A LETTER FROM THE AUTHOR OF DOÑA BARBARA

I've written before about the distance between the public's perceptions about a telenovela and what really happens in the show's creative process. In particular, there is considerable distance between what the audience knows about the writing process and what actually happens in the mind and soul of telenovela writers. 

Today I bring a document that bridges the latter distance in a significant way. This document is a window in to the mind (and heart) of the writer who tackled the very difficult job of transforming the Venezuelan classic literary novel Doña Bárbara (Rómulo Gallegos) into telenovela format: Valentina Párraga.  This Telemundo telenovela polarized its audience members, who were vocal in their positions regarding the main love story triangle of Doña Bárbara-Santos-Marisela.

After the telenovela's last episode was broadcast, Valentina wrote me a letter where she reflects on her journey writing Doña Bárbara. It's an honest analysis that illuminates the effort behind writing a telenovela and the ever-present tensions between the genre's commercial and creative requirements. Generously, Valentina has agreed that I share her letter with my blog readers. You can read it in Spanish or in English. And, then, let the conversation start in the comments section of this blog! 

LA DOÑA'S END

Doña Bárbara is over. This is a telenovela that brought many "hits" to a post I wrote in this blog, (particularly to its version in  English). This telenovela was very interesting to me for several reasons:

1. It's the adaptation in long format(191 episodes) of a literary novel that doesn't have enough dramatic situations for such lenght. Hence, writer Valentina Párraga did magic in her immense effort to reign the storylines of her telenovela. 
   
2. The telenovela was particularly successful in the U.S. market as it gathered loyal fans who followed every episode.
3. It was the perfect telenovela to watch at the same time I was studying Venezuelan telenovela  La Vida Entera. Both provided fodder for constant comparisons among them, which were very productive for my research process. Both telenovelas included women in positions of power and authority in environments dominated and defined by men.  Both telenovelas developed well a number of secondary plots. 
4. Doña Bárbara has high production values and is an excellent example of the "Telemundo model."  

I wrote in this blog about the difference between the "Doña" that lives in my mind and the one personifed by actor Edith González. This discrepancy was always present. Telemundo's Doña never had the face of Gallegos' guaricha. However, Edith González's performance had such nuances and strenght that I learned to see her Doña Bárbara as a different woman, not Rómulo Gallegos', but one that had a life of her own and a particular magnetism. Even though she was never "my" Doña, Edith's Bárbara made me reflect on the issues of women and power, the definition of the feminine, and the place that betrayal, revenge and sensuality occupy in every telenovela. Edith González managed to project correctly each of her Doña's vital relationships; both the negative ones (her rapists), and the positive ones (Marisela, Eustaquia, el Brujeador y Juan Primito). I believed all of them and all of her.

In Doña Bárbara I was reassured once again that one of the most productive dramatic situations is: mother and daughter in love with the same man. There's always much to tell since it's really three complicated love stories in parallel: Santos-Bárbara, Santos-Marisela and Bárbara-Marisela.

The final episode used all the tools of the genre to remind us why we care about these characters and their resolutions and why THAT is the resolution:  flashbacks, time ellipses, characters talking directly to the camera and special events, such as the wedding of  Pajarote and Genoveva.

The final image was the one I expected: a bongo, the river Arauca heading to the infinite, and the Doña and her beloved dead. It's a Doña redeemed by a new, more luminous, life, and by her ultimate sacrifice for her daughter's happiness. 

A fitting end for a telenovela.

MIT Communication Forum

I'm still in Caracas. Soon I'll return to Athens, GA and UGA, where I'll be able to write about my experiences during the last days of telenovela La Vida Entera.

My post today is short and related to a previous experience. Back in April I participated in the MIT Communications Forum, which was also the kickoff event of the Media in Transition Conference. The forum's topic was  "Global Media" and the panelists have expertise in different and fascinating areas: Bollywood, films, media consumption in Malawi and telenovelas. Here you can read a summary of the session and some of the Q&A.

Here you can watch the video of the whole session. The format was short presentations (10-15 minutes) of each panelist, followed by Q&A. My presentation is the second and you can find it approximately on minute 14. However, I highly recommend watching the complete forum because every  presentation and question is worthy of being watched. 

VALENTINA PARRAGA IN MY TELENOVELA CLASS

Last week writer Valentina Párraga visited my telenovelas seminar. She is an intelligent and charming guest who shared with us her experience writing telenovelas in Venezuela  (Viva la Pepa and Trapos Intimos, just to name the two most recent ones) and now in Telemundo (Anita no te rajes and Doña Bárbara). These two groups of telenovelas represent a contrast in style that is determined by the undeniable differences between the Venezuelan and the U.S. audience. 

It's always interesting for me to confirm once again that there is an immense distance between the public's perception (as expressed in message boards and gathered in my research) and the tough reality of writing a telenovela. This distance is encouraged by the entertainment press' trivialization of the telenovela writing job and its emphasis on gossip and rumors. 

From a teaching perspective, I believe that it's important for my students to understand the difficulties and stress involved in the everyday life of telenovela writing, a job that takes over the lives of its makers. They spend many hours at their computer keyboards at a time in their lives that is dominated by their telenovela characters and plots, while they try to win the ratings war. 

Following is a brief video where you can hear Valentina Párraga describing her daily routine as she writes Doña Bárbara:

We thank Valentina for her time, warmth and honesty.

WITHOUT "TETAS" THERE'S NO TITLE, BUT ONLY IN SPANISH

Sin Tetas No Hay Paraíso, based on the book authored by Colombian investigative reporter Gustavo Bolívar, tells the story of siblings Catalina and Byron, who chose the paths of prostitution and sicariato (paid hit man) to escape from poverty. Both paths are inextricably linked to narco traffic. This mini-series (I think it's too short to be called a telenovela) was originally produced by  Caracol in Colombia. Sin Tetas is a  show with a clear lesson dispensed after its "The End:" 



Translation: One may think that just by being pretty or by having a gun you can reach paradise. That money makes you somebody, that a kiss is a coin, and a checkbook is a hug. That to study is a waste of time. As if becoming a prostitute and becoming someone else's merchandise, or living from killing others, were better than finding an honest job. The truth is that to be somebody in life, you don't have to be rich. To be somebody is to be, increasingly, owner of our own destiny. To read, write, substract, add, to study, to understand. To be able to fly and be proud of ourselves, of the struggles and triumphs that we have lived through without damaging others. The truth is that to be somebody in life you need to love, love yourself and be loved. To be somebody you don't need to elicit envy because you have money. No, to be somebody means to walk straight with your head up and without the need to hide. It means too live without nightmares and to be able to sleep soundly. The truth is that one can believe that just by being pretty, of by having a gun, you can reach paradise. But, money isn't paradise. And for paradise there aren't any shortcuts.

In similar fashion as the case of Yo soy Betty, la fea, the international market has fallen in love with this story, which has been broadcast in many countries. Its rights have also been acquired to produce several remakes. Each country that has broadcast Sin Tetas, or one of its remakes, has had to decide whether to leave the title unchanged or not since the word "tetas" ("tits") is considered vulgar in several Spanish-speaking cultures. For example,  here's a promotional for the series in Puerto Rico. The word "tetas" is never said. In its place, there's a graphic:



Here, in the United States, Telemundo (owned by NBC) bought the rights for Sin Tetas No Hay Paraíso with the idea of producing it in Spanish with English sub-titles for the Spanish-speaking and English-speaking audiences.

How do you handle the title of this novela when Latinos in the United States come from a number of countries in which the acceptance of the word "tetas" varies? 

What title do you use in English? "Without Tits, There's No Paradise"? Or, "Without Breasts, There's No Paradise"?

Look at the teaser from Telemundo productions. It's narrated in English and uses English sub-titles:



In this teaser, we can read the title in Spanish,  "Sin Tetas No Hay Paraíso" without the narrator ever saying it (0:51). At the end of the teaser, (2:40) author Gustavo Bolívar, himself says: "Llámalas como las quieras llamar, pero ya basta de tabúes. Tetas son Tetas y ya". The sub-titles read:  "No more taboos! 'tetas' are 'tetas'". In this way,  "tits" (a word that I don't think is acceptable for the average U.S. network television viewer) is never mentioned. The word "tetas" is shown and said only in Spanish, while the author instructs Spanish-speaking audiences to dispose of the "taboo" associated with the word "tetas."

It's going to be really interesting to follow the case of Sin Tetas No Hay Paraíso in the United States. 

TELEFUTURA MOVES MI PRIMA CIELA

Classes have ended and I'm in the midst of the delicate and difficult job of grading. This has kept me away from my blog for a whole week.

One of the recent happenings in the telenovela world that has stirred some commotion is that Telefutura has moved RCTV's telenovela Mi Prima Ciela from 5 p.m. to a half-hour slot at 9 a.m. This is a worse time and it also messes up the one-hour dramatic structure of each episode. In the place of Mi Prima Ciela, Telefutura is now broadcasting the decade-old version of La Usurpadora produced by Televisa. (An abridged version of this telenovela can be bought in DVD format).

In Univisón's message boards there were adverse reactions to this change as participants clamored that Mi Prima Ciela wouldn't be moved in the schedule: 1 y 2. Some bloggers, like Tania Azevedo also mentioned their unhappiness. Meanwhile, both in the message board TVVI and in Recordar es Vivir (1, 2, 3) participants theorized about the reasons behind Telefutura's decision. Some advanced conspiracy theories involving Cisneros, owner of Venevisión, RCTV's direct competitor in Venezuela.

Personally, I dislike both the change in the schedule and the treatment that Mi Prima Ciela has received in Telefutura. But, I'm not surprised at all. I disregard conspiracy theories about Venevisión having part on this, because Venevisión's telenovelas have also been victims of similar abuses in the Spanish-speaking TV here in the United States. The tendency by Univisión and its associated networks, (Telefutura and Galavisión), to treat Venezuelan telenovelas as second-class products is, by now, old. We know that prime time is reserved exclusively for Televisa telenovelas. But, through the years we have witnessed the invisibility of Brazilian telenovelas in their schedules and the rough and disrespectful way in which they have edited Venezuelan telenovelas such as El País de las Mujeres, Sueño con tu amor (Los Querendones), Amor a Palos and Amantes. We've also seen how Amantes de Luna Llena was broadcast in the humiliating 1 a.m. time slot. And, of course, we know they don't provide any space for any Venezuelan telenovela they classify as "localista". This fluid term is now equal to telenovelas made in Venezuela. (The main love story in Mi Prima Ciela is as universal as it gets--death as the antagonist--a plot we've seen and will keep seeing both in film and literature).

Of course, the background of this is the agreement between RCTV and Telefutura that allows the broadcasting in the latter of telenovelas produced by the former, albeit in the terrible conditions I'm discussing here.

Many will argue that if Mi Prima Ciela didn't garner good ratings at 5 p.m, it had to be taken out. However, I've seen my share of telenovelas at 5 p.m. with poor ratings that were never moved from that tiem slot. Of course, none of them were Venezuelan or Colombian. .

Mi Prima Ciela's schedule change is symptomatic of some of the worrisome trends I see in the market. In the U.S. there's a sort of re-education of the spectator in which audiences are only exposed to a particular type of telenovela. I know well that the Latinos of Mexican descent make up the majority of the Hispanic market. But, similarly to what happens in Mexico, these audiences only watch the same type of telenovela (and their remakes). Telenovelas deemed "different" are either stigmatized as "localistas", edited to the point of destroying their essence, or moved to terrible time slots, as in the case of Mi Prima Ciela.

This is not a good situation or a desirable one.