Is there such thing as the perfect concept? Today’s script poses that question. And no one makes it out alive before the answer is given! Time Shark baby! TIME SHARK!!!

Title: Time Shark!
Genre: Spoof/Action Adventure
Logline: A retired marine biologist goes back into the water when inter-dimensional time-traveling sharks invade our world. But an overzealous military-man has nefarious plans for the strange fish. Airplane! meets Jaws.
Why you should read: Hey there! So I’m a first time screenwriter, starting this a little later than most, (I’m in my early 40s) and I had a story to tell about time traveling sharks. So I did. I don’t live in California, I’m actually a tv sports producer in Florida, a cuban-american dad, and write as a hobby on the side. I think you should review my script because it’s a comedy about time traveling sharks. And time travel is awesome, and so are sharks. And spoof comedies aren’t all that common anymore, so why not? I really hope you give it a look. Thanks.
Writer: Enrique Bertran
Details: 97 pages

First off, I want to apologize to the four OTHER applicants of last week’s Amateur Offerings. Because, seriously? Did anybody REALLY stand a chance against Time Shark? We’re talking about time travel and sharks. The two greatest things that have ever existed on the planet. I once conducted a survey of the greatest pairings of all time once and you know what the number 1 pairing was? Peanut Butter and Jelly. Except there was an asterisk next to it. The asterisk stated: “Unless you’re counting time travel and sharks.”

The only bad thing about putting time travel and sharks in the same script is that the expectations are stratospheric. Anything less than genius would be a literary catastrophe. But no worries. We can be sure that today’s screenplay will be perfect. Why? Because if it isn’t, we can just send a shark back in time to rewrite it. Boom! Splash goes the shark’s fin.

Pentagon worker Sarah Lightman has just been informed of the impossible. All over the world, ancient sharks – sharks that have not existed in millions of years – are attacking and killing people. We’re talking megalodon sharks here, those giant prehistoric motherfuckers, and flying sharks, and sharks with two heads. Sarah and her co-worker, Chairman Higgins, are tasked by the government to figure out a solution to this growing problem.

It doesn’t take long for Sarah to realize they’re in over their heads. Luckily, she knows a man. Gil Baitman, the world’s number 1 shark expert. The thing is, Baitman hasn’t been seen in years. Ever since his wife was chewed up by one of these dorsel-finned gravy gobblers, he can’t so much as mouth the word “shark.” But desperate times call for desperate measures, and the curiosity factor of prehistoric sharks using our beaches as buffets is too big for even Baitman to resist.

The goal is to capture one of these sharks so the government can study what they’re up against. And somehow, Gil and Sarah pull this off. Little do they know, however, Chairman Higgins never had any intentions of studying these sharks and their time-traveling ways. He wanted to create the ultimate time shark army! So he starts cloning these sharks and strapping weapons to them (like lasers), and before you know it, he’s sending this shark army off on missions.

But wouldn’t you know it – those bastard sharks rebel. And now that they’re armed with weapons, they have one goal in mind – to settle the score with their makers. It’ll be up to Gil, the only person who knows enough about sharks to stop this kind of attack. But will he be able to put past tragedies behind to pull off this impossible feat? Only time will tell. Or should I say, only time SHARKS will tell.

Luke Perry for Baitman for sure

I honestly considered giving this script a “worth the read” on its title alone. I’m serious. There have only been five screenplays in existence that were worth money on their title alone. Monster-In-Law, I remember, was one of them. Then there were… those other ones. And Time Shark would definitely be in that group.

But Enrique makes a critical mistake. He mixes two types of comedy that shouldn’t be mixed. “Spoof” is the kind of comedy that works when you have a generic subject matter – like an airplane. The spoofing is there to “spice up” up the otherwise bland concept. But when you have a spicy concept to begin with, you don’t need any more spice. Too much spice can turn a relaxed dinner at an Indian restaurant into an all-night date with your toilet.

I mean Russians speaking with subtitles, then looking down to read their own subtitles and then, because they’re upside-down relative to them, turning those subtitles right-side up so they can read them – that’s pretty funny and something that would work in a movie like Airplane. But it doesn’t work here when you’ve already got a wacky concept to begin with.

Every bit of comedy here needs to stem from two things – sharks and time-travel. When you’ve got scenes centered around the cloning of Kim Kardashian’s ass, you move from “buzzworthy so-bad-it’s-good” type movie, a la “Sharknado,” to “Vampires Suck,” which is the trash heap of the comedy genre. You don’t want to get anywhere near that. I mean a joke about Abe Vigoda? Really? I suppose that’s sort of time travel related. As in time traveling jokes from the 90s.

As for the plot itself, it’s a mixed bag. Having Sarah and Gil try and bag a time shark was okay, I guess. But once they deliver the shark, the movie shifts over to Chairman Higgins, who’s driving the story with his whole “weaponizing sharks” plan. In the meantime, our main characters are just hanging out on a boat for 30 pages.

There’s this misconception that when you’re writing comedy – ESPECIALLY broad comedy – that nothing matters. That you can do whatever the hell you want because ‘who cares, it’s comedy.’ But the standard pillars of storytelling still apply. And having your two main characters inactive for 30 pages is a bad idea. You want them to be driving the story at all times.

The script picks back up when the time sharks rebel and Gil and Sarah are tasked with cleaning up the mess (so they’re finally active again), but it’s too little, too late. By that point we’d gotten bored of the two.

I DEFINITELY think this is salvageable though. The idea of megalodon sharks attacking people on beaches is genius. I also like the idea of the government weaponzing them. I would try and keep Gil and Sarah closer to the action in that second act though. You never want your main characters waiting at the side of the ring to be tagged back in. They need to be fighting the fight at all times. And stop trying to mix two different types of comedy. I’d go so far as to say this will never go anywhere if you keep the spoof angle.

Out of my own curiosity, I’d like to hear other commenters pitch their Time Shark movies. This is something I’m almost sure will be turned into a film, even if it’s just on Syfy. And if we can help Enrique see a better version of this script, we could help him speed up that process. So, fire away!

Script link: Time Shark

[ ] what the hell did I just read?

[x] wasn’t for me 

[ ] worth the read 

[ ] impressive

[ ] genius

What I learned: Guys, if secondary characters are making the decisions that are pushing your story forward, it means your main characters aren’t. That’s bad storytelling 101.

One of the misconceptions I had when I first started sending my screenplays out was that they were special. That the endless months of hard work and care I put into creating them would be celebrated by those who read them – like the way an Olympic judge would lock in to a figure skating routine, marking scores for every little spin and jump. Now that I’ve been on the other side, I realize just how many scripts are being read, and for that reason, how quickly a reader can tune out if your script isn’t grabbing them.

I was talking about this very issue today with a manager, which led to a debate on what makes a script stand out from the pack. The first answer we agreed on was “voice.” But that’s become such a watered down buzzword at this point that further examination was required. We moved on to other topics before we could come to a consensus, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the question on the way home, especially with all the scripts I’ve been reading for the Scriptshadow 250. I can tell with 99% certainty if a script isn’t going to deliver by page 5. But then, every 20 scripts or so, a script will grab me. Just like that. BAM! I’m in it. I can’t wait to find out what happens next. How did this happen? How is this script so much better than the other ones?

Today, I want to identify that secret sauce, that difference between “stand out” and “standard.” You’re probably thinking there’s no way to determine this. The process of creating art is like magic. It arrives at the crossroads between talent and inspiration. But I refuse to believe that. Even the least talented writers can be taught to identify when they’re making bad choices. And if you can identify that, there’s no reason you can’t start making original choices. And original choices are the heart of what makes a screenplay stand out. Let’s see what some of the other ingredients are.

CONCEPT

A stand-out screenplay usually has a concept that’s a little weird, a little “off.” “Bubbles,” the number 1 script on last year’s Black List comes to mind (A biopic of Michael Jackson told through the eyes of his pet monkey, Bubbles). Fight Club is another one (who makes a movie about bored people fighting??). Stand-out writers tend to stand out because they do things differently. If they were doing things the same, then by definition, they wouldn’t be standing out. So while a unique concept isn’t required for stand-out material, it’s an indication that the writer enjoys exploring the less-traveled path.

SPECIFICITY

One of the things I’ve noticed with stand-out writers is that there’s a specificity to their writing. They don’t describe things in generalities. They add detail to better bring you into their world. Here’s a line I recently read from a generic amateur script: “Joe changes into his uniform. That of a chef. The head chef.” Then here’s a professional writer describing a similar moment in his script: “Now dressed in a puffy black snow jacket, Rose steps into a pair of snow boots, pulling on a pair of mittens.” It’s so much easier to see what’s going on in the second example, because of the detail. There’s a ceiling to this, of course. You can’t write too much description or you’ll gum up the read. But specific writers also tend to abide by one of the core rules of screenwriting: Say as much as possible in as few words as possible. They just do so with more detail.

POINT-OF-VIEW

The first two elements I mentioned are icing, but point-of-view is cake. “Point-of-view” is how you see the world, and is one of the most important factors in standing out. A unique point of view takes any situation and finds a new way to look at it. So for example, if I asked you what “romance” looked like in your head, you might answer, “When a man and a woman are deeply in love with each other.” When Spike Jonez is asked that question, though, he’d answer, “When a man and a computer are in love with each other,” as explored in his movie, “Her.” Or if I asked you to write a story about a woman and her son being held hostage by a man, your first instinct would probably be to tell the story through the mother’s eyes. Emma Donahue, the author of “Room,” however, decided to explore the situation through the eyes of the small child. Point of view isn’t just about concept. It extends to any choice you make in the story. If I told you to write a story about stock traders, your instinct would probably be to make all your characters overgrown frat boys with perfectly tailored suits and a penchant for swearing. The architect in The Big Short, Christian Bale’s character, however, has one glass eye, wears jeans and a t-shirt, is anti-social, and holds meetings in his office with heavy metal music blasting. Your point-of-view must be unique if you want your script to stand out in any way.

DO THE UNEXPECTED

I want to bring up a common misconception. That “instinct” is a good thing. Instinct is the unintentional repetition of an expected outcome. For example, say you have a scene with a guy and a girl in the rain. Your “instinct” may be to have those characters kiss. But the only reason your instinct is telling you that is because you’ve seen dozens of movies where a guy and a girl in the rain kiss. The stand-out writer, however, will show our awkward male character struggling to open an umbrella. As the girl waits impatiently, getting colder and wetter by the second, the guy can’t seem to trip the click device above the handle. As the girl starts to get pissed, the umbrella pops up, hitting the girl in the face. She grabs her nose, which is now bleeding. And the guy steps forward to help her only to have the umbrella get struck by lightning. That’s a more unexpected choice, and one that only comes to you if you greet instinct with skepticism. Here’s where things get tricky though. There are two types of writers. Writers who are truly original. Charlie Kaufman is the prototype for this group. Then there are the rest of us – people who see the world at face value. For the truly original, their instincts ARE unique, and therefore should be followed as-is. For the rest of us, we must learn to challenge our instincts. Every choice must be accompanied by a question: “Is this what usually happens?” Because if it is, then you probably shouldn’t write it. This is a long-winded way of saying that the stand-out scripts always keep me guessing. The writer is always ahead of me because he’s making unexpected choices.

UNIQUE PRESENTATION
To best understand what unique presentation looks like, I’ll present you with the opposite: Taken. “Taken” follows a single guy on a single mission to get his daughter back. It’s a straight-forward first person story. A unique presentation, on the other hand, changes things up in one of two categories: character or structure. Pulp Fiction’s structure jumps back and forth in time. Gone Girl’s first half tells the story through our protagonist’s eyes, but then switches over to its antagonist for the second half. Steve Jobs tells three 40 minute contained stories. As for character, the idea is to use your characters to help the reader experience the story in a unique way. The most recent example of this was Deadpool – our fourth-wall breaking never-stops-narrating main character. That character was partially inspired by another fourth-wall breaker, Ferris Bueller. “Bubbles” uses an animal to narrate its story. The Big Short uses celebrity cutaways to convey complex exposition. You never want to use these tools just to use them. They need to make sense within the story you’re telling. But an offbeat presentation is an easy way to make your script stand out.

DIALOGUE

The dialogue in a stand-out script tends to be more inspired than in lesser scripts. There’s a pop to it. And it’s hard to quantify what that pop is made up of. But for starters, the dialogue should be clever. You get the sense the writer really thought about each response. The vocabulary is more extensive than your average screenwriter. The writer must have a unique sense of humor, whether it’s dry, morbid, over-the-top, or just plain weird. There’s a specificity to the dialogue. “You get drunk at the bar last night again?” probably reads better as, “You chuggin Mai Tais at Finnegans all night again?” There’s a naturalism to the way characters speak. They use contractions. They use slang. They use nicknames. Words come out fast and loose instead of stilted and robotic (unless the script calls for a robotic character). Mostly there’s a freedom to the dialogue that mirrors the way we speak in real life, but at the same time, the wisecracks are wiser, the comebacks are sharper, and the vocabulary is more advanced.

EMBRACE THE WEIRD

Finally, embrace the weird, the offbeat, the macabre. If you want to stand out, you have to remove yourself from group-think and explore the oddities of life. I just heard about a script where a guy sheds his skin every day and turns into a different person. Those are the kinds of scripts people remember. What are you writing that will stand out?

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

Genre: Horror
Logline: When Emma’s sister Sadie is kidnapped by a witch and hidden in an abandoned mine, Emma must search the witch’s lair in an attempt to save Sadie’s life.
Why you should read: If you enjoy horror then I have a treat for you… This Amateur Offering comes paired with a 5-minute award-winning short film based on the feature I wrote. The script itself has received two 7’s on The Black List and has been read by respected agents and studios around town (my witch script is among Alex Ross’ HEXEN on TBL, it’s cool to be among fellow SS readers. I don’t feel so lonely). Alas, I have yet to reach the level we all hope to be apart of, “produced writer.” So please, watch and read and give me your thoughts on what more I have to do to sell my first screenplay. I’d really appreciate it.
Writer: Joseph I. Martinez
Details: 103 pages

Up-and-comer Sarah Gadon for Emma?

Well last week sure got testy, didn’t it? But in the end, traditionalists prevailed, as American Witch won over what some referred to as a screenplay abomination – a direct attack on the very foundation of the craft!

All kidding aside, a “get noticed” script is a legitimate strategy for breaking in. And if you’re going to write one, you might as well go all out. I mean what would be the point of writing one otherwise?

I will say that you should use your creativity to connect in clever unexpected ways, rather than resort to swear-laden first-person attacks on the reader. There’s a fine line that exists between fun and annoying, and that choice usually goes on to offend a hefty percentage of the readers. So you’re playing with fire, brother.

Also, “Get noticed” scripts have become cliches in and of themselves. Patterns have been established. So if you’re going to tackle a genre that thrives on originality, it’s paramount that you find new avenues to explore. Don’t do what the “Get Noticed” scripts did before you. Show us how you’re unique.

Okay, onto American Witch. Wow, what an opening scene, amirite!? I can see why you guys voted for this. One of the quickest ways to identify a good writer is if they can take me out of my apartment and into another world.

When this crazy motherfucking woman was being buried in a hole with hot tar and she sticks a walnut into her vagina and we time-lapse to see a Walnut Tree grow out of it, taking us to the present day… I WAS FUCKING IN IT, MAN! I was planning to send this to a studio.

But then the script slows down (we were just discussing this last week!) and becomes Setup Castle. Here we meet the fam, which includes 18 year-old Emma Ore, her single mother, Amanda, and her little sis, Sadie.

Amanda’s found a male suitor in Dr. Burns, and with Emma making it into the college of her dreams, the family’s fortunes are looking up. But then that very night, Amanda sleepwalks out of her bed into the stormy night, never to be seen again.

Cut to a year later where poor Emma, who never ended up going to college, has weird panic attacks where she sees her dead mom. Dr. Burns has provided her with some time-sensitive medication as well as a calming-phase (“Cashmere roses, wicker shakes, twenty-two”) to repeat so that Scary Maggot-Infested Version of Mom disappears.

No later than a day after we re-join Emma, her sister, Sadie, disappears just like mom did! We seem to have terrible timing popping into this girl’s life. Soon after, Emma gets word from the voices that Sadie’s being held in the local mine, so she takes her controlling boyfriend, Cole, to go look for her.

The rest of the script plays out exactly the way the logline says. We creep around this rickety abandoned mine, peeking around corners with our cell phone light, looking for sis. Occasionally, we run into the ghosts of unfortunate miners who died down here as well as a few souls dumb enough to cross paths with a badass witch named Icka Crombie. In the end, Emma will have to make some tough decisions in regards to how far she’s willing to go to save her sister. Will she kill to do so????

American Witch has some nice moments. The aforementioned opening. There’s also a scene where a little ghost boy who died in a cart asks to be pushed (with his one stipulation being that Emma CANNOT LOOK AT HIM). So she’s pushing him, looking away, but she wants to look and we want to look and we’re all terrified at what we might see, and when we do end up seeing him, he lives up to the curiosity.

But American Witch suffers from one of those annoying little things that, if gone unchecked, can kill a script. I’m talking about LACK OF CLARITY. The writer, Joseph, keeps things clear 75% of the time. But the other 25% we’re on our own to wonder what the heck is going on.

For example, I didn’t understand the family dynamic. Was Dr. Burns Amanda’s lover? The step-dad? A family friend? Your guess is as good as mine (get it!). And then I couldn’t understand the prescription pill chant combo. Emma was taking a pill that was time-sensitive down to the second (do those exist?)?? And in addition to taking the pills, she had to repeat a random phrase? How did those two things connect exactly??

It seems like a minor criticism. They’re such small details. But the whole point of writing is to have the reader exactly where you want them to be. You want to be in control of their emotions and feelings and interest at all times. And if they’re gradually wandering off a few degrees here and a few degrees there because you’re not making the details clear enough, they’re now experiencing a different story than the one you’re writing in your head, and who the hell knows what that story is?

This is a common problem, guys. I literally just gave notes on a script I read two days ago on the exact same issue. You have to be clear.

Moving forward, Joe should spend more time figuring out how to incorporate the mythology of his opening scene into the present-day storyline. That opening scene was awesome. It was rich with detail. It was unexpected. It dug into you a Hilton bed bug. But once we get to the present, we’re listening to borderline dopey scenes of characters saying things like, “Did you get into college??!” It was like going from watching The Godfather to Anchorman. The shift in sophistication was too drastic.

But the script shined in the moments where it did connect the mythology. We saw the witches dump severed heads into the cave in that opening scene. It’s no surprise then, that one of the best scenes has Emma checking in that cart to see the little boy… only to see that he’s a severed head.

That’s where this script is going to come together. And Joseph can pull it off. We’ve seen he’s capable of writing some great scenes. Let’s write more of them then. It’s a matter of pushing yourself to be better. Of not being satisfied with “okay.” This one had potential. But it’s not quite there yet.

Screenplay link: American Witch

[ ] what the hell did I just read?

[x] wasn’t for me 

[ ] worth the read

[ ] impressive

[ ] genius

What I learned: If you have a non-traditional family dynamic, don’t assume the reader will just understand it. You have to explain it to us. I read a script not long ago where I thought I was watching a traditional nuclear family. Then 40 pages in, I learn that the “dad” was actually the “uncle,” who had come in to help the family out when their father died. How the hell was I supposed to know this if you didn’t tell me? Never assume, guys. Especially with things that are easy to misunderstand.

Today we talk about the danger of a weak premise as well as a little-known structural pitfall that can spell doom for your screenplay long before you’ve written it.

Genre: Comedy
Logline: On the last day of school, a mild-mannered English teacher manages to upset his co-worker, who then challenges him to a fight at the end of the day.
About: This script sold last year and will star Ice Cube and Charlie Day (It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia) in his first leading man role. It was written by Van Robichaux and Evan Susser, the team who came onto the scene when their script, “Chewie,” which documented the making of Star Wars through Peter Mayhew’s eyes, finished in the top 10 of the 2011 Black List.
Writers: Van Robichaux & Evan Susser
Details: 109 pages – December 17, 2014 draft

I remember when this script sold and there was a ton of backlash. “They’re not buying any scripts,” people said, “yet when they do buy one, it’s a comedy about a fist fight??? Can we possibly dumb down the spec trade any further?”

I’ll admit that when I hear a comedy idea that doesn’t contain irony (Old School, Liar Liar, Neighbors), I wouldn’t say I dismiss it out of hand. But I worry. The top dogs know the key to comedy is irony. Any time you’ve heard a comedy idea where you’ve gone, “That’s a great idea,” 99% of the time it’s because the premise contained irony.

Here, I see a teensy bit of irony. Instead of kids getting in a fist fight, adults do! But not nearly enough to inspire an entire movie.

If there’s little-to-no irony, I turn to requirement #2: Does the concept promise a lot of jokes? So for example, if I gave you guys the premise for Neighbors before it was turned into a movie, I bet all of you could come up with ten scenes to exploit that premise off the top of your head.

Here, we have a fist fight. I don’t see a plethora of jokes stemming from that.

If irony and multiple joke potential are out, I turn to requirement #3: Does the writer have a unique voice? Because writers who see the world differently and have a unique sense of humor can find humor in the mundane. Look no further than Charlie Kaufman.

Here, this looks to be a straight mainstream comedy. So “voice” is out the window.

If all else fails, we come to requirement #4: The writer is stomach-hurts-because-I’m-laughing-so-hard funny. If someone’s funny, they’re funny. And while they’re going to be fighting an uphill battle due to their weak premise, they can still draw upon hilarious observations, great jokes, and funny dialogue, because they’re funny! I’ve seen bad ideas saved due to the writer being hilarious.

Let’s see if that happens here.

Campbell is a high school English teacher who has to provide for two young daughters, one more on the way, his wife, and his wife’s mother. Times are tough even when things are going well in Campbell’s career.

And now, they’re not going well. It’s the last day of school and word is that Campbell has a 50/50 chance of getting fired due to budget cuts. So he’s already on edge when he shows up to a school where out-of-control teenagers are doing everything in their power to make their teacher’s lives miserable.

As Campbell jumps around, avoiding the 10,000 traps the students have set, he witnesses the psycho history teacher, Mr. Strickland, nearly decapitate a student for screwing with a screening of Strickland’s favorite documentary.

The principal asks Campbell what he saw, and Campbell is forced to tell the truth. This is a bad idea, since Strickland finds out and decides that he and Campbell must now fight after school. Campbell, a born wimp, does everything in his power to get out of this ridiculous duel, but all his efforts fail.

In the meantime, he’s waiting for his exit interview to explain why he needs to be kept on staff. Should that interview go bad, there’s a good chance he and the five women he lives with will be evicted by Andrew Garfield and Michael Shannon (sorry, indie film joke there).

Will Campbell keep his job? Even if he does, will he be pummeled into submission by a psycho in front of the whole school? Wait for the trailer to “Fist Fight” to arrive as I’m sure it’ll provide us with the entire movie.

So here’s the thing.

Barely anything works here. And this is what you get when you’re working with a weak premise.

A good premise tells you where to go. When you’re in the fields of page 55 and you don’t have anything left, a good premise points the arrow for you. The Hangover knows that we gotta get to Doug. So when you’re in trouble, come up with some shit that gets us closer to Doug!

And that’s what’s wrong with Fist Fight. See, Fist Fight doesn’t give the hero a goal to work with (a “Doug”). It gives him a time he must be somewhere by. This now puts the writer in a predicament. He has to come up with things to do UNTIL THAT TIME ARRIVES.

That’s a lot different than working with a goal, where your hero will actively pursue things. In this script’s scenario, it’s kind of like you’ve shown up to the dentist an hour early and need to figure out how to kill time until your appointment starts. Is there a chance that you’ll fill up that time productively? Possibly. But it’s much more likely you’re going to surf your phone aimlessly and play Candy Crush.

That’s why these setups scare me. They make you look at the structure the wrong way – as a time killer.

And we see that here. You can feel the writers desperately trying to fill in space. At one point, there’s a mediation from a third teacher to try and stop the fight. We also get a flashback scene accompanied by a Strickland voice over to explain why this fight needs to happen. Why are these scenes in the movie? Because they fill up time.

But it’s not just that. It’s that the concept predicated that we approach the plot in this manner. The issue was there long before you had to write the mediation scene.

These situations almost always lead to wonky plotlines, such as Campbell being ordered by the principal to ask Strickland to resign since he doesn’t want to fire him himself. When that fails, Campbell comes up with the idea that if he can get the kid who Strickland attacked to withdraw his statement, then the principal can’t get rid of Strickland and Strickland won’t want to fight anymore.

Yeah, these are the things driving the story.

The fault of this script always came down to one thing. We knew it when it was announced. It’s too thin a concept. And it reads that way.

The only reason I didn’t give it a “what the hell did I just read” is because I think there’s potential for another story. Call this, “Last Day” and focus on the crazy shit that students pull on the last day of school. That’s the strength of this script anyway – the kids pulling pranks on the teachers. Imagine a darker version of Ferris Bueller puppeteering the take-down of the entire school and a teacher who’s tasked with stopping him. That could be fun. What I just read wasn’t fun.

[ ] what the hell did I just read?

[x] wasn’t for me 

[ ] worth the read 

[ ] impressive

[ ] genius

What I learned: I’ve said this before. If your premise centers around an activity that could easily be a subplot in another movie, you probably don’t have a big enough premise. Fights happen all the time in movies. So to make that the main plot is a tough sell. I’m not saying it can’t work. It’s a hell of a lot harder though. Why not save yourself the headache and come up with a bigger premise?

Today’s pilot not only brings one of the best superhero ideas in years to the table, it also reminds us just how important it is to find that fresh angle to a stale genre!

Genre: TV Pilot – Comedy/Superhero

Premise: In a world where superheroes leave a limitless path of destruction, we follow an insurance company that specializes in insuring against superhero-related damage.

About: I’m still not sure if Powerless was a comic book or not, but I do know this show will be covering damage from REAL SUPERHEROES. Well, I mean, if you count superheroes from the DC universe “real.” The show was created by Ben Queen, who wrote a straight-to-video flick called “Proximity” back in 2001, then went through a bit of a drought before securing a coveted Pixar writing job in 2011 (Cars 2). His work has been steadily increasing since, culminating in “Powerless,” which NBC is said to be SUPER high on (get it!?).

Writer: Ben Queen
Details: 34 pages – January 5, 2016 draft

Crimson Fox! Yowzers!

You wanna know one of the key differences between a pro writer and an amateur writer? It’s something that took me years to figure out, and until you make the mental switch in your own head, it’s like you’re playing checkers in a city of people playing chess.

An amateur sees that superhero movies and superhero TV shows are doing well and they say to themselves, “That means I should write a superhero movie or TV show.” A pro writer, on the other hand, sees that superhero movies and TV shows are doing well and says, “That means I need to find an angle into this superhero thing that hasn’t been done before.”

In other words, they don’t come home from the opening weekend of Superman and start writing Batman. They come home from Superman and start writing Hancock.

Now there’s a whole art to this – exploiting old ideas for new ones. And I’m going to get into how to do this in a bit. But first let’s check out the show that’s inspiring today’s discussion, Powerless.

28 year-old Emily Locke is sick of superheroes, or “Supers” as they call them in this universe. These costumed egomaniacs are always battling each other, using the city as their own personal UFC fighting cage. This leads to all sorts of damage and death, and for what? So that these cool dudes with their slick leather capes can get a Saturday night table at Bar Marmont?

Recently, Emily’s boss and mentor was killed during one of these battles. So when Emily found herself on a train to work that happened to be picked up by “Crimson Fox” during an early morning battle with Jack-O-Lantern, instead of thanking her for performing her superly duties, she looked straight into Crimson’s eyes and said, “Do you mind putting us back on the tracks?”

Emily didn’t think much of what she said. She was fed up and wanted to get to work on time. But afterwards, word spread about the woman who stood up to the superheroes, and “Put Us Back On The Tracks” began trending on every social media site in the world.

Unfortunately, no one was able to get Emily’s name, which happened to be how she likes it. Emily is the opposite of a Super. She likes to hide out in the background and do her job anonymously. That job takes place at RetCon Insurance, one of the many companies that offers superhero-specific damage insurance.

But Emily’s strange day has only just begun. It turns out she has a new boss, Del, who’s the son of the company’s CEO. And up until today, Del has never had to work a day in his life. Because he has no idea what he’s doing AND he’s a dick, Del replaces everyone’s desks with standing desks, moves the bathrooms off the floor (a trick he read about in Steve Jobs’ biography to improve inter-department relations) and generally makes working conditions at the company only slightly better than a concentration camp.

When Emily’s best office buddy, Teddy, finds out that Emily is the “Back on the Tracks” girl, he encourages her to also stand up for the company and get their working conditions back. Emily will have to decide whether she wants to remain anonymous forever, or have the POWER to speak up and make a difference.

So let’s go back to that question I posed earlier. When you’re looking for a fresh angle on a ubiquitous genre, where do you find it? To answer that, let’s first look at where you don’t find it. You don’t find it in the cliches, in the repeated beats, in the staples of the genre. If you’re looking for inspiration through the things that happen again and again onscreen, you’re only going to be copying.

Where you find inspiration is in the stuff THAT THEY DON’T SHOW. Which means you have to go BETWEEN THE SCENES. You have to imagine what the world they don’t show you is like.

So in this case, the writer asked, “What happens AFTER a superhero battle? Who pays for all that damage?” Or “What happens to those commuters on the way to work when their train gets derailed in a battle? What are the logistics of taking care of that?” And that’s how you’re going to get fresh material. Because those are questions that aren’t usually asked.

And in general, this is how good writers approach everything. They look beyond what’s directly in front of them. They draw inspiration from the peripheral.

As for the story driving the pilot’s plot, I thought it was good, but not great. I liked that the show didn’t rest on its laurels. It didn’t say, “Look at this cool idea I came up with. Now watch me dick around for the next 35 minutes.” It brought this whole crazy boss plotline in which kept the office stuff firing on all cylinders.

And I love that. I love when writers say, “I know I have a cool idea here. But I’m still going to push myself and come up with an actual story here.”

My problem was that the story they chose didn’t connect enough with the concept. It was TOO SEPARATED from the superhero angle. I mean if your concept promotes a company that deals with superhero destruction insurance, shouldn’t your pilot deal with a major insurance claim that came via superhero destruction?

You could’ve even tied it in with the opening. Maybe Crimson Fox dropped the subway car that Emily was on and that was the claim. I’m not sure a standing desks debate best takes advantage of the cool concept you’ve constructed.

But the pilot survives this misstep because the writing is crisp and funny and promises a world where we likely WILL see insurance-related plotlines. It also hints at some fun surprises, such as some of the people at work secretly being superheroes.

So while I didn’t think this was perfect, it was much better than the typical slew of superhero stuff I read. I think NBCs got a rare winner on its hands.



[ ] what the hell did I just read?

[ ] wasn’t for me

[x] worth the read 

[ ] impressive

[ ] genius



What I learned: When looking for a fresh spin on an overdone genre, being different isn’t good enough. You want to be clever. For example, I could bring a fresh take to the superhero genre by focusing on a superhero who’s a great cook. But is that a movie that people would wanna see? No. It’s not clever in any way. Insurance claims stemming from superhero destruction is an intellectually rich idea that offers all sorts of possibilities.

So I’m going to toss it over to you guys now and see how much you’ve learned. Another common genre at the moment is the young female post-apocalyptic YA flick. I’ve just hired you to give me a fresh take on the genre. Leave that fresh take in the comments and upvote your favorite submissions. Winner gets “Featured Comment” Status and their very own virtual green light!