The Unfilmable Confederacy of Dunces by Stephan Eicke;

Author:Stephan Eicke;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: McFarland & Company, Inc.
Published: 2022-12-19T00:00:00+00:00

IV

There were numerous problems concerning the historical aspects. Doris Day, Ignatius’s least favorite motion picture actress, was the one of the major stars of her time—the ’50s and ’60s—but would less sophisticated members of the audience, especially the younger generation which studios needed to attract in order to generate revenue, still understand Toole’s numerous ­pop-culture references? Would it make sense to set a screen adaptation of A Confederacy of Dunces in the ­modern-day United States?

As if it were all so simple. Important plot points would either have to fall away or be replaced, such as Lana Lee’s distribution of what in the 1960s constituted outrageous pornography. Nowadays, in an age when hardcore pornography in all its facets and with all its kinks can be downloaded with a single click, Lee’s material is a mere trifle. Already in the late ’80s, it provoked little more than a tired smirk or a weary shrug.

On the other hand, Ignatius’s nature demands that he express his thoughts in an appropriately inappropriate manner which would certainly guarantee a restrictive ­R-rating at the box office. As shockingly politically incorrect these outraged musings are, they are what makes Ignatius in the first place. A Confederacy of Dunces is rich in examples: “The children on that program should all be gassed,”15 “It is mechanized Negro slavery; it represents the progress the Negro has made from picking cotton to tailoring it,”16 “I do admire the terror which Negros are able to inspire in the hearts of some members of the white proletariat and only wish (This is a rather personal confession.) that I possessed the ability to similarly terrorize,”17 “How dare she pretend to be a virgin. Look at her degenerate face. Rape her!”18 And so on.

How to even hint at Ignatius’s warped sexuality, which he can only express when lying on his stained bed, thinking of his beloved Rex: “Ignatius touched the small erection that was pointing downward into the sheet, held it, and lay still trying to decide what to do. […] At one time he had almost developed it into an art form, practicing the hobby with the skill and fervor of an artist and philosopher, a scholar and gentleman. There were still hidden in his room several accessories which he had once used, a rubber glove, a piece of fabric from a silk umbrella, a jar of Noxema. Putting them away again after it was all over had eventually grown too depressing.”19

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