O que eu queria mesmo, mesmo, mesmo era conseguir escrever um post sobre uma possível versão-blockbuster-americano dos Lusíadas. Uma amiga minha dizia-me, há pouco tempo, que não é só o Eric, vulgo Eurico o Presbítero, que tem potencial para filme americano; os Lusíadas também têm e bem. E esta minha amiga tem igualmente toda a razão.
Imagino o seguinte, como introdução aos Lusíadas, versão blockbuster: Diogo do Couto chega à Índia, à procura do seu libertino amigo Luís Vaz de Camões. Trata o Camões por LC, porque são amigos há muito tempo e dá um ar moderno ao filme. Diogo do Couto chega à Índia, olha para aquilo, aquele pó todo, com um ar contrafeito, incomodado, quase altivo (mas não muito altivo, porque o Diogo do Couto é boa pessoa, pelo menos no filme é, e acho que na vida real também foi bom homem e um amigo dedicado). Vai andando pela Índia (convém que sejamos mais restritos e digamos, por exemplo, que está em Goa) e acaba por encontrar o LC numa tasca indiana, com uma rapariga meio oriental ao colo. E segue-se, na minha cabeça, um diálogo mais ou menos assim:
Diogo do Couto (doravante DC): LC, here you are, finally! I've been looking everywhere for you! Where have you been? I've come to take you back. You need to get your ass back in Lisbon. Everybody is asking about you there, even the king wants you to write something for him. You got your stride back. Everybody will know what a great poet you are.
LC (olha para Diogo do Couto, com um sorriso amargurado, os olhos húmidos, emocionado por voltar a ver o seu velho amigo. Olha para a rapariga chinesa ao seu colo e dirige-lhe um leve aceno de cabeça; ela percebe que é para se ir embora, dá um beijo ao poeta, levanta-se e desaparece não sei para onde; Camões detém o olhar nela por uns minutos, e volta-se depois para Diogo): D, it's great to see you. Isn't she lovely? I've met her in China a couple of months ago. She's called Barbara. Unusual, isn't it? She's the one, I can feel it.
DC (impaciente): LC, stop that, always with women on your mind! Yeah, right, she's the one. She's the one till the next one comes along. Forget about the dames. They ruin your poetry and they break your heart. What happened to you? I read the poems you sent me and quite frankly, I mean, all that verse about "the slave that has got me enslaved", really... what are you now, a teenager? You should be writing epic poetry, man. Epics - that's what you were born for. That's what the king wants. Not some good for nothing chit chat about women and how they move their eyes and how piteous they are... nobody cares about that. It's not manly.
LC (novamente com um sorriso amargurado): I'm sorry you feel that way, D. I really am. I prefer to think that my verses are honest. No more, no less. But I guess you'd be pleased to know that I'm working on a new piece. It's got nothing to do with the "dames", as you call them.
DC (entusiasmado): Really?! Do tell.
LC: Yeah... it's like... I don't know yet, but I'm thinking about writing something on Portugal's new business venture. You know, all the new lands and the discoveries and all the money we're making with buying and selling and all that. I'm thinking of including Vasco da Gama. I like him. I thought of Bartolomeu as well, but Bartolomeu, I don't know...his name is too long and he didn't quite make it to India. If I choose Vasco as the main character, I can talk about his trip to India. Maybe I'll throw in a couple of monsters. I can think of one in particular, Adamastor. A couple of Greek gods... all set in the sea... maybe a sex scene towards the end, of course. You know what they say, sex sells. Well, and that's it, basically.
DC: Man, that is great. That is amazing! That sounds a lot better than that good for nothing poetry you've been writing. So, what are you going to call this new poem?
LC: I don't know. Maybe the Lusiads, you know, to give it a traditional Portuguese flavour to please the King.
DC: Oh, the King will love it, he will love it. He's thinking of actually paying you if you do this, you know. He's just a kid, anyway, whatever you write, he'll love it.
LC: I know. That's why I'm doing this. I need the money. What can I say, I'm selling out.
DC: Stop that. We all need to make a living. What do you want to do, die in poverty and spend your last days going to the royal palace, slowly, to collect your fee? Letting our country kill you slowly, a country that will not ask you to sing, but will ask you to be patient? Forget about that. You're going to write the Lusiads, you're going to be rich, and the country will love you till you die.
LC (com um encolher de ombros desanimado): If you say so. But I'd much prefer that people remembered me years from now, maybe even centuries from now. At any rate, I don't think the King will be too please with what I'm going to write.
DC: Oh, stop that. I told you, the King is young and stupid, he'll love anything. And forget those dreams of immortality, you know very well you're not Homer. You're still great, don't get me wrong, but isn't it more important to earn good money instead of having a bunch of kids reading your books in school hundreds of years from now? I think the answer is quite obvious.
Fade out
E depois disto, o filme abre com uma cena mais que épica, a proa gigante de uma nau a cortar o oceano, ou coisa assim, e banda sonora ribombante.
Sei que é quase pecaminoso pôr o Camões a falar inglês. Mas isto seria apenas e só um estratagema para o tornar mais conhecido no mundo inteiro, para as pessoas terem muita curiosidade para depois aprenderem português e ler os Lusíadas em todo o esplendor da língua original.
Espero que resulte. Agora só me falta escrever o guião versão blockbuster americano adaptado dos Lusíadas. Vai ser fácil, fácil.
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