"Backgammon" – Adam Nathan Interview
Award-winning director Remy Bazerque approached me about collaborating on adapting my short story Backgammon for film. Here he interviews me to get my perspective on the story.
In February, I released Backgammon, the first of my 100 Stories series. In it, a teenage boy tells the story of how he began to break into homes and the accidental relationship that resulted. Soon after, award-winning writer/director Remy Bazerque approached me about collaborating on adapting Backgammon for film.
In a previous post on Remy’s site, Enfant Terrible, the two of us discussed his take on the project and his professional experience. Now, we’re turning the table. Remy interviews me about my intentions for the script, use of symbolism, and the challenges of adaptation into a screenplay.
I’ve substantially condensed the interview and interspersed five one-minute excerpts of video from the interview throughout.
🚨 This interview is one great big long bar-no-holds spoiler. If you haven’t read it, start here.
Remy: Adam, this is episode two of our adventures on Backgammon. Last time you interviewed me, so today it's my turn. I have some questions about your work. It's the first time I've worked with a writer who puts so much of himself and so much homework into the process.
Usually, we have a chat, the writer does their thing, and then we discuss the first draft. But you've put a lot of thought into the story and some very interesting stuff. Before we get into the details, I have a few general questions to get us started. What was the main inspiration for this story? Why did you write it in the first place?
Adam: There are two seeds in it. One is an embarrassing childhood memory. When I was about nine or ten, I snuck into a friend's house. The second seed is from college. A friend, who was too old to be doing this, admitted he used to sneak into people's houses in New York City. That always stood out to me for obvious reasons.
Boundaries & Violation
Remy: In the US, you don't really want to do that. Maybe in France.
Adam: Yes, and then there was a beautiful book whose title and writer I can't remember, although I'll probably find it if we publish this. She wrote about a couple that snuck into people's homes and lived there. That was a big inspiration and one I should credit.1
Remy: That's cool. I have another question.
Adam: You weren't expecting me to turn out to be a criminal in this interview.
Remy: No, I mean, it's funny because in France, there's a law that if you stay in someone's house for two weeks and get some receipts from deliveries, it takes a month to expel you.
Adam: Squatter's rights.
Remy: Yeah, squatter's rights.
Adam: Squatter's rights. Outrageous law. Terrible law. But anyway, there it is.
Remy: In France, it’s the polar opposite. They can change the lock, and there's nothing you can do but go in front of a judge to get your house back.
Adam: Yeah. It's like the universities in the United States right now. [laughs] But anyway...
Remy: Just remember that if you buy a house in France, be careful. Check on it. The next question is more challenging. At the core, what is Backgammon about?
Adam: It's about boundaries. How we respect and violate the boundaries of others and the cost of that. For Raphael, he's extremely immature about boundaries—whether it's physical things like sneaking into homes or emotional ones. He doesn't know where to stop. For her, it's about when to let people in. Even when they're initially intimate, she's closed off. It's about how these dynamics play out between people.
Remy: It's interesting because you mentioned violation. That's a strong theme in the story. In your notes, you shared concerns about shooting the sex scenes and the actors' ages. It got me thinking that the camera and the audience are also in a way violating something. There's a theme running throughout. Would you say boundaries and their violation are central themes?
Adam: Absolutely. The tragic cost of two people who love each other but can't manage their boundaries properly is central to the story.
Symbolism of Backgammon
Remy: That's evident. I also noticed a lot of symbolism in the story, especially with the game of backgammon. Could we make it more prominent visually? Maybe they could play it more often, using its visual elements to symbolize the themes.
Adam: I try not to overdo symbolism, but backgammon was chosen because it fits perfectly. The game involves penetrating the opponent's side, trying to get through without being caught. It also has a lot of slang that fits the story. I need to think about how to embed this symbolism more deeply.
Symbolism of Physical Positioning
Remy: Exactly. Visually, we could play with these ideas subtly. The main challenge is turning the speech into scenes without making it feel disjointed, especially with the now and then transitions. We need to find visual equivalents to some of the voiceover's cleverness.
Adam: Or maybe kill it. If we have a 20-minute film, we can't keep jumping between two storylines without losing the viewer. We need to focus on making the now and then transitions seamless.
Challenges of Adapting to a Visual Medium
Remy: Yes, it should flow naturally. Maybe reduce the voiceover and use visual storytelling more.
Adam: That's a good point. The first draft will be close to the story as it is now, but we can adjust it to balance the structure and transitions.
Balancing Dialogue & Visuals
Remy: Don't worry too much about length or everything we've discussed. Just have fun with it. Once the first draft is out, we can refine it together.
Adam: Agreed. I'll write the draft, and then we can collaborate to improve it. I'll provide a link to the annotated version for context. Now, I need to go write something.
Remy: Thank you, Adam. Looking forward to the next draft.
Adam: Likewise, Remy. Bye.
Be sure to visit Remy’s site and take a look at our first conversation on Backgammon.
Joy Williams, Breaking and Entering
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Fabulous--and big congrats! I love good stories like this one emerging from, in my view anyway, the miracle that is Substack.
I used to think I was born to write poetry because I was obsessed with the unspeakable. Talk was like skyscrapers, straight up stream-lined, while I hobbled through the alleys putting cobblestones and rubble in my mouth. But this! this prose! It goes to TOWN with the unspeakable. It’s full of killer clues and cries and uncontainabilities. A toolbox full of heartwrenches. It taught me stuff, bespoke some utternesses, made me stop and doff my cap.