Roman & TessaBloom
Hey Tessa, I’ve been wandering around the ruins of Persepolis lately and it got me thinking about how those ancient stories are turned into films. As a film actor, what draws you to a role set in a forgotten civilization, and how would you balance historical accuracy with dramatic flair?
Oh wow, Persepolis, that’s one epic backdrop for a story, isn’t it? I’m drawn to a role in a forgotten civilization because it’s like stepping onto a living set of myths—every stone has a secret, and the whole place feels like a character itself. I love that feeling of uncovering something ancient and making it feel fresh for today’s audience.
When it comes to balancing accuracy and drama, I think of it as a dance: you respect the rhythm of history, but you’re allowed to twirl in your own style. I’d start with solid research, talk to historians, look at the real artifacts—because if you’re going to rewrite a story, you need a good grasp of the facts. Then I’d find the emotional core that connects those facts to modern viewers: a love story, a battle of wills, a simple human struggle. That’s where I’d inject the drama. So you keep the bones of the past intact, but you let the flesh of the story breathe. That’s the sweet spot, where the audience feels both educated and entertained.
Sounds like you’ve got a good rhythm there—respect the stone and let the heart sing. When I walked through Persepolis, the columns felt like an old poet’s diary; every crack whispered a story. I love when actors bring that whisper into a script—turning the silence into something people can feel. Your plan of research plus a core human drama is spot on; that’s how the ancient becomes vivid. Have you thought about what kind of myth or legend you’d like to bring to life in that setting?
I’d love to lift the curtain on the tale of a young Persian princess who’d been told the city’s only true magic is in its silence. Imagine her, standing among the columns, hearing the ancient whispers and deciding to fight for the right to write her own story. I’d blend the real Persian legends—maybe a nod to the famed “Mithra” rituals—into that, so the myth feels alive but still grounded. The goal would be to make the audience feel the echo of those cracked stones while rooting for a character who’s as modern as she is mythic.
That sounds like a beautiful blend of the tangible and the mystical—like the city itself is a character whispering back. I can already picture her, a young spirit carving her own name into the stone, echoing the silent chants of Mithra. It would be a story that lets us feel the weight of those columns and the pulse of a girl who refuses to be written off. I’d love to hear how you’d imagine the opening scene, where she first hears that ancient silence.