Não consigo falar sobre o filme. É uma sensação estranha não conseguir falar sobre um filme. É lindo e horrível, maravilhoso e devastador... É tudo e talvez não seja nada. É um daqueles filmes que ou se ama ou se odeia. Não é possível "gostar mais ou menos". Amei e odiei o filme. E agradeço à Castello Lopes o facto de ter intervalos, porque não sei se teria aguentado sem aquela pause de 10 minutos em que podemos livrar-nos das emoções que começam a nascer para que esse processo recomece e, felizmente, não cheguemos ao fim completamente devastados. Não me lembro do último filme que me fez ficar sem palavras. Mas ontem, pela primeira vez, desejei não ter ido sozinho ao cinema.
Não querendo estragar a surpresa para aqueles que possam estar a pensar ir ver o filme, deixo um bocadinho do final, mas não revelo o mais importante ;)
Não querendo estragar a surpresa para aqueles que possam estar a pensar ir ver o filme, deixo um bocadinho do final, mas não revelo o mais importante ;)
INTERVIEWER
I’d like to talk now about your new novel, Atonement, which is coming out in a few days to coincide with your birthday. It’s your twenty-first novel...
OLDER BRIONY
It’s my last novel.
INTERVIEWER
Oh, really? You mean you’re retiring?
OLDER BRIONY
No, dying. My doctor tells me I have something called vascular dementia; which is
essentially a continuous series of tiny strokes. Your brain gradually closes down. You lose words, you lose your memory: which, for a writer, is pretty much the point. That’s why I could finally write this book; and why, of course, it’s my last novel. Strangely enough, it would be just as accurate to call it my first novel. I wrote several drafts as far back as my time at St. Thomas’s Hospital during the war. I just couldn’t ever find the way to do it.
INTERVIEWER
Because the novel is autobiographical, is that right?
OLDER BRIONY
Yes, entirely. I haven’t changed any names, including my own.
INTERVIEWER
And was that the problem?
OLDER BRIONY
No. I had for a very long time decided to tell the absolute truth. And I think... You’ve read the book, you’ll understand why. I got first-hand accounts of all the events I didn’t personally witness, conditions in prison, the evacuation of Dunkirk, everything. But the effect of all this honesty was rather...pitiless, you see. I couldn’t any longer imagine what purpose would be served by it.
INTERVIEWER
By what? By honesty?
OLDER BRIONY
Or reality.
I’d like to talk now about your new novel, Atonement, which is coming out in a few days to coincide with your birthday. It’s your twenty-first novel...
OLDER BRIONY
It’s my last novel.
INTERVIEWER
Oh, really? You mean you’re retiring?
OLDER BRIONY
No, dying. My doctor tells me I have something called vascular dementia; which is
essentially a continuous series of tiny strokes. Your brain gradually closes down. You lose words, you lose your memory: which, for a writer, is pretty much the point. That’s why I could finally write this book; and why, of course, it’s my last novel. Strangely enough, it would be just as accurate to call it my first novel. I wrote several drafts as far back as my time at St. Thomas’s Hospital during the war. I just couldn’t ever find the way to do it.
INTERVIEWER
Because the novel is autobiographical, is that right?
OLDER BRIONY
Yes, entirely. I haven’t changed any names, including my own.
INTERVIEWER
And was that the problem?
OLDER BRIONY
No. I had for a very long time decided to tell the absolute truth. And I think... You’ve read the book, you’ll understand why. I got first-hand accounts of all the events I didn’t personally witness, conditions in prison, the evacuation of Dunkirk, everything. But the effect of all this honesty was rather...pitiless, you see. I couldn’t any longer imagine what purpose would be served by it.
INTERVIEWER
By what? By honesty?
OLDER BRIONY
Or reality.
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