High-profile television IP is a fairly new space so I suspect we’re going to be scratching and clawing our way into a workable structure for these shows for the foreseeable future. What I do know is this. Marvel shows have been average. And the Star Wars shows have been below average. Boba Fett’s latest episode confirmed to me that they don’t know what to do with that character or the story, for that matter. The show has little bursts of fun moments. But, for the most part, it’s a show in search of a coherent story.
The Marvel shows have fared a little better. Hawkeye and Falcon & Winter Soldier were no-frills empty calorie entertainment. And Wandavision and Loki, while better, never quite lived up to their ambitious objectives.
One of the things I’ve realized is that superhero characters are built for big flashy moments. The caravan chase in The Dark Knight. The train sequence in Spider-Man 2. The airport sequence in Captain America: Civil War. TV doesn’t allow for this to happen. The budget just isn’t anywhere near what it is for those films. That’s where superhero shows have struggled. With their identity stolen away, they’ve tried to reinvent the genre. And what we’re learning is that there isn’t anything low-budget that can replace those big crazy set-pieces.
Which brings me to Peacemaker, easily the best high profile television IP that’s hit streaming so far. I went into the series skeptical only because I didn’t think Gunn’s Suicide Squad was very good. I did that thing where you put a show on in the background while mindlessly looking up new coffee tables online. Despite only casually following along, I found myself consistently giggling at the dialogue.
The next thing I knew my laptop was on my current ugly coffee table, completely closed (a rarity) and with each passing minute, I was more pulled into Peacemaker’s charming irreverent slice of superhero fiction. You know what it reminds me of? If Community was an R-rated superhero show. It’s got that balls-to-the-wall “who cares” attitude to it.
Hell, I was singing along to the opening dance number by the second episode!
There are a lot of things to like here but I’ll point out a couple that stood out. The first was the bridge between episodes 1 and 2. At the end of episode 1, Peacemaker is being chased by a scary powerful alien woman. That’s the end of the episode. The second episode 2 begins, we cut to the continuation of Peacemaker being chased by the alien woman!
You might be asking, “Why is that a big deal, Carson?”
Well, whenever I watch an episode of Boba Fett, they draw EVERRRRYYYYTHING OUUUUUUT FOR AS LOOOONNNNNNNNG AS POSSSSSSSIBLE. If we’re in the middle of a chase at the end of an episode, you can bet your bottom dollar that the next episode is going to start with a 20 minute flashback. And maybe – MAYBE – they’ll show us the continuation of the chase after that.
Don’t get me wrong, I know this is a narrative technique. You give us the beginning of a big moment then you cut to other characters or other storylines so we have to suspensefully wait to see what happens. However, it’s clear with episodes of Boba Fett, and most of these Marvel episodes, that that’s not the reason they’re making us wait.
They’re making us wait because they don’t have enough story. And when you don’t have enough story, you lean on trickery. You lean on false story engines. You’re basically finding things that fill up time so you can make the episode’s minimum time requirement.
This has become so predominant in high profile IP shows that I was legitimately shocked – in a good way – when we continued right where we left off in episode 2 of Peacemaker. Gunn understands that the lure of flashbacks – they help flesh out characters – can also act as story roadblocks, sending you off on some long not-well-thought-out detour that always takes too long to get you back to your original route.
Good writers develop characters in real-time. They don’t need that flashback crutch.
The other thing I like about Peacemaker is that Gunn didn’t say, “What’s the best Peacemaker show?” He said, “What’s the Peacemaker show that would best highlight my strengths as a writer?” Gunn’s biggest strength is putting characters in a room talking about nothing. As many of you know, I’ve railed against doing this. But IF YOU’RE GREAT AT SOMETHING then it doesn’t matter if you’re not supposed to do it. Your strength should always take precedence over what you’re “supposed” to do. And Gunn is a master at funny observational dialogue.
I’m beginning to realize why I didn’t like his last two movies (Suicide Squad and Guardians 2). It’s because, in features, you can’t sit characters in rooms and have them babble on for three minutes. Every scene in a feature has to push a ten-ton movie forward. Without that constraint, Gunn can now let loose. And he’s really good at letting loose. The way his mind works is so funny and he’s finally found a medium that allows him to go to town in this area.
By the way, one of the reasons he’s able to do this is because he’s created eight full-on dialogue-friendly characters. If you’re new to my site, there are dialogue-friendly characters and dialogue-unfriendly characters. If you’re trying to write great dialogue with two dialogue-unfriendly characters, it’s never going to sound right. I mean, can you imagine Boba Fett and Fennec having even a single entertaining conversation together? Of course not. Because neither of them is dialogue-friendly.
Gunn made sure that every single character here had their own entertaining personality type. Peacemaker is a blabbermouth who says a lot of ignorant things. His hilarious best-friend, Vigilante, is like Deadpool-lite. Co-team leader Emilia is always angry and always ready to take that anger out on you. Tech Specialist John, probably the most introverted of the bunch, is still willing to engage in awkward opinionated debates about what they should be doing. New Girl Leota isn’t afraid to throw quippy insults Peacemaker’s way.
I know it seems obvious. But if everyone is designed to be entertaining when they speak, you’re going to have a lot of good dialogue.
But I’ll tell you my favorite moment in Peacemaker – the moment that confirmed to me the show was special. And, believe it or not, it’s a moment that doesn’t have any dialogue. It occurs when Peacemaker is hiding outside the house of a man they need to assassinate with Emilia, his hot-headed boss who hates him but who Peacemaker has a major crush on.
They’re far off, in the bushes, waiting for the target to arrive so they can take him out with a sniper rifle. As they sit in silence, waiting, Emilia is eating a bag of trail mix. Peacemaker keeps looking over at it, hungrily. Finally, reluctantly, she holds the bag out so he can have some. He eagerly reaches in and takes a handful. Then, just as we think he’s going to start eating it, he begins to pick out the little pretzels and, one by one, place them back in the bag that she’s holding while she stares at him like he’s a crazy person.
I like this moment for two reasons. I love scenes that tell us who characters are by showing and not telling. This twenty-second moment tells us so much about these characters without saying a word. She hates this guy so much that the act of giving him her food must be coupled with an animated production of how much she hates doing so. Through that simple action, we know how much she detests Peacemaker. Meanwhile, the fact that Peacemaker starts placing trail mix pieces he doesn’t want back in her bag tells us that he is so ignorant to others’ perceptions of him that he doesn’t even know when someone hates him. That is Peacemaker in a nutshell: oblivious.
And two, most writers wouldn’t think to come up with this moment. It’s too subtle. To know your characters well enough to create a subtle moment as specific as this one is rare. Or, at least, in the scripts I read, it’s rare. It’s a great reminder to think about what your characters could do while they’re not speaking to each other. Moments do not always have to start with words.
This show came at just the right time for me. I’ve been looking for a good show. And this one is so fun. I would go so far as to say it’s the best thing James Gunn has ever done. And I dare anyone to challenge me on that because I’m obviously right. What about you? Have you seen Peacemaker? What did you think?
In my continued efforts to help you write a script that gets you noticed by the industry, I keep going back to this idea of “voice.” Second only to coming up with a killer concept, writing a script with a unique voice is a great way to a) get an agent, and b) make the Black List.
The problem with giving writers this advice (“Improve your voice!”) is that they don’t know what “voice” is. How can you practice getting better at something if no one’s able to define it? That’s one of my ongoing pursuits here at Scriptshadow – quantifying what “voice” is so writers can get better at it.
For starters, don’t get writing voice mixed up with directing voice. Directing voice is [mostly] the way a director manages the images and sounds of his movie. Terrence Malick having all those wide-angle “follow” shots of his characters, over flowery voice over and an intense music track. That’s not writing. That’s directing.
Writing voice has to do with the way you describe things, your dialogue, your humor, what aspects of the story you choose to focus on, how sparse or thick your writing is, how flowery your prose is, how much of your personality makes it into the writing, and what the overall thematic focus of your story is. A strong voice results in people being able to know that you wrote a script without your name having to be on it.
Hence, I’ve gone through a bunch of movies and screenplays to determine every type of voice out there. And I came up with ten. We’re going to go through all ten of these and, afterwards, I want you to ask yourself which one sounds the closest to the way you write. Then I want you to consider writing a script in that voice.
Although I still contend that a great movie idea beats everything, the goal here is to get yourself into the game. And if your ideas haven’t generated a lot of interest on the screenwriting market, then “voice” may be the better way in. Okay. Are you ready? Let’s get into it.
Voice 1 (Snappy Dialogue): This is probably the most popular version of “voice.” It’s the snappy clever dialogue script. It’s Juno. It’s The Breakfast Club. It’s The Social Network. This class of voice is reserved for people who are gifted in the art of dialogue. The characters are all smart and have great comebacks to whatever the other character says. There’s an effortless lyrical quality to the exchanges. You never quite know what anybody’s going to say next. Big balmy monologues come effortlessly to these writers. Just remember that in order to write snappy dialogue, you need genres and situations that support snappy dialogue. Don’t write thrillers or horror or sci-fi if you want to write in this voice. Write in genres where there’s naturally a lot of talking.
Voice 2 (An Elevated Dark Sense of Humor): For whatever reason, “regular” humor doesn’t get you the “great voice” label. As good as The Hangover was, nobody categorized the writers as having a great voice. When it comes to humor and voice, you have to go dark to make an impression. Some of you were pointing out that Tuesday’s script, Wait List, would qualify as dark humor. Three Billboards Outside Ebbing Missouri is a recent high-profile script that we’d place in this category. I’d put Get Out in there as well. Possibly Nightcrawler. The reason I say “elevated” is because just having a dark sense of humor isn’t enough. There has to be a level of intelligence behind it. It has to be clever, cunning, biting.
Voice 3 (Saying What You’re Not Supposed To Say): One of the key tenets of “voice” is that you give the reader something they haven’t seen before. That’s why your script stands out. It’s providing the reader with a new experience. When you say things that you’re not supposed to say, you’re giving the reader something that they don’t hear. This is what separated Louis C.K. from so many other comics. He started talking about how idiotic his kids were – a huge ‘off-limits’ topic for comics. But because there was truth to what he was saying (a lot of parents secretly felt their kids were idiotic), they loved it. It was choices like this that make him such a unique voice. On the movie side, we can tweak it a little to explore things that you’re not supposed to explore. American Beauty became a gigantic hit in part because a 40 year old father was pining after his high school daughter’s best friend. You’re not supposed to write about that. But it’s because nobody else is writing about that that doing so makes you unique.
Voice 4 (Going Super Dark): There’s a floor to how low general audiences are willing to go. The super-dark voice is when you plunge a hammer through that floor and jump down into whatever’s beneath it. The most famous example of this voice is Seven. That script got a ton of attention specifically because it was so dark. A more recent example would be True Detective. I might even put Promising Young Woman in there. You want to figure out where the average person’s threshold is and push past that. I would actually put the now secretly famous Osculum Infame in this category. The risk with these scripts is that they will offend some people. So you might receive some uncomfortable rejection e-mails. I know I did with Osculum Infame. But when someone likes it, they tend to really like it.
Voice 5 (Mixing Genres That Shouldn’t Go Together): This one is how Tarantino got famous. He came up with his own genre – the “Tarantino” genre. He did this by mixing Westerns with Blaxploitation with Black Comedy with Noir with Crime Drama. Clearly, when you do this, you’re going to come up with something that feels different. Remember back in 2010 when writers started mixing history with horror? We got Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. We got Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. You can play this game any way you want and come up with some wild concepts. You could mix Westerns and Musicals, Sci-Fi and Black Comedy, Romantic Comedy and Fantasy. You use any of those combinations and you instantly get tabbed as having a unique voice.
Voice 6 (Full Weirdo): This is when you throw out any pretense of writing a Hollywood movie and just write something WEIRD. The Lobster comes to mind. Sorry to Bother You. The Lighthouse. Swiss Army Man. For both the concept and execution of these scripts, turn off the logical side of your brain and let the right side do all the work for you. The weirder you get, the more voice points you earn.
Voice 7 (Put Your Stake In A World People Aren’t Writing In): When I read Taylor Sheridan’s stuff, I’m not sure any specific voice jumps off the page. However, I always know when I’m reading a script of his, which is one of the components of a “voice” script. What I realized is that Sheridan found this universe that everyone else was ignoring and staked a claim in it. Americana. Struggling Middle Class America. Conservative values. He then treated that world with sophistication, whereas everyone else was writing really cheesy movies in that space. There are writing landscapes out there that people are ignoring. Go out there and find them and you can become the voice of that world.
Voice 8 (Quirk It): Twenty years ago, a movie called Little Miss Sunshine burst onto the scene and became the little movie that could. It was, maybe, the quirkiest movie ever produced. And it started a movement. Quirk was in. “Quirk” is any idea that’s weird, goofy, and leans into awkwardness instead of avoiding it. The voice here comes from the characters who will all be playing outsized versions of their real-life counterparts. The character will never just be depressed. He’ll be the depressed guy who’s made a vow of silence and only speaks with his hands. Garden State, Ghost World, Safety Not Guaranteed. All quirk-fests. And yes, I know Juno could be placed in this category. There is going to be some overlap between voices. Don’t get too caught up in that.
Voice 9 (The Gimmick Script): The Gimmick Script is less about the movie and more about the reading experience. The Gimmick Script might be written in first person. There might be a lot of breaking the fourth wall (with the writer speaking directly to the reader). The prose may have a lot of needless swearing in it, or asides that have nothing to do with describing what’s going on. It may take a well-known property and flip it on its head (Exploring the Charlie Brown characters all grown up). One of the first scripts that made my Top 25 was called “Passengers,” (there’s a link to it over on the right panel), a weird alien invasion story told in the first person. Gimmicky voice is probably the cheapest type of voice available to writers. But it can work.
Voice 10 (Create Your Own Style by Mixing and Matching): It’s important to understand that voice is always evolving. You can create a new voice at any time. Shane Black wrote big fun masculine movies with sparse playful prose that he sometimes broke the fourth wall on. That was his style. Just remember that your voice is, ultimately, your personality. So pick the “voice modules” that best reflect your personality. That way, you’re writing organically as opposed to forcing it. And that’s it, folks. I hope this helped!
Let’s see if you learned anything. Here are ten movies. Do these movies have a writer’s voice or no? Leave your answers in the comments. In a little bit, I’ll provide the actual answers.
Die Hard
The Hurt Locker
Birdman
Inception
Dune
Ghostbusters: Afterlife
Free Guy
Old
Napoleon Dynamite
Alien
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.
