dovezi ca jurnalismul, teatrul, filmul nu vor muri

Human minds yield helplessly to the suction of story. No matter how hard we concentrate, no matter how deep we dig in our heels, we just can’t resist the gravity of alternate worlds.

o spune un domn – Jonathan Gottschall – care a scris o carte pe nume The Storytelling Animal: How Stories Make Us Human. vorbele lui, foarte adevarate, sunt cea mai buna demonstratie ca atit de mult timp cit vom spune o poveste prin jurnalism/teatru/film publicul va fi impresionat si ne va urmari.

aici intervine insa smekeria: conteaza insa felul in care vom reusi sa spunem povestea – in pas cu timpurile, intr-o forma adaptata mintii celui care o primeste, dar – mai ales – cu emotie.

iata un exemplu minunat ca poti citi cu rasuflarea taiata un text lung, foarte lung, daca are un subiect puternic si e scris in asa fel incit transmite emotie.

The Boy Who Heard Too Much
Written by David Kushner, ROLLING STONE

He was a 14-year-old blind kid, angry and alone. Then he discovered that he possessed a strange and fearsome superpower – one that put him in the cross hairs of the FBI

It began, as it always did, with a phone call to 911. “Now listen here,” the caller demanded, his voice frantic. “I’ve got two people here held hostage, all right? Now, you know what happens to people that are held hostage? It’s not like on the movies or nothing, you understand that?”
“OK,” the 911 operator said.

“One of them here’s name is Danielle, and her father,” the caller continued. “And the reason why I’m doing this is because her father raped my sister.”

The caller, who identified himself as John Defanno, said that he had the 18-year-old Danielle and her dad tied up in their home in Security, a suburb of Colorado Springs. He’d beaten the father with his gun. “He’s bleeding profusely,” Defanno warned. “I am armed, I do have a pistol. If any cops come in this house with any guns, I will fucking shoot them. I better get some help here, because I’m going fucking psycho right now.”

The 911 operator tried to keep him on the line, but Defanno cut the call short. “I’m not talking anymore,” he snapped. “You have the address. If I don’t have help here now, in the next five minutes, I swear to fucking God, I will shoot these people.” Then the line went dead.

Officers raced to the house, ready for an armed standoff with a homicidal suspect. But when they arrived, they found no gunman, no hostages, no blood. Danielle and her father were safe and sound at home — alone. They had never heard of John Defanno, for good reason: He didn’t exist.

“John Defanno” was actually a 15-year-old boy named Matthew Weigman — a fat, lonely blind kid who lived with his mom in a working-class neighborhood of East Boston. In person, Weigman was a shy and awkward teenager with a shaved head who spent his days holed up in his room, often talking for up to 20 hours a day on free telephone chat lines.


restul textului e aici. cititi-l pina la capat si uitati-va la cit de curat e prezentat eroul. informatie pura, fara pareri personale, fara judecati.

e un text din 2009.

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