Which film adaption first hooked you and why?

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1984 BBC Jewel in the Crown (written by Ken Taylor, directed and produced by Christopher Morahan (Hattie Morahan’d father) –Art Malik as Hari Kumar, & Susan Woolridge as Daphne Manners

Dear friends and readers,

A potentially instructive question was asked on my new Historical Fiction and Film Adaptation listserv (18th – 21st century, Austen to Poldark in type): which series got people interested in period dramas? to parse this, what film adaptation and/or mini-series that you watched first made the form so rivetingly irresistible to you? Answered it could mean, why do we like these film adaptations. My point is which film adaptation led you to like film adaptations as such and want to watch more of them? That’s the issue and question I’m asking.

I know I have tried to answer this one before — I talked of the elegiac mode, their slow pace, some of idealistic themes (friendship), but knew the problem here is this does not fit all of them at all: what are we to do with Helen Mirren’s Prime Suspect? modern, quick moving, bitter themes; or those that have no originating book (Downton Abbey?)

In the answer I came up with and that of a friend on the list-serv I saw a parallel: both of us had been hooked by a film adaptation that turned out to have (or we know had) a powerful long book, or a series of books, as its source. For me it was the 1984 BBC Jewel in the Crown, scripted by Ken Taylor out of Paul Scott’s Raj Quartet.. She, my long time friend, Judy Geater, a journalist, said for her it was:

the BBC War and Peace starring Anthony Hopkins as Pierre, which I saw in 1972 when I was 12 – I remember being gripped by it and going on to read the novel in two enormous Penguin volumes, though I’m sure I skipped or skimmed the philosophical passages. At that age I loved Natasha and identified with her wildly. More recently I reread the novel and re-watched the series (it was a two or three years ago now, so not quite 40 years on) and admired both as much as ever, though I did feel that Morag Hood was too old to play Natasha and rather miscast – something that hadn’t struck me when I saw it in black and white in the 1970s.

After I saw Jewel in the Crown I read all four of Scott’s Raj novels and just loved them. A few years ago I listened to them read aloud and while doing that re-saw Jewel in the Crown in a DVD with features and bought the book that was then sold as part of the paraphernila, Making the Jewel in the Crown, which I enjoyed immensely — beyond contextualizing essays (autobiograpies, histories), and of course the making of the film (its parts, its artists of all stripes, parts of the screenplay). I wrote a blog using stills.

Another friend, Linda F, wrote: “It was the 1980s adaptation of Pride & Prejudice (David Rintoul) that got me interested in seeing novels turned into mini-series.

People express disappointment when the mini-series is not based on a supposed book, but rather has no book. Fellowes is a remarkably clever man who knows this: thus the publication of his scripts for Downon Abbey set up novelistically enough

I think this intertextuality and enrichening from book to screen and back again is crucial to the deepest enjoyments.

Another for women is an ideal heroine the particular viewer likes: I like Sarah Layton:

HeroineJewelinCrownblog
Geraldine James as Sarah Layton (a narrator of one of the volumes the Raj Quartet

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An example of the intertextual study film adaptations can allow:

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Jill Townsend as Elizabeth Chynoweth Poldark Warleggan, realizing what she has been complicit with — I’m interested by her and feel for her

Taking one of the focuses (contrasts of type) of the list-serv, the Winston Graham’s Poldark novels and the 1970s two mini-series, I told of how I became hooked onto these.

I was first introduced to them — or became aware they exist when in my research on film adaptations of historical novels I got myself very inexpensively a set of cassettes for the first season. I also bought a cheap copy of the first novel, Ross Poldark. I didn’t expect to read it necessarily; but had it there on the off-chance I might like to try it.

I started to watch the first series and liked the first three or four episodes enormously but felt that the programs were somehow omitting something, leaving out even essential elements in the story which didn’t quite make sense.

So I began to read the novel and was startled at how much I genuinely liked it. I had not liked a novel or author so much in a long time. It reminded me of falling in love with books when I was in my teens where I had more spontaneous enthusiasms. I read less then and not professionally. Well I went on to read the first four novels and then re-began and then finished the series; while I saw where it departed, and felt the depiction of Ross and Demelza’s earliest sexual encounter and early married days in the book so much better than the mini-series, and felt the way Elizabeth was written up, was wooden and false (no fault of the actors, they have to act what scripts they are given), the rest of it while changed seemed to me a good filmic equivalent. I loved the ending of the first season, that climactic catastrophe and the two walking on the beach.

So I went on to read the next three novels and then after that watched the second mini-series. Again the novels were much better; this time in the films the flaws were in the area of sex but also in politics. The politics of the original books were omitted or changed. I didn’t blame the actors again, not their fault, it was the BBC’s cowardice and conservatism.

I then read on and finished the last 5 novels, so sorry there was no third mini-series, but got myself the 1996 singleton film, The Stranger from the Sea. I did like the new actors, but this time the whole feel of the books were changed so that politics and history were omitted altogether. The story could have occurred at any time. It was a domestic romance. Characters who were important were omitted. It was also a matter of money. The US partner was refusing to spend money on a mini-series or on location filming — like something that looked like if it was not Portugal. Still I wished it had not so flopped because after that nothing more was filmed.

Season1Part1blog
From Season 1, Part 1, 1st episode: Clive Francis as Francis Poldark looking at his father, Charles (Frank Middlemass), who pointedly turns his back to exclude his son from mining work

What can be seen with intertexuality: in the above still, we first see Charles Poldark turning his back on his son, Francis, who broods at this — Charles is clearly in charge of the business, not trusting his son, and the son drinking — as someone excluded, not respected.

The outright quick conflict that occurs between them in the first scene brings out what we see later as part of the core reason for Francis’s destruction. The father and son’ insults and sudden opening of their hearts to one another in the film is not in the novel — that is an enrichening addition which again influences us if we read the book afterwards.I thought both actors did these roles very well. Clive Francis played in Joe Orton’s Angry Young man plays around this time, and that typology (anguished) is brought in here too. He is made to feel he cannot live up to our hero, Ross, by the woman he does love and in good faith (thinking Ross dead) chose to engage himself to and marry.

The full reasons for the failure of the marriage itself are *not brought out properly in the film though* — as Vicki knows — she refuses him sex, preferring she feels her son by him, not a woman who does place her ego identity in the men she marries, for there are women who prefer their children, but of course he sees this differently given his full background. We need to read the novels to feel all this (especially Jeremy Poldark — novel 3).

I’ll also suggest that we get fooled in our memories because the films interfere with our memories of the books. For example, you suggest that we have in this book the core of all that follows. Not really. The back story material of Ross and Elizabeth’s engagement while mentioned and important is kept to minimum; we have only their strong love asserted (especially in that Christmas sequence where it’s suggested he loves two women), all the other material we remember from this time is really put into the first four episodes from Warleggan. It’s also in Warleggan (book 4 mind) that the villain protagonist Warleggan is first fully characterized. Again when we meet Warleggan in Episode 1, the material is taken from Warleggan.

Less subtle but also important for why we like _Demelza_ is there is no Dwight Enys in Ross Poldark nor is he thought of. He is central to the 12 books, but not a peep because he was not thought of until Demelza. Then suddenly we are in his consciousness by something like the third or fourth chapter. Now in the series he is brought forth in Part 5 as Part 5 begins, which is earlier, as earlier as Pullman dared.

I’ll also suggest that we get fooled in our memories because the films interfere with our memories of the books. For example, you suggest that we have in this book the core of all that follows. Not really. The back story material of Ross and Elizabeth’s engagement while mentioned and important is kept to minimum; we have only their strong love asserted (especially in that Christmas sequence where it’s suggested he loves two women), all the other material we remember from this time is really put into the first four episodes from Warleggan. It’s also in Warleggan (book 4 mind) that the villain protagonist Warleggan is first fully characterized. Again when we meet Warleggan in Episode 1, the material is taken from Warleggan (his book).

Less subtle but also important for why we like Demelza is there is no Dwight Enys in Ross Poldark nor is he thought of. He is central to the 12 books, but not a peep because he was not thought of until Demelza. Then suddenly we are in his consciousness by something like the third or fourth chapter. Now in the series he is brought forth in Part 5 as Part 5 begins, which is earlier, as earlier as Pullman dared.

The situation of the houses is first mapped in Jeremy Poldark (3rd novel in series) — why? he had not developed Poldark country as yet or fully until he had finished two. But the film makers know where everything is upon starting 🙂

I’d love to see a new film adaptation more frank and adequate to the sexuality of the novels, but (given our era and corporate sponsorship of such series on PBS) fear that it would further change the politics. I hope the first six hours are meant as a kind of first season for say 4 novels and if it does well they’ll film more. I can’t tell as this kind of information is not available.

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JolyoncomingUponIrenePt5blog
Gina McKay as Irene Heron (the central heroine) in the grass of Robin Hill, come upon by the aged old Jollyon (2002 Forsyte Saga) — I liked her much better after I watched the way McKay played her

That Downton Abbey is not of this type to my mind shows it’s a kind of fluke: it went way outside the usual audience for costume drama. And Fellowes has provided books: the first year, The World; the third, The Chronicle; Powell’s Upstairs Downstairs memoir, and scripts for each part.

I have been over the past year or so been watching the whole of the 1967 and 2002 Forsyte Sagas, and on Trollope19thCStudies we are beginning to make our way through the novels (see The Man of Property). What I’d like to do is transpose my many postings (see Trollope19thCStudies archives) comparing these two series to the books into blogs the better to gain what there is in the books, and the two mini-series interweave.

IndianSummerblog

I end on the two mini-series commentary on the books and one another.

The story, “Indian Summer of a Forsyte” by Galsworthy:

It must be hard to get back into the world of your creation. I remember the first three chapters of Winston Graham’s 5t Poldkar novel (as they’ve come to be called), Black Moon, written 20 years after the 4th Poldark, had three chapters where he was reweaving his spell for himself through the
landscape and came in indirectly, actually through an old man and the secondary villain-hero who is waiting for his wife to give birth, unknown to him to the child engendered not by him but the hero-protagonist of the book, Ross Poldark, through a rape.

So Galsworthy comes in indirectly, nearly 2 decades after Man of Property, the aging Old Jolyon who is dying, and comes across Irene in the meadows around Robin Hill and is entranced by her beauty. We will later learn she had recently returned to England. In both film adaptations the film-makers give this sudden meeting, his entrancement, and the couple of months he spends squiring her to opera and she giving music lessons to Holly, the child Young Jolyon had by Helene full treatment. Old Jolyon was the Forstye who while appreciating commerce saw the hypocrisy and lies and ruthlessness of his clan. We are still not going to be allowed to get into Irene’s mind it seems — but much comes out. She prefers poverty to being bought and kept as rich; she has identified with women of the streets — though she manages to keep up a style. She has remained authentic since Bossiney’s death.

Slowly the old story is brought back. It’s not as ironic, rather emotional.

Then the two adaptations within the larger mini-series:

2002: The long sequence of old Jolyon discovering Irene at the opera. Gina McKay dressed alluring as a poor genteel lady offering piano lessons and doing good to prostitutes who we are told did her good when she was down and out. Again we are not told how she made it. The second half is this idyllic romance between old man and young beautiful woman. He takes her in. She is hired to teach Holly to play — well paid too. Alter his will again to include her.

WInifred sees Irene and Jolyon at opera. Tells Soames. He says he knows. Kind people don’t miss an apportunity to tell him.
Irene loses her nerve and almost disappears — real hurt for old man — before Young Joe and June due back. But she comes back to be with him when he dies. Heart attack as young Jolyon eventually succumbs to.

And his faithful fat dog too. Another poignant dog. There must be one in the book.

Done with operatic music so important for the whole effect. The production design in which they exist is central to the meaning of this adaptation. Retreat, move away from the sordid squalid world of money deals — but if old Jolyon had not made all that money just that way he could not have bought what we are led to see as Robin Hill house.

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Young Jolyon carrying Balthasar, Old Jolyon’s aging dog, now dead, back from the meadow around Robin Hill, a coda to “Indian Summer of a Forsyte”

1967: a long sequence of the old man finding Irene in the grounds, their friendship, how he lures her to teach his granddaughter the piano, tells of his family, a touching respect for her decision to be alone, mystic apprehensions of her beauty, he dies and his dog the first to perceive, the dog’s grief and death. Unexpectedly this text quite different from book, but brings out Galsworthy continual attention to pets, animals, love of them and Balthasar is the first to recognize his master’s death in the last page of the story. the 1967 version had time to dramatize such a walk …

I end this blog on film adaptations on a parallel: someone carrying someone else. It’s easy to find parallels across books and film adaptations.

Ellen

Author: ellenandjim

Ellen Moody holds a Ph.D in British Literature and taught in American senior colleges for more than 40 years. Since 2013 she has been teaching older retired people at two Oscher Institutes of Lifelong Learning, one attached to American University (Washington, DC) and other to George Mason University (in Fairfax, Va). She is also a literary scholar with specialties in 18th century literature, translation, early modern and women's studies, film, nineteenth and 20th century literature and of course Trollope. For Trollope she wrote a book on her experiences of reading Trollope on the Internet with others, some more academic style essays, two on film adaptations, the most recent on Trollope's depiction of settler colonialism: "On Inventing a New Country." Here is her website: http://www.jimandellen.org/ellen/ No part of this blog may be reproduced without express permission from the author/blog owner. Linking, on the other hand, is highly encouraged!

13 thoughts on “Which film adaption first hooked you and why?”

  1. Malvina wrote: “I loved the Jewel in the Crown as well, but the one that started me reading the classics again was the BBC’s Pride and Prejudice with Colin Firth.”

  2. The Ang Lee-Emma Thompson version of S&S “floored” me, and made me think about what I had been missing all those years. Shortly thereafter, the 1979 version of P&P greatly interested me, but it was the 1995 version which totally enthralled me, and caused me to pick up the novel for the first time since high school.

  3. Tyler:

    Interesting point, Ellen. I think the first of these types of series I
    saw was David Copperfield on Masterpiece Theatre about 1987. I had
    already read the book. I remember thinking the acting wasn’t very good
    or the sets – back then you could tell they were sets and the films
    often looked like plays being filmed, but I was hooked and have been a
    Masterpiece fan ever since, although I’ve been very unhappy with how the
    series has become divided into Classic, Contemporary, and Mystery. I was
    never a fan of the mystery series. I want Classic year round and now
    it’s limited only to the winter months. 😦

    And thanks for the image of Gina McKay as Irene, Ellen. I was never crazy about the portrayal of Irene in that film – the actress, not sure why. She seemed willowy, and I think they were going for that mystique and distance. The thing I remember most about those films since I haven’t seen them in ten years is when Jolyon and Irene try to keep their son away from Fleur and Fleur
    screaming in agony at the end when they are separated. A terrible disturbing moment, very well done.

  4. Thank you in turn, Tyler. So many people seem to have ignored the question and just cited some specific film adaptation they loved, not said it was the one that made them love the form as such or why. To bring on board this thread, on your comment on Gina McKay, I disliked Nyree Dawn Porter as a type and thought her cold, stiff, unbending, complacent as soon as the story allowed as an actress. McKay seemed to me to capture the deep disquiet your comment on Fleur’s scream in the 2002 film projects.

    Having said, why we were hooked on the form, we can go on to discuss its characteristics — one is it can project deep disquiet intelligently, present a context in which we can understand the sources of the disquiet not just as well as books but in some ways better.

    Ellen

  5. I was asked on Janeites about my new listserv as well as the blog I wrote under the above heading, and reassertedwas the old popular insistence on “faithfulness” and I was asked again about the terms I’ve used so send this along to the list as perhaps of interest:

    Yes I look upon the films as an art form in themselves, in some cases of which the film-makers might want to be what’s called literally faithful – they never quite are, but they seem so. I used to call these transpositions (e.g., the 1979 & 1995 P&Ps, outside the Austen canon, the 1984 Jewel in the Crown).

    A secondary type which is in costume and film-makers are not candid about is the commentary, the kind of film which departs repeatedly to make commentary points in some way (e.g., Rozema’s 1999 MP, Wright’s 2002 P&P) or simply to please the audience and sell widely (these are common in the commercial moviehouses, and they begin early, e.g, 1939 P&P; but are also found on PBS (going outside the Austen canon, Raven’s 1974 Pallisers, a whole team’s 1975 Poldark) and include some startlingly popular films (I’d count the 1995 S&S with Emma Thompson by Ang Lee here — for example the absence of Willougby’s confession, the whole tempest sequence at Cleveland which has since become iconic as if it were in the book) and intensely disliked (1986 NA by Maggie Wadey who I am firmly convinced detests Austen; she also did the 2007 MP which is of this type).

    And finally the obvious analogies, in modern costume, more and more praised and liked by audiences, from 1996 Clueless, 1993 Nunez Ruby in Paradise) to today’s Indian Austen films.

    I’m still fond of this nomenclature because it works more or less. And in courts of law the commentary type has been repeated justified by judges when authors have complained. He signed his book away and the film-maker has the right (indeed duty it seems from one judge) to make a film which speaks to the modern audience.

    But it’s not the one wanted and in the last two papers I did at conferences and the one I’m working on for publication (I hope — it’s on two Trollope films by Andrew Davies); the going terms are:

    heritage films: all films in costume of the era no matter what. This makes sense because you cannot make a finally persuasive case that there is a difference between Andrew Davies’s 1995 P&P and say Weldon’s 1979 on the one hand and Wright’s 2005 on the other except by subjective reading. After all a huge swathe of Davies’s P&P is given over to Darcy’s ordeal, we are far more interested in his inner life than Elizabeth’s. And that’s not the book; in the book Darcy disappears and re-emerges transformed and it’s not quite believable, it’s a flaw. The Poldark mini-series while a commentary is a heritage film. The new Gatsby and the old heritage films.

    appropriation films: these are all the many where the costumes are modern. They also sweep up into the category films which depart a lot more than the usual ones cited in the Austen canon. They would include the Zombie P&P or films which borrow from the Austen canon or Austen books and “feel” Austen like.

    In a way it’s useless to inveigh and insist on faithfulness since the world has ignored anyone who does, the judges have upheld them, and (truth to tell) a huge audience of Janeite or Austenite readers do like and more importantly go to see them, pay money and make profits for the film-makers. And now the academic world has been won over too – there’s more to write about, and publication means possible promotion. Tamara Drew (Posy Simmons out of Hardy) is appropriation as well as Aisha, Bride and Prejudice, Hampton and McEwan’s Atonement (a Clarissa! film)

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    My listserv is intended not only to study the film adaptations of the mini-series type especially, but also all film adaptations _and the historical fictions_ or fictions (if not historical, but often they are) or history books they are based on. _Both_ sides of the picture because the richness of the experience depends on interaction or what’s fashionably called intertextuality.

    TMI – but it’s fun for me, my form of fun and needed absorption

    Ellen

  6. Lisa Wagner:

    I can trace my love of period films to the 1982 miniseries adaptation of
    The Scarlet Pimpernel starring Jane Seymour and Anthony Andrews. I was in
    high school and totally obsessed with the film. However, in those days
    before instant viewing and when I was dependent on adults for access to
    media, I was unable to view it often. It is based on a series of books by
    Baroness Orczy, of which I have read two and would like to read more,
    eventually. I now own three copies of this film (2 VHS and one bootlegged
    DVD) and have it virtually memorized.

    I didn’t watch a great deal of period drama though until I finally saw the
    1995 P&P, which wasn’t in 1995. I am sure it was several years later than
    that. That sparked anew my love of the genre. Since then I’ve read all of
    Austen and seen many film adaptations of her works, as well as read many
    other books and watched the accompanying film versions, most recently Bleak
    House by Charles Dickens. (I’m sorry I put THAT one off for so long as it
    was excellent!)

    I wonder if the rift between those who enjoy film adaptations a lot and
    those who find they never quite live up to their expectations has anything
    at all to do with the ability to visualize the story in one’s brain. As a
    voracious reader since childhood, I never quite understood that people
    really meant it when they said they could see the story in their mind’s
    eye, or some such phrase. I thought it was just a figure of speech, having
    never experienced that myself. It wasn’t until I was about 40 years old
    that I found out that people actually DO see pictures in their heads when
    they read.

    Since I never visualize, for me the movies bring another layer to the books
    – bringing them “to life” so to speak.

    Does this fit into anyone else’s experiences?

    Lisa Wagner
    http://www.cornerstonehomelearning.blogspot.com

  7. Someone just cited the 1995 P&P, seeming possibly to sa she was hooked onto Jane Austen this way? There are lots of readers who were first introduced to Austen through the Austen films, and there may be a sizable number who went on to read one or all of the books. The movies have been a strong re-inforcing catalyst in the Janeite cult and Austen’s now big presence in world literature.

    In reply to Lisa, people are often reluctant to admit that what they love about films are precisely the visuality — the sensuality, the sheer power of bodies (often beautiful and beautifully dressed) when it’s a case of a classic. But that”s part of the deep pleasure most people.

    On visualizing as part of the process of reading, I try to visualize and have general half-glimpsed sort of pictures, ideas in my mind that say liken a building in a book to a kind of building or one I’ve seen, but no one performs the intensely hard work a team of film-makers with a production designer, costume maker, etc that a filmwork relies on.

    The 1982 Scarlett Pimpernel is a high romance choice. Andrews went on from Sebastian in Brideshead also to play Ivanhoe in a many parter. All these are early 1980s a time of significant transformation of film adaptations at the BBC — they began to spend money of the kind used in commercial cinema and bring its filmic techniques in.

    Ellen

  8. The film has made an impact on several well-known artists and critics. Susan Sontag wrote an appreciation in a September 1983 issue of Vanity Fair . Also in the 1980s: Performance artist/musician Laurie Anderson wrote a song called “White Lily” (“What Fassbinder film is it? The one-armed man comes into the flower shop…”) on the album of her concert film, Home of the Brave . Director John Waters , writing on fellow cult director Russ Meyer , opined that the latter’s projected autobiographical magnum opus should be titled Berlin Alexandertitz. In her lyrics to “Folk Song” from the Bongwater album The Power of Pussy , actress/performance artist Ann Magnuson recounts being “really bummed out” by the film while watching it on PBS during a bad drug trip. In the 1990s, film director Todd Haynes appropriated imagery from the film’s notorious, phantasmagorical epilogue for a sequence in his Velvet Goldmine . The film has also been mentioned in the cult series The Critic , and in several episodes of Mystery Science Theater 3000 , including Gamera and Colossus and the Headhunters. Co-creator of the cult TV series Freaks and Geeks , Paul Feig has cited Berlin Alexanderplatz as a partial inspiration for his show about the misfits and outsiders of an American high school in the early 1980s.

  9. The Aubrey–Maturin series is a sequence of nautical historical novels—20 completed and one unfinished —by Patrick O’Brian , set during the Napoleonic Wars and centring on the friendship between Captain Jack Aubrey of the Royal Navy and his ship’s surgeon Stephen Maturin , a physician, natural philosopher , and secret agent . The first novel, Master and Commander , was published in 1969 and the last finished novel in 1999.

  10. It’s not clear if there are more adaptations these days, across all forms of art and entertainment, or if it just seems that way. Certainly, a look at popular cinema confirms their ubiquity: you have to go all the way down to number sixteen on the list of last year’s top-grossing films (“Django Unchained”) to find a movie not part of an ongoing series (“The Avengers,” “The Dark Knight Rises”) or adapted from a book (“The Hunger Games,” “The Hobbit”). In terms of the movie business, the equation is a financial one, and it is pretty straightforward: making films is time-consuming, expensive, and risky, and the best way to cut some of that risk is to start with an “established commodity” with a built-in audience sure to fill the seats. A similar calculation exists in the publishing world, where adaptation and brand extension are the surest bets for authors and publishers. Novels become movies, or sometimes they become Broadway musicals and then movies. But, increasingly, novels become other novels. The results of these transmogrifications are most often banal or repetitive or psychically distressing: another bondage-and-submission best-seller or Jane Austen novel told from the perspective of the sensitive zombie that lived in the basement. Fan-fiction is nothing new, though; the authors of the Gospels were perhaps the first men to make names for themselves by reinterpreting a classic story. Many modern reimaginings of older works, meanwhile, have become essential: Jean Rhys’s “Wide Sargasso Sea” is a kind of fan fiction, after all. So is “The Last Temptation of Christ.” And so on. It might be said that all narrative art is adaptation—there are only so many stories, and we are left to retell them on down the years.

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