Dream Machine – Trying Means Not Failing
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There are filmmakers who step into the craft by chance, and then there are those who seem to have been quietly shaped for it long before they ever touched a camera. Eduardo Boccaletti belongs firmly in the latter. In Bijupirá, his tender and visually arresting short film, he draws from a lifetime of stories, childhood memories shaped by the ocean, emotional landscapes inherited from a storytelling home, and a natural sensitivity for the quiet moments that define us. In this conversation, Eduardo opens up about the journey behind the film, the inner world of young Tomé, and the deep, almost spiritual relationship he has with the sea. What emerges is a portrait of a filmmaker driven not by spectacle, but by feeling, connection, and an instinctive pull toward stories that live between silence and revelation.
Eduardo: I think I became a filmmaker long before I noticed it. I was that kid who stayed up too late watching movies, feeling that films helped me understand things more clearly. Later, when I worked in advertising, I realized that the moments I enjoyed the most were always the ones on set, seeing how each shot came together. At some point it stopped being just an interest and became something I needed to follow. I wanted to capture moments that usually get lost. So I decided to leave my stable routine behind and take a real leap into filmmaking, trusting that this was the path where I could make sense of what moves me.
Eduardo: Bijupirá is my second narrative short, and the idea has been with me for a long time in different forms. I’ve always been drawn to telling stories through the eyes of someone who stands slightly outside the world they’re observing.
I grew up in a storytelling family. My mother is a therapist and Children’s book author,so the emotional side of people was always part of daily conversation, and my father has spearfished his whole life, so I also grew up hearing incredible stories shaped by the sea. Those two influences stayed with me. When I started working on Bijupirá, it felt natural to bring those elements together: the emotional quietness I learned at home and the relationship with the ocean that has always been present in my life. The film grew from that mix: outsiders, memory, and the sea shaping how people move through the world.
Eduardo: I wouldn’t say Bijupirá is a direct reflection of my childhood, because I grew up in a home with no shortage of love and a strong sense of belonging. But the film carries traces of things that shaped me.
Bijupirá is, in many ways, about the great encounters in our lives, the ones we only understand fully much later. And some of my own memories inevitably feed into that. The fishing trips with my father, the stories about the vastness of the sea, the feeling of watching the ocean dictate its own rhythm. Those memories are engraved in me. But Tomé is different from who I was as a kid. While I always felt grounded and supported, he’s searching for a place where he fits, a moment of connection that helps him understand who he is. My experiences helped me shape the world around him, but his journey is his own.
Eduardo: Enzo is definitely a star and he knows it in the best possible way. We auditioned six other kids, but when Enzo walked in, both Heraldo de Deus, (who plays Reinaldo and also served as our casting director) and I looked at each other and immediately felt the same thing: it’s him. What stood out wasn’t just his confidence, but how instinctively he understood Tomé’s emotional place in the story. He didn’t need long explanations; he just connected. From there, the process became simple. We let him enjoy himself, diving, swimming, being in the water between takes, and he would come back to the place to deliver that amazing performance.
Eduardo: I was very direct with Enzo about Tomé’s emotional place in the story. I explained that Tomé is a kid who carries a quiet fear, someone who’s unsure of where he fits and is constantly trying to understand his place in the world. It’s a delicate situation, and I wanted Enzo to recognise that softness in the character. He absorbed it quickly. He didn’t overthink it; he just understood the feeling and held onto it while we worked. From there, it became about guiding small adjustments rather than giving heavy direction. He had the emotional core, and that made everything else flow naturally.
Eduardo: Every stage of Bijupirá came with its own challenges. In pre-production, the biggest hurdle was putting the right team together and securing the location at Praia de Tubarão. It’s a place that carries so much atmosphere, so finding it and making sure we could shoot there was essential. During the shoot, the weather kept us on our toes, and I also went through a brutal food poisoning incident that didn’t help at all. But the crew held the line, and we adapted as we went. Post-production had its own complexities, coordinating people’s schedules, working within a tight budget, and finding the right moment for each collaborator to join the project. Looking back, every phase demanded patience and persistence, but seeing the finished film makes it clear that waiting for the right people and making careful decisions was worth it.

Eduardo: I’m not sure I would change anything, because doing things differently would probably result in a completely different film. Bijupirá is very much a reflection of the decisions I was able to make at that moment—my instincts, my limitations, my best judgment at the time. Looking back, I stand by those choices. They shaped the film into what it is, and that process is part of its identity.
Eduardo: The ocean has always been part of my life. I’ve been surfing for more than three decades, and I’ve been spearfishing since I was a kid. It’s shaped where I live, how I spend my time, and almost every trip or vacation I’ve ever taken. So it’s not something I visit; it’s something that’s entangled in my routine and my identity.
In Bijupirá, the sea naturally becomes more than a backdrop. To me, it’s a powerful metaphor for our subconscious. The vastness and depth of open water mirror the parts of ourselves we don’t fully understand, the instincts, fears, memories, and desires that move beneath the surface. So when the ocean appears on screen, it’s not just landscape. It represents everything inside Tomé that he’s still trying to navigate: the unknown, the unspoken, the things he feels before he can explain them.
Eduardo : The fish isn’t meant to be a riddle, it’s a catalyst. For me, it represents the small crack through which light enters Tomé and Reinaldo’s world. It’s the moment that allows a connection to form between them, even if neither of them fully understands it at first. That simple act of catching the fish becomes the opening that lets affection, curiosity, and trust start to grow. It’s not about the fish itself, but about what it sets in motion between those two characters.
Eduardo: Working with Renan Benedito was remarkable. He has an exceptional ability to portray the relationship between innocence and the sea, something that sits at the centre of Bijupirá. Renan is a magnificent still photographer, known for capturing boys by the ocean in Salvador, which is exactly where we shot the film. That connection to the landscape and to the kids who inhabit it made all the difference. Renan understands Bahia’s light, its textures, its silences. He knows how the ocean shapes people, and he brings that sensitivity into every frame. Collaborating with him felt natural. He didn’t just photograph the film—he understood its emotional pulse.
Eduardo: A lot of that sense of isolation and vastness came through the soundtrack, beautifully composed by Fernando Martins. What began as a simple score quickly grew into something with its own presence.
Fernando understood that the film didn’t need music to explain emotions—it needed space. He created a soundscape that breathes with the ocean and highlights the silences around Tomé. The music doesn’t overwhelm; it expands the frame. That approach helped transform the score into another character in the film, reinforcing the feeling that Tomé is navigating something much larger than that sole moment he is living.
Eduardo: If there’s one feeling I hope viewers take with them, it’s the ability to embrace the unexpected. Bijupirá invites you to see a kind of quiet beauty in what’s unknown and unpredictable. Life doesn’t always give us clarity in the moment, but sometimes the things we don’t plan, the encounters, the gestures, the uncertainties, end up shaping us the most. If the film leaves people open to that, I’m happy.
Eduardo: My biggest advice is simple: start. Call your friends, your family, your neighbours, anyone willing to help, and make something with whatever you have. A camera, a phone, a small idea… it’s enough to begin. If filmmaking is really what you love, you’ll naturally dive into it, learn the craft, make mistakes, get better, and discover joy in the process itself. You don’t need perfect conditions to create. You just need the drive to begin and the curiosity to keep going. The more you make, the closer you get to finding your own voice. That’s the real beauty.

As our conversation ends, what becomes clear is that Bijupirá is more than a film, it’s a distillation of everything that moves Eduardo as an artist and as a human being. From the raw beauty of the ocean to the fragile emotional spaces we try to navigate, he captures truths that linger long after the credits fade. His advice to aspiring filmmakers is simple but powerful: start where you are, use what you have, and trust the process.
In many ways, that spirit runs through every frame of Bijupirá, a film born from instinct, shaped by patience, and carried by the courage to follow what feels honest. If this work is any indication, Eduardo Boccaletti is a storyteller whose voice will only grow stronger, carving out new meanings in the spaces where memory, emotion, and the sea quietly meet.
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