at least in moments鈥� (141). Nor is the film adaptor, however, the totally independent creator of post-structuralist adaptation studies. True, in fact, to what Derrida states in Ken McMullen鈥檚 1983 film Ghost Dance, that 鈥渃inema is the art of ghosts, a battle of phantoms,鈥� the filmmaker as adaptor constantly grapples with the umbilical thread that intertwines him/her with the creative undead. Adaptation is aesthetically haunted, and no eclipsing of what Robert Stam calls its 鈥渃lear point of origin鈥� (31) can exorcize every trace of its spectral genesis.

Spectrality is the soul of adaptation, for the latter derives its being not only from a source text but, just as crucially, from a myriad of influences that can include, and even transcend, the multiplicity of literary and/or visual interpretations that such a source could have already generated. As Linda Hutcheon rightly intuits, adaptations can be compared to Richard Dawkins鈥檚 hypothetical 鈥渕emes [or] units of cultural transmission鈥� that evolve by being in 鈥渃onstant mutation鈥� (176-77). Adaptations create in fact contiguous strata of existence, for like the Borgesian forking paths of Ts鈥檜i P锚n鈥檚 garden, they overlap and spiral backwards and sideways, thereby leaving in their mutating wake intertextual and/or transcultural shades of the spectral sparks that initially inspire them. No ghost laying is possible in this hauntology of sources. Hence the critical validity of the comparative analysis in studies of film adaptation. Worth citing here is David L. Kranz and Nancy C. Mellerski鈥檚 astute admonition that without 鈥渢he relational heart [of] the comparative method in analyses of adaptations 鈥� the field itself [would] dissolve into undifferentiated film studies鈥� (5). But what such comparative studies should more fruitfully dissect is the relational hybridity of a mutating hauntedness. For this is what ultimately distinguishes adaptation as adaptation, the interrelated hybridity of the 鈥渟pectropoetics鈥� (30), to use Helen J. Swift鈥檚 term, of hypotexts refracting into hypertextual shadows of their ghostly selves.

Akira Kurosawa鈥檚 Kumonosu-jo is a classic case in point, for it filters its invoked Macbeth ghosts through an interacting prism of intertextual and transcultural hybridity. Consider, for instance, how Kurosawa, inspired by Kuniyoshi鈥檚 celebrated musha-e or warrior painting of Kazumitsu鈥檚 death by arrows, interpolates for Washizu (Macbeth) a similar demise that differs radically from that of the appropriated woodblock representation by what Richard Marienstras labels its 鈥渉茅risson鈥� (35) or hedgehog-like depiction of the arrow-studded samurai dying in a crawling position.

But Washizu as spiky creature radiates with Shakespearean significance, for he looms as an intertextual reflection of 鈥渢he fretful porpentine鈥� (1.5.20) haunting 贬补尘濒别迟鈥檚 purgatorial phantom. The stunning effect is of a mutating hybridity of wraiths. But what is crucially decisive for Kumonosu-jo as adaptation is that its transcultural/intertextual wraiths interrelate with those within Macbeth. Significantly, intimations of the porcupine principle in Macbeth鈥檚 nature manifest when his body hair unnervingly bristles at the inception of Duncan's murder: 鈥溾�� why do I yield to that suggestion / Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair?鈥� (1.3.134-35). Again, Washizu鈥檚 interpolated arrow-death reverberates with echoes of Macbeth鈥檚 鈥測ellow leaf鈥� vision of his stricken self (5.3.23) for, since these arrows are of arboreal origin, they signify Washizu鈥檚 analogous descent down the Shakespearean Chain of Being into what Serge Chauvin terms Kurosawa鈥檚 鈥渉omme-for锚t鈥� (35). The spectral parallel is deadly accurate, for Kurosawa鈥檚 withering of the wooded Washizu, just like Shakespeare鈥檚 shriveling of Macbeth, tragically reverses the vernal promise Duncan seeds in his friend: 鈥淚 have begun to plant thee, and will labour / To make thee full of growing鈥� (1.4.28-29). Haunting Kurosawa鈥檚 interpolated arrow-death sequence, with its suggestion of Washizu鈥檚 sylvan decadence, is Macbeth鈥檚 spirit distilled to a falling blossom. In Derridean/Bakhtinian terms, Kurosawa鈥檚 is a hybridity pivoted on relational spectrality. For what animates Washizu as a mutated Macbeth is paradoxically Macbeth鈥檚 wraith.

Consider, as a final example, Washizu鈥檚 interpolated galloping through the foggy Cobweb Forest, a misty version of Birnam Wood whose abstracted whiteness Kurosawa appropriates from Tohaku鈥檚 鈥淧ine Forest鈥� tableaux depicted in the suiboku-ga style of ink monochrome painting. Once again, Kurosawa interpolates to recreate, for his film鈥檚 misty texture becomes an elemental gateway through which Macbeth鈥檚 restless spectre transmutes his nihilistic realization that 鈥淟ife鈥檚 but a walking shadow鈥� (5.5.24) into the mist drifting about Washizu, its (in)substantiality hinting at his equally vacuous victory. It is through Tohaku that Kurosawa opens Washizu鈥檚 path into Macbeth鈥檚 relational heart where, as in his forest of fog, 鈥渘othing is, but what is not鈥� (1.3.142). Kurosawa excels as a film adaptor because, like Washizu bolting in and out of his murky hell, he breaks out of Macbeth to break into it again.

This antithetical movement is crucial to any adaptation process. For without mutations, adaptation is not adaptation. Nor is it adaptation without spectral relations. Adaptation is a realm of the aesthetic undead, and the adaptor must master Charon鈥檚 skill to navigate its mutating maelstrom鈥檚 hybrid depths. Whether adaptation creates from the inside out and/or the outside in, its raison d鈥櫭猼re remains the same: that of morphing its inspiring spectral spark into its furthest Ovidian reach of transcending death forever.