Writing the Action Script

by John Truby

With a good Action script you can write your own ticket. But Action is the most deceptively challenging genre in Hollywood. What may seem simple and straightforward on the movie screen actually requires careful planning and extremely creative solutions from the screenwriter. Action films are deceptive in a number of ways. Many people think Action movies lack character, plot and theme, but they're mistaken. The best Action films have deep stories, complex characters and a profound effect on the audience. The challenge for the writer is to create compelling characters, surprising plots, and important themes within the limiting structure of an Action piece. Speed is the enemy of the Action writer, despite the ongoing trend to increase the pacing of Hollywood films. Ironically, pure speed is not what thrills an audience. Which is why good Action writers actually try to slow the film down to make it appear faster. I know what you're thinking -- what does that mean? The faster the pace of a story, the less chance you have for surprise. And surprise is the fundamental requirement of plot. As a writer, you take on the role of a magician. The audience looks to you for events they can't predict, but thinking back, realize they should have seen coming. When you move characters down a single path at top speed, turns literally become difficult. The audience can see everything down the path all the way to the obvious conclusion. If you slow the pacing, you give yourself the luxury of putting a few more twists and turns, so the audience can still be surprised, and will continue to pay attention. Tip #1: Give your hero a personal problem You can start your script with a big action scene if you want (some hit Action films do, some don't), then back off. Give the character a personal problem that he must solve simultaneously with overcoming the big action problem. You don't need to take a lot of time with it. But do it. You have now set up the all-important double-track line, contrasting the personal with the action problem. The key then becomes making those two lines appear to the audience to be one. Tip #2: Make them believe first Action stories, by their nature, push the envelope of believability, so you have to convince the audience early that your hero is quite capable. After all, you're showing someone whose ability to act is almost super-human. You almost never see a successful Action script where the hero learns to be good at physical action over the course of the story. Your hero has to have a background of exceptional physical ability from page one. And you will need a scene early on to hint to the audience just how good your hero really is. It doesn't have to be the first scene and you don't want to show all your hero's talents. Just tease them. You not only give the audience a kick early, you allow yourself to push the envelope later without losing the audience. Tip #3: Plot comes from moving from one surprise to another By surprise, I mean surprise to the hero as well as to the audience. And that means you have to hide as much about your opposition as you can. The best Action scripts deal with deception and hidden information, especially about the true nature and identity of the opponent. Great Action scripts are really a battle of wits - it's about who can deceive best and who can think the best. Tip #4: Make the Hero strong, but the Opponent stronger A heavyweight fight where one guy is a stiff is boring. Take a lot of time to figure out some special talents and tricks that your opponent has that will give your hero fits. But don't show them right away. Hold them back. When you do bring them on, bring them fast and furious. You want the hero reeling so he has to dip into all his skills and he has to fight back on feel. These are four of my favorite tips for writing great Action Scripts. As you can see, Action writing is more complex than it seems at first look. If you're serious about nailing that big Action spec, try out our ACTION Audio Course and Software. Good Luck and keep writing! John TrubyJohn Truby coaches top writers for screen and television and has served as story consultant and as a script doctor for major studios and production companies on movies, sit-coms and dramas for television. He is also the creator of the top selling Blockbuster story development software. He founded Truby's Writers Studio where he teaches writing techniques and has created a number of books, audiotapes and other essential tools for the writer, all of which are available through the Writers Store.

Writing Great Dialogue

by Rob Tobin
There is a myth that the ability to write great dialogue is a gift that can’t be learned and can’t be taught. You’re born with it or you’ll never have it. One version of the myth goes something like this: you have to have an ear for dialogue in order to be able to reproduce realistic, believable, crisp, dialogue on the page. Great dialogue does not come from having a good ear for dialogue. It does not come from having some innate gift or talent for writing dialogue. It comes from this: knowing your characters so well that you know what they will say and how they will say it when faced with specific people, situations or events. Now that may seem overly simple and in a way it is – given the same character and same situation, two writers of very different abilities will create greater or lesser dialogue. The dialogue in Good Will Hunting and As Good as it Gets does not come out of every writer’s laptop no matter how well that writer knows his characters. That’s because there’s an added component to both of these scripts and other scripts like these: genius. And genius dispenses with the rules of ordinary life and ordinary writing. But, I firmly believe that if two writers know their characters equally well, if both writers develop those characters fully and if both writers know the other characters in a scene equally well, both sets of dialogue will be of a high quality. Let’s take some examples. One of my favorite films is Good Will Hunting. Let’s take one particularly well-done bit of dialogue from that movie. It’s not just any dialogue, but brilliant dialogue, so it ought to be a great test of my theory that all great dialogue comes from knowing one’s characters. Will Hunting, the main character played (and written) so brilliantly by Matt Damon, goes with his simply-structured childhood friends (including his best friend Chuckie played and co-written by Ben Affleck) to a bar near Harvard, frequented by that school’s Ivy League students. Chuckie spots a small group of pretty young women and decides he’s going to hit on them. So the rough-around-the-edges Chuckie goes up to the girls and pretends to be a student. The girls, who are students, know immediately that he’s full of it, but they graciously go along – besides, Chuckie’s kinda cute, so what’s the harm? As Chuckie fumbles with trying to pass himself onto the targets of his affection/lust, a bona fide Harvard student comes up and arrogantly destroys Chuckie, exposing his lies and his lack of academic credentials and book-smarts. Just as it seems that Chuckie is about to show this guy the intelligence in his two fists, his friend Will steps forward with a brilliant dissertation that ends up being a verbal slaughter of the arrogant Harvard a-hole. Then he ends the dialogue with a very telling sentence: “If you want to take this outside.” Why is this dialogue so brilliant? Because Damon and Affleck knew who their characters were. Not just the main character, Will Hunting, but Affleck’s character, and the character of the arrogant Harvard pissant. The writers also knew what event they wanted to occur in this scene, what events led up to this scene, and what repercussions they wanted this event to have. So who is Will Hunting? Well, he’s brilliant and a polymath. That’s the point of the whole movie. He’s a troubled ruffian; we see that fairly early on. We learn later that he was abused as a child. Although we the audience don’t know about the abuse suffered by Will Hunting at the time this scene in the bar takes place, the important thing is that the authors know about it, so it colors Will’s reaction and his dialogue. Why? Because Will could just as easily have gently taken Chuckie by the arm and led him away from the scene, offering him a free beer, soothing his ruffled feathers and bruised ego, making a joke of it. The dialogue in that case would have been more than a bit different. But you see, the authors knew their characters so well, that the event that did take place, the dialogue that was spoken, was in essence inevitable. This is critically important to understand. When a specific piece of dialogue is the only dialogue that could be spoken in a given situation by a given character to a given character, then that dialogue can seem brilliant, and it doesn’t have to be eloquent dialogue, as long as it’s the exactly right dialogue. “I coulda been a contender” resonates down through the decades even today and can certainly be considered brilliant dialogue for its poignancy and for the fact that it was exactly the right thing for Marlon Brando’s character to say to the specific female character in the particular setting and circumstance he was in at that time. Will, having been abused as a child, has a chip on his shoulder the size of an Oregon redwood. He has undying loyalty to his friends, especially his best friend Chuckie. He was born and brought up in “Southie,” the southern section of Boston, the poor, uneducated Irish section, so he was considered to be white trash. He could have let Chuckie deck the Harvard snot, but then Chuckie would have gotten into trouble. He could have decked the Harvard snot himself, but there were the pretty girls to consider and besides a fistfight would have made him look even more like white trash in front of this Ivy League a-hole. So Will’s only or at least best response is to use the one weapon that would destroy this Harvard moron-in-sheepskin clothing: Brilliance. Knowledge. Erudition. Debating skills. And being right about subjects that the Harvard a-hole should have known about but didn’t because he was educated, but not learned. Will is not educated, but he is learned, profoundly so. What Will said was so perfect, so believable given who he is, where he is, who he is in relationship with, and whom he is saying it to, that it comes across as brilliant. Another important aspect of that scene from “Good Will Hunting” is the fact that we not only like Will, we identify with him – the downtrodden good guy who fights back but somehow only succeeds in digging himself a deeper hole. We’ve all felt like that. Why is that important? Because it matters to us what happens to Will, we hope for him to succeed. Thus in this scene Will does several things that make us feel good and triumphant and vindicated – he bests the snotty bad guy, he impresses the pretty girl, he stands up for his friends. Could anyone write dialogue that brilliant? Maybe not, there is after all a touch of brilliance to the dialogue throughout this brilliantly written screenplay. But still, the elements that led up to that scene and that dialogue are all there for us to see and they are all based on the authors’ complete, profound knowledge of who their character is. There is another factor in writing great dialogue. It’s the understanding that there are four key components to any story, whether screenplay, novel, play, or short story: characters, situations, events, and dialogue. If you’ve read my book “How to Write High Structure, High Concept Movies,” or attended any of my workshops, you’ll know that I’m big on relationships. Well, what’s important to know about these four key components is how they relate to each other in a cause-and-effect way. Throughout a story, these four components will affect and effect and be affected and effected by each other. For example, a character creates a situation that causes him to create an event that leads him and others to be affected by that event, which leads the character to make a statement or revelation (dialogue) that itself causes a reaction (an event) that leads to yet another situation, the stakes rising, the jeopardy increasing, changes happening and leading to other changes and events and dialogue which affect characters who, well, you get the picture (no pun intended). But if you cause these four components to interact in just the right way, you will get the picture and maybe even your name in the credits of that picture. So what role does dialogue play in this? Well, essentially dialogue is just another event (I know, that means there are only three key components to a story – so sue me, math wasn’t my major in college). It’s caused by characters and in turn causes other events and affects other characters. It’s something that happens, that takes place in space and time, and is both a result and cause, just like an event is. When characters speak, they are doing something, performing an act. Great, but how does that help us improve our dialogue? Well, think of it this way: what happens when an event in a story occurs that has nothing to do with the rest of the story? It sticks out like a sore thumb. That’s what happens with dialogue that has nothing to do with the rest of the story. In other words (pun intended), you have to make your dialogue relevant to the story. More than just this, however, is that you have to be aware of the cause and effect of that dialogue just as you are aware of the cause and effect of an incident. If a guy in your story waves his hands around in an unusual way and nothing comes of it, you’re left wondering why he did that. If you find out that the reason he’s waving his hands around oddly is that he’s schizophrenic and thinks that he has magical powers and that with a wave of his hand he can make his enemy disappear or make a beautiful woman appear, then you begin to see the relevance of that odd waving and flailing about. If you take this one step further and have a beautiful woman witness the odd waving and recognize it as the gesture that accompanies a magical spell, then the odd gesture has an effect on another character and maybe on the story as a whole. Maybe the beautiful woman, believing the delusional guy is a sorcerer, befriends him and takes him on a wild adventure with her because she believes he can use his powers to help her. So now the event works – we understand why the event occurs (the guy is schizophrenic with delusions of being a sorcerer), and we understand what effect the event has – it leads to a grand misunderstanding and an even grander adventure. You’ve connected the event to both the past and the future. You must do the same thing to your dialogue – all of your dialogue. Damon and Affleck do this with Will’s dialogue in the Harvard bar scene. The dialogue results from who their character is, where he comes from, the events in his past, and his relationship to the characters in the bar and even to the bar and the university and the area of town and the economic and social class of the people in the bar and in that area of town. Similarly, Damon and Affleck not only create repercussion from the hero’s dialogue, they create the entire rest of the story from it. Because he showed off his intellect and his loyalty to friends and his apparent peaceful way of dealing with adversity in this scene in front of Minnie Driver’s character in the bar, Will brings her into his life and she has the most profound effect of anyone in the script with the possible exception of Robin Williams’ psychiatrist character. Will, in fact, ends up leaving his entire life behind to be with this woman in front of which he just showed off with this dialogue. So you want brilliant dialogue? Make it the only dialogue your character can possibly say given who he or she is, where he or she is, and to whom he or she is saying it. Then make sure you have all your ducks in a row – every event leading up to the dialogue should be believable and every event after the dialogue should be at least partly a result of that dialogue. Finally, make us care about the character so that we’ve got a vested interest in what he or she is saying, and in the results of what he or she says. Do these things and you will find people responding to your dialogue more deeply and excitedly than they ever have. One or two of them might even say that it’s brilliant.Rob Tobin has read over 5,000 scripts as a reader, development exec, and script doctor, and is the author of How to Write High Structure, High Concept Movies.

Brasil Colonial: saga de comerciante português ganha roteiro para cinema

A história do milionário comerciante português Manoel Vicente D'Anunciação, que viveu no Brasil no século 19 e cujos herdeiros travam uma batalha para recuperar a herança, será transformada em roteiro de filme.
O publicitário e roteirista brasileiro Marcos Galinari, 32 anos, aceitou o desafio de transformar a saga do comerciante português, no interior de Pernambuco, numa história que poderá ir às salas de cinema.
"Achei a história fascinante, de um português que veio para o Brasil apenas com a roupa do corpo e que construiu um verdadeiro império, com todos os desdobramentos para um ótimo roteiro de filme", disse o roteirista à Agência Lusa.
"É também uma história cheia de mistérios porque ninguém sabe até hoje o que fazia o comerciante em Portugal e muito menos porque escolheu o longínquo Estado de Pernambuco para imigrar", afirmou.
O roteirista está baseando o seu texto no livro "Sangue, Suor e Riqueza - A história de um mito do agreste e sertão pernambucanos", escrito pela tetraneta do comerciante, a estudante de Filosofia Ana Lígia Lira.
"É uma história do período do Brasil colonial, mas com muitos elementos contemporâneos, como a disputa judicial da família pela herança que se arrasta até aos dias atuais", afirmou Galinari.
Após a conclusão do roteiro, até o fim deste ano, o roteirista planeja apresentar a primeira versão do roteiro do filme a "todos os interessados" em levar a história do comerciante para os cinemas.
SagaManuel Vicente D'Anunciação, cujos herdeiros em Portugal ainda não são conhecidos, desembarcou em 1820 em Recife, então um dos mais movimentados portos da colônia portuguesa.
Logo depois instalou-se a 216 quilômetros de Recife, na distante cidade de Pesqueira, interior de Pernambuco, uma região muito pobre e árida.
Ao longo da sua vida, dedicou-se à exploração de ouro, pedras preciosas e madeira, além do comércio de algodão, cana-de-açúcar, bovinos e escravos.
Quando morreu, em 1889, era um dos homens mais ricos da época, deixando uma fortuna incalculável, entre imóveis, barras de ouro, jóias, ações de uma empresa norte-americana, escravos e muito dinheiro.
A fortuna de Manuel Vicente D'Anunciação teria sido depositada no The London Bank & South America Limited, atual Lloyds Bank PLC, em 13 de junho de 1878, pouco antes de sua morte.
Entre os bens depositados, estavam 150 barras de ouro, no total de 1.537,5 quilos, 314 pedras preciosas, um diamante em bruto com 3,167 quilos, cordões de prata, 20 mil libras esterlinas, crucifixos e colares de ouro.
Batalha judicialDesde 1980, os herdeiros brasileiros do comerciante travam uma das mais longas batalhas judiciais do Estado de Pernambuco para provar a existência do espólio milionário.
Os advogados do banco londrino argumentam, na defesa apresentada no processo judicial, que não foi localizada a suposta ficha do depósito bancário efetuado por Manoel Vicente D'Anunciação.
Em setembro do ano passado, advogados da família do comerciante apresentaram um recurso ao Supremo Tribunal Federal (STF), que ainda não se manifestou sobre o caso.
Terra Magazine

Outros links:
Jornal de Notícias
http://jn.sapo.pt/2007/04/04/ultima/vida_portugues_pode_filme.html

Site UOL
http://diversao.uol.com.br/ultnot/lusa/2007/04/03/ult3680u498.jhtm

Lusa: Agência de Notícias de Portugal
http://www.agencialusa.com.br/index.php?iden=7306

The Five S's of Screenwriting

by Kate Wright
Working with Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Jason Miller and the legendary Tennessee Williams offered me a tremendous entrée into the magical world of storytelling. As American icons, their extraordinary talent inspired the world; and as screenwriters, their remarkable ability to work through the visceral process of storytelling taught me that great stories communicate simple truths that reflect the poetic dimensions of the human soul. Not only do powerful characters help us understand our lives, their stories reflect our core values as human beings. But how do we create these ideas and feelings as a story for the big screen? How can we be certain that a screenplay delivers the maximum impact, both emotionally, and as entertainment? Here are five steps from the trenches – the Five S’s of Screenwriting – that invite you into the process: 1) Story 2) Storytelling 3) Structure 4) Sequences and 5) Spine. Story Story creates the deeper understanding about human nature that we experience when we hear or see what has happened to another human being. Whether it’s an incident in the life of someone we know, the true-life experience of someone in the news, the adventures of a fictional character, or the heroic life of a compelling historical figure, we are fascinated by the progression of events that a human being encounters, and this progression of events is called plot. However, what engages our imagination on a human level is how the main character reacts to this progression of events, and this cumulative insight is called story. A good story features a main character, or protagonist, who confronts a strong moral choice. This is true in comedy as well as drama, and the best stories feature a protagonist who struggles with identifiable human flaws. The moral choice can be very simple or complex, but it must test the inner moral strength of the main character against his human flaws, not just toward achieving his outward goal, but through his internal transformation, which occurs in his conscience and emotional life. As the story progresses, the hero confronts other characters and situations that support, negate, and challenge his ability to overcome the odds and achieve his goal, but what is satisfying to the audience is the internal triumph that occurs throughout the external struggle, such that, at the end of the story, the audience understands in a profound way what the story is about. Storytelling Storytelling is how we tell the story. It’s a process, rather than a formula. Storytelling begins with defining what the story is about as an idea. This is usually called theme, although theme is more subtle than an abstract idea. It’s what we feel about the story, as revealed through the moral dilemma of the main character, in opposition to other characters. For example, if you were writing a story about freedom, an interesting approach would be to create a world where the main character longs for freedom, but is subjected to servitude by his life situation, or imprisoned as a consequence of his actions. Alternately, if you were creating a story with trust at its dramatic center, there would be strong elements of betrayal within the opposing elements and characters of the story. The second major storytelling decision is defining where the story begins. Most writers take the easy way out. They begin with back story. The result is a story that never takes off until about page 40. Ugh! The preferable approach is to pinpoint the theme of the story, based on the main character’s inner conflict. Die Hard, starring Bruce Willis, is a great example. The story begins with a man who is afraid to fly whose goal is to win back the love and respect of his family. He confronts a hostage situation involving his estranged wife, and all of a sudden, his courage is tested to the max. The combination of his internal conflict and simple goal, together with the challenge of the hostage situation sets the story into fast motion, from beginning to end. The third storytelling decision is choosing the genre that tells the story. Genre tells the audience how they should feel about the story, whether they should laugh, smile, cry, think, scream, or just enjoy the ride. Genre is so crucial to the movie-going experience, some screenwriters begin with a genre, and then create the idea and story concept. The fourth storytelling task is creating a point-of-view character within the story. This character interacts with the main character throughout the story to help the audience understand what is going on inside the main character. Interestingly, the point-of-view character also serves as the storyteller inside the story through which you, as writer, establish yourself. Although this is a difficult task at the onset, frequently we, as writers, make this decision unconsciously during the first draft. Despite our conscious efforts, the point-of-view character jumps off the page, easily recognizable by readers. Structure Structure is form. Screenplay structure is invisible form. Syd Field, who is internationally recognized for his landmark book Screenplay: The Foundations of Screenwriting, defines screenplay form in three-act structure better than anyone else, which is why his work is widely respected among professionals: The Set-up establishes the main character and dramatic situation. The Act I Plot Point features the main character’s primary story decision, in opposition to the antagonist. The Mid-Point is the moment when the main character is forced into the antagonist’s world, thereby redefining the story premise, this time by the antagonist. The Act II Plot Point is the lowest point in the story where the main character has been defeated by the antagonist and lost his motivation. The Ending is the last ten pages, wherein the main character realizes a deeper understanding of his struggle, and summons up the courage to defeat the antagonist. Sequences As a producer, I enjoyed learning the art of creating sequences by working with directors and editors in the editing room. This is one of the hallmarks of my approach to screenwriting, which is why it is prominently featured in my upcoming book. Although this can be a complex task, for purposes of discussion, here are some basics to get you started thinking in film sequences: Each scene is made up of a series of shots. Each sequence is made up of a series of scenes. Each sequence builds upon the next sequence to create story progression. Story progression occurs when story sequences build upon one another in a logical way, moving the story forward through character conflict. In a major motion picture, or studio picture, there are usually 12 sequences that build towards the final climax. The story moves forward in 12 major story beats, or film sequences, that reflect the 12-Sequence Story. Here is a shorthand summary: 1. The main character faces a strong moral dilemma in achieving a goal. 2. The antagonist poses opposition, both morally and to the goal. 3. The main character confronts the major complication, but proceeds into the story. 4. The story moves into a new world, and the main character makes an achievement. 5. The antagonist takes control of the story, sets the counter-plot in motion. 6. The main character moves forward, believing himself to be victorious, but finds the antagonist to be equal and opposing. 7. The main character restates the goal, with renewed conviction, but experiences his first setback. 8. The antagonist spins the counter-plot forward, and achieves momentum against the main character. 9. The protagonist experiences defeat at the hand of the antagonist, and loses his moral strength. 10. The protagonist loses the will to achieve his goal, but resuscitates his motivation and moral strength. 11. The protagonist restates his goal and summons up his moral courage. The antagonist restates his mission to destroy the protagonist, as well as his motivation and courage. 12. The protagonist and antagonist prepare for confrontation, but the protagonist experiences an epiphany of moral courage that gives him what it takes to defeat the antagonist. The story resolves with the protagonist understanding his life with renewed meaning and understanding. Spine Just in case screenwriting seems simple, please allow me to introduce you to the world of advanced screenwriting, the world of spine. This is an abstract world where (even veteran) screenwriters labor in pain, sometimes without professional breakthrough, sometimes without financial reward. When the breakthrough finally happens, however, there is magic on the screen! Spine begins with discovering what your story is about through character behavior. It is about creating a unifying depth within your story, character by character, action by action, sequence by sequence, layer upon layer. The surprise is that once you discover what your story is about on a profound level, there are an infinite number of insights and details you can infuse into the material through character behavior, actions, and images. The challenge is to discover this unifying idea or principle that synthesizes what the story is about in simple terms. The genius is to be able to create characters as ideas that morph into character behavior, revealing what the story is about in every frame of the picture. One of the best examples of spine is Tootsie, the Academy Award winning screenplay written by Larry Gelbart and Murray Schisgal, starring Dustin Hoffman, directed by Academy Award winner Sydney Pollack. The original screenplay went through numerous writers, and it wasn’t until Sydney Pollack came aboard to work with the immensely talented Larry Gelbart that they were able to discover what the story was really about. It wasn’t enough to do a comedy about a man becoming a woman. Putting on a skirt is good for a few laughs, but not enough to sustain a movie. The challenge was to create a story about a man struggling with his (chauvinist) flaws, who is forced to become a woman, but by becoming a woman, he becomes a better man. With this paradox as the spine of the story, each and every frame of this marvelous movie feeds the heart of the story. There is a constant demand for writers who can create good stories, especially for the big screen. The fact is, however, over one hundred thousand scripts are written every year, and only a few hundred actually make it. Even then, most do not succeed. Usually the script is the culprit, and the most common script problem is story. Either there is not enough, or the story splinters into more than one storyline because the main character is not developed through a powerful moral dilemma at the center of the story. The market for great screenplays is wide open. The challenge is to develop your own treasure trove of great stories that have never been told. Be bold and original. Remember the Five S’s. Strive to master them. Above all, shoot for the stars. You might make it to the moon! A Writing Exercise Here is a challenging writing exercise that will help you understand what your story is about. It begins with creating a powerful moral dilemma at the center of your story. Think about the narrative of the story you are working on. Identify your main character, and think through the most important dramatic choice he/she makes. Work through why he/she makes the decision, or why not. Take your time. Set the stage for the consequences of either story direction by developing the antagonist. Understanding the depth of conflict within this key character-driven story moment opens the window to discovering what your story is about.Kate Wright is an Emmy Award-winning writer/producer who, as vice president of Interscope Communications, supervised feature film and television projects, including Billy, The Conspirator Saint, Cocktail, and A Mother's Courage: The Mary Thomas Story. She is a senior instructor with the internationally known UCLA Extension Writers' Program. Her first book, Screenwriting Is Storytelling: Creating the A-List Screenplay that Sells! is being published Fall 2004 by Perigee-Putnam. Photograph by Vanessa Preziose

Roteiro de "O capitão dos índios"

Acabo de receber da Ana Lígia Lira, escritora e pesquisadora, o convite para uma grande missão - adaptar para o cinema o seu livro "O capitão dos índios". Uma obra baseada na história de um imigrante português que viveu no Brasil do século XIX.

Manuel Vicente D’anunciação, é um personagem real, fascinante, gigantesco. Sua história é realmente fantástica e rodeada por grandes mistérios.

A transposição de uma obra literária seja ela para o teatro, para a tv ou para o cinema, exige sempre um conhecimento e uma compreensão total de todos esses meios. Uma adaptação seja ela qual for, é sempre problemática – principalmente, porque as características e particularidades de cada um são muitas.

Adaptar uma obra literária é também transportar essa história para um outro universo – uma outra dimensão, pois estamos falando em imagens e todas as possibilidades que o cinema permite e oferece. Dessa maneira, podemos recorrer a flashbacks, embutir uma passagem de tempo ou mesmo uma linha de tempo contínua – o tempo torna-se subjetivo. O cinema te dá isso.

Agora, como ponto de partida para esta jornada, eu diria que primeiro – ter uma compreensão total da obra literária que foi concebida pela Ana Lígia e todas as informações advindas de pesquisas que também cercam toda esta história – que são muitas. Só a partir daí podemos encontrar afinidades entre a obra literária, e, finalmente o roteiro final para o filme.

E é essa essência do livro que eu quero descobrir. Descobrir qual o seu encanto e, a partir daí contá-lo através de imagens.

A história de Manuel Vicente por si só já possui elementos dramáticos suficientes para sustentar toda uma narrativa. Sem esquecer é claro, dos outros personagens, que constituem também pilares importantíssimos dentro da obra e são capazes de nos levar a subtramas paralelas também muito interessantes.

Tenho certeza de que o público deve apreciar esta obra, tanto pela história desse português, como também pelo painel da vida brasileira no século XIX dentro de uma paisagem deslumbrante como é o caso de Pernambuco. É realmente uma história que possui elementos universais capazes de despertar a atenção do grande público.