A 1992 production of The Jungle is a compelling and creatively-conceived adaptation of one of America’s most famous novels
When you think of Upton Sinclair’s muckraking novel of 1906, abominable scenes likely come quickly to mind. And for good reason. Frozen ears get snapped off, workers slave away in monstrous conditions, people in power run roughshod over the most vulnerable people in society. The Jungle is page after page of horrors.
Since its publication over a century ago, readers have been deeply affected by Sinclair’s eye-opening novel, not least because of the author’s visceral and detailed descriptions of Chicago’s stockyards at the turn of the 20th century. Drawing upon his first-hand research, Sinclair brought to life the dangerous, pungent, and chaotic milieu of the meat packing industry. And it’s not a pretty picture.
Of the many unpleasant descriptions in the novel, for example, the following can be counted as a fairly mild one: “It was a sweltering day in July, and the place ran with steaming hot blood—one waded in it on the floor. The stench was almost overpowering, but to Jurgis it was nothing.”
It’s difficult even to attempt to imagine working in such an environment, let alone for fourteen hours a day, six days a week. And the compensation for such drudgery? Scarcely enough money to eke out the barest of existences. Sadly, that’s the harsh reality that many characters in the novel face.
Along with its descriptive power, The Jungle has energized readers with its powerful explorations of greed, corruption, and poverty. We witness these phenomena in different ways, but mainly from the perspective of a Lithuanian family: a group of ten, old and young, who have recently immigrated to the United States. Along with their limited belongings, they’ve brought the notion that dedication and hard work should lead to a better life. Surely, it must.
Alas, that’s not what happens.
As Jurgis Rudkis, the novel’s protagonist, along with his young wife and her family, confront the ever-increasing number of disappointments, the family deteriorates physically, financially, emotionally, and morally. Their once optimistic personalities gradually wither away, unable to withstand the daunting obstacles. Hopes of a better life are pulverized into ashes.
Despite the novel’s long-lasting popularity, Sinclair’s work is one of those fairly rare works of literature that have received a paucity of adaptations. In this case, virtually none. Aside from a 1914 film based on The Jungle—a work that is apparently now lost—scarcely any adaptations seem to have been done.
The L.A. Theatre Works’ performance of 1992, directed by David Schwimmer, is one relatively recent take on this classic novel. Fortunately, it’s a good one.
One notable aspect of the production is how it manages to blend humor into this incredibly dark and depressing story. At first, it can be rather jarring. During its first fifteen minutes, I was somewhat tempted to stop listening, as I wondered whether this performance would amount to little more than a frivolous, off-the-wall performance.
Fortunately, that wasn’t the case at all. Instead, it’s an engrossing production and worth your time. And its humorous elements, far from being distracting or watering down the injustices in the narrative, actually make them feel more pronounced.
The humorous scenes work because they highlight the vastly different mindsets of the characters. As one might guess, it isn’t from the mouths of Jurgis and his family that humorous lines come. They talk in solemn and distressed tones, weighed down with the worry of literal day-to-day survival. Other characters, however—like some of the agents, bosses, etc.—are mostly devoid of these grave worries, and it’s from their mouths and mannerisms that arise the comical moments.
One example. Early on in the narrative, Jurgis and family decide to buy a very modest home. They’ll have to work like hell to afford even this most modest of structures, but after much animated conversation, they decide it’s the right decision.
They seek some further information from the agent. And like an obnoxious, overly-caffeinated realtor who has no qualms whatsoever about being deceptive, he rattles on in his smooth, rapid, and calculated way, pretending to acknowledge the family’s concerns while using sophistry and their naietve to get the best of them.
When the family musters up enough courage to suggest they should maybe talk to a lawyer, lo and behold, one immediately pops in from the next room. The agent and lawyer know each other, of course, which leads to Bill and Bobby exchanging hearty salutations. After scanning the document and pretending to be looking out for the interests of the family, Bill’s only remark is, “Bobby, there’s no semicolon there!” The two jackasses then giggle away. (Rest assured, this and other moments are more humorous than I’ve been able to convey here.)
There’s nothing funny about the exploitation, but the hypocrisy and callousness which often lies behind it can be so absurd that sometimes it’s only with a drawn-out sigh and a cathartic chuckle that one knows how to respond.
Watching a video recording of this performance would surely make these scenes even more humorous, but unfortunately there are none available of this production (as far as I’m aware). L.A. Theatre Works does put out audiobooks of their productions, however. I’ve only listened to this one, but if it’s indicative of LATW’s other performances, then audio alone is plenty capable of providing its audience with a thoroughly engaging performance.
In this case, that engagement comes from a small cast of actors and actresses who skillfully perform the roles of politicians, managers, immigrants, bartenders, street beggars, and more. Listeners will of course have to supply the visuals, but these superb performances, combined with creatively done sound effects and music, will transport you to Packingtown circa 1900.
It’s rarely a jolly place to be, however. Then again, that’s one of the reasons Sinclair penned his famous muracking novel: to open eyes, expose evils, and facilitate change. Though the novel didn’t have as much impact as Sincalir had hoped, it certainly shocked many people, and understandably so.
Indeed, regardless of one’s opinions of Upton Sinclair and his socialist aims, the events and characters which populate The Jungle are powerful. Many have acknowledged Sinclair’s contribution to society, including persons hardly onboard with Sinclair’s socialism. Winston Churchill is one such example; he recognized the novel’s scathing expose and its catalyst to create change.
I suspect that Churchill’s impressions of the novel are similar to that of the majority of readers. One doesn’t need to adhere to a particular ideology in order to find the practices exposed in The Jungle to be utterly abhorrent and unacceptable. The same can be said for far too many workplace environments around the world.
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Sinclair, Upton. The Jungle. New York: Penguin Books, 1986.
Spectatio 