amateur offerings weekend

This is your chance to discuss the week’s amateur scripts, offered originally in the Scriptshadow newsletter. The primary goal for this discussion is to find out which script(s) is the best candidate for a future Amateur Friday review. The secondary goal is to keep things positive in the comments with constructive criticism.

Below are the scripts up for review, along with the download links. Want to receive the scripts early? Head over to the Contact page, e-mail us, and “Opt In” to the newsletter.

Happy reading!

TITLE: LOWLIFE
GENRE: CRIME THRILLER
LOGLINE: With a newborn in a coma, a small-time enforcer is pushed deeper into a world of violence and deceit when he finds himself indebted to the dirtiest cop on the street.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: I have spent way too much time polishing this thing to just let it go. It placed in the quarter-finals of the Nicholl’s last year and the semi-finals of the Screencraft Fellowship earlier this year, but the real goal here is to have it posted on AOW. I have submitted it before with no results, but this draft is not only the latest, not only the greatest, but the last. I’m moving on to other projects and putting this in my arsenal for now, but not without trying to get it out to my fellow SS commentators one more time.

TITLE: A Cinematic End
GENRE: Contained Thriller/ Dark Comedy
LOGLINE: A man retreats to his secluded cabin to commit suicide. His plans are delayed when movie characters start showing up.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: Because the logline grabbed your attention. I also whipped up this poster to get some additional interest going: http://imgur.com/LW8xcSq

TITLE: Knit Wits.pdf)
GENRE: Comedy
LOGLINE: After the passing of their mother, three estranged brothers must reunite and take over the family knitting business.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: “Knit Wits” is a cross between “Horrible Bosses” and “Silver Linings Playbook.” It’s an edgy comedy with a lot of heart that focuses on three men running a knitting business. Now, I tried to learn how to knit in order to do some research before writing the script, but it was a total nightmare. Much of that frustration is showcased in this spec. Knitting is not for me. However, writing about it in a comedic way is much more my style and a hell of a lot more fun!

TITLE: Simple Acts
GENRE: Dramedy
LOGLINE: A cynical self-destructive film critic finds a new perspective on life through a close-knit benevolent family.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: Having read hundreds of amateur screenplays on my job and only finding about 2% of them to be competent, I completely empathize with you when so many of the scripts you read get a ‘wasn’t for me’. I feel the pain dawg! I thought I should give you a script which charms and entertains you enough so that the time and efforts you spend on reading it is rewarded with at least a few chuckles and smiles.

TITLE: The Devil’s Hammer
GENRE: Horror
LOGLINE: When an outlaw biker, and soon to be father, attempts to leave the sins of his old life behind, he is pushed by a vengeful Sheriff into the arms of an ancient cult of disease worshiping sadists.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: I possess a Bachelor of Liberal Arts from Harvard University and have written published columns for multiple notable financial sites such as; Seeking Alpha, Morning Star and Yahoo Finance. On-top of all this, I am a kid from the streets, who grew up in squats, and gang life. This screenplay hits home for me.

Get Your Script Reviewed On Scriptshadow!: To submit your script for an Amateur Review, send in a PDF of your script, along with the title, genre, logline, and finally, something interesting about yourself and/or your script that you’d like us to post along with the script if reviewed. Use my submission address please: Carsonreeves3@gmail.com. Remember that your script will be posted. If you’re nervous about the effects of a bad review, feel free to use an alias name and/or title. It’s a good idea to resubmit every couple of weeks so your submission stays near the top.

Genre: Sci-Fi Action Thriller
Premise (from writers): Set in a post-apocalyptic NYC ravaged by a rapid-aging virus, THE MAYFLY follows a soldier who lives his entire life in one day, as he goes against his training to transport an uninfected woman to safety.
Why You Should Read (from writer): We’ve been pitching THE MAYFLY as, “Children of Men meets Escape From New York,” but the premise is best explained by a single question: What if you lived your entire life, from infancy to old age, in 24 hours? There is a chapter in Alan Lightman’s “Einstein’s Dreams” that explores a similar concept, except his story doesn’t include a certified bad-ass who attempts to reverse the state of the world before his time is up. In other words, Alan shit the bed, so we changed the sheets. Every screenplay is hard work. Every screenplay is a labor of love. Not every screenplay is good. Although it took us a while to get here, we believe we’ve reached the point in our journey as screenwriters where we know the difference. We humbly submit our egos to the counsel and would love some help in continuing to develop this script.
Writers: Ryan Curtin & Todd Kirby
Details: 107 pages

tom-cruiseThe prototypical actor who can play young and old.

So yesterday I got a little rant-y and overly negative. I actually don’t think screenwriting is dead or anything ridiculous like that. And while the spec system is rigged to resist more thoughtful work, that doesn’t mean you can’t trick it. It doesn’t mean you can’t slip a lobster inside the Big Mac you’re serving them. You just have to be sly about it.

One of the things I complained about yesterday was this notion of “effort.” Or “lack of it.” Because a good script is so hard to write, anything less than everything you’ve got isn’t going to be good enough. So when I see shoddy scripts with only the barest grasp of storytelling, I wilt like an aged dandelion. Whether your script is the best script in the world or the worst piece of shit in 9 counties, I want to be able to tell that you gave it your all.

I believe today’s writers gave it their all, or a pretty close approximation to it. The amount of world-building alone indicates they thought a lot about it. My question would be, did they put TOO MUCH into it? Let’s look at The Mayfly’s plot and then I’ll explain what I mean.

It’s the far-off future just outside Manhattan. To bring you up to speed, some war-hungry dimwit created a fast-aging virus that nearly wiped out all of mankind. Earth’s most recent generation still has to deal with this moron’s creation, as some people have the fast-aging virus and some don’t. Some people live till they’re 60. Some live till they’re 1 day old. It’s a crap shoot. Oh, and if you live for one day, you grow up and live your whole life in that day, baby to old man.

This is where it gets a little confusing. The people of Alistair Kingdom have a King who’s looking for a “breeder” to help continue the Royal bloodline. Breeders don’t have “die early” blood.  Breeders have a normal life expectancy.  Which makes them rare.  Problem is, this breeder chick they need is in Manhattan. How the King knows this, I’m not sure.  But he does.

The king nominates half-day old soldier, Morrow, to retrieve the breeder. Yes, Morrow is half a day old. But he looks like he’s 30. And he somehow has the intelligence of a 30 year-old, which I didn’t quite understand. But Morrow, being so young and therefore easy to manipulate, believes everything the King tells him, and goes off to secure the Breeder.

Once he finds her (Margo) he pulls a “Midnight Run” and handcuffs her, then starts back home, Shrek-style. You gotta remember, this guy’s got to move. It’s not like he can head home tomorrow. He’ll be dead. On their way back, Margo tells Morrow that he’s been fed lies. That the King of Alistair is purposefully letting people die for his own gain. Instead of offering her up as a sex slave, he should take her to something called “The Program” – where scientists still try to save humanity.

Morrow is torn, but eventually decides against it. His allegiance is to the King. However, after he takes her home and sees how she’s treated, he realizes how wrong he was, and that he must save poor Margo, all before he dies at the end of the day.

So in last night’s newsletter, I brought up something called “The Burden of Investment.” And what it amounts to is, how much information is the writer forcing you to take in before you can enjoy their story? How many characters, worlds, rules – essentially, how much exposition do we have to sit through before we can be entertained?

The Mayfly had a very high burden of investment. There was a Kingdom. There was a past virus. This virus acts differently/randomly for each person. There are p-counts. There are breeders. There are uninfected breeders. There are “IDs.” There are CONS. There are CONS pretending to be IDs.

My brain was so fried after 20 pages, I was pointing right while saying left. The problem when you have such a high burden of investment, is you risk losing your reader. Because there’s so much coming at the reader, it’s hard for them to pick out the essential story beats that convey the central plot.

The story’s clear to the writer because he’s gone over it 300 times. We’ve gone over it one time.  That’s what happened to me. I understood that Morrow was going after this girl in Manhattan, but I wasn’t exactly sure why (till later). That’s not to say the answer wasn’t there. It’s that it may have gotten lost inside all those other things the writer was trying to tell us.

I understand this is sci-fi and there’s going to be some world-building involved, but one of the first things I tell sci-fi writers is, “Don’t let things get too complicated. Don’t lose the reader by setting up and explaining ten thousand things right away.”

This may sound contradictory to what I wrote yesterday – when I said I wanted more depth in screenplays – but depth doesn’t mean over-complicating and over-populating and confusing your reader. That’s a different thing entirely, and the overwhelming amount of information being conveyed in the opening act of The Mayfly was too much for my little fried brain to handle.

It feels a little like Ryan and Todd came up with this idea and despite realizing it was always going to be a battle, they were going to do it anyway. Through hell or high water. And there’s a part of me that admires that stubbornness. I think it’s important to challenge yourselves as writers. But there’s another part of me that says, “Why torture yourself?”

I mean, there are still very basic things I’m miffed about that seem directly related to the concept. How do these people learn to be human in one day? How are they speaking fluent English by 9am? How do they learn how to fight or be a warrior? By noon, no less? Even in the most optimistic scenario, wouldn’t it take an adult a couple of days to learn how to walk? That was a huge problem for me, was that I never fully embraced the premise. That’s not to say it wasn’t interesting. It’s just one of those premises where you’re always aware of it, where you’re always wondering how they’re going to pull it off as opposed to just enjoying the story.

Did Ryan and Todd try to do too much? Did having a kingdom in the future along with all these complicated factions/rules take precedence over exploiting the theme at the very core of the concept – aging?  That’s something I kept asking myself.  This seemed to be more about continuing bloodlines than realizing how short life was. I mean aging’s brought up a few times (for example, Morrow’s never going to see a sunrise) but it’s through dialogue and it feels inconsequential.  The theme of aging and time passing should have been explored a lot more thoroughly here.

The writers bring up comparisons to Children of Men, and one of the reasons that movie worked so well was that it was so simple. There wasn’t any complex mythology with Kings and Princes. That’s why I tell sci-fi writers that if they can keep their futuristic societies relatively close to current society, they should do it. Because then you don’t have to spend half your script explaining shit, like a whole new political system.

I’m really torn on this. Does The Mayfly really get better if you ditch all the Kingdom stuff? It seems like the story wouldn’t be burdened with so many limitations that way. Then again, some of the better character moments happen inside the Royal Family (I liked the complex family dynamics of creating an heir).

But yeah, the more I think about it, the more I believe there were too many ideas crammed into here. And it hurt the story. Morrow and Margo rarely got a chance to talk about anything real (life, love, happiness, loneliness, fear) because they were always focusing on p-counts and breeders and bloodlines and Cons. Once exposition takes precedence over character, you’re in trouble. But it’s often the price you pay when you try and over-mythologize a script.

Moving forward, I’d try to streamline the opening act. Strip out as much information as you can and make the world of Mayfly as easy to understand as possible. You do that – this script is going to be so much better.

Script link: The Mayfly

[ ] what the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: Reader Reminders – When you’re writing one of these scripts with SO much information, you might want to repeat the protagonist goal for the audience a second time. I didn’t know why they were going after Margo here. The answer was in there somewhere, but it got lost inside all the information dumps. So it was nice when, later, Morrow reminds us that they’re getting Margo in order to continue the Royal bloodline. If your plot is simple, you won’t have to do this. It’s only required when your setup is packed with information and exposition.

Venice-da-Vinci_02

The disappointing showing of Transcendence really bummed me out this weekend. Not because I had anything invested in the film. It was just one of the few non-IP properties that made it to the big screen. And for screenwriters who still believe in original ideas, it’s very important that these movies do well. Because if they don’t, we’re bound to turn into an all IP industry.

The thing is, right now, the studios would have a good case against the spec world for doing so. Nobody’s writing anything good, so why should they buy any specs or make any specs into movies?

I’ve thought about this a lot lately, and I’ve noticed some real problems in the system. One of the reasons I tell everyone to simplify their stories and make sure their GSU (goals, stakes, urgency) is strong, is because these are the only scripts that get past script readers. They’re the thrillers and the comedies that have clean easy-to-understand stories, and therefore they can pass up to their bosses without fearing the dreaded, “What the fuck is this?? Give me something I can sell!”

So what does that say to us? It says we can’t explore anything too complex. We have to stay in that little box. In many ways, specs are like the Big Mac trying to compete with the studios’ lobster. We’re not allowed to create something challenging or unique or with substance, so how the hell are we supposed to compete with projects like “The Wolf of Wall Street” or “Benjamin Button?” If neither of those projects were based on IP, they wouldn’t have sold. And that’s really hard to accept. That the playing field is so uneven.

Despite that, I don’t think writers are giving it their best. Even with that reasonable excuse, I’m not reading enough good material. And I’ve tried to figure out why. Part of me believes that screenwriting is SO much harder than everyone thinks it is. There’s so much you have to know how to do.

You have to create intriguing likable protagonists that don’t feel like every other intriguing likable protagonist we’ve seen. You have to know how to pace a script with act breaks and story beats. You have to know what conflict is so you can write entertaining scenes (I can’t tell you how often I see all 55 scenes in a script, and not a single one has conflict).

You have to know how to explore a character in a way that adds depth, and to create relationships with problems that need to be resolved. You need to know how to write dialogue that does more than simply allow two characters to speak. It must push them to speak in a way that ENTERTAINS US. You need to know how to apply suspense, obstacles, setups, payoffs, urgency, stakes. And after you figure all that stuff out, you actually have to apply it in a NATURAL way that doesn’t look like there’s any craft to it. You have to build a house that looks like it’s always been there.

And that’s hard to do.

Part of the problem is too many writers are trying for the quick fixes. They read a couple of things from this site, a couple of things from another site, and they think they’re ready to go.  You can spot these scripts a mile away. There’s just no sense whatsoever that the writer’s put anything into the craft.  A couple of months back I read an amateur writer’s script, and he wanted to know if his hero should secretly be the killer. I was like, “I’m not even clear what’s going on in YOUR FIRST SCENE.” Whether the killer is the bad guy or not is irrelevant. You need to figure out how to write a scene first (a scene is a story.  Start with some problem your characters have to deal with, and you should come up with something reasonably good).

And that’s something I just don’t think people do anymore. Actually WORK. I came across this short last week (The Long Game) which talks about all the geniuses throughout history. Da Vinci, John Coltrane, Stephen King, people of that stature. And what the director found was that there was this period in each of these artists’ lives that he called the “Difficult Years,” where they went through this self-appointed apprenticeship. This apprenticeship would last somewhere between 7-15 years, and would consist of them practicing and experimenting and writing and reading and playing and studying, and looking for any little thing that could make them better, that would give them an edge on, or help them catch up to, their competition.

Nobody talks about those years cause they’re not decorated with No. 1 hits or groundbreaking sculptures or Pulitzer prizes. But those are the MOST IMPORTANT YEARS of the artist’s life. Coltrane spent 15 years practicing relentlessly EVERY DAY on his saxophone until he got his first real gig. And this is the best saxophonist ever! It took him 15 years of practice!

In the documentary “Jiro Dreams of Sushi,” about the best sushi chef in the world, this guy spent something like 10 years studying RICE! What region the best rice came from, the textures that worked best, how to store it, how to cook it. We’re not even talking about the fish. We’re talking about the RICE. That’s why he’s the best in the world. Because he dedicated himself to finding the perfect EVERYTHING for his food. What are you doing as a screenwriter that’s setting you apart from everyone else?

I think I know why this is such a problem for our industry. It’s because screenwriting DOESN’T LOOK THAT HARD. Why would anyone work hard at something that seems so easy? Everybody thinks they can write a screenplay. They look at what’s out in the theaters and say, “I can do better than that guy.” No, you can’t. That’s exactly WHY screenwriting is so hard, is because even the best screenwriters can’t come up with something “better than that.”

As a writer, you should be obsessively doing three things. You should be writing, you should be reading (scripts/books), and you should be studying. If you really want to have a shot at this, you have to outwork everyone else. So I challenge you. All those things I noted above (obstacles, conflict, etc.), I want you to MASTER ALL OF THEM. Work on them until your fingers bleed. That’s the only chance you have of writing something great, is if you master all the aspects of storytelling.

Now I realize that’s a tall order, so maybe I can help you focus a little. If there’s one thing I see botched over and over again – the biggest problem I see in screenplays by far – it’s boring characters. And derivative characters.  Or the worst – the combos: Derivabores.  So start there.  Learn how to write good characters. Look back through my archives. Google the word. Re-watch all your favorite characters and take notes about why you love them.

Because the more I read, the more I realize that it’s ALL ABOUT THE CHARACTERS. If you write a bad story, you can make up for it with good characters. A great place to start is by doing the PLOT STRIP TEST. Mentally strip your plot OUT of your script and just look at your characters all by their naked selves.

Now tell me, are these characters interesting without the plot behind them? Without the explosions or the twists or the killer concept? In a script I read awhile back, I did the PLOT STRIP TEST, and here’s all that was left: A hero that was afraid of heights and a love interest who was upset that her dad died. Do those sound like interesting people to you?

Where is the flaw (she’s unable to love), the vice (she’s a sex addict), the relationship problems (these two were together once until she made a mistake and cheated on him).  What’s their personality like (wise-ass)?  What do they fear (sleeping alone)?  What do they keep from the world (they once watched a friend rape someone and didn’t do anything about it)?  I don’t want to use the dirty words “soap opera,” but you almost have to think of it that way. Are my characters interesting on their own, without the story? Because if not, you need to build a lot more into them.

But characters are still just one piece of the puzzle. Sometimes I’ll pick up a script and I don’t know what’s wrong with it. I just know that it’s lifeless, that it’s missing something.

So maybe I’ll turn to you guys for help. What do you think’s missing from today’s scripts? A lot of you called Transcendence a “bad screenplay.” What’s missing from it and other scripts like it? What is that one thing that all these writers (amateur and professional) continue to ignore?

And hey, if you think you’ve done everything I’ve said above and that you’re ready, well dog gonnit, send your script in for Amateur Friday (details at top of page). Maybe you’ll get reviewed and blow us all away. I hope so. Because baby, I want to believe again.

Oh, and finally, I’m sending out a new newsletter late tonight, and it’s going to be a good one. I’ll be reviewing a script from one of my FAVORITE writers, as well as posting some short films for you to check out. Make sure to check your SPAM boxes if you don’t receive it, and add me as a contact so it doesn’t go to SPAM in the future. If you’re new to Scriptshadow and want to sign up, go here!

Genre: Dark Comedy
Premise: When her step-brother, whom she’s never met before, gets back from rehab, a 16 year-old girl with all sorts of issues engages in a bizarre, sexually dysfunctional friendship with him.
About: Alexander McAulay has found a small level of success selling novels, but this appears to be his first real screenplay (or at least the first one he broke in with). It finished fairly high on last year’s Black List, though it is so messed up I don’t know if anyone’s going to have the balls to buy it.
Writer: Alexander McAulay
Details: 99 pages

AnnaSophia-RobbAnnaSophia Robb as Erica?

Sometimes you read something and you go, “Did I just read that?” Because you can’t believe that you actually did. Like Fatties. I still have nightmares about the amputation fisting scene. But Flower, with its appropriately coy title, may go beyond even that script. I mean, this thing is so messed up I don’t even know where to begin.

I guess you should imagine Flower as “Fatties meets Heathers.” That would give you a small inkling of how delirious it is. The question is, would anyone actually purchase it? Getting on the Black List is great. But it doesn’t always mean a sale. It just gives you the kind of exposure that may lead to a sale.

Personally, I think this was a brilliant move by McAulay. He knew the chances of Flower getting made were slim, but he also knew that if he pushed the envelope and made the reader uncomfortable, that you’d remember his script. And call him in for a meeting. And that’s all you’re really trying to accomplish as a screenwriter. Get as many people as familiar with your work as possible. Because the more people who know you, the more rooms you get into, the more jobs you get.

Oh, so what do I mean when I say this script is crazy? Well it starts with this girl, 16 year-old Erica Vandros, blowing a really creepy old dude in a van. After he finishes, Erica’s best friends, Claudine and Kala, come out of the bushes, informing the man they’ve been taping the whole thing. If he doesn’t give them every cent he’s got, he’s going to jail for a long time. Oh yeah, and this isn’t an isolated incident. They do this ALL THE TIME.

Erica’s saving up money to bail her deadbeat dad out of jail. But her blowjob streak is interrupted when Luke moves in. Luke is her stepdad’s son, the result of a new enough relationship with her mom that she and Luke have never met. Luke is really fat.  Like Southwest Airlines “buy two seats” fat. I think Erica describes him as if “Jabba The Hut sat around all day eating lard.”

So how does this relationship begin?  Well, what better way to introduce yourself to your new step-brother than asking him if he wants a blowjob! Yes, Erica’s so into blowing guys (preferably guys she doesn’t know) that she actually has a sketch book where she’s drawn all the penises she’s encountered. What a classy lady. Luke is so freaked out by girls in general that he declines, and a baffled Erica eventually learns that the reason for this (and his craziness in general) has something to do with a guy who lives in the house across the street molesting him as a boy.

This angers Erica, who puts Operation Stepbrother Blowjob on hold so she can take Paul (the neighbor in question) down. She and her friends will drug him, take a bunch of sleazy pictures with him, then use those pictures to blackmail him out of everything he owns.

Things don’t go exactly according to plan though. (Spoiler) Molester Dude sort of… dies accidentally during the drugging, which means Erica’s a murderer. So she goes on the run with Luke, deciding to kill two birds with one stone and bail her father out of jail along the way. But what happens instead are a lot of confessions that amount to these two being big fat liars their whole lives. Including that little molestation accusation that led to Paul’s death.  Oops.

fatkid_02_medium-453x400

Like I said, this is a great script to get you noticed. It’s risky. It’s daring. It makes you feel weird reading it. I wrote an article awhile back about not writing “soft” scripts. This is anything but soft. It’s got pointy, stabby edges that are continually jabbing at your insides. I mean, I’m not going to pretend like it’s God’s gift to screenwriting or anything. But I’ve been pretty bored with my reading the last few weeks and this was the first time a script really made me sit up and pay attention. So it had SOMETHING going for it.

And it wasn’t just a string of shocks either. McAulay knows how to construct a story with goals and obstacles and conflict all the way through.  I liked that Erica wasn’t just sitting around on her ass being a boring independent movie character all the time.  She’s out there actively making money so she can bail out her father.  And when Luke enters the equation, Erica’s goal slides over to taking down the molester.  That’s what you need in a script – you need to feel like the characters are moving towards something at all times, even if it’s something odd or nontraditional that would only make sense in their particular universe.

Also, if you’re going to get on the Black List like Flower, you need interesting characters – characters readers haven’t seen before.  Both Luke and Erica definitely fit this bill. Luke is half-crazy, suicidal, an oxycontin addict and a food addict. And Erica’s an enigma. She’s a blowjob addict. She’s funny. She’s over-the-top. But I think, most importantly, you DON’T FORGET HER. I read so many forgettable female characters in screenplays. I PROMISE you, with this girl’s attitude and the shit that comes out of her mouth, you will NOT forget her.

The only thing that hurt the script was that every now and then, it felt “written.”  In other words, when you read something, you could actually see the writer typing it down.  It’s typically a bad thing as it means you’re not immersed in the story.   I mean, when Erica’s mom kisses her and she yells back, “more tongue, ma! Or I feel gypped!” or when she spots Luke, “Look! Shamu’s found dry land!” or later to Luke, “Don’t you want revenge? Or did he rape all the manhood out of you?” you can smell McAulay grinning deliciously at his little insults.

And then you have things like Luke getting back from rehab, then a scene later, his molester from ten years ago moving into the house across the street – I mean, come on, what are the chances?  A plot should be invisible.  It must not draw attention to itself.  When you cram big plot points together like that, they expose the gears of your story.  The reader shouldn’t see the gears of the story.  It’s like seeing behind the curtain in Oz.

The funny thing is, it almost worked. I mean, the story and characters were so out there, so weird, and people were always doing and saying things that were so bizarre, why not make it a giant translucent chicken drumstick of crazy?  If you’re laughing, you might not care that you can tell the writer’s there in the room with you, typing away.

I don’t know if the masses are ready for Flower though. This thing is offensive at every turn. Who’s going to pony up five million bucks to have a high school girl parade around town offering blow jobs to old men? I guess it could happen. You have to find that really fucked up filmmaker, like a young version of whoever that guy was who directed “KIDS” back in the day. But I’m not holding my breath.

Still, despite its weirdness, I wanted to see what happened. I wanted to get to the end. And the writing was infinitely readable. Enviably sparse and to the point. It was one of the faster 99 pages I’ve ever read recently. I’m going to recommend this only to the weirdos though (like me!). If you’re not the kind of person who waits til you and your friend are alone so you can start cracking the most inappropriate, insensitive jokes in history, you’re probably not going to like this.

[ ] what the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: Beware the perfectly-timed coincidence. Coincidences are your enemy in screenplays. If things that you need for your story to work just show up out of nowhere at just the right time, the audience will groan and roll their eyes and call you on it. The perfect example is Luke coming back from rehab and, what do you know, the guy who molested him at some faraway camp a decade ago has just moved in directly across the street.  It may be EASIER to write that plot point, since you don’t have to put any effort into it, but it’s always better to go the extra mile and make your major plot points coincidence-free.

What I learned 2: While it certainly isn’t a prerequisite, if you can write two really quirky weird characters into your script, your chances of getting on the Black List go up 100 fold.  The Black List loves the unique weird offbeat strange characters.

Genre: TV Pilot – Dark Comedy
Premise: The host of a kids show that explores life’s tough questions is fired and must move cross-country and reinvent his show on a smaller budget.
About: Charlie Kaufman is coming back to TV, a place he so desperately tried to escape 20 years ago. But instead of writing bad jokes for The Dana Carvey show, this time he’s in charge of the whole shebang, and he’s bringing with him a stellar cast that includes Michael Cera, Catherine Keener, Sally Hawkins and John Hawkes. Where this will go is anyone’s guess. But the show should be debuting on FX soon, a channel that isn’t afraid to take chances on “strange” talents like Kaufman.
Writer: Charlie Kaufman
Details: 39 pages

john-hawkes_hi-rez_h.png.600x624_q100John Hawkes

Is it possible that something can become TOO experimental? The whole reason everyone’s rushing to TV is because they can take more chances, do more interesting things. They can actually experiment, which is something that’s become almost impossible to do in the overly processed, carefully calibrated feature market.

The question is, what do you get when you bring to TV the one person who was already able to experiment in the feature world? The guy who wasn’t having any problems creating weird narratives with strange non-conformist characters? Do you get something that is so experimental that nothing makes sense anymore? I don’t know, but I have a hankering to find out!

Like pretty much every Charlie Kaufman script I read these days, the plot for “How and Why” is a little hard to follow. The opening sequence alone takes 2-3 reads to achieve only the barest understanding of what’s happening.

We start out watching an average family sitcom, something you’d expect Tim Allen to star in. Bobby, one of the child characters in the show, is watching a show called “How and Why” on TV, which is hosted by a man named Goodman, who can best be described as a mix between Tyson Degrasse, Bill Nye The Science Guy, and Mr. Rogers. The theme of his show is asking kids profound, deeply philosophical life questions that they are clearly too young to comprehend.

Bobby turns the TV off and starts asking his parents about these questions, complete with a laugh track and un-hilarious zingers. At the end of the scene, we follow Bobby’s jovial father over to the couch, where he immediately becomes very serious. He eases into a monologue about how “none of this is funny,” and how he “used to live in a cave,” then pulls out a gun and SHOOTS HIMSELF IN THE HEAD. It’s unclear if this is the actor playing the father who does this, or the character himself, but laughs from the audience indicate it was probably part of the show.

Gotta check that pilot out.

Strangely enough, despite this overtly intense and disturbing moment, the family we just saw has nothing to do with the story. Instead we follow Goodman, that TV science guy, as he’s told by his boss that they’re going younger and that he’s fired.

Goodman moves with his family (wife and three triplet boys) to the town where his new show is picked up, (titled “Wherefore and By What Means,” since they’re not allowed to legally use “How and Why”). The production takes place at a company that used to build hallways, which are so big and elaborate that all the rooms are very small. This makes simple things like filming a show really challenging, since everybody’s so mushed together.

Back at home, Goodman starts wondering if he’s past his prime, all while dealing with a wife who doesn’t seem as interested in him as she should be, and hearing tales of his triplet sons getting bullied at school.

But everything takes a turn for the supernatural when one morning, as everyone’s getting ready for the day, they notice that all of their things have been packed back up and put into boxes. Goodman’s wife and kids are convinced it’s a ghost. But Goodman, being the practical, logic-based guy that he is, is thinking there’s gotta be a more rational explanation here.

That is until he starts hearing the faint sounds of a distant laugh track. Could this house that he’s moved into be the former house of a sitcom family? Like a REAL sitcom family? Not the actors playing in the sitcom? We’ll have to wait for future episodes to find out.

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Eternal Sunshine is still one of my favorite screenplays ever. So I go into every Kaufman script hoping for a new version of that genius. But I don’t know what to make of this. It’s just so… weird. Every conventional storytelling technique is thrown out in favor of a meta storyline, somewhat gimmicky flourishes (a “hallway company”) and a hard-to-tab, hyper-realistic tone.

The unfocused oft-confusing plot doesn’t help things. We start out with the kind of sitcom where people kill themselves, only to then follow the guy in the science show that one of the sit-com characters was watching. Does that mean Goodman’s world only exists in the sitcom universe, or that his show is known in the real world as well, but was just being used as a program that one of the characters was watching? I’m not sure. And since it’s Charlie Kaufman, I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be sure.

Even if you take this unique world off the table though, and judge the pilot solely by the characters and story, it’s still hard to get into. Kaufman’s take on the world has always been dark, but it seems to be getting darker with every project, leaving a trail of sadness after every character exchange and story beat. When his wife isn’t interested in hearing about Goodman’s day, you get the sense that this man leaves a really sad existence, and finishes every day with the thought, “We’re all going to die anyway, so why even try?”

I’m a big believer that the best stories are about characters who get placed in bad situations, or who’ve hit a rough patch in life, but they don’t complain about it or give in. They fight. I think that’s why American Beauty resonated with so many people when it was a spec (and then, obviously, a film). This guy had a shitty life, but then he took action and made it better. Imagine if Lester Burnham instead said, “My life sucks. What’s the point?” then moped around for the next 90 minutes. Probably wouldn’t have been that good of a film, right?

Hey, I like hope. Kill me.

Also, I understand that Kaufman is writing what he knows here (he used to write sitcoms), but there’s something dated about this premise. I’ve seen people over-do the hyper-exaggerated sit-com thing before, as well as play the laugh track even as terrible things are happening onscreen (like people getting beat up or killed). So there was a feeling of “been there, done that” when that happened. This is Charlie Fucking Kaufman! Why not give us something new?

Why not tackle the absurdity of more current genres, like reality TV? Generally I’m not into that, but I think Kaufman could do wonders with it. What is reality? What isn’t! Who’s real? Who isn’t? That seems to be one of the themes he’s exploring anyway. But alas, I don’t think he knows or really cares about that world much.

I will say this. This script has a very specific tone to it that feels like it requires a very specific treatment. It’s kind of like if you’d read Breathless before it was made. How could you possibly envision what that movie eventually became? So I’m hoping that Kaufman has a few tricks up his sleeve when he shoots this (I think he’s directing this at least).

And How and Why does have its moments. The huge hallways and tiny rooms of his hero’s new workspace, as well as his clueless new boss, for example, make for some funny dialogue. But I’m stuck wondering if that’s going to be enough to make up for a strangely bizarre concoction that, at least from this pilot, doesn’t seem to know what it wants to be.

[ ] what the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: If you deal your character a bad hand, don’t have them mope about it. Or, at least, don’t have them mope about it for long. Sooner (rather than later) they should want to better their predicament. No one likes to watch anybody mope about life. It’s depressing and, typically, not what we’re looking for when we want to be entertained.