A protagonist (from the Greek πρωταγωνιστής protagonistes, "one who plays the first part, chief actor") is the main character (the central or primary personal figure) of a literary, theatrical, cinematic, or musical narrative, which ends up in conflict because of the antagonist and with whom the audience is intended to most identify. In the theatre of Ancient Greece, three actors played all of the main dramatic roles in a tragedy; the leading role was played by the protagonist, while the other roles were played by deuteragonist and the tritagonist.
The terms protagonist and main character are variously defined and, depending on the source, may denote different concepts. In fiction, the story of the protagonist may be told from the perspective of a different character (who may also, but not necessarily, be the narrator). An example would be a narrator who relates the fate of several protagonists, perhaps as prominent figures recalled in a biographical perspective. Often, the protagonist in a narrative is also the same person as the focal character, though the two terms are distinct. Excitement and intrigue alone is what the audience feels toward a focal character, while a sense of empathy about the character's objectives and emotions is what the audience feels toward the protagonist. Although the protagonist is often referred to as the "good guy", it is entirely possible for a story's protagonist to be the clear villain, or antihero, of the piece.
Plot
A moving documentary, chronicling the story of 28-year-old, Iraq-born Sinan, who was adopted at birth by his uncle Farouq and his German wife Brunhild. Following the couple's split a few years later, he was taken by his mother to Darmstadt, Germany, where he has lived ever since. In 'My Father, My Uncle', we watch as Sinan prepares to meet his original family, now exiled from Iraq and based in Sharjah, UAE. Knowing little about his Arabic origins or culture, Sinan views the impending meeting with trepidation. However, the reunion brings a complex tangle of emotions to the surface.
Plot
From Wikipedia: A MacGuffin (sometimes McGuffin or maguffin) is 'a plot element that catches the viewers' attention or drives the plot of a work of fiction'. Sometimes, the specific nature of the MacGuffin is not important to the plot such that anything that serves as a motivation serves its purpose. The MacGuffin can sometimes be ambiguous, completely undefined, generic or left open to interpretation. The MacGuffin is common in films, especially thrillers.
Plot
Both in 2006 and 2007, the Gay Pride Parade attempts in Moscow are violently beaten down. For many observers, the attitude towards the sexual minorities seems to be the litmus test of the state of democracy in Russia. In January 2007, for the first time in Russian history, a Russian leader, president Vladimir Putin mentions the situation of the LGBT community: He won't criticize the politics of Moscow mayor Yuri Lushkov, who forbid the event, but he is concerned about the demographic future of the country. And Putins opinion seems to be repeated by the right wing contra demonstrators on the streets. The film shows both the organizers of the Pride events and also the survival strategies of the majority Russian lesbians and gays, to whom the fight for democracy on the streets doesn't seem to be an attractive alternative.
Keywords: activist, aggression, ampersand-in-title, gay-parade, homophobia, lushkov, morale, moscow-russia, politics, putin
Plot
Both in 2006 and 2007, the Gay Pride Parade attempts in Moscow are violently beaten down. For many observers, the attitude towards the sexual minorities seems to be the litmus test of the state of democracy in Russia. In January 2007, for the first time in Russian history, a Russian leader, president Vladimir Putin mentions the situation of the LGBT community: He won't criticize the politics of Moscow mayor Yuri Lushkov, who forbid the event, but he is concerned about the demographic future of the country. And Putins opinion seems to be repeated by the right wing contra demonstrators on the streets. The film shows both the organizers of the Pride events and also the survival strategies of the majority Russian lesbians and gays, to whom the fight for democracy on the streets doesn't seem to be an attractive alternative.
Keywords: activist, aggression, ampersand-in-title, gay-parade, homophobia, lushkov, morale, moscow-russia, politics, putin
Plot
In Mexico there is a cult that is rapidly growing- the cult of Saint Death. This female grim reaper, considered a saint by followers but Satanic by the Catholic Church, is worshiped by people whose lives are filled with danger and/or violence- criminals, gang members, transvestites, sick people, drug addicts, and families living in rough neighborhoods. "La Santa Muerte" examines the origins of the cult and takes us on a tour of the altars, jails, and neighborhoods in Mexico where the saint's most devoted followers can be found.
Stargazers, lost children,
Hold on so we never forget.
Star crossed, these lovers,
Hold on so we never forget.
Breathe in your beauty
Our eyes rip into the sky.
Only when everything is lost,
Trudging slowly over wet sand
Back to the bench where your clothes were stolen
This is the coastal town
That they forgot to close down
Armageddon - come Armageddon!
Come, Armageddon! Come!
Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Hide on the promenade
Etch a postcard :
"How I Dearly Wish I Was Not Here"
In the seaside town
...that they forgot to bomb
Come, Come, Come - nuclear bomb
Everyday is like Sunday
Everyday is silent and grey
Trudging back over pebbles and sand
And a strange dust lands on your hands
(And on your face...)
(On your face ...)
(On your face ...)
(On your face ...)
Everyday is like Sunday
"Win Yourself A Cheap Tray"
Share some greased tea with me
Everyday is silent and grey
1095 days, I've walked such a bitter sweet road,
1095 days, so long til' I see you again.
I've got 1500 Miles wearing itself across my face,
not even 1500 Miles of stitches can sew me together again.
I know how these things play out,
and I know how these things always end.
Maybe this was just a phase, maybe I was just a phase.
I play this game of chess and I'd set myself on fire for you.
The season's babe they don't change here,
they never have and they never will.
I've got 1500 miles
of phone chord wrapping around my throat,
I've got 1000 golden daggers stabbing me in my soul.
On the receiving end of crying filled phone calls,
I didn't know what to say or do.
Your words might as well have been drenched in blood,
if you leave yourself open you just get torn apart.
I've got 1500 miles of writing these words just for you,
not even 1500 miles of phone chord can get me through to you.
I know how these things play out,
and I know how these things always end.
Your words might as well be drenched in blood,
if you leave yourself open you just get torn apart.
I play this game of chess and I'd make every move for you.
I play this game of chess
but tonight, tonight I'm stabbing all the queens.
All those nights in boca gardens, 1101 Commonwealth Avenue.
If I could let those nights take me I would and believe me,
If we were in the golden age you'd be my Katherine Hepburn
and I'd be your Spencer Tracy, you'd be my Katherine Hepburn.
And I'd endlessly burn for you, we're just the ghosts of boca winds
"how I dearly wish I was not here."
1095 days, we've walked such a bitter sweet road,
1095 days, so long til' I see you again.
I play this game of chess and I'd set myself on fire for you,
And we set sail,
our ships crash through these waters.
From coast to coast we search,
we strive to find new land.
This is our destiny,
this is where we have landed.
We are the tortured souls,
we're the ones the world will never know.
We don't look back, we move ahead.
To look back, to think back,
only created libraries of suffering.
We are the tortured souls,
we're the ones the world will never know.
We're the last of a dying breed,
give us soil we will plant the seed.
We trudge through the bitter cold,
with night fire we pave the way.
We're on the dawn of a new day.
Some of us are holding on to a life
That doesn't want us anymore,
Trapped in a world that forgot us years ago.
Forever I am destined to walk
This continuous path that has no ending.
And so I say a prayer for the living
Because in this life when you leave,
You never come back.
Erase my face, take me from this lonely place.
This is not the path I chose, forever forsaken.
I am the ghost.
Searching for places that cease to exist,
And where I won't find any answers.
We're all just remnants of the past.
Some grow old and some die young,
The ones that die young are the fortunate ones.
And even though my eyes were left open,
They might as well be shut.
We're the never played symphonies
Plagued with bitter sweet harmonies.
And our path is sung in the key of tragedy,
Our existence is sung in the key of tragedy.
These twisted paintings hang
And the band plays on.
These twisted serpents
Turn his sermon into song.
These twisted paintings hang,
And the band plays on.
These hallowed eyed ghosts;
They turn his sermon into,
They turn my sermon into,
They turn my sermon into song,
We are the ones, we're living inside of yesterday.
We are the ones, we're searching for a better way.
The days are getting longer,
And the nights won't seem to fucking end.
Stand with me and I promise you
We'll make it through the bitter end,
Through the bitter end.
We haven't been cast away,
Just hopelessly set adrift.
To sadder shores we sail,
In hopes of something better than this.
For all the January 24th kids,
With the sealed eye lids.
Living out their desperate days,
And endless nights of sadness.
There must be a place better than this.
Blazing through our yesterdays, and burning through tomorrows.
We gotta find a way outta this place,
By setting fire to today.
The last supper kids with the sutured dreams,
And the what could have beens,
And in the loudest moments of silence,
We fortify this dream.
[Chorus]
Kill the lights, fade to back.
Redefine happiness, rust never sleeps.
Take my hand and join me,
Because you too come from a world
Far more full of weeping than they can understand.
We are the ones, living inside of yesterday
We are the ones, and we're dreaming for,
Trudging slowly over wet sand, back to the bench
Where your clothes were stolen
This is the coastal town that they forgot to close down
Armageddon, come Armageddon, come Armageddon, come
Everyday is like Sunday, everyday is silent and gray
Hide on the promenade scratch out a postcard
And how I dearly wish I was not here
In the seaside town that they forgot to bomb
Come, come, come, nuclear bomb
Everyday is like Sunday, everyday is silent and gray
Trudging back over pebbles and sand
And a strange dust lands on your hands and on your face
On your face, on your face, on your face
Everyday is like Sunday, win yourself a cheap tray
Share some greased tea with me, everyday is silent and grey
Everyday is like Sunday, everyday is like Sunday
Light the fuse, to set ablaze
A trail of fire that leads
To the end of our days.
When these flames burn out,
I want to be remembered
By the words that I sing.
Words can be woven
To form picture perfect tapestries,
And our seams rip apart by personal tragedy.
I'm afraid of what lies ahead,
Places I've gone, people I've met,
Graves I've left unkept.
This is a chronicle of what was,
And of everything that could've been.
It's not always about the places you go,
It's about the people that you meet.
From this point on,
I'll forever be questioning and wondering,
Searching and pondering.
What lies ahead: where do we go from here?
Every story has it's heartache,
And I'm a first hand witness to the loss of god.
Where do we go, where do we go,
Where do we go from here?
I'm so lost that I can't even breathe.
It is okay to say that, "I'm dead alone?"
I was calling out your name,
but I remembered it was just a dream.
What's the sun to do when there's nothing left for her to burn?
I will ask the sun if she'll help me burn down the world.
With a map of pain, across the sea of time.
I will die in these arms alone as we slowly reason with time.
Hurry up before it's too late.
We can make it through the rain.
So long, and thanks for your time.
I'll be leaving now, just as soon as I get your reply.
I will die in these arms alone as we reason against time.
After the rains the birds sing.
Why can't we do the same?
Holding on,holding on to the ghosts of time.
All that matters now is your own embrace.
We run, we run, until the sun burns us away...
Driving wooden stakes through black hearts.
The clock strikes midnight,
The dye has been cast,
And the sun sets once again.
Broken records spin love songs till dawn,
Press repeat on "Black Celebration"
It's the same old song and dance,
The needle scratches and the record skips.
Everything matters more to me,
I find the beauty in everything,
And I'm trying hard to let go,
Our scars are here to remind us that our past was real.
Everything is quickly fading
And I don't want to sit here waiting,
For life to pass me by.
I want to be acquainted with the night,
And find the solemn places where I can hide.
Screaming to myself so loud,
The white blisters in my throat, they hold me back.
Can you hear me screaming?
Turning whispers into shouts.
And I write these songs hoping
My words will help me through the night;
Pens are daggers and daggers swords,
I'm using ink as blood and I'm not the only one.
And the record skips, and the records skips,
Standing here with this dagger in my hand.
The broken record skips and it tells me love is dead.
The sun has turned it's back on me once again.
Broken mirrors she'd no reflections,
Just imperfections.
These broken shards cut me up.
No one can see me;
I find the beauty in everything,
And I want you to know that I hate growing up,
And watching people come and go.
We are the kids and we're here to stay.
Our anger makes us strong.
Life's mistakes have got us here,
but through strength and hope we'll climb back up.
And when I look to the sky,
fire rains down.
And I know why I'm in this for life.
It's gonna take more than flames to stop us now.
You can't stop us now.
Why did you trade your heroes for ghosts,
As you slammed your fist against the post?
We charge the mountain top to dance our last dance.
Sometimes in this life
Your first chance might be your last.
If you look into these destined eyes,
You'll see a soul that never sleeps.
There will always be an urge to look back;
At the repository of what was,
And the dreams that could have been.
The chronicle continues on,
Some things are more than just a phase.
These words become immortal
Guiding us through the dark and somber days.
I've seen friendships fail and I've seen my heroes fall.
When we watched others get left behind
We answered the call
Some say this is a part of growing old,
I say you suckers are too easy to give in.
I still remember those nights
Playing anthems of hope and rage.
When we played hard, we played fast, we played together.
You never know the road until you walk the road alone.
They see a broken kid, I see a broken world,
How can we sustain all this hope and rage?
Did you trade your heroes for ghosts,
As you slammed your fists against the post?
We don't sing swan songs,
We don't bow at curtain calls.
The chronicle continues on,
Some things are more than just a phase.
Those nights will live forever,
They mean more to me than anything.
We rise up through these ruins
And build our brand new castles.
Only when everything is lost
...Attack!
Welcome to our metal family
It isn't always what it seems to be
The path we chose: living for the day
It doesn't make a difference what you say
You think you have control of what we are
But when you least expect it we go to war
...Attack! ...Attack!
So here we go again aother show
Yeah we're Unleashed with proud immortal souls
With never ending hatred in our eyes
We do what suits our purposes in life
The warriors of metal won't pretend
Cause life's a battle, and then you die... the end.
Reach out to touch the face of God.
Pull back, as your cries fall on deaf ears.
We are, we are all snakes and thieves.
Forsaken to be martyrs of memory, and nothing is ever ho it seems.
There's a dark light outside, but a white light in here.
There's a bright life outside, but a dark life in here.
The angel hurls the wreckage into yesterday.
Where did we go astray?
What's the price?
What's the cost?
What's the matter?
What's the lost?
The race is run, the clock run out,
but it doesn't matter because our generation doesn't seem to care.
What's the price?
What's the cost?
What's the matter?
What's the lost?
The race is run, the clock is run out,
But it doesn't matter because you do not seem to care.
There's a dark light outside, but a white a light in here.
There's a bright life outside, but a dark life in here.
The angel hurls the wreckage into yesterday.
Where did we astray?
This is the end.
Indian summer sky, let's set the fucking stage.
Three months to remember,
or lose'em in a drunken haze.
We hit every city on the coast that'll host us;
to a skate park in Pompano,
to West Palm and Ft. Lauderdale.
If everyday was like this,
and every night was like this,
then I would want to live forever.
These days, these nights,
friendly flames that form one light.
We live by the choices we make,
we share a bond that will never...
This is where you are,
and that place from which you come.
We'll come again and come again and come again,
so let it fucking go.
From South Beach to South Street,
from Philadelphia,
together there is no way we can lose.
I'm on fire T'm wired and wide awake,
and I ain't never going back to sleep.
As long as we can make this last,
I ain't never going back.
This is where you are,
and that place from which you come.
We'll come again and come again and come again,
We are the ones, we're living inside of yesterday.
We are the ones, we're searching for a better way.
The days are getting longer,
and the nights won't seem to fucking end.
Stand with me and I promise you
we'll make it through the bitter end,
through the bitter end.
We haven't been cast away,
just hopelessly set adrift.
To sadder shores we sail,
in hopes of something better than this.
For all the January 24th kids,
with the sealed eye lids.
Living out their desperate days,
and endless nights of sadness.
There must be a place better than this.
Blazing through our yesterdays, and burning through tomorrows.
We gotta find a way outta this place,
by setting fire to today.
The last supper kids with the sutured dreams,
and the what could have beens,
and in the loudest moments of silence,
we fortify this dream.
[Chorus]
Kill the lights, fade to back.
Redefine happiness, rust never sleeps.
Take my hand and join me,
because you too come from a world
far more full of weeping than they can understand.
We are the ones, living inside of yesterday
We are the ones, and we're dreaming for,
our better days.
Today I walked away from something
That could've been m destiny.
Some paint pink skies while others dwell in darkness.
I put on the face of forgetting,
Just like the skill of letting go,
Of the greatest dream I ever had.
Here we burn, chasing our stars,
We walk the road no matter how far.
These ghosts will forever haunt my dreams,
And it's in my sleep.
When I recall the days of yesteryear,
The past seven years finally become clear.
My heart burns there too, a part of me died with you.
On December 16th 1992 the calendar stopped,
And I'm trapped forever screaming myself to sleep
"this is the longest winter I've ever known."
I put on the face of forgetting,
Just like the skill of letting go,
Of the greatest dreams I've ever had.
Here we burn, chasing our stars,
We walked a road no matter how far.
I put on the face of forgetting,
Just like the skill of letting for of;
The greatest dream I ever had,
The greatest dream I ever had,
The shortest dream I ever had,
The greatest dream, the shortest dream I ever had.
This is for the ladies in black,
And for the sons of fire.
If your lost and alone don't be afraid,
Because I too am still searching.
To resist is to dream, to dream is to believe,