By the end of the 1930’s, 28 million American households owned a radio, it became the new hearth, enjoying a rapt attention not seen today. Welles’ infamous 1938 radio adaptation of H.G. Wells’ novel ‘The War of the Worlds’ was a seminal moment in the history of radio drama. Intentionally breaking the traditional narrative structure and form of the original novel, the broadcast was framed as realistic, detailed news broadcasts taking place in the contemporary world, rather than the 1890’s Surrey of the original novel. So realistic, that it inspired widespread panic; the public believed the story.
The genius of the work lies in its playful and faithfully deceptive understanding of the form of radio in that era. Beginning with fabricated weather report and musical programs, designed to thread in and out so authentically and seamlessly with normal radio that the audience would find it nearly impossible to distinguish it from mundane broadcasting. The eerie unfolding of events that is intrinsic to The War of the Worlds suits the slow drip propagation of information that rolling news coverage provides.
I have a memory of listening to it on cassette when I was young, and having little to no impression of it. Reflecting on that apathy now, I think it’s deeper than child-me not being able to relate to old, tinny media; rather, listening with intention on cassette whenever you like is entirely antithetical to the surreptitious, near-hijacking conceit of the original broadcast. Even studying the artistry of its performers and musicians, is only experiencing half the point. One of the most thrilling aspects of radio is, if convincingly rendered, the potential to sow doubt in listener’s minds. That singularly hovering, dawning sense of discovery allows us to momentarily destabilise the bounds of our perceived reality. Welles’ drama is an early highlight of an exciting framing device more often found in found footage cinema, genre film and internet-based art: “Is this real?”
Comparison can be drawn between The War of the Worlds and Jean Shepherd’s I, Libertine hoax. In 1956, Shepherd, a radio host on New York’s WOR station, encouraged listeners to order the novel I, Libertine by Fredrick R. Ewing by the hundreds. The problem being, the book did not exist. Embittered by his 1 to 5:30 a.m. slot, Shepherd drew a delineation between the organised ‘Day People’ and the isolation of the ‘Night People’ and sought to prod the status quo, seeing the bestseller list-adhering bookstore clerk as the target for his hoax. Later in September, the book was written and published for a reader demand Shepherd had fostered as a prank.
In the radio field, the broadcaster has access to trusting ears; by the nature of the media’s constant presence, a passive, semi-attentive listening mode is formed. The audience perhaps subconsciously trusts the information broadcasted is vetted and programme formats sharply defined, despite the relative youth of the technology. The sneaky exploitation of the audience’s solid, pacified trust in the radio machine is a core thematic interest of our group project, especially within a science fiction context, and Orson Welles’ chimeric adaptation of The War of the Worlds provides much inspiration, straddling realism and heightened theatricality.
Bibliography:
Schwartz, B. A. (2015) The Infamous “War of the Worlds” Radio Broadcast Was a Magnificent Fluke. Available at: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/infamous-war-worlds-radio-broadcast-was-magnificent-fluke-180955180/ (Accessed: 5 March 2024)
Wagoner, R. (2021) What really happened during Orson Welles’ ‘War of the Worlds’ radio broadcast. Available at: https://www.dailynews.com/2021/10/26/what-really-happened-during-orson-welles-war-of-the-worlds-radio-broadcast/ (Accessed: 5 March 2024)
http://web.archive.org/web/20020427051336/flicklives.com/Articles/Wall_Street_Journel/8-1-56/8-1-56.jpg (2002) (Accessed: 20 March 2024)