The adaptation process

I read Behind the Sun, the novel by Ismail Kadaré, three years ago, during the release of Central Station. I was deeply struck by the brute symbolic power of the story, which referred, in some way, to a tale of origins

I was attracted by the mythic quality of the ancestral confrontation narrated by Kadaré - this tragic clash between a hero obligated to commit a crime against his will and fate which impels him forward. Attracted to a world before time, before speech, formed by what is not said. A huis-clos in the open air, intimate and at the same time epic.

I had other projects at the time. But I couldn't forget the drama of that young man whose life was divided in two. When I realized this, I had already begun to adapt the book. I abandoned those other projects that appeared to be easier and more accessible.

Before making a definitive decision to make Behind the Sun, a long process of research was necessary. This process led us to understand the characteristics of the wars between families in Brazil. These conflicts, usually carried on by landowners, came to define the frontiers of certain territories in the northeastern badlands, like that of the Inhamuns Badlands, in Ceará State, the setting for the war between the Montes and Feitosa families in the first half of the last century.

I took the results of this research to Ismail Kadaré. A man of acute intelligence, Kadaré freed us from the obligation of following every step taken by the characters in the book. This was an essential condition in order to proceed, due to the cultural differences between Brazil and the events Kadaré recounts in Albania - the Kanun, the code that governs blood feuds in that country, has no equivalent in Brazil.

At Kadaré's suggestion, we immersed ourselves in a second round of research, which led us to Greek tragedy, and more specifically, to the plays of Aeschylus. The shedding of blood and fratricidal struggles for power are some of the themes that nourished the birth of Greek tragedy. I learned that until the 7th century A.D., blood crimes committed in Greece weren't judged by the State. The outcome was determined by the warring families, who established their own codes for reparation of the blood spilled. Curiously, it's also in the absence of the State that the land wars between families in Brazil came to develop. So we were brought back to Brazil by way of Greek theater. This also made clear the universal nature of Kadaré's story.

This evidence made me decide to make a film that would have a fable-like quality to it, that wouldn't have to be tied to a totally realistic geographic locale. Yes, this story could have taken place in the Brazilian badlands at the beginning of the last century, but also in other eras and in other latitudes. Kadaré's novel deals with universal themes: an age-old feud among men, anguish in the face of death - and the desire to go beyond this inescapable cycle.

To this central nucleus of the story, I looked to add elements of my own. As in Foreign Land and Central Station, I chose a narrator who, in the midst of all that chaos, still was able to preserve some clarity and innocence (Pacu); as in the documentary Socorro Nobre/Life Somewhere Else, I preferred an outcome that would in some way give certain characters a second chance; finally, I was interested in investigating the relationship between the brothers of the Breves family - Tonho and Pacu.