Sarah Blakley-Cartwright - Red Riding Hood

RED RIDING HOOD

a novel by Sarah Blakley-Cartwright

based on a screenplay written by David Leslie Johnson

introduction by Catherine Hardwicke

Little, Brown and Company

New York Boston

To Catherine, Lauren, Laurie, and Ronee, four incredible women

I N A UGUST 2009, I was sent a script called The Girl with the Red Riding Hood , written by David Leslie Johnson and based on an idea by Leonardo DiCaprio. DiCaprios company, Appian Way, had been developing the project with Warner Bros. I immediately fell in love with the idea of making a new, dark, layered version of the classic story.

Fairy tales are rich blueprints that help us understand and create our own worlds, which is exactly what I attempted to do with this one. My head was filled with images and ideas about how to make this world come alive. For inspiration, I pulled from creative sources all around memy sisters paintings for the magic and the mood, current fashion runways for the clothes, a little northern Russian architecture book Id been saving since I was a teenager for the design of Daggorhorn.

In this version of Red Riding Hood, I was interested in the modern feel of the characters and their relationships. The story explores themes of teenage angst and the pitfalls of growing up and falling in love. And, of course, there is the Big Bad Wolf. The Wolf in our story represents a dark, dangerous side of man and fosters a paranoid society.

This social paranoia stuck with me during the development of the script, and eventually it was built into the DNA of Daggorhorns architecture. The villagers live in cottages that feel like miniature fortressesthey are elevated on stilts and have heavy wooden shutters and ladders that are pulled up at night. The people of the village are just as guarded emotionally as they are physically, and when their decades-long peace with the Wolf starts to break down, so do the ties among them.

The deeper we went into the world, the more I realized that the characters and their backstories were too complex to fit into the film, so I wanted to help create a novel to fully explore the tangled web of emotions in the village of Daggorhorn.

While on a trip to New York, I saw my friend Sarah Blakley-Cartwright. She had just graduated with honors from Barnard College with a degree in creative writing. Ive known Sarah since she was thirteenshed even played small parts in all four of my previous films. Shes always had an original, poetic spiritfull of whimsyand I realized she would be perfect for this project.

From the moment I mentioned the idea to Sarah, she dove in headfirst. She flew to Vancouver, British Columbia, when we were building the sets for the movie, and she completely immersed herself in the world of Red Riding Hood. She interviewed all the actors about their characters, she participated in rehearsals, and she danced across hot coals in the festival scene. Sarah really became a part of the storytelling process.

I feel that Sarah has written a beautiful novel that has deepened the world of the characters. She allows us all to linger in the emotional moments, the ones that tell us that Red Riding Hood is not just a fairy tale, but rather a universal story about love and courage and growing up.

Enjoy.

Once upon a time

there was a Girl, and there was a Wolf.

F rom the towering heights of the tree, the little girl could see everything. The sleepy village of Daggorhorn lay low in the bowl of the valley. From above, it looked like a faraway, foreign land. A place she knew nothing about, a place without spikes or barbs, a place where fear did not hover like an anxious parent.

Being this far up in the air made Valerie feel as if she could be someone else, too. She could be an animal: a hawk, chilly with self-survival, arrogant and apart.

Even at age seven, she knew that, somehow, she was different from the other villagers. She couldnt help keeping them at a distance, even her friends, who were open and wonderful. Her older sister, Lucie, was the one person in the world to whom Valerie felt connected. She and Lucie were like the two vines that grew twisted together in the old song the elders of the village sang.

Lucie was the only one.

Valerie peered past her dangling bare feet and thought about why she had climbed up here. She wasnt allowed to, of course, but that wasnt it. And it wasnt for the challenge of the climb, eitherthat had lost its thrill a year earlier, when she first reached the tallest branch and found nowhere left to go but the open sky.

She climbed up high because she couldnt breathe down there, in the town. If she didnt get out, the unhappiness would settle upon her, piling up like snow until she was buried beneath it. Up here in her tree, the air was cool on her face and she felt invincible. She never worried about falling; such a thing was not possible in this weightless universe.

Valerie!

Suzettes voice sounded upward through the leaves, calling for her like a hand tugging Valerie back down to earth.

By the tone of her mothers voice, Valerie knew it was time to go. Valerie pulled her knees up under her, rose to a crouch, and began her descent. Looking straight down, she could see the steeply pitched roof of Grandmothers house, built right into the branches of the tree and covered in a thick shag of pine needles. The house was wedged in a flowering of branches as if it had lodged there during a storm. Valerie always wondered how it had gotten there, but she never asked, because something so wonderful should never be explained.

It was nearing winter, and the leaves had begun to loosen themselves from their branches, easing their autumn grasp. Some shuddered and fell free as Valerie moved down the tree. She had perched in the tree all afternoon, listening to the low murmur of womens voices wafting up from below. It seemed like they were more cautious today, huskier than usual, as though the women were keeping secrets.

Nearing the lower branches that grazed the tree house roof, Valerie saw Grandmother float out onto the porch, her feet not visible beneath her dress. Grandmother was the most beautiful woman Valerie knew. She wore long layered skirts that swayed as she walked. If her right foot went forward, her silk skirt breezed to the left. Her ankles were delicate and lovely, like the tiny wooden dancers in Lucies jewelry box. This both delighted and frightened Valerie, because they looked like they could snap.

Valerie, herself unsnappable, leapt off the lowest branch and onto the porch with a solid thump.

She was not excitable like other girls, whose cheeks were pink or round. Valeries were smooth and even and pale white. Valerie didnt really think of herself as pretty, or think about what she looked like, for that matter. No one else, though, could forget the corn-husk blonde with unsettling green eyes that lit up like they were charged by lightning. Her eyes, that knowing look she had, made her seem older than she was.

Girls, come on! her mother called from inside the house, anxiety bristling through her voice. We need to be back early tonight. Valerie made it down before anyone could see that she had been in the tree at all.

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