The Murders in the Rue Morgue: A Screenplay

by Jenny, Ali, Catherine, and Emma

Sidekicks, which are characters who accompany detectives, most often exist with the primary purpose of allowing the reader to experience the process of solving a mystery vicariously. These characters are fundamental to the adaptations of any detective story because if the reader or audience member were able to follow the thought process of a detective without an explanation offered by the sidekick, then the detective’s character would lose the attractive quality that makes him and the story compelling. One such quality is his unparalleled brilliance. In order to maintain the essence of the narrator’s purpose in our film adaptation, we decided to have a camera follow Dupin from the perspective of an implied, “invisible” person, instead of casting  someone for the role. We found this to be a necessary component of our film in order to uphold Poe’s intention for the existence of a character who asks questions and thus anticipates the reader’s questions. As a result, the purpose of Dupin’s explanations to his sidekick is to drop clues for the reader. By writing the story in the first person perspective, Poe literally makes the narrator’s words become the reader’s: “I replied..,” “I don’t understand..,” “I need you to explain…” Therefore, if the role of the narrator was played by an actor, the feeling of connection to the story and its characters that this style of writing intentionally provides would be lost. The camera we would use in our adaptation, however, would ensure that this connection is maintained; the audience members would experience the story through the eyes of Dupin’s accomplice, in the same way that readers experienced it through his thoughts. Just as Poe’s story mostly lacked any descriptions of the narrator (which would have limited the character to a certain gender, race, background, education, or countless other categories, thus hindering how easily the reader could visualize him or herself in the story), a view of only Dupin and their surroundings from our camera’s perspective would allow each audience member to construct their own image of Dupin’s accomplice, but more importantly, step into the shoes of the accomplice. This camera perspective involves the audience as part of the cast and part of the actual process of solving the murder. Furthermore, instead of adding subplots, we decided to adapt the short story into an equally short film. Any subplots and extraneous romantic relationships are unnecessary because they would not allow the film to remain true to the story, and most importantly, they would definitely detract from the process of solving the mystery. If this were a typical Hollywood movie that adds trivial or excessive characters, subplots, etc., the complex simplicity of a detective fiction novel would be lost. Poe mentions this complex simplicity: “This is an ordinary, although an atrocious instance of crime… the mystery has been considered easy, when, for this reason, it should have been considered difficult, of solution.” We also used direct citations and tried to paraphrase as little as possible so as to stay true to Poe’s writing style, which is very purposefully specific so as to mislead but also give the reader a chance to solve the mystery before the detective does. Without his particular syntax, wording, and timing of actions, Poe’s locked room mystery may be easier or more difficult for the reader to solve. By adapting the story to the medium of a short film in this way, the intellectualism of the story and the standards of the audience are maintained at the same time. The differences between the film and the story ensure that the intended audience would be willing and prepared to analyze and watch a mentally rigorous and stimulating film. In addition, this short story has already withheld the test of time and has been highly acclaimed despite its lack of subplots, which proves its merit. The following scene is Act I, and the process of discovering and figuring out the mystery, which is unmentioned, is Act II.

A PARK IN PARIS

[Dupin and Narrator are in the middle of a game of chess.  They are sitting at a table. The camera faces Dupin.]

NARRATOR (astounded): This is our third game today. How do you always manage to win?

[With a neutral tone and vacant eyes, Dupin reveals to the narrator, in a lengthy explanation, how he had predicted the narrator’s moves.]

DUPIN (neutral): The game of chess is greatly misunderstood in regards to its effects on mental character. It is the more concentrated rather than the more acute player who conquers. On the contrary, in checkers, the analyst throws himself into the spirit of his opponent and identifies himself therewith. Therefore, different qualities are necessary for different strategies.

NARRATOR: Dupin, this is beyond my comprehension. I do not hesitate to say that I am amazed, and can scarcely credit my senses.

DUPIN: The best chess player in Christendom may be little more than the best player in chess, but proficiency in whist implies capacity for success, and all these more important undertakings where mind struggles with mind. When I say proficiency, I mean that perfection in the game which includes a comprehension of all the sources whence legitimate advantage may be derived. The concentrated chess player will do very well at observing intently and consequentially remembering distinctly. The necessary knowledge is that of what to observe.

NARRATOR (after a few moments of silence): It is already four in the morning. We should return home.

[They stand up and take a silent walk towards their assumed residence, Dupin observant and out of view of the camera. The narrator is deep in thought. The camera shows the front of the sidewalk, as Narrator walks next to Dupin, then points at the cobblestones, and then at the night sky. The camera rises as Narrator straightens up.]

DUPIN: He is a very little fellow, that’s true, and would do better for the Théâtre Variétés.

NARRATOR: There can be no doubt of that… [Narrator suddenly stops in the middle of the street] Dupin, how on earth did you know know what I was thinking?

DUPIN:  You kept your eyes upon the ground --glancing, with a petulant expression, at the holes and ruts in the pavement, (so that I saw you were still thinking of the stones,) until we reached the little alley called Lamartine, which has been paved, by way of experiment, with the overlapping and riveted blocks. Here your countenance brightened up, and, perceiving your lips move, I could not doubt that you murmured the word 'stereotomy,' a term very affectedly applied to this species of pavement. I knew that you could not say to yourself 'stereotomy' without being brought to think of atomies, and thus of the theories of Epicurus; and since, when we discussed this subject not very long ago, I mentioned to you how singularly, yet with how little notice, the vague guesses of that noble Greek had met with confirmation in the late nebular cosmogony, I felt that you could not avoid casting your eyes upward to the great nebula in Orion, and I certainly expected that you would do so. You did look up; and I was now assured that I had correctly followed your steps. But in that bitter tirade upon Chantilly, which appeared in yesterday's 'Musée,' the satirist, making some disgraceful allusions to the cobbler's change of name upon assuming the buskin, quoted a Latin line about which we have often conversed. I mean the line "Perdidit antiquum litera prima sonum."  I had told you that this was in reference to Orion, formerly written Urion; and, from certain pungencies connected with this explanation, I was aware that you could not have forgotten it. It was clear, therefore, that you would not fail to combine the two ideas of Orion and Chantilly. That you did combine them I saw by the character of the smile which passed over your lips. You thought of the poor cobbler's immolation. So far, you had been stooping in your gait; but now I saw you draw yourself up to your full height. I was then sure that you reflected upon the diminutive figure of Chantilly. At this point I interrupted your meditations to remark that as, in fact, he was a very little fellow --that Chantilly --he would do better at the Théâtre des Variétés."

NARRATOR: Your reasoning skills are truly incredible and are better than anything I’ve ever come across. For Heaven’s sake, tell me more.

[The scene ends with the two walking into their house.]