Dual Lives: Jekyll and Hyde
Since it was published in the 1880′s, Robert Louis Stevenson’s “The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” has been an incredible hit. One of the greatest gothic classics, surrounded with its own myths and legends, it only took a few years for the story to be heavily edited and turned into a stage play (which birthed one of the more enduring legends of Ripperology – that the Ripper was the American lead actor in the ongoing stage production!) Since then, it’s been on the stage, or on film, almost constantly… though rarely, if ever, is the true meaning and message of the story captured.
What is it about this story that’s made it such an enduring hit? Well, what version are you talking about?
Anybody who has actually read the book (I recommend Leonard Wolf’s Annotated edition, as I do for every gothic novel) knows what I’m talking about. Originally, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde was written not from Jekyll’s perspective, but from that of Mr. Utterson, one of Jekyll’s oldest friends and confidantes. The story, rather than being a horror story (even though Stevenson himself described it as ‘a wonderful bogie tale,’) was more of a mystery as Utterson tried to discover what was happening to his best friend. Why was his respectable companion ever dealing with the disreputable, abusive Hyde? What purpose was behind the mysterious will, giving Hyde everything Jekyll owned in the event of his death… or his disappearance? He suspects blackmail, though Jekyll hastens to assure him that isn’t it. Eventually, he discovers the reason… but only after it’s far, far too late for his friend.
In this version of the story (perhaps best adapted in, of all things, an animated version that used to run on Nickleodeon and can now be found regularly in bargain bins
Throughout the novel, people object to Hyde not because of what he does, but because he does it without regard for appearances. He’s dreadful not because he’s pure evil, but because he doesn’t bother to conceal that evil like everybody else does. Indeed, the entire reason that Jekyll unleashes Hyde is because he wants to indulge in his vices, which “might be blazoned by any other man,” without worry for his reputation as a veritable saint. When Hyde tramples a girl into the dirt, he merely pays a fee to the family (albeit one that was rather large, thanks to his distasteful appearance and aura). In the excellent ARTC audio-play adaptation, Hyde takes obvious pleasure in convincing them to merely accept a fee, and it seems to be that way in the book as well – he delights in making others wallow at his level. The employer of a young maid (apparently fairly wealthy, as he pays her enough to afford her own place) has had Hyde over for dinner at least twice – why would a respectable gentleman have Hyde over for dinner? The hypocrisy of Victorian society is put on display for all to see in the novel, possibly the reason it took off so quickly… and why it was so quickly edited.
In the novel, Jekyll wasn’t a saint. He might have been viewed as one, but he was deeply hypocritical, motivated by vice and pride. Before long, this was changed so that he sincerely was the saint he appeared to be… and his scientific curiosity becomes the villain, rather than his desire to indulge in every sin imaginable without consequence (echoing the later Picture of Dorian Gray, I might add).
This new Jekyll was the Jekyll of film, a conscientious, philanthropic gentleman who couldn’t possibly do a horrible thing in his life… until he goes too far in the search for forbidden knowledge. Of this version, taken from the stage play, I feel the best two exemplars (not coincidentally available in the same collection) are the 1932 version with Frederic March, and the 1941 version with Spencer Tracy
These versions lose the horror of Jekyll’s hypocrisy (though the 1932 version hints at it as much as was allowed), but they replace it with a disturbing view of Victorian society’s attitude towards sex and women… and an incredibly disturbing picture of abuse. In the original version of the story, there were no major female characters. Of course, that changes quickly, with love interests added for Jekyll and lust interests for Hyde. In these versions of the story, however, the female leads carry quite a bit of weight, with both movies portraying fallen women who find that it’s entirely possible to fall even further. When they eventually meet their ends, it’s without a doubt that their former professions had nothing to do with it – it was entirely Hyde’s fault and, by extension, Jekyll’s.
Jekyll and Hyde has gone a long way since it was originally published, from bogie tale and commentary on Victorian hypocrisy to sex comedy. There are even musical versions of the story in existence. While I’m working my way through the different adaptations, there are simply so many of them that to do so would be the work of years. But where can Jekyll and Hyde go from here?
Personally, I think the direction to take the story is back to the original. Names would have to be changed, of course, and setting/situation, but that can all be done without losing the essential meaning of the story. Really, have we changed that much since the Victorian days? We have elected officials who do excellent jobs, but have to resign because they’re caught with their zipper down… and yet we don’t insist on looking into the lives of all the others to see if they’re having affairs too. In the world of the high and mighty, the first commandment is still “Thou shalt not get caught.” The central message of Jekyll and Hyde remains entirely too accurate.
What I would do with the story is to transplant it to modern day. Change the names and the places; move it from London to either California or Washington. Jekyll is still a doctor, a very popular, wealthy, and influential one. His friends, including our new Utterson (a lawyer, perhaps with political intentions, though they’re not necessary) know that he has his vices, but who doesn’t?
Our story opens years into the existence of Hyde, when he sideswipes a girl on her bicycle in a very expensive car of Jekyll’s. Played properly, without blatant allusions to the original, the audience could be kept guessing, perhaps thinking that we’re going to discover that ‘Hyde’ is a relative of Jekyll’s, or possibly a very dangerous lover. That’s the intention though, so that at the end, when Jekyll finally reveals everything to his friend before his death, the audience is being brought into the truth as well. Unfortunately, the very popularity of the story makes it necessary to be very, very careful about letting people in on things if you want to maintain the mystery aspect, but if done right, it would be worth it….
Or, at least, I think so. Well, how about it? Does anybody else think we should return Jekyll and Hyde to their mysterious roots? Or should we stick with the raunchy sex comedies and occasional portrayal of addicition and abuse?
