A moment in the finale of Around in the World in 80 Days gives me a chance to discuss accounting for change. As probably a few of my regular blog readers know, I write novels. And a serial as well. In the writing process, not everything stays the same from draft to draft.
One vitally important thing is accounting for change. When something changes early you must remember it and change later events to match.
I can’t say for sure what changed from one episode to the next in Around the World in 80 Days. I’m not privy to that information, obviously. But, as a young man who grew up reading Jules Verne and other authors of the same ilk, I am familiar with the source material.
Let’s talk about Abigail Fix.
In Around the World in 80 Days there is no Abigail Fix. There is Detective Fix of the Scotland Yard. Fix spots Fogg in Egypt and mistakes him for a bank robber of vaguely the same description. The purpose of the change is of little interest to me, it is accounting for it that focuses my attention.
Abigail adds to the story in a number of ways. She is a love interest. Fix is a confidant for Fogg. The plucky Fix is an independent woman in the world. What is she also? A reporter. That’s important. Because, you see, in the original version of the story, the journey is largely made in anonymity. The press knows nothing of the endeavor.
No one knows of the arrival in London. Our heroes think they are too late to win the wager and only learn of the mistake just in time. They rush to the Reform Club in the nick of time. All well and good, in the novel at least.
The New Version
In the new version of the story someone needs to be in charge of accounting for change. You see, Fix has published the exploits of Fogg to the world. They are met in New York by a phalanx of reporters and the boarding of the Henrietta is international news. The clamor of the world is upon them. This change from the original story is brought on by the addition of Fix the reporter instead of Fix the detective.
The passage of the Henrietta and thus Fogg and his companions is public knowledge. They are famous. It’s an integral change to the original story. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about the change. I don’t mind Fix as a female reporter. I don’t mind the fame of the journey. I’m no purist. If a female dwarf doesn’t have a beard, I’m completely fine with it.
Accounting for Change
The problem, I’m sure you realize by now, even if you did not while watching the episode, is all of London should be waiting for the Henrietta to dock. One imagines an adoring crowd waiting to carry Fogg and his companions to the Reform Club in glorious triumph. Oopsie.
Someone didn’t account for change!
The ending needs to change! The ending must be altered to accommodate for this change or it makes no sense. As, I said, I’m not a purist. It’s fine to change things to match a modern standard, to tweak the story in interesting ways.
A sat mouth agape, “This doesn’t work,” I said to myself, perhaps out loud even. I’m a nuisance this way, just ask anyone who knows me.
Luckily, I wasn’t all that invested in this show anyway. It never grabbed my interest the way I hoped and my previous reviews get into that. I’ll not reiterate here. Even with that said, failure in accounting for change at the climax left me downright peeved. The officious customs clerk makes no sense. The lonely journey to his home, the surprise of his butler, none of it. It’s all so very, very wrong.
That was before the denouement hinting at further adventures. All I have to say about that is; Adieu, Professor Pierre Aronnax, it appears it’s into the rubbish bin for you as well.