Introduction

“Hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things – and no good thing ever dies”  – this quote serves as the thesis statement for Stephen King's prison break novella, Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption. Andy Dufresne, an innocent banker who, throughout the course of the story, unjustly experiences the atrocities of prison life declares this truism to his captive audience. Yet, despite his wrongful conviction and thirty years of wasted time behind steel bars, Andy is the super hero within King's narrative. He possesses no special abilities. His intelligence, while above average, is not off the charts. His strength is subpar. He cannot fly or repel bullets. No. Instead, King blesses his protagonist with something far stronger than these oft used abilities. Simply put, Andy is hopeful. 

With that said, King's text is bleak. Whatever rays of sunlight beam within Andy Dufresne's chest are not apparent to readers, as the narrative twists and turns through the stone walls and dusty prison yards of a federal penitentiary in upstate Maine. Abusive and vindictive guards, homosexual rape scenes, and a lucrative internal drug laundering business – all these things and many other dark plot points like them characterize the 100-page story that King penned. Thus, while hope, which is also included in the subtitle of the piece – Hope Springs Eternal – is supposed to serve as the story's central theme, the word's jubilant and joyful tone is nonexistent within the actual prose, and it is this mournful gap which screenwriter-director Frank Darabont fills with his filmic adaptation.    

Premiering in 1994, The Shawshank Redemption ranks as IMDB's top movie, narrowly edging out Francis Ford Coppola's The Godfather (yes, the top two movies are both adaptations). This prestigious status suggests that Darabont's film has successfully tapped directly into the movie magic that draws some audiences to the theater in the first place – hope. Although this is unsurprising given his source material, Darabont's feat is not one of transcription. Rather, what makes the adaptation of Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption such a strong piece of cinema is the precision and clarity of its message – hope is good. 

Throughout this article, I will analyze how Darabont whittled away King's original story to reveal a stronger, more linear narrative complete with a clearer message. Initially, I will explore the original literary text to explain the narrative techniques that distract from the story's theme. Next, I will examine the different conversion processes that film adaptations can use in order to convert a story to the silver screen to highlight Darabont's choice to stray from King's narrative. Then, I will break down the restructuring techniques that Darabont used within his script, to focus in on the new text's linear nature and its hyper important midpoint revelation. Finally, I will discuss how these choices combine to create a more comprehensive narrative. All these points will confirm the following thesis: Frank Darabont's filmic adaptation of The Shawshank Redemption proves true the theory that constraints drive creativity and clarity, as the film offers a clearer, more pronounced theme – hope – than its literary predecessor by subscribing and remaining resolute to the strict structure and limitations of screenplays.

King's Original Text 

Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption was originally published in 1982 within a collection of four Stephen King stories titled Different Seasons. Throughout this text, King assigns disparate themes to the individual seasons making up the Gregorian calendar (spring, summer, fall, and winter). Shawshank serves as the first story within the collection, and its narrative seeks to fulfill the theme King named Hope Springs Eternal. Considering this subtitle, the message King aimed to convey is evident; however, the narrative techniques he uses to divulge the story take away from his intended thematic impact. 

The 100-page novella is told from a first person perspective in the voice of Red, a fellow inmate of Andy's. Using Red's unique vernacular, King guides readers through twenty-nine years of Andy's life sentence in Shawshank Prison (1948-1977). Within that time frame, readers are introduced to three different wardens (George Dunahy, Greg Stammas, and Sam Norton) as well as numerous guards and foremen, all of whom are bent on enacting some form of vindictive discipline. Alongside that, Red discusses a wide variety of other inmates, yet none of them play a major role in the narrative and, instead, serve as anecdotal side notes to Andy's tale. Given these basic characteristics of the narrative, we can see how a singular theme could be easily overlooked.

In a word, Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption could be described as sprawling. The twenty-nine year timeline, in and of itself, creates the ideal breeding ground for an unfocused and haphazard story to be born. More than that, what takes away from King's text the most is his choice of a first person narrator. While Red's voice is engaging, readers are forced to ask whether or not he is a reliable source. He often questions himself with such phrases as he's pretty sure or as far as he can tell. Most damning of all, though, is the fact that Red is not a hopeful character. Instead, he is a seasoned convict, resigned to his life in prison. Red tells readers this directly, admitting that he will be let out of jail when, "I have a long white beard and just about three marbles left rolling around upstairs" (King 66). Thus, King's story centered around hope is being told by a broken spirited man with little ambition for his future. As a result, Red is unable to inject any joyful undertones into the prose. Rather, he can only guess at what Andy might be feeling. 

Because of Red's apparent ignorance regarding the emotion of hope, the concept is brought up late in King's work. To be more specific, the renowned horror author waits till page 46, nearly halfway through the text, to begin expounding on the concept. And even here, his narrator is not able to pinpoint Andy's hopeful abilities. Instead, Red describes his friend as follows:

Call it a sense of equanimity, or a feeling of inner peace, maybe even a constant and unwavering faith that someday the long nightmare would end. Whatever you want to call it, Andy Dufresne always seemed to have his act together. There was none of that sullen desperation about him that seems to afflict most lifers after awhile; you could never smell hopelessness on him. (King 46)

While Red cannot bring himself to use the word "hope" in his description above, he does employ the term "hopelessness," which suggests that he is familiar with the former terms meaning. Thus, in Red's monologue concerning Andy's demeanor, King succeeds in suggesting how foreign hope is within Shawshank prison, yet he does so midway through the text and without being explicit about Andy's super power – a mistake Frank Darabont would not repeat. 

The Varying Forms of Adaptation

Adapting a piece of literature for the silver screen is not as easy as opening up a novel and dumping each of its words, sentences, paragraphs, pages, and chapters into a document filled with sluglines. Rather, adaptation is a unique and varied art that can take on a multitude of different forms, and as such, the concept makes up its own segment of film theory.

The first fundamental element of adaptation theory revolves around the word fidelity. Ruth Doughty and Christine Etherington-Wright, authors of the text Understanding Film Theory, say that fidelity is, "the idea that the text has one single correct meaning to which the director should adhere and must faithfully reproduce" (24). Given this definition, the concept of fidelity focuses on how literal or not so literal an adaptation is in correlation with its original source material. Doughty and Etherington-Wright extend their commentary on this subject by pointing toward the work of Linda Cahir who offers three different routes that an adaptation can take when translating a piece of literature: "literal translation," "traditional translation," and "radical translation" (qtd. in Doughty and Etherington-Wright 33). These modes of fidelity are obvious to understand in that a literal translation remains devout to the source material whereas traditional and radical translations stray from the original text to varying degrees.

In the case of Frank Darabont's Shawshank, the adaptation adheres to the traditional translation practice. To be more specific, Cahir explains traditional translations claiming they "maintain the overall traits of the book (its plot, setting, and stylistic conventions) but revamp particular details in those particular ways that the filmmakers see as necessary and fitting" (Doughty and Etherington-Wright 33). Darabont subscribes to this style of adaption as he remains true to numerous aspects of King's original narrative. For instance, he still enlists Red to be the narrator of the story; he keeps the plot focused on Andy and his escape from prison; and of course, he uses the dark and gloomy setting of a Maine penitentiary as the primary backdrop for the action. However, the filmmaker does make the adaptation his own by adjusting particular plot points of the story to better align with the theme of hope. 

In order to accomplish this task, Darabont both expands and corrects aspects of King's story. The concepts of expansion and correction within adaptions are two of the most basic revisionary steps that a screenwriter can take. Thomas Leitch, author of the book Film Adaptation & Its Discontents, discusses both of these concepts. He points out that adaptations often come from short stories that must be stretched, matured, and revised in order to form a more complete and whole narrative (99-100). Considering that King's text is a short 100 pages and in need of thematic revamping, it makes sense that Darabont would take certain liberties to accomplish his goal. To be specific, the screenwriter-director restructures Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption in order to fit its narrative within the common eight sequence screenwriting approach. In the process, he streamlines the story by creating one clear and distinct objective (Andy's escape), which is blocked by one detestable antagonist (Sam Norton), but spurred on by one singular emotion (hope). 

The Constraints of a Screenplay 

"Screenplays are structure, and that's all they are," said two time Oscar award winning screenwriter William Goldman while discussing his medium (qtd. in Miller 35). Although this explanation of the craft is a bit simplistic, the legendary wordsmith is not far off. Screenplays are by far the most formulaic form of storytelling in the narrative business. Three acts. Beginning. Confrontation. And resolution. In between acts one and two lie turning points, or moments of action catapulting the story toward its next, more exciting chapter, which comprises the intense structure that most people think of when considering screenplays, yet, in reality, this formula is merely scratching the surface. Hidden under most filmic stories is a more constricting, more complex framework of eight individual sequences.

The sequencing approach to screenplays offers writers a rigid framework in which to manage and create their stories. Paul Joseph Gulino, author of the book Screenwriting: The Sequence Approach, expounds upon this not so familiar structuring device. He claims that "[s]equences, by posing a series of dramatic questions within the overall dramatic tension, offer an opportunity to give the audience a glimpse of a great many possible outcomes to the picture before the actual resolution" (13). This quote describes the basis for the approach in general, as Gulino proposes that a series of eight, fifteen page sequences (two in act one, four in act two, and two in act three) – each with their own beginning, middle, and end – make up most screen stories seen today. More than that, Gulino explains that these episodic sequences ask and answer their own unique set of questions in order to keep audience members guessing. Viewed simplistically, the sequencing approach breaks a movie down into eight mini chapters. 

Applying this concept to Darabont's Shawshank, viewers can deduce that the screenwriter-director used the sequencing approach to squeeze and structure as much story as he possibly could out of King's decades long prison epic. Below, I have broken down the eight sequences Darabont created in order to produce Shawshank: 

ACT ONE:

Sequence One (pp. 1-8): The Trial of Andy Dufresne
• Andy is tried, found guilty, and sent to Shawshank Prison. 

Sequence Two (pp. 8-26): Andy Joins the Shawshank family
• Andy is immersed in prison life and befriends Red and his gang. 

ACT TWO:

Sequence Three (pp. 26-43): Andy and the Sisters
• Andy is forced to contend with a gang of rapists, but he proves himself financially useful to the guards.

Sequence Four (pp. 43-67): Andy and the Library
• Because of his financial knowledge, Andy is given special benefits, and he rebuilds the prison library.
• Subplot: Brooks kills himself. 

Midpoint (p. 68): Hope
• Andy explains the word hope to his prison friends. 

Sequence Five (pp. 69-79): Andy and Warden Norton
• Funneling dirty money into his bank accounts, Andy works for Warden Norton.

Sequence Six (pp. 79-93): Andy and Tommy
• Tommy is introduced to the prison family, and he has sufficient proof that Andy is innocent of his crime. The warden sends Andy to solitary confinement, breaking his spirit in the process. Then the warden kills Tommy. All is lost. 

ACT THREE:
Sequence Seven (pp. 93-115): Andy’s Escape
• Andy breaks out of Shawshank. 

Sequence Eight (pp. 115-126): Friendship
• Upon his release, Red finds Andy. 

These individual sequences, once identified, are clear and distinct within the film. At each sequence break, Darabont resets the action, asks a new question, and tells a new story. In order to do this effectively, the film auteur was forced to, as explained earlier, expand King's narrative; however, each liberty he elected to take was wedged into this rigid structure, which ensured the story did not spin into oblivion. Further, each sequence heading focused on Andy, the protagonist of the story. In formatting the narrative under this constraining framework, Darabont tracked the development of his main character throughout the course of the film. In the process, he was able to simplify other elements of the text. For instance, no longer does the prison see three different wardens. In Darabont's new version of the story, one warden, Sam Norton, controls Shawshank, creating a singular antagonist for Andy to fight against. But most important of all, Darabont uses the sequencing approach to better emphasize the theme of hope. 

In plotting out his film to the nth degree, Darabont created ample ground in which to plant, water, and flourish hope throughout the story. Stated more explicitly, by using the sequencing method, the screenwriter-director was sure to shine a spotlight on the concept of hope within each act of the script – even act one. In fact, Darabont transitions to act two by allowing Red to chew on Andy's sense of hope in his own, defeated manner: 

                              RED (V.O)
I could see why some of the boys took him for snobby. He had a quiet way about him, a walk and a talk that just wasn't normal around here. He strolled. Like a man in a park without a care or worry. Like he had on an invisible coat that would shield him from this place. (Darabont 25)

Although Red does not explicitly state the thematic word in this line of dialogue, it does plant the initial seed that Andy is hopeful within the opening act. This plot point stands in stark contrast to King's original story, which began to discuss the joyous, resilient concept midway through the text. Rather than following his predecessor's example, Darabont elected to double down on his movie's theme at the midpoint of his script.

The midpoint of any movie represents a revelatory and important transition point for the main narrative action. Gulino comments on this particular plot point, stating, "Successfully realized scripts at this juncture often give the audience a very clear glimpse of an answer to the dramatic question – the hope that the protagonist will actually succeed at resolving his or her problem – only to see circumstances turn the story the other way" (16). Thus, the midpoint of a film is an opportunity for reversal and revelation. On one hand, the protagonists still exist within the second act of the movie – meaning that they will have more obstacles to overcome. On the other hand, protagonists have a clear picture of their goal or intent.

The midpoint of Shawshank Redemption presents the essence of this concept, as Andy lectures his group of friends on the concept of hope. Specifically, Darabont writes: 

                                    ANDY
That there are things in this world not carved out of gray stone. That there's a small place inside of us they can never lock away and that place is called hope. (68)

While the seed of hope is planted within act one of the script, here, at the midpoint, Darabont is explicit in discussing his theme – going so far as to even use the word. In having Andy extrapolate on the concept, Darabont foreshadows that his finale will offer viewers an illustration of the hope Andy discusses in a fully realized state. Alongside that, he prepares his audience for the second, darker half of act II – where Andy's hope will either prevail or be broken. This point is specifically hammered home by Red, who responds to Andy stating, "Hope is a dangerous thing. Drive a man insane. It's got no place here. Better get used to the idea" (Darabont 68). It is no accident that this poignant discussion occurs midway through the script. Instead, this revelatory moment comes about from clear and focused filmic structuring. By constraining his script within the tight confines of the sequencing method, Darabont creates fertile ground in which to blossom his theme of hope – a theme that is accentuated by the friendship of Andy and Red.

Hope 

Beyond creating a more linear and clear narrative, Darabont's tightly plotted screenplay creates a strong juxtaposition between the characters of Andy and Red. The differences between the two men are simple: Andy is hopeful while Red is pessimistic. While the auteur illustrates this time and again throughout the narrative, he saves the strongest example of these two men's contrasting philosophies for the third and final act. Here, the following lines of dialogue play out:

                                ANDY
Not me. I didn't shoot my wife and I didn't shoot her lover, and whatever mistakes I made I've paid for and then some. That hotel and that boat...I don't think it's too much to want. To look at the stars just after sunset. Touch the sand. Wade in the water. Feel free. 

                                RED
Goddamn it, Andy, stop! Don't do that to yourself! Talking shitty pipe dreams! Mexico's down there, and you're in here, and that's the way it is! 

                               ANDY
You're right. It's down there, and I'm in here. I guess it comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy living or get busy dying. (Darabont 93)

 

This scene illustrates that Andy dreams of a future devoid of prison whereas Red thinks such a dream is not only foolish but harmful. Luc Bovens, author of the journal article "The Value of Hope," expounds upon the mindset Red carries with him and explains the fear standing behind it stating, "Had I not hoped for anything, I would have been delighted. But having hoped as I have, I experience a sense of frustration rather than satisfaction. Either way, I would have been better off not having hoped for anything and so it is always irrational to hope for something" (670). Given the extra, intrapersonal context that Bovens supplies, Red's lack of hope is a defense mechanism, which he believes keeps him alive and content within prison. If he hopes for nothing, then disappointment cannot enter his life. In stark contrast, Bovens points out that what supplies Andy with endurance and life behind bars is his hope. To be more specific, Bovens claims that Andy’s hope represents a form of inner strength, which is ultimately able to carry him to the promised land (669). 

Considering how these two philosophical stances are contrasted (hope vs. hopelessness), Darabont's message is clear. It is also apparent in the final fate that awaits the two main characters of his script. Andy, who holds onto his hope throughout the movie – despite all the challenges he has faced, escapes from prison and lives out his dream down in Zihuatanejo. Hope set Andy free. Similarly, Red, who has been hopeless throughout the film, is changed by Andy's optimism and resulting destiny. Thus, by the end of the film Red has adopted Andy's perspective of the word and has learned the value of hope. Darabont illustrates this by having Red state: "I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams...I hope" (125). Here, Red finally gives in and begins to hope – hope for a future outside of prison – hope for a future of freedom – a future of friendship. And, as a result of this newly voiced hope, Darabont allows the final image of his adaptation to be a shot of Andy and Red embracing on a beach – away from the stone walls of Shawshank, which represents the culmination of the screenwriter-director's overall message – hope sets you free.

Conclusion 

Adaptations are a tricky business. On one hand, a writer has a responsibility to create the best movie possible. As a result, at times, screenwriters must escape from the original narrative track and strike out on their own, searching for bits and pieces of a new and more powerful narrative. On the other hand, there is some hidden sense of obligation to respect the original authors of the text and their initial prose. Balancing these two obligations can cripple a writer's pen, leaving the page blank and devoid of a quality screen story. 

While this struggle will always be present in the world of adaptations, Frank Darabont's The Shawshank Redemption offers writers the strongest example of how to go about translating a quality text onto the silver screen. His solution, work within the natural confines of a script and allow these constrictions to dictate the new and stronger piece of work. And if the rejuvenated theme of hope or the top ranked IMDB score is not convincing enough, take it from Stephen King himself, who praised Darabont stating, "When I first saw it, I realized he'd made not just one of the best movies ever done from my work, but a potential movie classic" ("Stephen King Looks Back").

Works Cited

Bovens, Luc. "The Value of Hope." Philosophy and Phenomenological Research, vol. 59, no. 3, 1999, pp. 667-681.

Darabont, Frank. The Shawshank Redemption. Script Slug,
www.scriptslug.com/assets/scripts/the-shawshank-redemption-1994.pdf  

Doughty, Ruth and Christine Etherington-Wright. Understanding Film Theory. Bloomsbury, 2018. 

Goldman, William. Interview. Word Into Image: Portraits of American Screenwriters, AFI, 1981.  

Gulino, Paul Joseph. Screenwriting: The Sequence Approach. Continuum, 2008. 

King, Stephen. Different Seasons. Penguin, 1982.

 ---. "Stephen King Looks Back at 'Shawshank Redemption.'" Oscars.org, www.oscars.org/news/stephen-king-looks-back-shawshank-redemption  

Leitch, Thomas. Film Adaptations & Its Discontents. John Hopkins UP, 2007. 

Miller, Warren. "The Matter of Screenplay Structure." Journal of Film and Video, vol. 36, no. 3, 1984, pp. 35-41.

The Shawshank Redemption. Directed by Frank Darabont, performances by Tim Robbins and Morgan Freeman, Castle Rock Entertainment, 1994.