The Challenge is my adaptation of my father’s bestselling/blockbusting My Uncle Jacinto. In my adaptation, bullfighting becomes boxing, Madrid/La Quinta becomes Cape Town/Mandela Park, and the 1940s become the 2010s. I have submitted the script to IFFR/International Film Festival Rotterdam, where I applied for production grants to produce the film in Cape Town with Tim Spring (Raw Target, Reason to Die, etc.) as the director. They called it “a near miss” and "too Hollywood." The script is available only in English and Spanish.

 

                                                                                           1. SYNOPSIS

 

The Challenge is an adaptation of my father’s (Andres Laszlo Senior) bestselling My Uncle Jacinto/Mi Tio Jacinto, a blockbuster movie starring Pablito Calvo and directed by Ladislao Vajda. A prominent Paris newspaper wrote: ‘Nothing like this has been written since The Little Prince.’ In my hands, Mi Tio Jacinto’s Madrid, La Quinta, 1940s and bullfighting become Cape Town, Mandela Park, 2010s and boxing.

The story revolves around Tiger and Baba—a prematurely old, rheumatic, not particularly bright, drunken former boxing prodigy who only retains a hint of imaginary honour, remarkable speed, and the burden of justifying his existence through the upbringing of his nephew. In an ironic turn of events, Baba is mistakenly selected to participate in a ‘Challenge-the-Champ boxing extravaganza,’ where anyone from the public can challenge the old former champ. Baba, caught in a paradox—primarily to prove to his nephew, whom he believes he is looking after, that he is not the down-and-out drunkard that most people claim he is—accepts the challenge. Tiger—a cuddly, bright, fast, and fun-loving seven-year-old who has so far successfully evaded school and is undoubtedly the more street-wise of the two—knows he is looking after his uncle. The rest of the story unfolds as they scavenge for the money needed to rent the outfit and the boxing matches.

The beginning. It rains in Mandela Park township, and Tiger builds a waterwheel, nearly drowning his sleeping uncle. A letter from the boxing promoter arrives but is not taken seriously. Tiger and Baba travel to the town centre for their daily scavenging. While collecting cigarette butts, they spot a poster proclaiming Baba as the champ to be challenged: this can no longer be neglected. An upset Baba calls on the promoter to protest but ultimately accepts the champ role. Baba, too proud to receive assistance, claims he has the necessary boxing gear.

The middle describes the exigencies and tricks through which they ultimately manage to secure the funds needed to rent the gear, all while the threat of separation—in the forms of a fake-watch-puller, a musician, the police, a children’s court, a real criminal, etc.—draws ever closer. Their day unfolds against a backdrop of the full spectrum of Cape Town’s criminality, from reusing stamps to serious offences. As a last resort, Baba, dishonouring himself, attempts to sell a fake watch with Tiger’s assistance; they are caught. Baba is on the brink of going to jail, and Tiger is about to be sent to a children’s court. Dishonour and separation seem inevitable; the gear shop is about to close, and Baba—amicably, logically, and convincingly—is told that he should ‘give the poor kid a chance’: that he’s no good for the boy.

The end begins with Baba, devastated, being sent off with a warning. Next, Tiger manages to extricate himself from trouble, persuades the gear renter to extend credit to Baba, finds Baba, and takes him to the clothes shop. We then follow them, with Baba dressed for battle, on the bus to the stadium, where Baba successfully faces his first opponents—he still has his speed. However, he becomes carried away by his desire for honour and makes the mistake of accepting the challenge from an athlete twice his size, who has been sent to kill him; in this challenge, the danger of separation takes its final physical form. Baba puts up a famous fight but is ultimately down, out, and made to look foolish. Baba has lost what justified his existence—his honour—and the boy has witnessed his ultimate humiliation. Baba hesitantly approaches to bid farewell to his crying nephew. Don’t be silly; of course, it has a happy ending… if you choose to interpret it that way.

NB 1. The book contains 70 excellent illustrations that can serve as ‘a version 1 storyboard’.

NB 2. I have written (an illustrated children’s book available in six languages) inspired by My Uncle Jacinto, which I have turned into a script. However, if this is legally regarded as a remake of My Uncle Jacinto (blockbuster movie 1956), the rights to the remake may not belong to me but to Enrique Cerezo Torres (Atletico Madrid’s manager).

NB 3. My father’s movie—My Uncle Jacinto, which inspired this book and script—must be one of the most popular children’s movies ever, not animated.

This is a huge project—Odin, Vikings, adventures, terrorism, Islam, Swedish feminism, and much more—and its first two semi-presentable book drafts are now seeing the light of day (in English and Swedish). I believe these texts will eventually become movies. However, as I have been working in two languages simultaneously, quite foolishly, this has resulted in more headaches than high-quality finished text. Therefore, the most pressing question is, “Shall I proceed in English or Swedish?” I would not be able to develop these scripts to the standard I desire without the assistance of a publisher or production company.

Before leaving his homeland (Austro-Hungary), Senior moved into the famous Turkish Baths of Budapest (the "seal castle") to save on rent. In this book, which is primarily a love story, we follow the protagonist, a handsome actor who becomes the object of affection for an upper-class girl who falls in love with him against the backdrop of the girl's life, the lives of other "seals," and their various survival schemes. I am not fond of love stories (yet even I can see that there is plenty of potential), and while the ending is strong, I need help making it work cinematically. The Seal Castle is now available in English for the first time. The story, which rings uncomfortably true to my ears, can be seen as ‘part I’ in a self-biographic work where The Crab’s Rhapsody forms the other half.

 

 

Doña Juana must have once been a theater script, but the original score has been lost. What was published in Spanish instead was "a script dressed up as a novella" (Senior's Spanish publishers probably didn't publish theater scripts). Senior worked as a stage manager and a theater director in his youth, but I do not believe Doña Juana was ever staged (but if so, it must have been back in the 1930s). However, it was performed by Marcel Marceau as a mime in the 1960s. I have reverted this text into a script. I want to see this play staged. This is my pitch to have it staged.

 

 

                                                                                                    THE SCORE PAGE 1 – 10

 

                                                                                                   ACT I                       SCENE 1

 

Late at night, prude- and dazed-looking party-dressed JUANITA enters the empty library of a lavish estate, shutting the door behind her. The sounds of a party and an orchestra playing drift from upstairs. She hesitates in the darkness, illuminated only by a flickering beam from a lighthouse streaming through a window. She switches on a bright chandelier that momentarily blinds her, then turns it off. Standing in the shadows beside a bookshelf, she awaits the return of the lighthouse beam. She looks for a book when the light reappears, but finds it not. She crosses the room, switches on a small lamp, and carries it to the bookcase. There, she discovers an enormous book with an antique metal lock; she cradles it against her chest: ‘Don Juan Tenorio.’

 

JUANITA:                              (To herself/the book) Oh, Don Juan, I wish you were here to guide me...

 

JUANITA retrieves a massive key, carries the book to a table, places the lamp beside it, unlocks it, opens it, and sits down. As she looks towards US, DON JUAN’s head emerges from the book. JUANITA, who does not see DON JUAN (who observes her with interest), sighs and uses her toes to remove her shoes (DON JUAN follows her every move). She leans back to rub her head against the chair's headrest until her hairstyle comes undone; she then removes her glasses. As her hair falls over her shoulders, we see she is beautiful, as does DON JUAN. She sighs, puts her large tortoiseshell glasses back on (DON JUAN shakes his head), and as she turns towards the book, DON JUAN sinks back into it. 

 

JUANITA:                              (To herself as about to open the book) Now, Don Juan, what advice do you have for me?

 

JUANITA is interrupted by voices drifting down the stairs outside the library. She switches off the light. Her fiancé, PABLO, and THE GIRL appear, walking hand in hand; they pause at the possibly closed library door, dressed in festive Spanish party attire. THE GIRL wears a white dress that accentuates the childishness of her figure, a coat casually draped over her shoulders, and a grey crocodile leather handbag. WE think: ‘Spoilt American brat, trying to look Spanish.’ They release each other's hands.

(NOTE: THE GIRL could easily be reduced to ‘a voice’, thus reducing the number of actors).

 

THE GIRL:                           (Turning to face PABLO) So?

 

PABLO:                                (Pretending not to understand) ‘So’ what? 

 

THE GIRL:                           Have you decided?

 

PABLO:                                (Hesitatingly) I can't. Not now.

 

THE GIRL:                           (Close to tears) So…, so you're not coming with us?

 

PABLO:                                But sweetheart, you must understand that one cannot resolve a situation simply by running away from it.

 

THE GIRL:                           (Shouting) Oh, for heaven's sake! I'm not trying to force you into anything. I mean, if it's too much for you, I… (Stammering) I mean, it wasn't as if I started all this.

 

PABLO:                                  (Loudly, almost violently) What do you mean, ‘You didn't start all this!’

 

JUANITA, trembling, tiptoes towards the door separating the library from the staircase. Meanwhile, DON JUAN, in his forties, handsome and clad in top hat and tails—unnoticed by JUANITA, who is listening at the door—embarks on a cumbersome and comical escape from the book in which he has been imprisoned.

(NOTE: DON JUAN’s escape from the book, if done well (maybe impossible), will be remembered).

 

THE GIRL:                           Don't be so insolent! Do you hear me? What you’ve just proven is that what we Americans say about you Spaniards is perfectly true. You talk and talk, and that's all there is to it. You appear full of passion and love, and then what? Nothing! (Calming herself) This very afternoon, at the tennis courts, you promised to follow me, if necessary, to the ends of the earth. And I, the poor fool, believed you! Had you been a man of integrity, you would have arrived here with your passport in your pocket.

 

PABLO:                                Don't be like that! I haven't been dishonest! I have decided to come with you—to elope with you to Tjin… (Hesitating, then more warmly) Here's my passport. (Pats his back pocket) But I can't run away with you tonight—I simply can’t.

 

THE GIRL:                           Don't you want me anymore?

 

PABLO:                                Want you? Me...? I...? (Stammers) I've never said I wanted you.

 

THE GIRL:                           (Taken aback) What!

 

PABLO:                                  I'm deeply in love with you, deeply, but I don't really want you. Those two are different things.

 

THE GIRL:                           Where did all this come from? (Cynically) And what about her, your precious Juanita? Are you in love with her too?

 

PABLO:                               Well, no, not exactly, but her I really want, and that's part of the issue.

 

THE GIRL:                           Well, you're not making any sense, and since I've never known you to be subtle, that makes me suspicious.

 

PABLO:                               (Pause, then almost to himself) We've been betrothed since we were toddlers. We had barely begun to walk, and now… (Suddenly paying attention to THE GIRL) How could you possibly comprehend these matters? The one thing I'm sure of is that I can't just approach her—coldly, with a suitcase in one hand, my passport in the other, and a smile on my face—and say, ‘Listen, Juanita, I'm leaving. I'm running away with this girl I've known for only a few days. May I have your blessing?’

 

THE GIRL:                           You're burying yourself under a load of old-fashioned sentimental rubbish! We're not in a museum, are we? And your arguments are riddled with holes. In any case, don't worry. I shan't force you to leave this posh place. But if I were to say something important, I would say: ‘Now the time has come for you to choose between love and want, assuming there is such a big difference!’ And worst of all, I've already told Daddy about you. He has arranged a cabin for you on our yacht, sending an important actor home by aeroplane, and as we are expected to arrive in Gibraltar early tomorrow, you'll need to be on board no later than half an hour after he signals us. (Looking at her watch). And now I'm off! The car is waiting, and I don't want Daddy to worry about me, but I'll send it back to collect you if you happen to be interested. (Holding out her hand) Well then, I suppose I'll see you soon or never again.

 

PABLO:                               (Shouting, trying to contain himself) Please, love! If you carry on like this, as much as I adore you… (Softly) I'm just asking for some time: just a measly forty-eight hours. Go away, and don't worry; I'll sort everything out, and in two days, we'll meet in Gibraltar. But you must accept that I won’t behave like a pig despite my feelings for you.

 

THE GIRL:                           No, my darling and I am not trying to make you behave like one; on the contrary, I'm trying to encourage you to act like a man.

 

PABLO:                                  (Suddenly furious) Now listen!

 

JUANITA keeps listening intently. DON JUAN—who has now, much to OUR amusement, managed to escape the book—sits down in the dark back of the library, barely visible to US.

 

THE GIRL:                           (Realising she has overstepped, flirtatiously) Don't be like that. I just want you to understand that whenever something good is accomplished in the world, it originates from love, never pity.

 

PABLO:                               You must understand… we've spent our entire childhood and adolescence together; we've always been there for each other in a way that’s so special, so unique that… Do you understand? That's how we've grown up together, and she has never stopped being the one constant in my life—steady, decent, and pure. No matter what I've been up to—whether in the military, flying about in aeroplane competitions, or simply being out rumbling all night—there has always been an image of certainty deep within me. In there has lived a single blemish: it’s of Juanita, deeply engrossed in a book, searching for an answer to whatever bothered or intrigued her, wearing her enormous tortoiseshell glasses. And though I haven't always thought of her, she has always lived within me: I carry her with me because she is a part of who I am.

 

JUANITA cannot help but lower her head slightly, battling the turmoil within her.

 

THE GIRL:                           And her, do you love her too?

 

JUANITA raises her head, paying close attention.

 

PABLO:                                I want her! I've told you that!

 

THE GIRL:                           Is she in love with you?

 

PABLO:                               Of course she is!

 

THE GIRL:                           What do you mean ‘of course’? You just told me how big a difference there is between wanting someone and being in love.

 

PABLO:                               Don't dissect my words, woman! When I'm distinguishing between want and love, I speak of men. Women are different. With you, it's impossible to draw that distinction.

 

The hoarse sound of a distant yacht's siren reaches the library: THE GIRL's father is summoning them to come.

 

THE GIRL:                           Daddy is growing impatient. I must leave now, but I'm very sad that I'm about to lose you for no better reason than your foolish stubbornness.

 

PABLO:                               The day after tomorrow, I will be in Gibraltar.

 

THE GIRL:                           We're leaving at midday tomorrow, so we'll be halfway to the Azores the day after tomorrow because Daddy must be in New York by Monday.

 

PABLO tries his best but is unable to control his impatience.

 

THE GIRL:                           (Moving closer to PABLO, running her fingers through his hair) What a mess! But let's be clear about who’s responsible for it!

 

PABLO:                               You are so incredibly unfair!

 

THE GIRL:                           If she loves you as much as you claim—and if you can communicate with her as though she were a part of you, as you say you can—then she would understand and even encourage you to leave.

 

PABLO:                                (Thoughtful) Yes, perhaps... Perhaps she would understand. Do you really think so…?

 

THE GIRL:       (Sweetly) Would you like me to speak to her? (Swiftly) Where is she?

 

PABLO:                                  Probably in her room. 

 

The girl prepares to head upstairs, but Pablo stops her.

 

PABLO:                                  No! Don't! I'll tell her.

 

The yacht's siren sounds again, louder and more impatient. THE GIRL is on the verge of speaking, but PABLO interrupts her. 

 

PABLO:                                  Just leave. Don't worry. Send the car back as soon as you reach the jetty. I'll be on it—God willing, with her blessing—in under an hour.

 

A car honks nearby: her lift to the yacht.

 

THE GIRL:                           Are you sure?

 

PABLO:                               Totally. 

 

THE GIRL:                           That's why I love you so!

 

PABLO and the GIRL embrace. 

 

THE GIRL:                           I must leave now! Farewell, Pablo! (Pause) Until we meet again, my... my Don Juan!

 

                                                                                                   ACT I                       SCENE 2

 

JUANITA drags herself to her seat, tears trickling down her cheeks as she peers into the darkness.

 

JUANITA:                           (Whispering) A Don Juan... Is that really who you are?

 

DON JUAN:                        (From the back of the library, in a clear but drowsy voice) Indeed, that is who I am.

 

JUANITA, startled, looks around in the darkness. Seeing no one, she puts on her glasses and points the lamp at the voice.

 

DON JUAN:                        (Protecting his eyes from the sharp light) Will you stop that!

 

JUANITA:                              Who are you?

 

DON JUAN:                        Don Juan.

 

JUANITA:                           ‘Don Juan,’ who?

 

DON JUAN:                        Just Don Juan.

 

JUANITA:                           I would like you to tell me more precisely who you are.

 

DON JUAN:                        Many people have asked me to tell them precisely the same thing.

 

JUANITA:                           And what are you doing here?

 

DON JUAN:                        Sleeping.

 

JUANITA:                           In the library?

 

DON JUAN:                        I'm one of those rare individuals with a conscience clean enough to sleep in a library, even in the dark. However, though it has been half a century since I last saw the light of this place, I am not sure this is a good idea.

 

Juanita gazes at him, a hint of fear crossing her face. In a rush, she grabs her bag, planning to leave. 

 

JUANITA:                           (Emotional, whispering) Excuse me, but the guests...

 

DON JUAN:                        (Interrupting, ironic) Oh yes, they must be missing you, mustn't they? But rather than entertaining them, you would prefer to run away to a place where you can weep alone, away from the eloping young man so that he won't find you.

 

JUANITA:                           How do you know about that? Have you been eavesdropping?

 

DON JUAN:                        I heard everything.

 

JUANITA:                           (With a sad smile) ‘Sleeping,’ were you?

 

DON JUAN:                        (Smiling) While I sleep, I often hear words of love, and upon waking, I remember.

 

JUANITA:                          (Hesitant, attempting to leave) Well, I guess I’ll head back to see the guests!

 

DON JUAN:                        (Sarcastically) I've always been a passionate admirer of female heroism.

 

JUANITA:                           (Proudly) Go ahead and poke fun at me, but I’d rather face the music and give him the blessing he's about to ask for.

 

DON JUAN:                        (Theatrically) Such nobility! Such stoicism!

 

JUANITA:                           (Haughtily, close to tears) Enjoy yourself on my behalf all you like. I'm more noble and self-sacrificing than you can imagine…, even as I finally understand how much I love him.

 

DON JUAN:                        For now, in this very moment, yes.

 

JUANITA:                           For now, from before, and for always.

 

DON JUAN:                        That's not true. You only fell in love with him the moment you discovered that someone else desired him, and then doubly so when you realised he intended to leave with her.

 

JUANITA:                            You know nothing about us. You come from another world. You're from... I have no idea where you're from.

 

JUANITA lowers her head, concentrates on the book, and then glances curiously at DON JUAN, inviting him to say something to break the awkward silence. DON JUAN teasingly remains silent. 

 

JUANITA:                            (Almost to herself) I feel like I've been ripped into two. As if... 

 

DON JUAN—curious, ironic, and smiling—listens attentively, remaining silent. 

 

JUANITA:                           (Continues) As if he were as much mine as I was his. I never imagined that one day, some foreigner would come along, simply tearing us apart and taking him away. (Pauses) What have I done to deserve such a dreadful fate?

                                                                  

DON JUAN:                        (Pausing to reflect) You could always join a convent. 

 

JUANITA:                           What? 

 

DON JUAN:                        Forgive me—anaemia, insomnia, barbiturate poisoning, existential novels, and an excessive amount of wine—and each year, your glasses prescription grows by a quarter of a dioptre. You're right: not a good idea.

 

JUANITA:                           (Not listening. To herself) And when I imagine them together on the yacht, beneath the starry night sky, embracing each other, dreaming of the future... Then she, clad entirely in white like a porcelain doll, at the town hall in Cincinnati. And he, in the morning coat Father's tailors made for him... It's unbearable!

 

JUANITA collapses into the armchair and bursts into tears. Suddenly adopting a serious demeanour, DON JUAN stands up and approaches her. 

 

DON JUAN:                        I'm genuinely surprised that your childish ramblings have managed to move me. Equally, I'm astonished that, well into the twentieth century, a nearly fully grown woman will opt to weep and despair rather than say ‘en garde’ or at least attempt to think clearly.

 

JUANITA:                           (Not listening. To herself) Why shouldn't I find a sharp knife and put an end to it all? (To DON JUAN, pathetically) My God, what is there left for me?

 

DON JUAN:                        As for your first question: because you do not truly love him.

 

JUANITA:                           (To the heavens/sealing) Why? Why? Why?

 

DON JUAN:                        And as for your second, although it was likely not aimed at me: many things. It entirely depends on what you wish to achieve.

 

JUANITA:                           (Looking at him sternly, then shouting violently) The impossible!

 

DON JUAN:                        That he doesn't leave?

 

JUANITA:                           Of course!

 

DON JUAN:                        (Smiling, enticed) And that seems impossible to you?

 

JUANITA:                           How can it not be? What could I possibly do? Ask him to stay out of compassion? Plead with him? Humiliate myself? That would lead to a future I… I'd rather he left!

 

DON JUAN:                        Bravissimo! Well said! But with such a clear mind, why don't you instead use it to make him beg you to let him stay?

 

JUANITA:                           (Astonished) Beg? Him? Me? To stay?

 

DON JUAN:                        Yes, begging, him you, to. 

 

JUANITA:                           That's absurd! I couldn't...

 

DON JUAN:                        Perhaps not alone, but with a bit of help...

 

JUANITA:                           (JUANITA gazes at DON JUAN with surprise and suspicion, attempting to decipher him. Then, a hint of hope in her voice.) If this is a jest, you are an exceedingly cruel person.

 

DON JUAN:                        I have neither motive nor reason to be cruel; furthermore, it is not in my nature. I simply suggest you employ the most manageable of all love's weapons: to make him stay, the same that he, albeit unintentionally, uses to make you suffer.

 

JUANITA:                           What weapon is that?

 

DON JUAN:                        Vanity. 

 

JUANITA:                           Vanity? 

 

DON JUAN:                        Of course. But I'm not sure (Pauses) you'd be happier if he stayed.

 

JUANITA:                           Of course I would!

 

DON JUAN:                        You may say that now, but the so-called love that currently overwhelms you—no matter how profound, immeasurable, and everlasting it seems—will extinguish itself the very moment the yacht departs without him.

 

JUANITA:                           I must confess that I don't entirely understand everything you are saying. However, I can’t help but notice an unusual and somewhat impressive quality about you: one that peculiarly inspires almost absolute confidence. (To herself) Probably, it's all due to my desperation... (Resolute, turning to DON JUAN) Tell me what to do, and I shall do it!

 

DON JUAN:                       (Nodding slowly with an ironic smile) Amen. (Firmly) So, what do you truly desire?

 

JUANITA:                          I want him to stay. 

 

DON JUAN:                        In or out of love?

 

JUANITA:                           In! Of course!

 

DON JUAN:                        With whom?

 

JUANITA:                           What?

 

DON JUAN:                        You can choose: in love with you, her, both of you, himself, or someone else?

 

JUANITA:                           With me!

 

DON JUAN:                        And of that, you are sure.

 

JUANITA:                           Yes!

 

DON JUAN:                        And only you?

 

JUANITA:                           Of course!

 

DON JUAN:                        If that's what you wish...

 

JUANITA:                           With all my heart!

 

DON JUAN:                        And you are ready to live with the consequences?

 

JUANITA:                           Absolutely!

 

DON JUAN:                        All the consequences?

 

JUANITA:                           Yes!

 

DON JUAN:                        Amen. Then that's how it shall be.

 

JUANITA:                          What do I have to do?

 

DON JUAN:                        Obey two masters.

 

JUANITA:                           Who are they?

 

DON JUAN:                        I am one, and your feminine instincts are the other. In a few moments, he will come through that door with a suitcase, prepared to speak with

you. Then, as…

 

We hear footsteps approaching. DON JUAN extends his arm and forcefully and passionately pulls JUANITA towards himself.

 

 

 

 

 

Karl, a sculptor, escapes WWII to Tangiers (Morocco). One evening, he finds his (3-4 year old) son at his doorstep with a letter: You wanted a son without the mother: here he is. Do not try to find out who I am. X. As the war ends, the boy asks his father to find his mother. There are three possible women, and Kurt goes in search: Naples, Paris, and Avila. This is the first of my father’s three major novels and the only one not adapted into a film. It has been significantly improved (especially regarding content editing, which it initially never received) as it was adapted for cinema and, for the first time, translated into English. I am contemplating working on this book towards a synopsis/scenario, but I need ideas regarding the structure. A straight/traditional timeline is not an option, and I am thinking something "a la Tarantino". Mother Unknown was about to become a movie at Senior's demise, and though there was a script that got lost, I still retain Senior's synopsis. This is Senior’s strongest novel.

Andres Laszlo Sr. wrote My Uncle Jacinto/Mi Tio Jacinto in 1955, and it quickly became a blockbuster movie (Ladislao Vajda produced, Pablito Calvo starred). Today, the movie is a regular contender for a top position in the Spanish or Hispanic "all-time" categories at film festivals. Given its popularity, it’s surprising that no one has approached me about turning it into an animated film. I consider it one of the most popular children’s books and family movies that have never been animated. I am seeking an agent to find someone to adapt either 'My Uncle Jacinto ' or my adaptation, 'The Challenge,' into an animated movie.

Whereas the original book version of ‘Paco Never Fails’ emphasised the anthropological aspect and was a historical drama, the film focused on strong, dark comedy. The original book had crime undertones, and one can sense how Senior considered adding a murder-suicide mystery dimension. This genre was not as popular at the time as it is today.

Although some new producers have been attempting to acquire the adaptation rights, which could potentially be on the horizon, I have started, though it’s still early days, to re-adapt the original text into the murder mystery it nearly became. I have some ideas about a 7-episode mini-series for television, set in Mumbai or Goa—not because I spend my winters there, but because it (especially "Portuguese" Goa) would provide an even better backdrop than Madrid, as in the original.

Paco Never Fails is originally set in Madrid in the early 1940s, just after the end of the Spanish Civil War. Here, we meet Paco Garcia, who earns his living by fathering children with young girls from the countryside: girls who have come to Madrid to create better lives for themselves as wet nurses (following unwanted pregnancies) and, sooner or later, need to boost their milk flow. Although this profession is rarely discussed, at that time (allegedly, it still was in 2012), it was a very real occupation, and the impregnator most likely to succeed, i.e., ‘who never failed,’ was the one in highest demand. 

However, Paco has failed once, so when his wife finally becomes pregnant, this father of thousands realises… This impregnation was an occupation also in India, and since I stay in and around Mumbai (mainly in Goa, which, with its Portuguese influence, is probably a better setting than Mumbai to make the story more dramatic, contrasting, and believable)... I would like to develop a Goa script for Bollywood and require expert assistance both anthropologically (for reality-check) and for "Bollywood style dramatisation."

Completing my own book-writing projects, alongside translating and enhancing Senior’s texts for a more commercial appeal, has been my focus for the past 20 years. This effort has led to numerous texts intended for “further refinement towards the silver screen,” and I intend henceforth to (in principle) progress from idea >> structure >> synopsis >> scenario >> treatment >> script. Of course, I was tempted to begin this process 10 years ago, and one reason I didn’t was that I believed I should first prepare our texts for the cinema. Although there are currently three scripts at various stages of development, the primary aspect of “scripts” concerns yet-to-be-developed ideas: old movies, short stories, and novels that have the potential to become new scripts. 

"Movies" discuss the three films made from Andres Laszlo Senior's texts and scripts, as well as the lack of payment from the corporations that have broadcast these films (or from the individuals/organisations that have sold the rights to these broadcasting corporations, "forgetting" about my father and his rights to royalties as a writer/co-writer of the original text and/or film script). "Scripts" explore the possibility of new films/scripts: a new adaptation of Paco Never Fails, a script for Mother Unknown, an animated version of My Uncle Jacinto, discovering new script ideas in The Laszlo & Laszlo Chronicles, which contains 45 short stories, and the potential staging of Dona Juana as a theatre play or operetta. Additionally, my The Challenge already exists as a script.  VIDEO

The Challenge is inspired by Andres Laszlo Sr.'s bestselling (and, as a film, blockbusting) book My Uncle Jacinto. As a novel, it occupies a space between adult and youth fiction (somewhat akin to The Little Prince, with which it shares many similarities). My father could "get away with this" - i.e., publishing in between genres - as he was, at the time, an established writer. My adaptation, The Challenge, also straddles genres, but as a film, all those issues disappear, and it firmly resides within the "Family Movie" category. Watch the VIDEO.