Author: Tomás Barceló
I keep circling an idea that’s been with me for years: someday I would love to do something with The Neverending Story by Michael Ende. It was the first “real” book I ever read, at seven years old, and I was enthralled. That world completely absorbed me and opened up the possibility that other written worlds existed, waiting to be discovered.
Since then, I’ve reread it countless times, and with every reading I find something new. The giant turtle, the Old Man of Wandering Mountain, the blind miner of dreams, the ayayay… that entire universe is an inexhaustible mine of beauty.
The Problem of Adapting the Unadaptable
The book had its famous film adaptation in the ’80s—imperfect, criticized, yet charming. I believe adapting this novel is nearly impossible for one simple reason: Ende’s imagination is excessive. His world is not designed to be tamed, and yet that’s precisely what we tend to do when we bring it to film or illustration.
A clear example: Atreyu. In the movie he’s a dark-haired boy; in the book he’s green—literally green. And the same happens with the Childlike Empress, “the one with golden eyes.” Not honey-colored eyes: eyes of gold. Eyeballs made of gold. As a child, I imagined her exactly like that, no negotiations, and that image left such a mark on me that some of my sculptures later included golden eyes born from that question: what would an eye made of gold look like?
More and more, I believe the best way to adapt The Neverending Story would be to take the descriptions literally and push them to the extreme. Don’t soften them. Don’t make them “believable.” Embrace the excess.
The West and the Fear of Color
Perhaps this is difficult for us in the West, especially in the Mediterranean, where we seek moderation, harmony, elegance. But I think The Neverending Story calls for the boldness of a Pakistani truck. When you work without fear and take design to its highest point, something unexpected happens: even exaggeration falls into place.
I’m deeply interested in that full creative range—from the hieratic sobriety of Egyptian sculpture to the explosive ornamentation of Hindu tradition. They’re two extremes more connected than they seem: the same figure can be serene or exuberant depending on how you dress it. I’m beginning to see the sober and the baroque not as opposing camps, but as two ends of a single creative spectrum we’re free to move along.
Taking ideas to the extreme doesn’t mean they’ll always work. Golden eyes may look beautiful in a sculpture and completely ridiculous on a real character. It doesn’t matter—we can always step back. What matters is trying. Pushing past the fear. Not settling for what “would look good,” but asking: what happens if I take it one step further?
My Secret Fantasy
And here comes my public confession: one of my dreams would be to work on an adaptation of The Neverending Story, without softening it, without asking moderation for permission. Simply following what the book says. I don’t think it will happen—because of rights issues and because life is what it is—but in my creative fantasies I still wander through those impossible landscapes and those exuberant characters.
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