In almost everything I do, Schopenhauer is admonished me: “Be indifferent! Deny your wish! Deny life!”. And practically Schopenhauer’s influence on my life can be summed up in the following: I am a monster of indifference to most things, among them those I would not like to be; already with the things that I would most wish to be indifferent, with these I am not, I cannot, and I feel, finally, absolutely defeated by my very nature.
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I believe it was Faulkner who once said how much writing for cinema undermines an author’s creativity. Of course, Faulkner is more authority than me to talk about it, but I do not think cinema just mines a writer’s creativity. Writing for the cinema, in my case, was of profound importance. For those who have never read a script —and who do not miss much: — the cinematic text, when well written, is of a frightening objectivity: the scene describes accurate and only what is necessary to be intelligible. There are hardly adjectives, a character never presents himself with “gaze wandering through warm daydreams”, and the windows are never “sad and gloomy, crossed by a faint light that faints in the dim light”. It is true, it is true: there is less art in a movie script than in Tolstoy. However, writing for the cinema forces the writer to ask himself: What is the purpose of this scene? What is the function of this object, character or inflection in the scene? Is this stretch really necessary? What, first, is the goal, the message of this film? Does the scene I am writing contribute, in some way, to the plot? Has any direct connection to the main message of the film? Can the film be summarized briefly in the three acts of the Greek tragedy? Does the climax convince? Is it well-supported? Is there dramatic and psychological justification for the actions of the characters? I could keep quoting, but that is enough. What I think, therefore, is that this kind of question seems fundamental to any artistic text and, humbly, I believe it is necessary to do them methodically. Faulkner may not say the same, but I particularly give thanks to the cinema for having them ingrained in my veins.
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There is a character in my short stories who, doing a vow of silence, says: “peace of mind is deafness”. This character is me, in my unbearable reflections. There is nothing capable of me off more than the word, the rumor of a human voice. I say that and surely you think I’m joking. But whenever I imagine a perfect world, there is no sound: silence is absolute, undisturbed. And I wonder how soon I will be annoyed by the written word as well. Let’s be reasonable: I’m not thirty, but I’m almost seventy. What if, because of advancing age, by an understandable and even natural decrease in my tolerance with things, do graphic signs bother me? Well, then I really don’t know what else life can give me.
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Today is the day to feel that sweet euphoria that foretells the happy times to come. Everyone, without exception, will be happy and we will have a beautiful year ahead! This 2020, everything will finally work out! Happy New Year!
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