New Heroes:

Constructions of Heroism in John Boorman’s Excalibur

and

Marion Zimmer Bradley’s The Mists of Avalon

3510 words

From the twelfth century onwards Arthurian heroism has had a magnetic appeal for adults and children alike. Since “the most influential Arthurian work in English”, Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte Darthur, was published in 1485, there have been countless reinterpretations of the material in light of contemporary conceptions of Arthur, or current artistic, ideological, and political views.1 Despite the continued need for a relatively strict adherence to Malory’s tradition, artists postdating the English writer have portrayed Arthurian heroes in exceedingly variant ways. Contemporary reinterpretations will inevitably diverge from the “original” as the interpreters work from within their own context, and attempt to fill in the “gaps” left by their forerunners.2 Variations in plot or characterisation range from the largely imperceptible to the drastic. Two texts that belong in the latter category are John Boorman’s film Excalibur (1981) and Marion Zimmer Bradley’s novel The Mists of Avalon (1982)3. Both Bradley and Boorman claim to have based their texts upon Malory, yet the similarities between theirs and Malory’s texts are at best minimal. In each text, the Arthurian heroes are portrayed in a markedly original fashion, and certain characters are elevated beyond others in order that their heroism might be displayed. Boorman and Bradley each adapt the Arthurian legend to suit their purposes in favouring particular characters above others, thereby effectively rewriting the Arthurian legend in their own terms.

It is necessary to consider the heroic tradition set down in Malory before discussing the departure from or adherence to that tradition in Excalibur and The Mists of Avalon. While Le Morte Darthur is not the true “original” source for the Arthurian legend, and post-dates all chief medieval Arthurian texts, it is most often consulted by those wishing to know the “correct” version of the legend.4 To date, it is considered “the standard Arthurian narrative in English”. Very little of it is Malory’s plot invention, and it was the author’s ability as a prose writer, and as an adapter of pre-existing material (of which there was an abundance) that earned him the renown that has endured into the twenty-first century. Perusing the table of contents in William Caxton’s edition of Le Morte Darthur, one sees a book divided into small chapters, each of which concerns one heroic act or another, in which knights do anything from battling evil knights to rescuing fair damsels. Malory’s text is concerned with the rise and fall of King Arthur, but particularly with the chivalry inherent in knighthood. Arthur, leading his noble knights, makes frequent displays of that chivalry. Malory favours the character of King Arthur only a little less than he does Sir Launcelot, limiting his reference to other figures or narrative sequences in order to ensure that the spotlight did not leave Arthur and Launcelot.5 Moreover, he adapts his text so that Launcelot, in his most shameful hour, retains his honour. Malory’s heroes are made by the execution great deeds, and displays of honour, piety and fealty to their king and to God.

When John Boorman perused the pages of Le Morte Darthur before beginning production of his 1982 film Excalibur, the vision forming in his mind was very different from that expressed in Malory’s work. A viewing of Excalibur makes it explicitly clear that if Boorman’s inspiration came from Malory, he derived his model from a variety of other sources including Camelot, the Tristan legends, and the works of Alfred, Lord Tennyson.6 Perhaps the closest Excalibur comes to being truly based on Malory is an adherence to a certain simple plot structure, but for the most part, the film differs from Le Morte Darthur substantially. In terms of heroism, Boorman’s main interest lies with the knightly characters. Female characters figure significantly in the film as points around which events revolve, but are for the most part femme fatales whose presence either divides or unites men as a group. Guinevere comes between Arthur and his best knight, Lancelot (although the men resolve their differences in the end), while the raunchy dance she performs at the feast (an unseemly action that would have been beyond Malory’s imagining) serves to unite the male characters in a moment of masculine bonding. The other main female character, the utterly deceptive Morgana, is the conflation of Morgan le Fay and Morgause (while the third sister Elayne is absent). Morgana is too weak to handle the magic taught to her by Merlin, and when she works the spell she pays the ultimate price—her beauty. Then she is killed by Mordred, the son she has corrupted. Malory’s Morgan le Fay never meets Merlin, and is not the enemy of Arthur.7

If men are Boorman’s main focus, Arthur is the most important of them.8 Certain modifications from the Malory tradition help to emphasise Arthur’s centrality to the story. In Malory, Arthur is conceived three hours after the death of the Duke of Cornwall, a detail that guaranteed Arthur’s legitimacy. In Excalibur the rape of Igrayne (during which, oddly, Uther wears full armour) and death of the Duke occur simultaneously. Even at this early stage in the film, Boorman highlights the dichotomy of life and death, and the way the two are intrinsically linked, probably in order to remind viewers that Arthur’s death is not the end: he will appear again when the world needs him most, to run another circuit on the path of life and death he follows in Excalibur. Boorman’s Arthur draws the sword from the stone where his father Uther had plunged it (having received it originally from Merlin) prior to his death. In this departure from Malory, Boorman emphasises the passing of Excalibur from the father (Uther) to the son (Arthur), rather from the Lady of the Lake to the would-be king. Merlin’s decentralisation makes Excalibur the story a familial drama. When Arthur states, out of the blue, that he will have a Round Table and will seat his Companions around it, he not only displays his innovative skills but reminds the viewer of his centrality in the film. In Malory, Arthur’s genius has little to do with the acquisition of the Round Table, which is a wedding gift to him from his father-in-law Lodegrean.9

The most remarkable departure from the plotline of Le Morte Darthur is in Boorman’s rendition of the Grail Quest,10 which allows Arthur’s universal importance to be truly recognised. The Quest is called at a time when the realm is plagued by

Arthur’s ineffectiveness…the lassitude and indolence of the knights, Lancelot’s and Guinevere’s fall into adultery, Merlin’s departure, Morgana’s treachery, and Mordred’s eventual treason.11

Arthur’s discovery of the treachery of Lancelot and Guinevere is accompanied by the catastrophic loss of the sword Excalibur. Lancelot recognises how serious the matter is when he awakens and, discovering the sword between him and Guinevere, exclaims mournfully, “The king without a sword—the land without a king!” The sword is inextricably linked with the power of the king (for both Arthur and his father before him). Arthur has lost his sword and the trust of his wife and best knight, and now he loses the guidance of Merlin who withdraws from the world. Additionally, he is struck by the blow of realising Morgana for what she is: a deceiving temptress. She manipulates her way into his bed, posing as Guinevere, and with him incestuously conceives Mordred, who is eventually responsible for his downfall. The situation is critical: Arthur’s virility, linked immutably with that of the land, is threatened.

There is one thing that can save them: the Holy Grail. Arthur’s awareness of this fact prompts him to suddenly announce the search for the Grail, the object which will redeem them all and restore the land to health. The Quest places Arthur in several different roles: Grail king, wounded and disabled king, and a figure akin to Christ. Boorman’s Grail Quest takes place at a time when the realm is wasted, rather than when it prospers as in Malory.12 Perceval is the Grail Hero in Excalibur, and it is he who receives visions and brings the treasure to Arthur. Perceval’s second vision reveals to him that the Grail serves Arthur. Furthermore, “Arthur and the land are one”. The Grail quest alters the traditional figure of Arthur so that

Instead of being a pawn, albeit a key one, in the quest ordained by God, he is central to the quest in every sense: he conceives and orders it, he (along with the land in general) is the beneficiary of it, and—most important—he is finally the power behind it.13

Arthur’s godliness is recognised by others, even his best knight Lancelot who, in his dying moments, asks forgiveness of his king rather than his god. Arthur’s importance is magnified far beyond that which Malory affords him.14 Arthur’s visit to Guinevere in the nunnery serves to make him the ultimate patriarch as well as a member of a two-way male friendship. In Malory Arthur does not retrieve the sword Excalibur; Boorman has him fetch it from Guinevere, who has held it for him in another innovation not in Malory. Guinevere’s acceptance of the sword reflects her acceptance of her subordinate position, and of the patriarchy imposed upon her. Moreover, the lack of animosity between the king and queen allows for the excusing of Guinevere’s adultery, without which the strong male bond between Arthur and Lancelot would have been undermined by Lancelot’s bond with Guinevere. As it is, this latter bond is as inferior as Arthur’s own bond with Guinevere to that bond of masculine friendship.

The innovations of Excalibur are by no means all original to Boorman; he is neither the first nor the last to diverge so prominently from Malory’s tradition. Marion Zimmer Bradley’s The Mists of Avalon—published one year after the release of Excalibur—is surely one of the more remarkably original Arthurian works of the twentieth century. While Bradley “follows the Arthurian legend faithfully”,15 she broaches the subject in a way that deviates strikingly from both Malory and Boorman. The Mists of Avalon tells the story of King Arthur from the point of view of the various women who figure importantly in his life. The focal character and heroine is Morgaine (Morgan le Fay), daughter of Igraine and Gorlois of Cornwall, and the niece and heir of Viviane, Lady of the Lake.16 The strong female characters, who usually hail from Avalon—thus forming something of a pagan sorority—contrast strongly with the weaker women (such as Queen Gwenhwyfar) and with men in general (including King Arthur and his best knight Lancelet).17 Bradley’s text differs sharply from Malory’s, in that the former makes Morgaine the most important character. Morgaine herself contrasts with the Tennysonian figure of Morgan le Fay (Vivien) in that she is not evil, only ruthless.18 For this reason she is the exact opposite of Boorman’s Morgana, whose evilness transforms her into something of a demon. Bradley’s Morgaine is unequivocally the great heroine of the novel.

Unlike most Arthurian texts, Bradley’s book does not accommodate figures of absolute evil—who would be used to demonstrate the “goodness” of the heroic characters—although the actions of three characters in particular, Morgause, Avalloch, and Meleagrant, are difficult to abide. The motivation for every character’s sins, perhaps besides Avalloch and Meleagrant, is explained, even if the sins are not excused. Despite her dreadful crimes, which include almost absent-minded murder and poisoning (she drugs Gwenhwyfar’s food to ensure the queen’s sterility),19 Morgause is portrayed as a human being, capable of feeling pain and compassion. Her life is shown to have been quite wearisome, and the reader is encouraged to sympathise with her to an extent. Boorman’s Morgana has motivation for her crimes, but she is not excused for them.20 Bradley’s Morgause raises Gwydion (who later adopts the name Mordred), son of Morgaine and Arthur, who in Malory is her own son by Arthur. Thus Morgaine (who gave up Gwydion soon after his birth and never ventured back to him) is distanced from his son and, significantly, the evil creature he becomes under Morgause’s tutelage. Yet he leaves even Morgause behind in the end.21 It is clear that she has played a part in Mordred’s corruption, and yet has lost control of the son she fostered. She is humanised again for feeling emotional pain as her ties with her most beloved son are severed. The crimes of Mordred are explained by the somewhat understandable animosity he bears towards his parents, both of whom were not present during his childhood years, but again, the reader does not sympathise much with him.

Morgaine’s own sins, which include murder and adultery, are always excused by the fact that she is working “the will of the Goddess”. When she murders Avalloch, the only son of Uriens not blessed with good looks, she rids herself of one of those who would threaten the survival of the old religions. Avalloch is an idiotic Christian character (others of whom include Balin, slayer of Viviane, and of course Gwenhwyfar) whose elimination is the will of the Goddess. His death makes Accolon, bearer of the mark of Avalon, Uriens’ heir. Morgaine’s adultery with Accolon, and the termination of the resultant pregnancy, is all done in defence of her rule in Uriens’ court, and therefore in the name of the Goddess. Despite her ability to use this excuse repeatedly to show that her intentions were good, she is not necessarily exempt from all blame. Her actions, even if necessary, result in the great suffering of many, a fact we are not supposed to forget. However, her ruthlessness is not to be questioned, for it becomes apparent that she not only does the work of the Goddess, but is the Goddess.22 Elsewhere in the text, Bradley alters aspects of the traditional legend to enhance the reputation of the pagans. She adapts the events which lead to the death of Balin’s mother, Priscilla, and the retaliating murder of Viviane. In Malory, the Lady slays the woman “by her menes”, which were no doubt sorcerous, and Balin slays her in turn, incurring Arthur’s wrath. The same is so in The Mists of Avalon, and the Lady’s actions are justified. Priscilla, on her death bed, is mercifully put to sleep by Viviane, who later dies at the hands of Priscilla’s fanatically Christian son in Arthur’s court.23 The Lady’s reputation is preserved.

Bradley’s text is distinctly anti-Christian, as the characters Gwenhwyfar, Avalloch, and Balin clearly demonstrate. There is very little to be said for the narrow-minded Christianity rapidly tightening its grip on the land and strangling the old pagan religions: it champions the repression of women, and of all other religions beside itself. Gwenhwyfar assumes the status, and is the epitome of, the too-pious Christian—a status that would not have existed for Malory. It is the narrowness of her own faith that effectively ruins her life. With the spread of Christianity, the people of Avalon mourn the passing of the old ways and world into the mists, as does Merlin in Excalibur. Also like Boorman’s Merlin, they eventually accept the changes, deciding that Avalon’s time has passed. Similarly to Excalibur, Bradley’s novelpaganises what has for centuries been a Christian legend, that of Arthur. Following the appearance of the Holy Grail (wielded by Morgaine, to the knowledge of very few) at court, the Companions, overtaken by religious fervour (or fever, as Morgaine, Arthur, and a number of others see it), scatter to the four winds. The dispersal of the Companions, Arthur’s backbone, marks the beginning of the end for him. The strong anti-Christian sentiment throughout the novel makes the acceptance the pagan Morgaine as the heroine simple enough.

This anti-religious sentiment is linked with the issue of class, which is a main fixation for Bradley in The Mists of Avalon. The text is concerned mainly with members of the nobility, and as such is similar to the majority of Arthurian texts. Narrow-minded Christians are, in the estimates of the heroine Morgaine, little better than “stupid” peasants, and she judges her inferiors (such as Maline, wife of Avalloch) harshly throughout the book. The characters’ noble blood—or lack thereof—is always emphasised through the repeated mention of the “royal blood” of Morgaine and other characters. Peasants are only intelligent if they are noblemen or women in fancy dress, as is demonstrated in the scene where Morgaine returns to Arthur’s court with Raven, a fellow priestess of Avalon, in tow, both women dressed as beggars.24 Morgaine feels little affinity with the dull Christian ladies of Gwenhwyfar’s calibre who surround her at court, gossiping and spinning their days away. At one stage Gwenhwyfar herself expresses frustration with their idle chatter and activity, and yet Morgaine is the career woman of the text. She has detested the more menial of women’s tasks from the time when she was a toddler.

The explicit feminism of The Mists of Avalon is fitting given the context in which the novel was written. In 1982 issues of female sexual liberation and independence were recognised for their importance,25 and Bradley’s text reflects an awareness of this. Scholars have recognised the lesbian elements of the narrative, and have persuasively argued that “Morgaine is at home only when she is in the arms of another woman.” Morgaine’s heroism is set against a backdrop of male weakness, with key Arthurian male figures being constructed as ineffectual in comparison with the mighty priestesses of Avalon. Raven derives much of her superiority from being the first to show Morgaine how it is to be received “simply in love”,26 despite Morgaine’s numerous male lovers. Even Gwenhwyfar, a woman considered pious to the point of idiocy, is able to manage her husband by effectively making use of his weakness. Despite all this, the novel is highly masculinized and heterosexualised, and places much emphasis on the fact that all life depends on the unification of the male and female halves. The halves are symbolised by the sword Excalibur (the symbol of masculinity and of Arthur) and the magical sheath that houses it (symbolic of the female and of Morgaine), and are essential to one another. The fact that Morgaine and Arthur love one another (a plot innovation of the 1980’s)27 is reinforced by Arthur’s need of his prize possessions, the sword and the sheath (which Morgaine made with her own hands). The world needs the balance of male and female as much as he needs his sword and sheath.28 The book ends with Morgaine calling Arthur “my brother, my baby, my love”, in an affirmation of her enduring affection for him. This end note appears to privilege heterosexual love.29

The love triangle of Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot is one of the prerequisites of the Arthurian legend. In The Mists of Avalon this love triangle is one of the major plots, but it is treated very differently than in either Le Morte Darthur or Excalibur. Bradley’s Arthur gives consent to the betrayal, willingly cuckolding himself in the hopes that Gwenhwyfar will fall pregnant. At least, that is his excuse. It becomes clear that Gwenhwyfar’s and Lancelet’s love is not the only forbidden bond within the triangle, especially when Lancelet laments, “it is Arthur I cannot leave”. He follows by confessing to Morgaine the “sin” he committed with Arthur.30 Not only do the three of them form a love triangle, but are part of a ménage à trois. It is the instances afterward in which Gwenhwyfar and Lancelet meet that constitute the adultery and treason. Arthur becomes widely known as a cuckold, and eventually his knights conspire to catch the criminals in the act, thereby forcing Arthur’s hand to action. Subsequently Lancelet and Gwenhwyfar flee Arthur’s court, and as in Malory, Arthur never sets eyes upon his wife again. The love triangle demonstrates the weakness of both Arthur and Lancelet—while no further proof is need of Gwenhwyfar’s—and enables Morgaine to stand out as the one in possession of greater wits than any of them. She is truly the superior of all others.

The popularity of the Arthurian legend has over the past eight centuries been preserved by the constant renewal of tradition by contemporary medievalists. Each Arthurian hero has undergone substantial changes since their inception in Malory’s Le Morte Darthur. Some have risen from relative obscurity (as with Morgaine in The Mists of Avalon), allowing others to fill the places they had previously occupied. In other cases they have had important figures subsumed into themselves, or have supplanted once separate individuals (Excalibur’s Arthur supplants Christ and the wounded king). Such alterations result in characters being given new statuses which further remove them from their traditional form. The relative plainness of Malory’s Le Morte Darthur enables modern interpreters some extra space to work within,31 but several notable artists have moved beyond all expectations in their reinterpretations of Arthurian heroes. The characters of the Arthurian saga wear ever-changing faces, and it appears that there are few limits as to how far one may take a re-evaluation of them. The continual alterations made by contemporary medievalists result in the continued vitality of the Arthurian tradition. Mythopoeia is, after all, what ensures that the tales of the Arthurian heroes will never fade from our collective memory.32

BIBLIOGRAPHY.

PRIMARY SOURCES.

Excalibur (video recording). Screenplay by . Dir. John Boorman.

Bradley, Marion Zimmer. The Mists of Avalon (London: Penguin Books, 1982).

Malory, Sir Thomas. Le Morte Darthur, in James W. Spisak (ed.), Caxton’s Malory: A New Edition of Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte Darthur Based on the Pierpoint Morgan Copy of William Caxton’s Edition of 1485 (Berkeley, Los Angeles: The University of California Press, 1983).

Tennyson, Alfred, Lord. The Poems of Tennyson (ed. Christopher Ricks) (London: Longmans, 1969).

SECONDARY SOURCES.

Burns, E. Jane. “The Middle Ages”, in Slusser and Rabkin (eds), Shadows of the Magic Lamp (Southern Illinois University Press, 1985).

Fenster, Thelma S. (ed.). Arthurian Women: A Casebook (New York, London: Garland Publishing, 1996).

Lacy, Norris J. (ed.). The Arthurian Encyclopedia (New York, London: Garland Publishing Inc., 1986).

Cinema Arthuriana: Essays on Arthurian Film (New York, Garland: Garland Reference Library of the Humanities, Vol. 1426, 1991).

1 Sir Thomas Malory. Le Morte Darthur, in Caxton’s Malory: A New Edition of Sir Thomas Malory’s Le Morte Darthur Based on the Pierpoint Morgan Copy of William Caxton’s Edition of 1485 (ed. James W. Spisak) (Berkeley, Los Angeles: The University of California Press, 1983); Norris J. Lacy (ed.). The Arthurian Encyclopedia (New York, London: Garland Publishing Inc., 1986), p.vii.

2 Jennifer R. Goodman. The Legend of Arthur in British and American Literature (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1988), pp.58-9. Medievalists today value consistency highly, and for this reason writers and film-makers often strive to explain nonsensical instances or episodes in medieval texts. As Goodman states, “if a character changes, we want to know why.”

3 Excalibur (video recording). Screenplay by . Dir. John Boorman (© 1981); Marion Zimmer Bradley. The Mists of Avalon (London: Penguin Books, 1982).

4 Malory, p.599; Goodman, pp.49-50, 52-4. Malory refers to other texts, evidently his predecessors, including “the Frensshe book” and “somme Englysshe bookes”. Goodman suggests that references to “the French book” may indicate instances where Malory has included his own plot inventions, something he did very rarely. Moreover, Malory excludes many aspects of the Arthurian legend, for example, the birth and adventures of Merlin. If any text could be thought of as an “original”, it would be Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia regum Britanniae.

5 Goodman, p.52. Malory skirted lightly over such stories as Nimue’s entrapment of Merlin, Merlin’s own prior history and adventures—including the pursuit of “Nynyve”—and Guinevere’s beguiling of Launcelot. One of his more drastic cuts was the onset of the affair between Guinevere and Launcelot.

6 Lacy. “Mythopoeia in Excalibur”, in Cinema Arthuriana: Essays on Arthurian Film (New York, Garland: Garland Reference Library of the Humanities, Vol. 1426, 1991), p.122. “Boorman makes only general use of Malory, and Shichtman has persuasively argued that the English text is not even his primary source.” Goodman, p.110.

7 Lacy. Mythopoeia, p.123; Harty, p.20.

8 E. Jane Burns. “The Middle Ages”, in Slusser and Rabkin (eds), Shadows of the Magic Lamp (Southern Illinois University Press, 1985), p.91; Kevin J. Harty. “The Arthurian Legend on Film”, in Cinema Arthuriana, p.20. Arthur may be the main heroic figure, but Burns feels that Merlin is the central character in the film.

9 Lacy, pp.122-3.

10 This juxtaposition emphasises the fact that life is ending and beginning simultaneously. This is a technique favoured by Boorman throughout the film.

11 Lacy, pp.123-4.

12 Burns, p.91; Lacy, p.126.

13 Lacy, p.129.

14 Ibid., p.128.

15 Lacy. Encyclopedia, p.59.

16 Goodman, p.273. Morgaine is referred to in other texts as Morgan le Fay, Viviane, Nimuë or Nynyve, and Morgana; Lacy, Encyclopedia, p.321. Viviane is also known as Éviène, Niviene, Nimuë and Nina (the latter of which is from Wordsworth).

17 Lacy, Encyclopedia, p.60.

18 Alfred, Lord Tennyson. The Poems of Tennyson (ed. Christopher Ricks) (London: Longmans, 1969), p.142. Tennyson describes “the wily Vivien” who traps Merlin with the spells he so grudgingly taught her.

19 Bradley, p.940-45.

20 Morgana, possessing the Sight, saw firstly, Uther raping Igrayne, and secondly, the child Arthur being taken moments after his birth. This double crime against her mother motivates her to exact her revenge.

21 Bradley, p.988-90.

22 Ibid., pp.783, 1000. Morgaine and Accolon come to realise as much, as does Arthur on his death bed.

23 Malory, p.65; Bradley, p.394, 574-5.

24 Bradley, pp.884-7.

25 It is a point of great interest that Boorman’s film, saturated in assertions of masculinity, was produced only a year earlier.

26 Marilyn R. Farwell. “Heterosexual Plots and Lesbian Subtexts: Toward a Theory of Lesbian Narrative in Marion Zimmer Bradley’s The Mists of Avalon”, in Thelma S. Fenster (ed.), Arthurian Women: A Casebook (New York, London: Garland Publishing, 1996), p.319.

27 There are two main occasions in the text when the romantic love of the pair is explicitly realised. The first is when Morgaine and Arthur are brought together in the Great Marriage ceremony, and the second is at the end of the novel when Arthur is dying.

28 Bradley utilises elements of modern romance, writing in traditional Mills-and-Boon language when describing the various love scenes. The majority of men are broad-shouldered and gallant, though there are notable, including Kevin the Harper, also a traitor—the fact that he meant well does not excuse his crimes—and Avalloch, who is utterly lacking in redeeming features.

29 Raymond H. Thompson. “The First and Last Love: Morgan le Fay and Arthur”, in Edward Donald Kennedy (ed.), Arthurian Women, p.331.

30 Bradley, pp.556-7

31 Goodman, p.57.

32Lacy, pp.121, 131. “Not only the creation but also the renewal of myth.”