Is Worst Dinner Ever the Comedy Version of Die Hard We’ve All Been Waiting For?

Genre: Comedy/Action
Premise: An estranged father and son have to survive terrorists, explosions, and, worst of all, dinner with each other, at the top of one of Boston’s tallest buildings.   
About: Jack Waz has been staffed on several television shows since the mid 2010s.  He charges onto the Black List in the number 11 slot with Worst Dinner Ever.  
Writer: Jack Waz
Details: 96 pages

Yesterday’s review got a little intense.  I’ve noticed that certain subject matters get the trigger-happy crowd a little too triggered.  Which is why we’re going in the opposite direction today.  We’ve going to have fun.  We’re going frantic.  We’re going comedic Die Hard!  I can hear Scott’s head turning in the UK all the way from LA.  “Die Hard, did you say?”  Yeah baby.  We got a Die Hard inspired script.  Let’s discuss! 

20-something Danny has a pretty sweet life except for one thing.  He hates his dad, Charles.  While it appears the hatred is deep deep DEEP-SET, it was really his mother’s funeral that put that hatred over the top. That’s when Danny learned that his dad went out on a date right before her funeral.  

While Danny would be fine never seeing his father again, his fiancé, Kate, insists that she meet him if they’re going to get married.  Danny reluctantly makes the phone call and the two set up a dinner at Boston’s Prudential Center, which has a bougie restaurant at the top of its main building.  

Around this time, we learn that Charles is stupid rich.  He runs some high class financial fund.  And, if we’re paying attention, we also learn that he has some unhappy clients in Ireland who may believe he’s stealing from them.  

Both wife and fiancé join Charles and Danny for dinner and, surprisingly, things go smoothly at first.  But then a flash-grenade lands in their salad and all hell breaks loose.  Charles and Danny sprint downstairs while Kate and Charles’ wife are stuck in the bathroom.  

Callum, our “Hans” in the story, sends all of his IRA team after Charles and Danny who, mostly through stupid luck, are able to avoid, and occasionally, kill, the baddies.  Finally, Callum’s number 1 man is able to capture them, infuse them with a truth drug, and get Charles to admit that he’s running a Ponzi scheme in an account under his son’s name.  Yikes!  From that moment on, we have to worry about Danny killing Charles more than the IRA killing them. 

Worst Dinner Ever passes the GSU test.  

We’ve got our goal – save fiancé and wife and get out of the building.

We’re got our stakes – death along with the implosion of Charles’ business.  

We’ve got our urgency – the whole thing is taking place tonight.

And the script gets points for its energy.  There isn’t a page in this screenplay that reads slow.  

You’ve also got a fun variation of the Die Hard formula.  For you newbie screenwriters, finding a fresh spin on the Die Hard formula is a rite of passage in this business.  Everyone has either tried to do it or is still trying to do it.  And here, we’ve switched two variables.  Instead of the genre being an Action-Thriller, it’s an Action-Comedy.  And then, instead of having a single hero running around the building, we get a two-hander.

Is it enough?  

That’s a good question.  

One of the things I constantly run into reading screenplays is that a lot of them, on the surface, should work.  I’d put Worst Dinner Ever in that category.  You’ve got a high concept comedic spin on Die Hard.  Your central characters are in intense conflict with each other throughout the movie, providing plenty of drama and potential for character growth.  You’ve got the wife and girlfriend here to add more variety to the situation.  The concept is contained and easy to understand.  The stakes are high.

But I didn’t quite go gaga for it for two reasons.   

Whenever I see a concept, I envision what the script is going to be.  If the writer gives me that exact version of the story, I rarely enjoy it.  As I like to remind writers everywhere, you need to be special in your execution of the story.  If you’re only able to give us what 99 out of 100 other writers would’ve given us, then you’re not exhibiting any special qualities.  A good screenwriter is supposed to anticipate what the reader wants and give it to them, but do so in ways that they didn’t expect. 

I’m not saying you have to reinvent storytelling here.  But you at least have to include a few carefully placed scenes that keep us on our toes.  I checked out Copshop over the weekend, which is a fun little movie.  It’s about a guy who purposefully gets arrested so he can get into the same jail as the dude he wants to kill.  Once the film has the two in their adjacent jail cells, we think we know how it’s going to go down.  But then we learn that one of the cops upstairs is on the take with a cartel.  The Gerard Butler character tricks another cop and gets out of his cell by minute 30. There’s a close-range shootout as he tries to kill his target hiding behind the bench.  And I’m thinking to myself, “I have no idea where this is going next.”  

Comedies are a little different in that the audience doesn’t come to them for plot twists.  But that’s not what I’m asking for.  I just want the writer to be ahead of me as opposed to me behind ahead of the writer.  

Another issue with Worst Dinner Ever is the comedy.  Comedy is subjective.  So much so that two people can watch the same comedy with one thinking it’s an instant classic and the other thinking it was the most unfunny movie they ever watched.  So I’m not going to pass judgement on the sense of humor here.  I was more concerned about the repetition of that humor.  It was the same joke over and over again.  Danny yells at Charles for being a bad dad.  Charles yells at Danny for being a bad son.  We probably get that joke in the neighborhood of 100 times.  

There were occasional funny moments that broke up that routine – such as when they use a snowmobile in the building to escape the bad guys.  But we kept going back to that squabbling joke over and over again. 

I remember in another ‘meet the parents’ movie, “Meet the Parents,” that Greg had a different comedic relationship to the dad (antagonistic) compared to his fiancé (desperate to seem more manly in her eyes) to the ex-boyfriend (tries to live up to the impossible standard he set) to the sister (she’s constantly annoyed by all the mistakes Greg makes) to the brother (forced to keep the brother’s drug use secret).  The comedy felt varied because each relationship was so different.

Which is frustrating because Worst Dinner Ever is an easy read.  I like the idea of a comedic Die Hard.  But when you can anticipate almost every line and almost every plot beat, you’re going to get bored as a reader.  Readers need to be surprised every once in a while to stay invested in a story.  Which is why this wasn’t for me.  

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

What I learned: With comedies especially, you have to look for scenes that specifically exploit the premise.  If you don’t do this, your comedy will be generic because it’s going to stem from the same pool as every other comedy.  Worst Dinner Ever’s unique premise is that father and son hate each other more than anything.  So let’s build a scene around that.  Have two terrorists interrogate Charles and Danny in separate rooms.  They tell each of them that if they don’t give them the information they want, they’re going to kill their son/dad.  “Fine,” both the dad and son say.  The terrorists get tripped up.  “I don’t think you heard me.  We’re going to kill your father if you don’t tell me where he’s hidden the money.”  “Good!  Make sure you elongate the torture process if possible.  And if you could allow me to watch or record it and show me later, I can’t express how helpful that would be.”  The terrorist stares at Danny, realizing that this plan has no chance of working.  You could get a really funny scene out of that and it’s unique because you can’t do it any other movie.  That’s what you should be aiming for: comedic scenes that can’t be in any other movie.

Genre: Drama/Thriller
Premise: A troubled millennial from small-town Texas will do anything to get into her top-choice law school, including murder.
About: Carly J. Hallman has written two novels.  This is the first time she’s been recognized for a screenplay.  Wait List finished in the top 10 of the 2021 Black List.  
Writer: Carly J. Hallman 
Details: 105 pages

There’s a new craze sweeping the nation.  Rage-watching.  This is when you watch something you know is going to get under your skin just so you can awaken your anger.  I suppose it makes sense as some sort of ‘break glass in case of emergency’ last ditch effort to feel something on the emotional spectrum.  

Well, I’m seeing this trend creep into the screenwriting industry now, as more and more writers are participating in rage-writing.  They’re so mad at what’s going on in the world that they’re going to leave no stone unturned as they tear that world to shreds.

I believe Christy Hall is the writer who ushered in this new sub-genre with her script, “Get Home Safe,” which probably should’ve been titled, “Every Man on Planet Earth is Bad.”  

Contrary to popular belief, it’s possible to rage-write a good script.  The best writing tends come out of a strong emotional state.  What you’re feeling.  What you’re going through.  And the stronger you feel something, the more passionately it will be displayed on the page.  Now there are pitfalls to this approach, which include losing yourself in the emotion to the detriment of the story.  I’m curious to see if today’s writer, Carly Hallman, has avoided that.

23 year-old Kate lives in a nameless middle-America town where she spends most of her time in the gym, tracking every calorie she burns (and I mean EVERY calorie – if she burns 649 calories, she does not enter that workout session as 650).  

Kate is majorly OCD.  In addition to calories burned, she meticulously plans her food consumption to ensure she never has a day where she goes over her TDE.  She’s shredded to the point where you’re not sure whether to compliment her or send her to the hospital. 

Kate is annoyed when a gym-bro named Chad starts hitting on her.  He uses every opportunity to chat and Kate wants no part of it.  But one day, when her car dies, she agrees to a smoothie with him if he’ll give her a ride home.  Chad is giddy even as this is Kate’s biggest nightmare.

While this budding “romance” is happening, we learn that Kate is trying to get into Columbia law school.  Unfortunately, she’s waitlisted.  So she spends a lot of time on a reddit board about Columbia law school acceptees, watching as student after student announces getting accepted. 

This gives Kate an idea.  Waitlisted potentials only get in if accepted students voluntarily pull out… or die.  So Kate begins researching the accepted girls, drives to where they live, cons them into letting her into their home, then stabs them to death.  It doesn’t take long for the media to run with the story, dubbing the mystery murderer the Columbia Killer.

Meanwhile, Kate gets into fights with her 19 year old male manager at Subway and her Fox News watching drug-addict father at home.  Chad pushes for a more serious relationship, helping Kate through her numerous money troubles, having no idea that Kate despises him.  It is only as the story pushes towards its climax that we realize what Kate’s master plan is.  When the cops come knocking, she’s going to blame it all on poor Chad.  

Wait List is a good reminder that if you have a drama idea, add a dead body and your script instantly becomes marketable.  This easily could’ve been a drama about a depressed girl who’s trying to get into law school.  I used to make this mistake myself.  Thinking that that was enough to get a script noticed.  

Then I realized, someone’s going to need to sell this movie to audiences down the line.  What have I given them to market?  Nothing.  Once you add a dead body (or, in this case, multiple dead bodies), you’ve got a trailer, you’ve got a poster, you’ve got a freaking *movie*.  Never forget that.  It’s a valuable lesson it took me too long to learn.  

That choice did make this script more entertaining, for sure.  But that doesn’t mean it was an easy read.  One of the hardest things to pull off is an angry main character who blames everyone else for their problems.  The anger makes them unlikable.  And the inability to blame themselves for their mistakes turbo-charges that unlikability.

Kate is mean to Chad, who’s a genuinely nice guy.  Hallman tries to paint him as a member of the patriarchy who’s more interested in making Kate dependent on him so he can control her.  But you never get the sense that that’s his motivation.  

I’ve said this before but whoever your main character has the most scenes with, that relationship is going to have the biggest influence on how your hero is perceived.  Kate spends 75% of this story with Chad.  And because she’s so mean to Chad.  Because she doesn’t like him.  Because she thinks he’s evil despite him always being nice.  Because she leads him on despite the fact that he’s falling for her… we really dislike Kate.

On top of that, she hates men in general.  It’s hard for audiences to like anybody who lumps a bunch of people into a single group and labels them as bad.  Here’s a mini-monologue from Kate after she spots two lovey-dovey teenagers making out that pretty much sums up her character: “Go inside. Get some sleep, read a fucking book. This might feel fun now, but he’s gonna find a way to trap you, and then all your dreams will disappear. Except they won’t. They’ll still be in there, rattling around, driving you insane. And you won’t have any way to realize them because you’ll be stuck paying his rent and cooking his dinner and raising his fucking kids.”

Yikes.

Now, you might think, after reading that, that I didn’t like Wait List.  You’d be wrong.  I did like it.  Despite being so angry, Kate is meticulously crafted as a character.  She’s very specific and interesting from a development perspective.  Let me give you an example.  I read a ton of scripts where women struggle with mental issues and the ‘go to’ to show that they’re struggling is to show them cut themselves.  

I’ve probably read the ‘cutting themselves’ scene in over 500 screenplays.  It’d be very easy for this to be 501.  But, instead, Kate is obsessed with her eyebrows.  She hates the way they look.  She hates that she can never groom them properly.  So when she gets upset, she storms into the bathroom and, one by one, plucks tiny eyebrow hairs out with her fingernails.  I love specific actions like this.  It tells me that the writer isn’t just copying their favorite movies.  They’re coming up with their own stuff, preferably from real-life experience.

That’s where you guys should be drawing all your inspiration from, by the way.  If there’s a choice between including something that happened in your own life and something that happened in your favorite film, pick the real life option.  It’s going to feel more real.

In addition to how interesting the character was, the plotting was strong as well.  Once I realized she wasn’t just going to kill one person and sneak into law school under their name (which is what I assumed from the logline), but rather keep killing girls in the hopes that she’d move up higher and higher on the wait list, I was sold.  

Yes, it was a ridiculous plan.  But that ridiculousness was believably offloaded to the character.  We know that Kate has freaking lost it.  The fact that she thinks this is the solution confirms that.

Not to mention, her killing spree gave the plot momentum (she always had a goal), conflict (the victim resisted, requiring her to overcome the obstacle) and suspense (the cops were closing in on her).  

I was never all the way in on Wait List because Kate was so unlikable.  But, as a whole, the script was engaging.  And that’s all you need to get people to recommend your script.  

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

What I learned: Is 105 pages the new industry standard for a spec script?  If you remember, back in the day, the standard used to be 120 pages.  That changed around 2010 when 110 became the new limit.  Lately, I’ve been seeing a LOT of scripts (including this one) top off at 105.  So is this the new standard?  It’s always good to keep a spec script lean.  So 105 pages is a good goal.  But page count is more complicated than that.  A 105 page script from a writer who likes to write thick paragraphs of text is going to read slower than a 120 page script from a writer who likes to write sparse 1-2 line paragraphs and lots of dialogue.  I’d prioritize making your pages lean over hitting an arbitrary page count.  With that said, 105-110 pages is a good wheelhouse to be in when it comes to spec screenplays.

Genre: Horror/Slasher
Premise: When a new Ghost Face copycat killer starts piling up a fresh body count, the local teenagers realize that in order to survive, they’ll need to call on the survivors from the original Woodsboro murder spree for help.
About: Scream 5 has been getting some surprisingly active buzz on the internet. There’s a lot of talk about ‘shocking things’ that happen in the movie. It rode that buzz to a 4-day holiday weekend take of $36 million dollars. That’s pretty good considering the movie only cost $25 million to make. With Wes Craven passing away, the newest Scream was directed by Matt Bettinelli-Olpin and Tyler Gillett. The script was written by incredibly successful spec screenwriter, James Vanderbilt (White House Down, Murder Mystery) as well as relative newcomer, Guy Busick (Ready or Not).
Writers: James Vanderbilt and Guy Busick (based on Scream by Kevin Williamson)
Details: 115 minutes

Some of you may have seen the big fat title of this post and thought to yourself, “A Scream movie? Why is Carson reviewing a Scream movie?”

The answer is simple.

Scream remains one of the greatest screenwriting success stories of all time. And I know what you’re thinking. “Scream?? A screenwriting success story?? Has Carson added magic mushrooms to his diet?”

Yes, I have. But that has nothing to do with this review. You see, here’s what happened. Kevin Williamson sold Scream as a spec. And then, when it was made, it was a monster surprise hit. The opening scene in particular (still one of the greatest opening scenes ever written) blasted itself into popular culture.

But it wasn’t so much the movie that was Kevin Williamson’s success story. Williamson had been trying to make it as a screenwriter for forever in Hollywood. So he had all these failed scripts before Scream. And because Scream was such a hit, everybody in town all of a sudden wanted a Kevin Williamson script. They didn’t care if those scripts were bad. They wanted that name. And so Williamson gave them script after script at the bottom of his hard drive, all of which were average to not good. We got I Know What You Did Last Summer. The Faculty. Teaching Mrs. Tingle. And there were a bunch of others that didn’t get made.  Williamson got SO MUCH MONEY from these sales.

So, you see, the reason I’ll celebrate Scream whenever I get a chance is because it’s a great example of there being a light at the end of the tunnel. All that hard work you’re going through as a screenwriter – all of those failed scripts – one day, when you break through, someone’s going to want those scripts. It’s a reminder to never give up!

Which is funny because I heeded that message while watching Scream 5. “Don’t give up, Carson. Keep watching til the end!”

JUUUSSSST KIDDDDDDING.

Kinda.

Scream follows a girl named Sam who, with her new boyfriend, Richie, head back to Woodsboro where her estranged sister, Tara, was recently attacked by a new Ghost Faced killer. That’s what happens in Woodsboro, by the way. Every few years, a Ghost Face killer copycat pops up and starts calling people on phones, giving them life or death movie trivia.

What we learn is that New Ghost Face Killer likely attacked Tara to lure Sam back into town. She’s his real target. Sam, understanding that this is above her pay grade, heads over to local legend and former sheriff, Dewey’s, trailer. After a charged speech, Dewey decides to help her take down New Ghost Face.

Dewey quickly gets the gang back together, calling up ex-wife Gale and the Scream final girl herself, Sidney, to come back into town and help her (spoilers follow). But soon after they get there, Dewey is killed by Ghost Face. Realizing that sh*t just got real, Gale and Sidney make a pact to help these kids take Ghost Face out.

The big showdown takes place at a house party, where the killers (yes, two, this is Scream remember) reveal themselves. Their plan, if you can call it that, has something to do with how the fictional movie franchise within Scream, called “Stab,” has made some terrible movies lately, so they want to provide some real-life inspiration to put the franchise back on track. Lots of killing hijinx then ensue. The End.

Houston, we’ve got a problem. That problem is the wimpifying of Hollywood. Scream 5 starts with a new variation of the famous Drew Barrymore scene from the first film. Tara answers the phone and Ghost Face makes her play a movie trivia game to save her best friend’s life.

The scene is okay. But that’s not what I want to discuss. What infuriated me was that Tara SURVIVES. She survives being brutally stabbed a dozen times. And it just made me sad. Because it shows just how terrified Hollywood is of doing anything remotely offensive. Part of what made that original Scream opening scene so great is that it was brutal and final. If Drew Barrymore survived, nobody would be talking about that scene today.

I started giving more thought to this after the recent Boba Fett debacle. Boba Fett is a crime lord. Killing is in his job description. And, yet, when the mayor’s secretary attempts to pull one over on him and race off, Boba Fett’s punishment amounts to a harsh talking-to.

Why are we afraid to kill fictional people all of a sudden? I suspect it has something to do with this newfound fear Hollywood has of being yelled at on Twitter. It’s just bizarre to me. The second Tara was announced as alive, I rolled my eyes and knew the movie was done. I knew the next 90 minutes couldn’t possibly be good. Because how can you write a good movie if we already know, after the very first scene, that you’re never going to do anything risky? That’s the whole reason the original Scream did well. It took chances.

Another issue was the odd tone they chose to frame the story within. Scream, I guess, is now a sad drama as opposed to a fun horror slasher flick. The music was slow. There were a ton of slow scenes with people in rooms talking. We must’ve been in the hospital for 20 minutes at one point. A sad scene where two sisters talk about their past. Then a sad couple talk. Then a scene where sisters and boyfriend all talk about more serious stuff.

What was so great about Scream is that it had ENERGY. Every scene was charged. It was like each scene took speed right before it was time to shoot. I’m going to go ahead and assume this had something to do with Wes Craven. He cast that original movie perfectly. More importantly, he must’ve tested the kids together to make sure they had great chemistry. Because they all felt like they really knew each other.

Here, there wasn’t a single scene where the kids riffed off each other. They seemed like they all met yesterday. They never looked comfortable. They all seemed to just wait for their lines as opposed to engaging and reacting to one another. Go back and watch that first film because it’s really good and the characters/actors all felt like real friends. And this director didn’t seem to understand how to do that.

Every movie franchise has the thing that it’s known for. And Scream’s thing is its excessive self-referentialism. It loved to make fun of horror movies, lean into cliches, and break the fourth wall.

Scream 5 tries to do that, most notably with its discussion about the “Re-quel.” A requel, as they point out, is a combination between a reboot and a sequel. It’s Ghostbusters. It’s Halloween. It’s Terminator. It’s Star Wars.  And what they concede is that it’s impossible to get a requel right because while one foot is trying to move the story forward, the other is planted firmly in the past.

It’s an intelligent assessment of Hollywood’s newest obsession. But here’s the problem: they don’t solve it. They accept it then thrust their story into the exact same problems. You’ve got the new kids participating in a showdown at a house party while Sidney and Gale, our two OGs, become keystone cops, discreetly hiding trackers on cars so they can find the party and take down the killer Scream 1 style.

It’s a mess.

And I’m not going to throw all of the blame on the writers because I’m not convinced you can write yourself out of the problems a requel creates. It’s hard enough to create a good story that has no limitations. Once you tell me I have to find ways to include 50 year olds with kids and marriages and careers in a movie about teenagers who like to get high and hook up… you’re never going to be able to write something satisfying.

The final disappointment with Scream 5 was that I heard the third act was supposed to be great. So much so that they were begging audiences not to share spoilers. I now know that these public cries not to give away spoilers are, simply, marketing gimmicks. Nothing crazy happens in the third act. It’s just your average “everybody tries to kill each other” finale. A final nail in the coffin for the film.

While Scream 5 wasn’t very good, I continue to see the franchise as a symbol to screenwriters everywhere for what’s possible. Write a high-energy entertaining script in one of the five marketable genres (horror, sci-fi, action, thriller, comedy), sell it, then reap the rewards of the buzz by selling all the other scripts on your hard drive.

[ ] What the hell did I just watch?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the price of admission
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: Understand the type of film you’re writing and make sure you’re delivering that film. We’re all trying to create compelling characters with compelling pasts and interesting flaws that they have to overcome. But if you’re writing a fun slasher movie, 60% of the movie can’t be characters in rooms having sad conversations over depressing musical scores. You need the fun interactions between all your teen characters. You need the fun killings. You need energy. Scream 5 had numerous problems, but the choice to slow down the script to the point where it became a character drama went directly against the DNA of the original film, and therefore killed the movie.

Fellow nerfherders!

You knew I had to review this episode, right?

Like Watto’s ascension to junk yard magistrate in Mos Eisley, you knew it had to be done.

Boba Ep 3 had to be the single most inconsistent Star Wars TV episode to date. We got some great. We got some awful. And we got everything in between.

I don’t even know where to start. I guess I’ll give a quick plot breakdown for those who didn’t see it. There will be spoilers.

We start off with Boba Fett learning that nobody in the city respects him. So he goes into town to lay down some order and meets a gang of teenagers who outfit themselves with droid parts. He likes what he sees and asks them to work for him.

Boba then goes to the mayor as he suspects he’s up to no good but the mayor sneaks away. That night, while Boba is sleeping, Black K the Wookie rips him out of his bacta tank and fights him. Boba and his security somehow subdue Black K and, the next morning, get a visit from the Hutt twins who apologize for sending him.

They offer Boba a make-up gift – a new rancor monster – and tell Boba they’re heading back to Hutta, their home planet. Before they leave, they warn him of a much worse enemy than them. Boba then falls in love with his new rancor monster and prepares for war with this new unseen enemy.

One of the issues the Boba Fett show is running up against is that it had to emasculate the character to provide a path for growth. As I pointed out, nobody respects Boba Fett. The reason they’re doing this is because they believe if Boba Fett is already a badass, there’s nowhere to go with the character. He can’t become a badass because he’s already a badass.

I don’t subscribe to that logic since there are ways around it. Take The Godfather, for example. He was doing fine when we met him and they were still able to build a story around him. You can always throw obstacles at the crime boss which is going to provide a steady stream of plotlines. So I don’t know why they’re so insistent on making Boba a bottom feeder considering it erases the reason we fell in love with him in the first place – because he was a badass.

I mean you’ve got Dwablee The Water Mumbler telling Boba to his face that he sucks at his job and Boba just shrugging his shoulders. What do you think Jabba would’ve done to Dwablee? The writers are so focused on the character journeys here that they’re overlooking the impact an emasculated Boba Fett has on the show.

That’s a constant battle I have while watching Book of Boba. I’m annoyed at what a pushover the main character is.

But let’s talk about the real issue with the episode – the fact that Robert Rodriquez ported Shark Boy and Lava Girl along with Biff’s gang from Back to the Future 2 into the Star Wars universe. I’ve seen some bad Star Wars miscalculations before. Rose Tico. Canto Bite. Jar Jar Binks. But I don’t think anyone has come close to the characters that Rodriquez dropped into this episode. What was he even thinking??? These are not Star Wars characters. Why are they driving around in lollipop colored Vespas? These characters are too cheesy for even a Star Trek show, let alone Star Wars. Who okay’d this?? Why didn’t someone put their foot down and say, “We can’t include this. This is bad enough to damage the Star Wars brand.”

But nothing could prepare us for the now infamous “chase.” I call it a chase although I’m not sure I’ve ever watched a chase where both chaser and chassee were going 6 miles per hour.

I’m sure a lot of viewers wondered how such a terrible chase scene could’ve made it into a 200 million dollar show. And I already know the answer. I knew the answer the second I heard the director’s name. Robert Rodriquez’s “thing” is that he likes to do everything himself. I think on one of his movies he directed, photographed, lit, stunt-coordinated, did the special effects, edited, and scored the movie. He wants to do EVERYTHING. And the problem is that he does this even when he doesn’t know what he’s doing, which was clearly the case here. He didn’t know how to put together a complex chase with practical and digital effects through a make-believe city. But he’s Robert Rodriquez and he must do EVERYTHING so that’s what he did.

What happened to Kathleen “The Axe” Kennedy when we needed her? She’s around whenever a director needs to be fired for a feature. Why does she disappear when the single worst chase scene ever put to film needs to be axed?

What makes the scene so bad is that Rodriquez already created these terrible characters. He’d already created these ugly vehicles. And now he was directing a big set piece that featured both. Even if he hadn’t run into the ‘too slow’ problem, it still would’ve been bad. But the ‘too slow’ problem put it over the top and made it one of the worst Star Wars scenes ever.

Maybe Rodriquez’s biggest achievement is the fact that he salvaged the episode after that. We get a fun unexpected fight scene between Black K, the wookie, and a naked Boba Fett. I would’ve preferred the battle be on equal ground but maybe we’ll get that later.

We then get to see my two favorite new characters in the Star Wars universe, the Hutt Twins. I absolutely love these two. Everything about them works. From their voices to their interplay to the special effects to the design behind their walking platform. They’re just awesome. Needless to say, I was devastated when they said they were leaving the planet. Why are you getting rid of your best characters?? I’m hoping they’re lying and we’ll see them again. Cause they’re the only characters that truly scare me.

Then we get the coolest part of the episode, the introduction of a new Rancor. I was gobsmacked by this. I thought it was so neat. I loved the way it was sort of brought in on this hover-platform and that it seems to be drugged, like King Kong. But it didn’t stop there. We get one of the best scenes in the series where Boba Fett falls in love with this thing. He’s fascinated by it. We start learning all this new information about rancors, like the fact that they’re very sensitive and get depressed easily. And I’m thinking to myself, “This poor rancor! I want to give him a hug!”

The majority of the time Star Wars tries to rewrite history, they fail. So it was nice to see them get one right. This makes the rancor so much more interesting in my eyes. And I have no doubt him and Boba are going to tear some sh*t up.

As for the rest of the show, I’m still all over the place on it. I feel like they don’t quite know what they’re doing. For example, there’s nobody around in the palace! Some viewers may argue that that’s because Boba is new to the job and hasn’t put together a staff. I contend it’s more that the writers don’t understand the inner workings of this place. For example, we see Boba and Fenec with this giant spread of food for dinner. But who cooked it?? I haven’t seen any chefs around here. I haven’t seen *anybody* around here. I just don’t think they know how to populate this place. They need to figure that out because, until they do, it’s not going to quite feel like Star Wars. It feels like fan fiction. There’s a reason fans aren’t real authors. They don’t think as deeply. They don’t know the inner workings like authors do.

Somehow, amongst all this turbulence, the show still has me. I’m still interested to see what happens in episode 4. But dude, new rule. Robert Rodriquez does not get to create new characters anymore. He can bring back old ones. But if I want to watch Shark Boy and the Dolphin Whisperer 7, I’ll head over to Netflix. Keep your YA novel nonsense out of the Star Wars universe.

And keep the Hutts on Tatooine!

Earlier today, Pia Cook, a talented writer who I’ve known for a long time, sent me a logline through my logline evaluation service (just $25! – carsonreeves1@gmail.com). As a reminder, send me your ideas BEFORE you write them so I can tell you if they’re worth writing or not. That’s what Pia did. And here’s the logline she sent me:

Working Title: June East
Genre: Comedy
Logline: After a near-fatal accident, a chunky divorcee beat cop, wakes up convinced she’s Mae West, and armed with new confidence becomes the city’s only hope to catch a monstrous serial killer.

I told Pia that the logline had potential but I was worried it was too old-fashioned. The industry likes fresh ideas, ideas that lean into new subject matter and trendy topics because you can mine a lot of new material from them. For example, a month ago I reviewed a script about a guy who stalks a Youtube celebrity and tries to infiltrate his crew. The social media angle gave the classic stalker genre a fresh angle.

While it’s possible to mine fresh ideas from the past, a woman who bumps her head and starts acting like a 1920s movie star didn’t generate the kind of excitement a big modern idea usually gives me.

Then, as I was writing up my analysis, I re-read the logline and, momentarily, thought of the cop as a man. Out of nowhere, I started laughing. Not only was the idea of a man thinking he was Mae West funny, but I noticed that the idea, which seemed dated just moments ago, all of a sudden felt fresh. With all of the discussion around gender malleability lately, this idea immediately became current.

Not to mention, when I thought of a woman thinking she was Mae West, I merely smiled. But when I thought of a man doing it, I laughed.

I sat on this mutation of Pia’s original concept for a long time. Should I recommend to her that she switch gears? Or is my version of the idea nothing more than a 4-minute Saturday Night Live sketch? Would people really be able to sit through 2 hours of a man thinking he was Mae West?

The question got me thinking on a more macro scale. What I’ve noticed after reading so many loglines through the years is that most screenwriters gravitate towards the safe idea. For example, take 2020’s sci-fi flick, Underwater. A deep-sea team based on the ocean floor encounters a monster. This is basically “Alien” but underwater. You’ve changed the location but everything else is identical. The concept sure feels like a movie. And yet, there’s something lacking.

Still, we see safe concepts like this do well all the time. Another recent example is the film, “Nobody,” which became a minor hit. It’s a mini-Taken built around a suburban dad. Been there, done that, and yet the film, by most measurements, was a success.

However, here’s the issue. You’re not one of the chosen few who have direct access to people who can put movies together. You’re just someone generating ideas on a laptop. So the rules are going to be different for you. A logline for “Nobody” is going to be too generic to generate any reads. Hence you have to think more aggressively.

Which brings me back to June East. Writing this script with a female lead is the safer play. Without question. But writing it with a male lead has the bigger upside. That’ because it’s more unexpected, it’s weirder, it’s riskier. All of those things increase the chances of it leaving an impression. That’s what you’re trying to do with a logline. You’re trying to leave an impression so that the potential reader can’t help but request the script.

I’m bringing this up because I feel like we’re all stuck in this bubble where we’re regurgitating familiar concepts from our past with only minor adjustments, and thinking that’s enough. Yes, we’re providing a proven movie formula. But we’re doing it inside the most bland boring package possible. And we make this mistake over and over again.

I don’t know what “Male Mae West” looks like after the Fun-and-Games section of the screenplay. I don’t know if the joke gets old within ten pages. I do know, however, that if these two loglines – one with the woman and one with the man – landed on my desk, I’d check out the male one before the female one. Cause it’s more unique.

So what does “risky” look like? How does one go about creating a “risky” concept? I think the most obvious way is to find a common formula and do something truly unexpected with one of the main elements. “Taken” for example. We all know the formula of a tough guy trying to save his daughter/wife/son/family. A recent risky twist on that formula is “Pig.” A guy goes into the local Portland underworld to rescue his pig.

We know this risk worked because everyone who heard this idea said, “Wait a minute, what??” And they searched it out to see if it was true. That’s when you know you’ve done something fresh and risky. People are talking about it. People are interested enough in it to seek it out.

Another example is JoJo Rabbit. Here, Taika takes several risks. He made a World War 2 film (the most common setting for a movie in history) but instead of focusing on adults, he focused on children. That hasn’t been done much. He then took another risk by focusing on the Hitler Youth Program. Most writers would’ve focused on Jewish kids. And then he took the biggest risk of all. He made our main character’s best friend Hitler.

All of this resulted in a movie that was unlike any movie we’d seen. That’s the power of a risky concept. Whether it works or not, it results in double-takes. People have to know more.

Unfortunately, they don’t all end up this way. Anybody remember The Happening, M. Night’s infamous horror film about killer wind? That was a huuuuuuge risk. You turned house plants into evil killers. Nobody had done that before. Well, guess what? Nobody will do it again because it was a dumb idea. But it was risky. You can’t deny that.

Complicating the equation further, non-risky ideas can still pay off big. Take Free Guy. That’s one of the most mainstream ideas of the decade. There’s nothing in it that’s risky or trying to push boundaries in the genre. It’s a gentle yet fun execution of a standard Hollywood idea. And it ended up being the surprise hit of the summer. Had you tried to doing something risky with it, like have Ryan Reynolds realize that because it’s a video game and therefore nothing’s real, he can mass murder everyone inside of it – we would not be talking about Free Guy as a massive box office hit.

Which brings us back to the question, which route is better? Risky concept or Safe concept? Here’s the way I see it. As an unknown screenwriter, you must take risks. However, you shouldn’t take risks just to take them. They have to make sense in some way. So whenever you’re coming up with script ideas, part of your process should be to ask yourself, “Is this a risky idea?” Or, if it’s not, “Can I do something riskier with this idea?” If you find angles that are riskier that make sense, consider them. Because I’ll tell you this. The writers who languish in obscurity for decades tend to be the ones who keep going back to that safe well of mainstream movie ideas and not doing enough with them. They try something a teensy bit different, like a romantic comedy set in Idaho instead of New York, but they never take that risk that’s truly going to make their ideas stand out.

I hope you enjoyed this latest foray into the always fun topic of concepts. I’ll remind you once again – I’m preparing everyone for the Fabulous First Act Contest. We start writing our first acts March 1. And I want you to have the best possible concept so that your script has a legitimate shot at winning. Feel free to share your concepts in the comments section where our esteemed group of longtime Scriptshadow readers will happily provide feedback for you.