1 An Ongoing Tradition
Aronofsky’s Noah as 21st-Century Rewritten Scripture
Matthew A. Collins
The Biblical Flood and Aronofsky’s Noah
Even before the official release of Darren Aronofsky’s Noah in March 2014, the response to this big-budget biblical blockbuster was mixed to say the least. Though eagerly awaited by some, it was pre-emptively banned in a number of countries (including Bahrain, Indonesia, Qatar, and the United Arab Emirates) for its depiction of an Islamic prophet and for “scenes that contradict Islam and the Bible.”1 It generated similar controversy among some conservative Christian groups for its perceived radical departure from the biblical text (including six-armed rock giants, a human antagonist, an overt environmentalist agenda, and the ostensible absence of God).2 After unsuccessfully test-screening a number of alternative (more recognizably biblical) versions, Paramount agreed to Aronofsky’s cut but included in its marketing material a disclaimer that it was “inspired by the story of Noah,” that “artistic license has been taken,” and that “[t]he biblical story of Noah can be found in the book of Genesis.”3
Reviewing the film, creationist Ken Ham claimed:
Ultimately, there is barely a hint of biblical fidelity in this film. It is an unbiblical, pagan film from its start.
(Ham 2014)
The main charge levelled at the film by Ham and other prominent conservative Christians (such as Rick Warren, Ray Comfort, and Chris Stone) was that it is “unbiblical,” or even “antibiblical.”4 Aronofsky himself famously described it as “the least biblical biblical film ever made” (Lodge 2014). In this chapter, however, I argue that the departure from the Bible is not so great as some have claimed (with many apparent innovations grounded in biblical, pseudepigraphal, and rabbinic literature), and moreover that the strategies employed by Aronofsky and his co-writer Ari Handel reflect a retelling of the story that is in fact very much in line with the motivation and literary techniques of an expanded ancient tradition.
I will begin by briefly noting the origins and development of the Israelite flood narrative, from its ancient Near Eastern roots through to the biblical account, before examining its continuing evolution through extrabiblical Second Temple and rabbinic literature (e.g., Jubilees, the Genesis Apocryphon and Genesis Rabbah) as part of an ongoing process of elaboration, clarification, interpretation, explanation, and harmonization. Through a close examination of the “innovative” material in Aronofsky’s film, I will argue that the aims, techniques, and execution of the biblical epic in general, and Noah in particular, are thoroughly in line with those of so-called rewritten scripture, such that the film sits comfortably on a spectrum/continuum of “rewriting” the flood narrative that stretches back to the biblical text itself and beyond. Accordingly, this chapter considers what it means for a film to be “biblical,” arguing with regard to Noah that instances of departure from the text are in fact anticipated in and/or entirely consistent with an expanded “biblical” tradition, effectively rendering the film an example of 21st-century rewritten scripture.
Origins and Development of the Flood Narrative (Pre-biblical Flood Narratives)
The origins of the biblical flood narrative can be found in the literature and mythology of the ancient Near East. The gradual evolution of the tale can be traced through three major pre-biblical narratives in particular: the Epic of Ziusudra, the Epic of Atrahasis, and the Epic of Gilgamesh.
The earliest of these is the Epic of Ziusudra, commonly known as the Sumerian Deluge or Eridu Genesis (Jacobsen 1981; Kramer 1983). This is a Sumerian text known from a single tablet from Nippur, of which only the lower third remains.5 Though the extant copy dates from ca. 1600 BCE (Noort 1998, 5),6 the likely date of composition is considerably earlier, with proposals varying between the early second millennium BCE (Civil 1969, 138–39; Simoons-Vermeer 1974, 28) and the third (King 1918, 43–44; Pleins 2003, 102; Schmökel 1978, 89).
The text is extremely fragmentary, though appears to begin with an account of creation and the founding of the antediluvian cities (lines 37–50, 85–100).7 Some 37 lines are then missing, but when the text resumes the gods appear to have decided to send a flood to destroy humankind (138–44).8 One man, the king Ziusudra,9 is warned of the coming deluge (145–60).10 Following another gap of some 40 lines, we’re told the flood lasts for seven days and seven nights (201–4), which Ziusudra survives in “the huge boat … tossed about by the windstorms on the great waters” (205).11 Ziusudra opens a window (208)12 and then, having survived the flood, makes a sacrifice to the gods (210–11). Another lacuna follows, after which Ziusudra, described as “the preserver of … the seed of mankind” (260), is made immortal (251–58) and said to live in “the land of Dilmun” (261). The remainder of the text is missing. The “(foreign) land” (Sumerian kur) of Dilmun is usually identified with Bahrain in the Persian Gulf (Noort, 1998, 23), which may indicate that a catastrophic river flood (e.g., of the Euphrates) is here intended.
The Epic of Atrahasis is an Akkadian text, the earliest extant copy of which is an Old Babylonian version from Sippar.13 This copy, preserved across three tablets, dates from ca. 1646–1626 BCE (Chen 2013, 3; Kvanvig 2011, 13), and is probably not far removed from the date of the original composition (ca. 1750 BCE?).14 While the first two tablets detail the creation of humans and the gods’ subsequent attempts to reduce their numbers through plague and drought, Tablet III contains a version of the flood narrative, the basic elements of which closely resemble those of Ziusudra. The gods decide to send a flood to destroy humankind, seemingly on account of overpopulation (II.vii–viii). One man, Atrahasis,15 is warned of the coming deluge and instructed to build a boat (III.i.11–37).16 In particular, he is told to “[r]eject possessions, and save living things” (III.i.23). He takes his family and at least two of every animal (III.ii.30–42).17 The flood lasts for seven days and seven nights (III.iv.24–25). There is then a gap of some 58 lines. When the text resumes the flood has ended and Atrahasis makes a sacrifice to the gods (III.v.30–35) who repent of their action (III.v–viii; also III.iii–iv). The note that “Like dragonflies they [dead bodies] have filled the river” (III.iv.6–7) may again indicate that a river flood is here in focus.
The last (and best known) of these three major pre-biblical flood narratives is the Epic of Gilgamesh. This is a composite Akkadian text that incorporates a number of separate Gilgamesh tales (some originally Sumerian). Despite the existence of (fragmentary) copies of early (Old and Middle Babylonian) editions from the second millennium BCE, the story of the deluge is not here attested.18 It is only in the later “standard version” that this appears. This version is known predominantly from seventh-century BCE copies from Nineveh, though its composition/redaction is thought to date from ca. 1300–1000 BCE (Tigay 2002, 131).19 The text comprises 12 tablets20 detailing the adventures of Gilgamesh, king of Uruk, with Tablet XI containing a version of the flood narrative.
As in Ziusudra and Atrahasis, here too the gods decide to send a flood to destroy humankind (XI.11–14)21 but one man, Utnapishtim,22 is warned of the coming deluge and instructed to build a boat (XI.19–31). He is told to take with him “the seed of all living creatures” (XI.27) and so, having built the boat, loads his family and at least two of every animal (XI.80–85). It rains for six days and seven nights (XI.127). On the seventh day the boat comes to rest on the top of a mountain (Mount Nisir/Nimush; XI.140–44). Utnapishtim sends out in turn a dove, a swallow, and a raven to see if the waters have subsided (XI.145–54). Finally, he makes a sacrifice to the gods (XI.155–61) who repent of their action (XI.162–92; also XI.113–26) and make him immortal (XI.189–96).
The account in Gilgamesh has clearly drawn heavily upon Atrahasis (indeed at XI.187 Utnapishtim is even referred to as “Atrahasis”!)23 and there is evidence of dependence in terms of phraseology, content, and structure (Tigay 2002, 215–27). However, there are also some significant narratological developments. The description in Atrahasis that “like dragonflies they [dead bodies] have filled the river” (III.iv.6–7) is here rendered “like the spawn of fishes they [dead bodies] fill the sea” (XI.123); thus the river flood of Atrahasis seemingly becomes one of far greater proportions in Gilgamesh. Likewise the Sumerian word kur, used of the boat’s resting place in a “(foreign) land” in Ziusudra, reappears here in XI.140–44 but is interpreted in Akkadian as “mountain.”24 Elements of the earlier narratives are reworked through a process that includes expansion, elaboration, and interpretation (Tigay 2002, 214–31) and new elements are introduced (e.g., the birds).25 The story can thus be seen to develop and evolve from Ziusudra, through Atrahasis, to Gilgamesh.26
Turning to the biblical account, it is commonly recognized that Genesis 6:5–9:17 in fact contains two separate flood narratives dovetailed together, traditionally labelled J (or non-P) and P.27 The J-account is typically assigned a pre-exilic date (ca. tenth to seventh century B...