Melina Alagić

Scriptwriter

Born:

28.10.1985, Čapljina (Bosnia and Herzegovina)

Education: 

Dramaturgy, Academy of Performing Arts in Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina

Place of Residence:

Sarajevo (Bosnia and Herzegovina)

Writes in Languages:

Bosnian, English

Biography

Melina Alagić was born in Čapljina (B&H) in 1985. She graduated Dramaturgy at the Academy of Performing Arts in Sarajevo. She is BH Film Program Coordinator and one of the editors on BH Film catalogue.

From 2010 to 2013 she worked as a screenwriter for Children and Youth Program at BHT1.

She worked as Drama Teaching Assistant at the Academy of Performing Arts in Sarajevo.

She is currently employed at the Association of Filmmakers as Programs Coordinator.

Sample of previous work

Projects in development

MAMINO ZLATO / MAMA’S GOLDEN BOY

feature film
developed script

Story of the search for a brighter future in a world where “mama’s golden boys” grow up to become coldblooded killers…

Attached to the project: no crew members attached
Looking for: director

Keywords: mama’s boy, mama’s golden boy, child, children, teenagers, violence, family, bulling, murder, conscience

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More from Projects

Fimlography and Awards

2017 – ROOSTER, short film (in production), writer
2009 – SELF-PORTRAIT 3 / 13 / 2009, short film, writer/director

My five favourite films

  1. Eternal Suneshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)
    by Michel Gondry
  2. The Conversation (1974)
    by Francis Ford Coppola
  3. Mar Adentro (2004)
    by Alejandro Amenábar
  4. Todo Sobre Mi Madre (1999)
    by Pedro Almodovar
  5. 3-Iron (2004)
    by Kim-ki Duk

Favourite scene i wrote

INT. BASEMENT – NIGHT
SENČI and Samir are waiting for Damir in front of the basement. Damir arrives.

          SENČI
You’re late.

          DAMIR
I know. My old man…

           SENČI
Come on… It’s inside. Did you bring
ten bucks?

           DAMIR
Yes.

They enter the basement, a middle – aged Chinese man, who charges the entrance, is at the front door.

          SENČI
Take out the money.

Samir is about to give the money to the Chinese man.

          SENČI (CONT’D)
Give it to me.

Samir and Damir give him the money.

          SENČI (CONT’D)
Three tickets.

          CHINESE MAN
Three tickets. Fifteen marks.

Senči gives him the money.

          CHINESE MAN (CONT’D)
No photo inside.

          SENČI
Give him the camera.

          DAMIR
Not a chance.

          CHINESE MAN
No photo. You give me, I give back.

          DAMIR
No way!

          SENČI
Come on, dude, he’ll give it back,
why are you being a prick?

Damir takes of the camera around his neck.

          DAMIR
If you don’t give it back, you’re
dead!

          CHINESE MAN
I give back, give back.

Damir, SENČI and Samir enter, Damir turns towards the Chinese man.

          DAMIR
Give us the change.

          SENČI
What change?

          DAMIR
Well, he asked for five bucks each.

          SENČI
I have to charge my services, you’d
never have found out about this if
it wasn’t for me.

          SAMIR
It better be something, I took the
money from my mother’s wallet.

It’s dark in the basement, the chairs are arranged like in the theater, children are sitting, waiting… The youngest are seven years old. Senči, Damir and Samir sit down.

          SAMIR (CONT’D)
When is this starting?

          SENČI
It’s just about to start.

Two Chinese people appear at the stage. They kiss, then they take off their clothes, they start having sex.

          SAMIR
Fuck.

The children wiggle, some laugh, some comment. Damir is uncomfortable, he puts the hood on his head, he taps his foot on the floor. Senči starts masturbating.

          SENČI
What’s wrong, new guy?

          DAMIR
Wait till I warm up…

          SENČI
It’s taking you a while…

Damir puts his hand in his pants.

My favourite film quote

“ANN: Every time I see one of those old guys, I always think the same thing.
MARK: What do you think?
ANN: I always think that he was once somebody’s baby boy. Really, I do. I think he was once somebody’s baby boy, and he had a mother and a father who loved him, and now there he is, half dead on a park bench, and where are his mother or his father, all his uncles now?”

The Conversation (1974)