John Wick meets… National Lampoon’s Vacation
Genre: Comedy/Family
Premise: A former top assassin living incognito as a suburban dad must take his unsuspecting family on the run when his past catches up to him.
About: Today’s writer wrote on the TV show, Scream. He’s been a head writer on two other shows. This script not only finished on last year’s Black List, but was also purchased by financing titan, Skydance, the home of such movies as Mission Impossible, Tomorrow War, and Top Gun: Maverick.
Writer: David Coggeshall
Details: 107 pages
Ruffalo for Dan?
I saw on David Coggeshall’s Twitter that when he sent this script to his agents, they dropped him. The script would then go on to sell and make the Black List.
What does this mean, exactly?
Does it mean that, as is often quoted in Hollywood, “nobody knows anything?” Or is there a more complex explanation, some “inside baseball” reason that the common man doesn’t understand?
It’s always interesting to see a script that was rejected then flourish. This happened famously recently with Squid Game. When the Squid Game writer originally pitched that script, executives said it was too dark, that audiences wanted something lighter.
And you know what? They may have been right. Maybe that show wasn’t meant to be made ten years ago.
Now when it comes to The Family Plan, I have no idea the specific reason for why his agents dumped him for it. But I do know this. Unless your agents are specifically comedy agents, you’re going to have a tough time when you send them a comedy script.
Comedy is so divisive. What you think is hilarious I might think is awful, and vice versa. So I can see a non-comedy agent receiving this script, not laughing cause it’s not his type of humor, and saying, “Okay, that’s it. I’m done.”
Another angle to this story is that it’s a family comedy. They say agents just want to make money. That’s true to an extent. But what they *really want* is to be a part of the cool club. They want to represent the hot new “voicy” writer. The Safdie Brothers. Jordan Peele. Whoever the next Diablo Cody is. Representing cool writers is currency in this town.
Agents don’t prance around Nobu talking up their latest family comedy writer. I’m not saying the agents were right to reject this writer. I’m just trying to tell you how the industry thinks, and therefore how this might’ve happened.
And with that, let’s get to the review!
30-something dad-bod Buffalo used-car salesman Dan Mitchell is living a mundane life. He’s got the wife, two children (Nina, 17, and Kyle 14), and a brand new baby. Dan is stuck in the doldrums of suburban hell…….. and he ABSOLUTELY LOVES IT. This is Dan’s dream. Which may sound like a strange dream. But you’re about to find out why.
One day while at the supermarket (carrying his 10-month old son in a baby Bjorn) a tattooed man attacks Dan! Milquetoast Dan all of a sudden turns into Murderer’s Row Dan, and decimates the guy with the precision of Jean-Claude Van Damme in his prime.
Dan, needing to escape the many attempts on his life that are about to begin, rushes home and tells his family it’s time to go on a vacation… to Vegas! His wife, Rachel, is confused. “Um, okay,” she says. “Let’s start planning.” No, NOW, Dan says. He wants to leave IN TWO MINUTES. Everybody jumps in the car, unclear why dad has all of a sudden turned into a psycho, and off they go.
Along the way they stop at Northwestern, as that’s the college Nina wants to go to. That turns out to be a mistake because, while taking the campus tour, Dan is attacked! Dan manages to not only defeat his attackers, but somehow do it without anyone noticing. He grabs his daughter after the tour and says, “Okay, time to get back on the road!”
When they finally get to Vegas, Dan is getting attacked so much that he can no longer keep his secret. So he sits the family down and explains that he used to be an assassin for some really bad people. Not on purpose! He clarifies. He thought he was assassinating dictators. Turns out he was just a killer-for-hire. And now his old boss has finally found him, and wants to clean up his loose end, which includes Dan… and his entire family!
When it comes to comedy, I better laugh in the first couple of pages. And lo and behold, I did get a big laugh early on…
Readers want to know they’re in good hands. They want to know that the writer knows his story, knows the language of screenwriting, knows how to hit a joke or hit a plot beat or set up a character. When I see these sorts of things executed well early on, I know I’m in good hands. After that, I can just relax. Which is what happened here.
The script is at its best in these early scenes. Cause it’s not just Dan fighting off bad guys. He’s having to do so without getting caught. It provides an extra level of difficulty to the fighting that gives the scenes a little extra oomph.
Once we’re on the road for a while, the script loses something and I’m not sure what it was. I think when it comes to any of these big concepts, you want your set pieces to have that clever “this could only happen in this movie” quality to them. Fending off bad guys on a college campus felt too generic to me.
I remember in the original National Lampoon’s Vacation, there was this scene where they visit their “Middle America” cousins and the comedy leaned heavily into the “white trash” and “hick” jokes, which felt organic. All families have those cousins who live in the middle of nowhere and live a totally different lifestyle than you. And there’s comedy to be found in those differences.
I wanted more of that “unique to this concept” type of scenes.
By the way, for those of you who don’t understand what the midpoint shift is, The Family Plan executes a perfect one.
The midpoint shift (which happens at….. the midpoint) changes the movie in some way so that the second half is different from the first half. The first half of The Family Plan, Dan keeps his secret identity to himself. At the midpoint, he tells his family that he’s a former assassin. So the second half of the movie now has a different tenor – he can fight out in the open with his family instead of it being a secret.
I went back and forth on this one. It started out strong. The middle gets a bit repetitive. I would’ve preferred two really memorable set pieces. But, overall, it’s a fun script, and a good representation of what a family comedy should look like.
Script link: The Family Plan
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: When the time comes to get an agent, it is VERY important that you are on the same page as them. Because what often happens is, when you have a hot script and agents are fighting to represent you, they just want the shiny new toy. They don’t care if they like the script or not because it’s hot enough that they can use the heat to send it out and hopefully build a package around it. However, the second that script dies and you send them the next script, if they never got your writing in the first place, they’re probably not going to send it out. So, when you’re talking to agents to potentially represent you, pay attention to if they genuinely like your writing. Ask them, “What did you like about the script?” “What did you like about the writing?” Not in a combative way. Just to see if they genuinely like your writing. — I recently had to beg a writer not to sign with an agent. He let me see their e-mail discourse and this woman – a very successful agent by the way – was openly saying she wasn’t a fan of the script but she thought maybe she could send it to some people. If that’s how an agent is starting out their relationship with you, I don’t care how big they are. I promise you you will have issues with them the second you send them your next script.
Black Swan meets Euphoria in today’s latest screenplay review!
Genre: Psychological Thiller
Premise: A young college student is forced to confront her family’s dark past when a mysterious stalker appears, derailing her life and sending her spiraling into a web of anxiety and paranoia.
About: Today’s writer, Chris Grillot, is a former crime journalist. “Bella” finished with 7 votes on last year’s Black List. It was purchased by the female-focused production company, Di Novi Pictures, who produced Little Women. Chris was born and raised in New Orleans.
Writer: Chris Grillot
Details: 99 pages
Selena Gomez for Maria?
There’s a subset of a sub-genre which I like to call, “The Obsessive.”
It’s when the main character has some sort of obsessive compulsive disorder that controls their life.
One of the reasons this subset sub-genre works is because it creates compelling characters without you having to do much. We are inherently fascinated by obsessive behavior. We have a perverse desire to watch people attempt to achieve perfection.
The spiraling that results from that pursuit serves as the narrative engine for these scripts. They are “train-wreck” narratives, which means, as long as they’re competently written, the reader will want to read the whole thing to see the part where everything comes crashing down.
So, if you’re looking to write a script that both makes the Black List and is entertaining (these two things aren’t always mutually exclusive, unfortunately), writing one of these is a good way to go.
That doesn’t mean it’s automatic. Just like any script, you gotta throw enough things at the main character to keep the story spicy. And as I read today’s script, I wasn’t sure if it was ever going to get into spicy territory.
It had some of the Taco Bell mild hot sauce. Even some of the Del Taco medium hot sauce. But did we ever get a dose of Hot One’s “last dab?” Let’s find out.
19 year old Maria Perez has been a pageant girl all throughout her childhood. She’s got one of those helicopter moms who weighs her every morning at the same time. And if she’s even a pound off, it’s an extra hour of cardio that day.
In one week, Maria is participating in the Louisiana State University beauty pageant. Last year she finished in second place. So this year, there are no excuses. She HAS to win. This means eating 500 calories a day. It means lots of squats and treadmills. It means throwing up in the bathroom. Hey, this girl is committed, okay? Stop with the judgy eyes.
Things take a turn for the worse when Maria runs into an old friend, Kari. Kari and Maria used to hang out when they were kids and Maria doesn’t remember much about their friendship, only that she has a very bad feeling inside when Kari is around. And Kari starts being around a lot.
One night, after a long day of strict eating and exercise, Maria drives home, only for her steering and brakes to lock up. She crashes into a tree. Miraculously, she doesn’t suffer any major injuries. But she’s now convinced that someone is out to sabotage her pageant run. And she’s positive it’s this Kari girl.
There’s only one problem with that theory. Whenever she tells her friends that Kari is after her, they don’t know who Kari is. Maria will spot Kari at a party or something, yet when she points Kari out, Kari will always have slipped into another room by the time anybody looks. She’s like a UFO. You can never get a clear picture of her.
I think you all know where this is going. There’s a high probability that Kari doesn’t exist. But don’t tell Maria that. She’s gung-ho on this theory that Kari is trying to ruin her life. This obsession with her mysterious childhood friend extends all the way up to the pageant, where she finally has a showdown with her. Maria decides she’s going to make sure Kari can never bother her again.
Something I really liked about this script was the treatment of how Maria viewed herself. The entire movie, we’re not seeing the “real” Maria. We’re seeing the version of Maria that she sees. She sees cellulite. She sees ugly facial features. She sees every little pimple. She sees a monster.
A moment comes late in the script where her mother forces her to look at herself in the mirror. Really look at herself. And, in that moment, Maria sees herself for what she really looks like. For the first time ever. And she’s stunning.
I can see that moment playing really powerfully in theaters. The whole movie we’re dealing with, maybe, a less attractive actress. And then for the big mirror reveal, we basically see a supermodel.
It’s a really clever “show don’t tell” way of conveying the fallibility of how we view ourselves. We never see ourselves for who we really are. We just focus on the flaws. “Bella” did as good a job as you can in getting that message across.
The script also had one really strong set piece. There’s a frat party at the midpoint that has a couple of shocking moments in it. I always say that your script needs to have those big memorable moments. But it’s especially true in a script like this. Cause these scripts are basically saying, “We’re riding the edge here. We’re going to shock you.” So, if you don’t write that big shocking scene, we feel gypped. Bella gets that set piece scene right.
Where the script runs into questionable territory (spoilers ahead) is with the parental abuse subplot. When you go into parental sexual abuse, that’s a very deep and dark world. And you have to treat it just right, starting with creating a parent that we believe would do that. Because if the only reason for the parent doing such a thing is to shock the audience, we won’t believe it. And I was riding the line there of whether I believed the mother would do this or not.
Now, to the writer’s credit, he explores that in an interesting way. Basically, Kari and Maria’s mother are one and the same. Which allows the writer to skirt around some of the ickiness of that dynamic.
Still, I’m not sure I ever bought in, wholesale. Whenever you make big bold story choices, they have to be grounded in some sort of reality that we can believe in. Cause you’re going to have the reader asking, “Well, wait. Why is she abusive? Where is that coming from?” I don’t think the script ever answers that question. Which means the only reason she’s doing it is because the writer is trying to shock us.
This is a tricky one because it’s got a lot of good stuff in it. It’s got some iffy in it. But I’d say if you liked Black Swan or Euphoria, you’ll definitely like this. It’s built in that vein. Curious what you guys think.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: In a screenwriter’s attempts to keep the eyes moving down the page, they sometimes sacrifice clarity. And clarity is paramount. If we don’t know exactly what’s going on, we will guess. And if we guess, there’s a good chance we’re not reading the same story you’re writing. So always stay on top of your clarity. Here are a couple of action lines early on in the script. Maria was making out with her boyfriend, Dimo, in his truck. He got too handsy for her. She wanted to cool off. So she walked down to a nearby gas station to go to the bathroom. Here are the lines that follow
Track with Maria as she heads down the dark levee, through a clearing, lined by trees. Ahead, the gas station lights glow.
Maria quickly walks as if in a trance. Behind her, Dimo’s truck disappears from sight.
“Dimo’s truck disappears from sight.” What does mean? Does that mean that Dimo drove the truck away? Or does it mean that the truck simply disappeared behind a hill as she descended down it? I’m guess the latter? But I’m not sure. It’s up to the writer to be clearer about this. If Dimo drives away because he’s pissed off or something, that’s a different story beat that leads to a different scenario. So you want to be clear about these things.
Amateur Showdown is back, baby!
But I’m going to utilize a little writing tool I call… suspense… and make you read this entire article before I reveal the showdown genre. I’ve also programmed the post so that if you try and scroll down and check to see the genre first, the article automatically disappears. Sorry!
But don’t worry. I plan to keep you entertained in the meantime. And today, I want to talk about Emmy nominations.
Did you know there are over 500 shows on television? That’s correct. I did not accidentally add a “0.”
With that many shows, there are bound to be plenty of “snubs.” But I’m not up in arms about the fact that Yellowstone didn’t get any noms or that Atlanta was ignored for best drama. I’m more focused on the shows that kicked butt.
Succession – 25
White Lotus – 20
Ted Lasso – 20
Hacks – 17
Only Murders in the Building – 17
Euphoria – 16
Barry – 14
Dopesick – 14
Severance – 14
Squid Game – 14
Ozark – 13
Stranger Things – 13
The interesting thing about having 500 shows is that we’ve all grown more picky about what we watch. We know that, the second a show slows down, it’s an opportunity to watch some other shiny new show. A bad habit I’ve fallen victim to many times.
I have not made it through all of Succession Season 3. I didn’t feel any compelling reason to keep watching the third season of Barry. I started to see the weak writing creep into Ozark a couple of seasons ago and it’s only gotten worse since. Which is a shame because it started with so much promise.
However, I’m thrilled about White Lotus. You guys know how infatuated I was with that show. Hell, I did an entire week of articles on it (Day 1, Day 2, Day 3, Day 4, Day 5). I think Euphoria is operating on another level. A lot of people point out how the secret ingredient to Stranger Things is its amazing casting. And I would agree with that. But I also think Euphoria’s casting is 100 times better than Stranger Things, so much so that it’s going to be responsible for the next 20 years of movie stars. From Zendaya to Jacob Elordi to Sydney Sweeney to Angus Cloud to Hunter Schafer. They’re all sooooo good.
I love seeing Squid Game on there because I’m unapologetically an enforcer of the high concept (cough cough *ahem* – foreshadowing) and this is the highest concept show of the decade. I don’t think I’ve ever anticipated a reality show more than Squid Game. It’s going to be so much fun.
A lot of the other entries, I’m lukewarm about. I didn’t like them, I didn’t dislike them. But I have noticed this trend occurring where, somewhere around the third episode, a show either flies or falls.
This happened with Severance. It happened with The Old man. It happened with Moon Knight. It happened with Ms. Marvel.
I LOVED the pilot for all of these shows. But that’s the thing about pilots. The pilot of a series is the script that will have been worked on the most. So you usually see a dip in the second episode. And then the third episode acts as a “decider” episode. Pilot was awesome. Second episode was a letdown. Third episode tells us which one represents the true quality level of the show.
With Severance, it just started to get too weird. And I’m okay with weird. But when you match weird up with a depressing tone, which Severance embraces fully, it doesn’t get your juices flowing to continue.
The Old Man started out AMAZINGLY. It’s like, what if Jason Bourne was 70? But once it leaned into its Afghanistan plot, which turned out to be way less cool than they implied it was going to be, I was out.
Ms. Marvel is proof of just how important directing is. The Bad Boys 3 guys directed the pilot and they put so much energy into it. I literally thought we were watching the birth of the female Spider-Man. It had that same quality that Tom Holland’s Homecoming had.
But once they left, the episodes become lifeless and dull. And the mythology turned out to be really dumb. They shouldn’t have brought these ancient people into the mix. It turned what was a cool idea – a popularity-starved teenager gets superpowers yet must watch everyone else around her become social media famous – and just made it silly and unfun.
Moon Knight also had a great pilot. The whole thing where he wakes up in some town in the middle of nowhere and this cult leader is sacrificing people — it was so well done. And then it just became too crazy. He was crazy. The villain was crazy. Lots of crazy things were happening to him. He never knows who he is or what’s going on. The show didn’t have anything to ground it and therefore fell apart.
I suspect what’s happening here is that writers still haven’t figured out how to structure the 2022 version of an inaugural TV season.
It should be obvious. Most of these shows are 8 episodes long. And 8 episodes fits nicely into the three act structure. The three act structure says the first act should be 25% of the story, second act 50%, and third act 25%. Which would mean that the first act is the first 2 episodes, the second act is the next 4 episodes, and the third act is the final 2 episodes. It’s perfect, right?
The problem is that if you spend the first two episodes setting up your story, you risk the viewer checking out. Viewers need something to get excited about. So writers sort of freak out and go all-in on a big pilot episode, which now creates an imbalance in the structure. Because now there’s a natural falloff in the second episode. Which pushes us into the second act (episode 3-6) on a weak note. The turn into the second act should be one of the most exciting times in your story, as it’s the beginning of the journey.
This has led to most writers winging it, to varying results. Sometimes they make it work, like with Squid Game, and sometimes they don’t, like with The Old Man.
Even my favorite new show, The Bear, had a very quirky structure that never quite worked. There isn’t a natural thru-line to the narrative. It kind of jumps all over the place and tries ideas (today’s episode is going to be about catering!) and, if I’m being honest, the finale was a narrative nightmare. The show gave random characters who had never talked to each other entire 8 minute dialogue scenes with one another.
So why did I still like it?
It’s because with television, it always comes back to character. If you create really compelling characters, that can get you through any plotting issues. And The Bear has 5-6 really fun characters. It also was smart in making its episodes 30 minutes cause it didn’t have as much time for the narratives to crumble.
Remember that, traditionally, that’s all TV used to be, was character. You didn’t have overarching season-long plots because, back in the day, executives felt that people would forget the plots in the week between episodes. So episodes were more standalone. That’s why sit-coms were so popular, as well as procedurals. You didn’t need to know what happened last week to enjoy the standalone plot of ‘catching the killer’ this week.
But now TV seasons have become mini-movies and nobody has really figured out how to do that. Because one of the ingredients that makes a movie a movie is urgency. Things need to happen *RIGHT NOW*. 99% of TV shows don’t have that. So you’re creating a movie that sort of limps along at a casual pace. And those two worlds are hard to marry.
It’s why I think White Lotus worked so well. Because the show had that clear time-frame – one week at the White Lotus hotel. It’s not 48 hours. But it’s still short enough that we know things are coming to a head. Which propels us to keep watching. And yet White Lotus was, at its heart, a TV show, because it focused so much on character.
Which is the ultimate lesson here. When you’re writing TV, it’s got to be character 70% and plot 30%. Spend all the time you have outlining focusing on, “How do I make each one of these characters as interesting as possible?” And then if you can throw a strong plot on top of that? It’s like gravy. You’ll have a hit show.
Okay, I’ve made you wait long enough.
What is the next Amateur Showdown??
I was thinking the other day about The Hangover and how The Hangover was the last giant feature comedy hit. Why is that? Why haven’t any comedies lived up to it since? My belief is that comedies got too low-concept. They got too “Apatowed.” It was less about concept and more about peoples’ lives. The possibility of a comedy titled, “GETTING MARRIED,” was very high. What was this comedy about? It was about the hilarious shenanigans involved in people getting married.
I’m not saying that can’t be funny. But where is the creativity in that concept? It’s a 3 out of 10, at best. The Hangover was a mega-hit, at least in part, because it was a genuinely clever concept.
Now, don’t worry. We’re not doing a comedy showdown. I’ve learned that us Scriptshadow types aren’t good with comedy. We are all very unfunny people, lol. However, that realization reminded me of how powerful the high concept is. And I believe that the high concept is on its way back. We just saw it with the sale of Classified. That’s only going to drive more studios to look for high concept material.
Is “high concept” a genre? Not really. But that’s why I want to use it. It’s something that can be used in almost every genre, which gives you a lot of flexibility for ideas to come up with.
So…
THE NEXT AMATEUR SHOWDOWN
Genre: High-Concept
When: December 1, 2022
Include: Title, genre, logline, Why Your Script Should be Chosen, a PDF of the screenplay
Where: carsonreeves3@gmail.com
Start?: You can start sending in your entries right now!
You guys have been waiting for it!
Maybe “waiting for it” is an understatement. “Angrily demanding it” might be a better assessment?
I do apologize for taking so long but this is one of the realities of a free script contest where one reader reads all the entries. It’s going to take a while.
Reading screenplays is a funny thing. I personally love doing it. People ask me all the time, “How are you able to get through all those bad screenplays? Doesn’t it drive you nuts?”
It doesn’t, actually.
For a couple of reasons. One, I love storytelling. I get a kick out of characters trying to maneuver their way through obstacles to achieve an objective. I have this inherent need to “see what happens next.” Even if it’s not perfect, I like being in an imaginary world and not knowing what to expect. It’s exciting.
Second, there’s a voyeuristic aspect about writing that I love. Every time you read a script, you’re essentially going into someone’s head. They’re bringing you into their universe in a way that you don’t get in any other medium.
You learn about a person’s fears in a way they’ve never told anyone else before. You get to see their bizarre interpretation of the world. And you get reminded that we’re all experiencing the same things together. Like when a character has doubts, it’s a reminder to you that having doubts is okay. Writing connects you with the rest of humanity.
That’s not to say it isn’t frustrating at times. Yesterday’s script was a reminder of how vapid and vanilla many scripts can be. Writers choose ideas that are way too common then execute them in the most obvious fashion possible. That’s the part of writing I don’t like. When writers don’t give you anything new.
I’ve often asked myself why does this happen? Cause to me, it’s obvious that they’re giving us an old concept with a predictable execution. So why isn’t it obvious to them?
The conclusion I’ve come to is that for a very long time in every screenwriter’s journey, they’re trying to rewrite their favorite movies. They have 3-10 movies they loved growing up. And they’re basically writing and rewriting identical versions of those movies. They don’t realize they’re doing this because, as they’re writing, they feel inspired. And who’s going to say no to inspiration? What they’re not identifying is that their inspiration is coming from a place of replication, of getting to recreate something they love.
I’m not sure you ever truly grow out of this phase. But good writers reach a point where they understand that they’re doing this and take precautions to differentiate their scripts from their favorite movies. They find ways to tweak the concept, tweak the genre, tweak the execution, so that while their script may be inspired by that favorite film of theirs, it becomes its own thing.
Get Out is a great example of this. Jordan Peele clearly loved Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner as a kid. He then tweaked the genre to horror and, all of a sudden, you’ve got a completely different movie.
So that’s what I’m looking for whenever I open a script – writers who’ve gone through this maturation process and realize writing a vanilla execution of a familiar concept isn’t good enough. They have to find a new way to tweak things or not write the script in the first place.
So has this latest contest taught me anything new?
Not really.
But it has reinforced a few things. Reading a bunch of scripts in a row reinforces, to me, the importance of nailing that first scene. If the first scene isn’t entertaining – if it’s just setting up a character’s life or setting up the world – you’re done. Because the script that reader read right before yours? That one DID entertain them right away. So why would they pick your script over that one?
It also reinforced the cut throat nature of screenwriting. You realize that the person who writes the script doesn’t matter. I know that sounds harsh but I don’t sit here thinking, “Man, this writer has probably been through so much to get to this point where they’re able to write a competent screenplay and they’re really hoping this script is going to be the one that finally breaks down doors for them and I have to respect their work ethic and how hard it was to get to this point and…”.
No!
The ONLY thing that matters is “Am I entertained?” That is it, man. That is f@#%ing it.
I’m telling you. When you read 15 entries in a row, you aren’t thinking about the writer. You’re thinking, “is what’s on the page entertaining me right now?” Better yet, you’re not thinking at all because you’re enjoying what you’re reading so much.
I know this sounds harsh but I say it because I believe it can help you. Once you realize nobody cares about you, you can take yourself out of the equation and simply ask, “Is the reader going to be entertained by this scene I’m writing right now?”
The second – and I mean THE SECOND – you write a scene that could be considered boring in the first 15 pages, you have likely lost the reader.
Enough generalizing, Carson. Give us an example! Okay, so I read a WW2 entry the other day. This is World War 2, mind you. One of the most deadly dramatic intense wars in history. Every human being who was in World War 2 in any capacity has at least one INSANE story about something that happened to them.
I read a World War 2 contest entry where, for the first ten pages, characters are talking to each other and doing chores. I’m sitting there staring at these pages thinking, “What’s even happening right now???” How are you writing about World War 2 and use your first 10 pages as character setup????????????? This is such an immense miscalculation, I can’t even comprehend it.
Conversely, I just reviewed Randall Wallace’s World War 2 script, With Wings as Eagles, and the opening scene has a secret black ops German soldier stumbling into a room full of Russian soldiers and having to find a way out of it.
By the way – I want to make this VERY CLEAR – me needing an entertaining scene does not mean a big splashy action scene. Look at Inglorious Basterds. The opening scene with Hans Landa looking for Jews – not a big flashy scene at all. But one of the most entertaining scenes ever written.
This is what you’re competing with people.
Think of the screenwriting world as an entertainment contest. You are going head to head with people who are trying to write way more entertaining scenes than you. So ask yourself, as you’re writing that first, that second, that third, fourth, and fifth scene, “If these scenes were to go up against 100 other screenplays, do I honestly believe that each of my scenes would beat 97 to 98 of the other scenes on an entertainment level?” Cause if not, you’re not doing this right.
You gotta be the top 1 or 2 out of 100 to make any waves in this business.
This brings me to a secondary issue that I’ve been seeing in many of the entries, which is that the writer WILL BE TRYING to entertain with their first scene. But they’ll do so in too familiar of a way. Kudos to the writer for at least understanding that you have to pull the reader in. However, an entertaining scene we’ve already seen before is still a script killer. True, there are only so many entertaining scenarios to choose from. But there are an infinite number of ways to execute a familiar scenario. And your job, as a screenwriter, is to find one of those angles.
For example, I’ve read a handful of entries so far that start with a female character running from something. Three of those entries happened in the woods. How common is an opening scene of a woman running from something in the woods? Very common. And the writers didn’t do anything different enough with the scenes to pull me in.
What does “different enough” look like? “It Follows.” That movie starts with a woman running. But they’re running in odd circles in the middle of an empty suburban street. They’re looking behind them as if something is following them but we’re seeing nothing. What’s going on here? Why is this woman running from nothing?? That’s a familiar opening that adds a fresh element. I want to know more after reading that. I don’t want to know more after reading a frantic woman in the woods running from a killer. I’ve seen that way too many times already.
Okay, Carson, now that you’ve depressed us to the point of wanting to burn our pirated copies of Final Draft, do you have any good news for us? Any scripts that have actually impressed you? Yes, in fact. Let me share with you the two latest scripts to advance to the next round.
One is a sci-fi script called, The Castle. Here’s the logline: In 1209 a reluctant German crown princess must defend her castle against a brutal group of bandits, consisting of special forces soldiers from the 21st century. Script starts off with a cow-hanging that got my attention. I love seeing fun concepts and then I open the script and get something completely different from what I expected. A cow-hanging??? It was great. And all the characters are really fun so far.
Another is a psychological thriller called Smiley Face. That one is about a popular online influencer’s troll. Admittedly, I’m fascinated by influencer culture. So this one got points just for being the type of idea I’m into at the moment. But I felt that the writer did a good job conveying what an influencer’s life was like and, also, what an influencer’s troll’s life was like. It’s just as demanding of a job as being the influencer. So that one feels promising.
How long is it going to take me to finish all these? I don’t know. Sometimes I read 100 entries a week. Sometimes I read 10. It depends on my mood and my workload. But I’m going to try to incentivize myself to keep charging forward.
Next week I am going to highlight ten entries on the site. I am going to list the script details you sent me, as well as letting you know if your script advanced to the next round or not. Then, I’ll include several hundred words on why I either advanced the script or passed on it. If you want to be one of these ten, e-mail me at carsonreeves3@gmail.com and the first ten of you who e-mail, you will be the ones who get your script highlighted. Bonus points if you allow me to post a PDF of your first act.
To be clear, I’m not going to trash your script if I don’t advance it. This is going to be more of a teaching thing. I want to help you, and others, understand what’s required to write a strong first act.
If you’re game, let me know!
ONE “$100 OFF” SCRIPT CONSULTATION DEAL! – It’s mid-month so I’m giving $100 off one feature (feature only!) screenplay consultation. E-mail me at carsonreeves1@gmail.com with subject line: “100.” I give screenwriting consultations for every step of the process, whether it be loglines, e-mail queries, plot summaries, outlines, Zoom brainstorming sessions, first pages, first acts, pilots, features. E-mail me at carsonreeves1@gmail.com if you’re interested in today’s deal or any other type of consultation. I’ll be here!
Genre: Sci-Fi
Premise: When stranded on the far end of Manhattan by a mysterious city-wide blackout, a group of inner-city middle schoolers must fight through seemingly supernatural forces to make their way back to their parents in the Bronx.
About: Today’s writer, Chad Handley, did a little TV writing, mostly story editing, on The Righteous Gemstones. This script finished with 7 votes on last year’s Black List.
Writer: Chad Handley
Details: 125 pages (!!)
Seems like Caleb McLaughlin would be a slam dunk choice for the lead here.
Whenever I see a Black List script at 120+ pages from a writer not named Aaron Sorkin, I get worried. But, as we’re going to talk about today, page length isn’t as important as “page quality.”
“Page quality” is the concept of making sure your pages are entertaining. If you do that, it does not matter how many pages your script is. The irony is that writers who write over 120 pages tend to be the writers who believe that anything they write is must-see screenwriting. They don’t have that inner editor who’s able to say, “This doesn’t move the story forward,” or “This isn’t entertaining enough to warrant its inclusion.” So their 120+ scripts perpetuate the rule that all long screenplays are bad, as opposed to change the narrative.
We saw this just this weekend with Thor Love and Thunder. Taika had a 4 hour cut. He realized that two of those hours were neither relevant or entertaining enough. So he cut them out.
Okay, onto the plot!
For what it’s worth, I believe everyone in this story is a minority. David Wei is the CEO of a giant mysterious particle physics company and he’s built this thing called the “Inflation Reactor,” which sounds like something that’s responsible for my recent 90 dollar trip to the gas station.
Let’s meet our kids. There’s 15 year old Amir, who’s always stealing things. There’s his twin sister, Seneca, who also likes to get into trouble. They have their little brother, Isaac, who’s obsessed with science. Then have a dad, Seth, who’s never around.
We also have Kale, Amir’s football player best friend, and other friend Chance, who’s a loudmouth. We’ve got Parker, a hot rich girl Amir is in love with. And then Lily, Parker’s 8 year old sister.
The group all meet at the Science Museum because Isaac has to study something there for a school assignment. Then, on their way home on the subway, there’s an explosion, and they have to climb out of the wreckage and get back to the surface. Along the way, they lose their father, which, if we’re being honest, isn’t that different from their everyday life.
After stumbling around the city looking for him, they learn of these alien beings who have made it to earth through that Gas Hike machine David Wei built. These beings have stopped the planet from spinning and also stop random people in time and space, so random New Yorkers will be straight up frozen. Will our Goonies-esque team find their dad? And what about destroying these alien creatures? Can they use science to send them home? We’ll find out.
One of the most difficult things to explain in regards to “good screenwriting” is this concept of looseness. One of the biggest differences between really good screenwriters and really green screenwriters is that the good screenwriters have a tightness to their writing.
They can set up a character in just three lines who feels like you’ve known him your whole life. Then can craft a single scene that sets up a character, moves the plot forward, and is highly entertaining in under 2 pages. And their ability to pace the story so that it never feels slow is second nature.
Whereas, green screenwriters sort of ramble on unnecessarily. Scenes don’t alway have a purpose. They’ll take four scenes to set up a group of characters they could’ve set up in two. There’s a lackadaisical approach to exposition so that it takes way too many scenes to get relevant information across.
That’s the feeling I got while reading The Dark. The first 30 pages were SET-UP CENTRAL. Setting up characters. Setting up mythology. Setting up family relationships. Setting up birthdays. Setting up homework that’s due. Setting up friendships.
And I know that you have to set stuff up somewhere. It’s not like you can just skip all this. But this is where the good screenwriters prove their worth. They can move faster through this stuff. And they make it a lot more entertaining.
Which, by the way, is a secret way to speed up a story. Two screenwriters can be tasked with writing the same scene. Both scenes are exactly the same length – 4 pages. But, somehow, one feels WAAAAAAY faster than the other.
That’s typically because one screenwriter knows how to make a scene entertaining. They know how to use suspense or drama or anticipation or surprise or conflict to make the scene fun. And when we, the reader, are having fun, time doesn’t exist. When we’re not having fun, every line feels like a page.
To be fair, it’s always going to be harder to move an ensemble of characters along. You can’t just cut to the main character, show him experiencing an issue with his dad, then send him off on his adventure. You have to do that for ALL THE CHARACTERS IN YOUR ENSEMBLE. Which is why you want to think hard about if you can handle an ensemble script.
It’s hard enough creating one compelling main character. Imagine that job getting multiplied by eight. It’s why people have been trying to remake The Goonies for 30 years unsuccessfully. Because it turns out it’s hard to write a bunch of strong memorable kid characters.
That’s not to say you shouldn’t do it. Screenwriting will never be a safe space. It’s more like a “drive you insane space.” But just know that the work LITERALLY gets eight times as hard when you have 8 main characters. Sure, you COULD be lazy and not develop half of them. Or make them stereotypes. But it will show. I guarantee you it will show.
Now, whenever I talk about moving the story along faster, I’ll occasionally get someone asking the legit question of, “If you cut out all the setup and only concentrate on moving the story forward, you’re going to get to your second act break by page 10. And the middle of the second act by page 30.”
“You have to add meat somewhere.”
Fair point. So let me try and come up with an analogy for you.
Let’s say you’re writing a story about a cat trapped in a tree. Your main character, Joe, comes out of his house, spots the cat, and decides to rescue it. How would you write a story like this that doesn’t end in ten seconds?
Because you could easily have Joe climb the tree and save the cat. Story over. Which seems to be in line with the note I’m giving today. That the writer should’ve ditched all this never-ending setup and gotten to the actual story.
No.
What you want to do is create entertaining obstacles and then use the time that your character is trying to overcome those obstacles to tell us about the character, or to provide exposition. In other words, you’re hiding the boring stuff inside the actual entertainment.
Let’s see what that looks like in action.
But first, let’s add a couple of scene boosters. 8 year old Jessica, the cat’s owner, is crying off to the side. This is her favorite cat in the world and she’s desperate to see it safe. This ups the pressure on Joe.
Also, we learned in the previous scene that Joe is on his way to a very important job interview that he cannot be late for. He’s dressed up considerably for this interview in a nice white pressed button down shirt and pants.
You can already see that saving this cat is becoming a bigger and more complicated ordeal.
Now, our cat is about ten feet up the tree. Joe knows he can comfortably climb up ten feet. So that’s what he does. But just as he’s reaching out for Scratchers, our annoying black cat, the cat freaks out, scratching Joe’s hand, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground, right on the freshly watered grass, which heavily imprints a lot of green on his white shirt. And meanwhile, the cat has climbed up another ten feet and is therefore, even higher on the tree.
Joe checks his watch. His important interview starts in less than 15 minutes. He’s got to go. He apologizes to the girl. She pleads with him. Please save my cat. “I can’t. I have to go to this interview.” “For what?” the girl cries. “It’s for a rare engineering job. This type of job never comes up.” Jessica pleads with him. Joe checks his watch. Checks his shirt. What does he do??
The point here is that you can extend any part of your story out for as long as you want. You can give us any amount of exposition (what job interview our character is going to) AS LONG AS YOU ARE ENTERTAINING US IN THE MEANTIME.
If you entertain, perfectionist readers like myself won’t even realize that your first act was 15 pages too long.
I know I didn’t really talk about today’s script. Which seems unfair since, once we hit the second act, that’s where all the action starts.
But therein lies the problem. If you put me through 35 pages of setup hell, I am no longer mentally invested in your story. I checked out a long time ago when I decided that I didn’t want to be subjected to setup torture. You could give me Avengers Endgame level action scenes at this point but it won’t matter. I’m already mentally checked out.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: “Page Quality.” Are your pages as entertaining as they can possibly be? Or are they merely setting up future entertaining scenes down the line? If all you’re doing with a scene is setting up a future good scene, that scene needs to be rewritten. I’m going to give you some homework. Go watch the first act of Back to the Future. Notice how there isn’t a SINGLE SCENE in the first act that isn’t entertaining. And that movie has more exposition and setup requiremnts than your last ten screenplays combined. So having to set lots of stuff up is not an excuse to write boring scenes.
