I’m currently consulting for a writer-director on his latest script. He’s made several movies, but this time, he’s determined to get the script right before he starts shooting early next year. He wants it as sharp as it can possibly be.

It’s led to some fascinating discussions between us. After each consultation, we hop on a Zoom call to unpack the notes. A typical exchange goes like this: I’ll say, “This scene doesn’t work because of A and B.” And he’ll reply, “Yeah, but you have to understand, with the way I’m going to shoot it, it will work.” Then he walks me through his plan, and with a few minor exceptions, he convinces me that he’s got it covered.

These conversations have reminded me of an under-discussed aspect of screenwriting: sometimes, writing what’s best for the movie isn’t what’s best for the screenplay. That distinction matters because ninety-nine percent of screenwriters are not directors. Unlike the writer I’m working with, they don’t have the luxury of fixing their “screenplay mistakes” on set.

So as a writer, you often face a troubling dilemma. Do you write what makes the best screenplay? Or do you write what will ultimately make the best movie?

Let me give you a recent example. The opening of a script I just consulted on introduces the protagonist talking to a family member over the phone. Every quarter of a page, the writer cuts to a factory where toys are being manufactured. We see the intricacies of the process, the molds, the machinery, the assembly lines, while hearing the voice-over of the phone conversation discussing something entirely unrelated. We don’t yet know how this toy factory plays into things.  At this moment in time, it’s just a series of images without context.  The script keeps cutting back and forth between the phone call and this factory multiple times until the scene ends.

On screen, this would work brilliantly. Intercutting is one of cinema’s superpowers. It can compress information, build mystery, create tension, and generate emotion, especially when paired with music. It’s one of the most expressive tools in a filmmaker’s arsenal.

But on the page? It’s nearly the opposite.

A lot of writers don’t realize how much of a mess it is because they haven’t read enough screenplays. When you’re reading a script, especially early on, you’re already juggling a lot. You’re trying to get your bearings in the story, track new characters, understand their relationships, and grasp the setup. A good reader knows that missing key information in the first act can derail the entire experience, which is why clarity is everything.

Intercutting disrupts that clarity. It prevents flow. Every cut is like being in a car with a student driver when they indiscriminately SLAM ON THE BREAKS.

The same goes for montages. Montages work wonderfully in movies, but they’re torture on the page. When I see one in a script, I instinctively roll my eyes, shift out of “enjoyment mode,” and put on my “analysis hat.” I’m no longer immersed. I’m instead parsing information. Most montages are simply lists of six to ten shots providing updates on what’s happening with the characters. Rarely are they written with dramatic weight or emotional build.

The point is simple: not everything that plays well on screen reads well on the page. And since your screenplay will be read long before it’s ever shot, your job is to write what works on the page. Which means: avoid things that make the read clunky, or boring, or a chore, even if they lead to a great movie moment.

How committed to this ideology am I?  I wouldn’t put Luke looking up at the two suns at sunset in the Star Wars script.  One of the most iconic shots in movie history!  Now, to be clear, I’d put it in the movie.  But I would not put it in the script (and if memory serves me correctly, it wasn’t in the script).  In the script it would be nothing.  It would be a moment that barely registered with the reader, if at all.  That’s how different it is on the page compared to on screen.

I’d take it a step further. When you’re choosing what screenplay to write, choose a concept that works well as a read, not as a film. What kinds of scripts read best? Simple plots. Low character counts. Clear goals. Stories with long, uninterrupted stretches of narrative flow. Think Novocaine, Send Help, Drop, Sinners, Alien, Wolfs, The Beekeeper, Ballerina.

I’m not saying I love all those movies. I’m saying that if I were an unknown screenwriter and someone told me I’d be killed in six months if I didn’t sell a script, that’s the kind of script I’d write WITHOUT HESITATION. That’s right. I’m betting MY LIFE on this advice. A clear, high-stakes, high-concept story with a small cast and a clean, propulsive narrative.

The opposite of that? Something like House of Dynamite. It doesn’t have a main character, which immediately disorients the reader. It constantly jumps between storylines and locations, making it difficult to follow. There’s heavy technical jargon. But the constant jumping is the killer. Every time you move to a new time or place, the reader has to reset. Where are we now, what’s happening, how does this connect?

Movies can handle that because the audience doesn’t have to work. They see an image, and it registers instantly. But on the page, words require effort. The reader has to visualize and process every new setting and situation on their own. Too much of that and fatigue sets in.

So what if you don’t like writing those clean, linear stories? What if you gravitate toward the sprawling ensemble pieces, scripts like My Darling California or One Battle After Another or Independence Day? Stories that cut between dozens of characters and constantly evolving events?

There’s nothing wrong with that. But you have to approach these screenplays with caution and strategy. One rule I live by is this: the more complex the script, the more you need to hold the reader’s hand. If your story has 25 characters, 10 locations, multiple time periods, and flashbacks (something like Cloud Atlas) then you need to guide the reader carefully. Slow down during complicated sequences. Orient them clearly. Make sure they never feel lost.

And when you’re tempted to intercut between two scenes happening simultaneously, consider writing them one after the other instead. It might not be as cinematic on paper, but it’ll be infinitely more readable.

I can already hear some of you grumbling. You’ll cite movies that break these rules. You’ll say this advice stifles creativity. Look, you can write however you want. But from a reader’s point of view, and from years of monitoring what sells in Hollywood, your best chance of getting noticed is with a script that’s simple, clear, and effortless to read. It may not be the most cinematic script. That doesn’t matter yet. What matters is that you get noticed. And that happens by writing what works on the page.

Of course, there’s a best-of-both-worlds scenario. That’s what I loved about Osculum Infame. It was that rare script that worked beautifully on the page but was going to work even better on screen. That’s the sweet spot you want to hit. But if you can’t, err on the side of readability. I’d rather see a story that’s a killer read, something that gets you attention, than a would-be Godfather 2 meets Citizen Kane masterpiece that never gets made because no one could get through it.

I’ll finish with a quote from one of the great bands of the ’90s. Let’s see if you can name them: “Holllllllllld myyyyyyy hand. Want you to hold my haaaand!”

Genre: Drama/Crime-Thriller
Premise: In 1980 Los Angeles, the intersecting lives of a group of eccentrics spiral toward chaos when a shocking kidnapping forces them down a dark path with only one way out.
About: Writer-director Elijah Bynum technically broke onto the scene with the A24 dud, Hot Summer Nights. But he followed that up with Magazine Dreams, a brilliant spec about a tortured bodybuilder that turned into Hollywood street dust when star Jonathan Majors’ career imploded. This latest movie of his has attracted a very impressive cast. You’ve got Mikey Madison (Anora) playing Jodie. You’ve got Jessica Chastain playing Sharon. You’ve got Chris Pine playing Jack. And you’ve got Don Cheadle and Josh Brolin in there as well.
Writer: Elijah Bynum
Details: 127 pages

Talk about a writer who got screwed.

Elijah wrote an amazing screenplay in Magazine Dreams. It went on to attach one of the fastest-rising actors in Hollywood history and was slated to be an Oscar contender.

And then the Majors situation happened. This probably isn’t the forum for this discussion.  I’m genuinely looking forward to reading this script (I’m writing this before I’ve opened it).  But if you want to understand why people are cynical about Hollywood and its awards machinery, this is the perfect example.

Magazine Dreams was tracking toward Best Actor and Best Picture nominations. Then the industry collectively memory-holed it after the Majors allegations. They did the same with The Birth of a Nation after the Nate Parker controversy in 2016.

Here’s what bothers me: If these films were truly the best.  If these performances were genuinely transcendent.  How can they simply vanish without a trace? I thought the Oscars were about recognizing excellence.

Consider the implications. Magazine Dreams was being positioned as a film people would reference a decade from now. Oscar campaigns were being built. Then… nothing. As if it never existed.

Which raises an uncomfortable question: What other films that we now consider canonical only exist in our cultural memory because a studio decided they were worth the controversy? And conversely, how many genuinely great films have disappeared because someone calculated they weren’t worth the heat?

If we’re supposedly championing “the best,” why do we need the industry’s permission to find it? Why can’t quality speak for itself?

Anyway, it looks like Elijah landed on his feet. This one has a very impressive cast.

It’s 1980. My Darling California introduces us to newswoman Sharon Normandie, who’s married to the Johnny Carson of the time, Jack Normandie. Sharon is a drug addicted mess who hates her husband and her job. Jack, who laces his late night show with lots of religious rhetoric, has driven his wife away by repeatedly cheating on her.

We also meet John Ashley Cotton, a black man who just got out of prison and who used to work on Jack’s show as a janitor. Cotton, always looking to make a buck, blackmails Jack, telling him he’s secretly recorded him having sex with two black women in his office. He wants a payout.

There’s Jodie Taylor, a fresh faced country music star who is a combination of Taylor Swift and Britney Spears. She’s all about purity and waiting for the right one and her music reflects that. But maybe she has some secrets in her past that say otherwise. She has a big performance on Jack’s show.

Then we have dimwitted criminals Roland (older one) and Kent (younger one). They’ve kidnapped a horse (named My Darling California) from Jack. (Man, Jack’s having a bad month). They want half a million dollars to give it back. We eventually learn that Sharon hired them to do this. She’s going to take half the reward so she can leave Jack. And then all of these plot threads and characters weave together for the big finale. And there will be deaths!

I’m admittedly guessing here. But if I had to bet my expensive copy of Final Draft, I would bet that this script was written before Magazine Dreams. Magazine Dreams made the Black List, it got purchased, it got the hottest actor in town attached, and it got made. Elijah then took this out of the drawer, gave it a glow-up, and sent it out.

Why do I think this?

Because it’s very much an early-screenwriter screenplay. These are the kinds of screenplays writers write to prove they’re a good writer. Cause these ensemble stories where you’re cutting back and forth between different plotlines is one of the more common ways to write an “elevated” script.

But what you learn, in retrospect, writing these ensemble pieces, is that it’s hard to keep the engine moving underneath the story. It’s hard enough to keep an engine moving on a single narrative. It becomes three times, four times, five times as hard, doing it here, because you’re constantly taking your foot off the gas when you cut away from a storyline to another one.

Now, if you do it right, that final act has a stronger engine than anything a singular narrative can pull off. Because you’ve set everything up so that, in that act, every time you’re cutting to another storyline, it’s full-throttle hurtling towards its climax.

But that still leaves the first 75% of the screenplay as something the reader has to push through. They have to make more of an effort than usual to follow along. And just hope that you’re a good enough writer to reward them with that big strong 5-storylines-hurtling-forward-at-the-speed-of-light third act.

I bring all this up because the best plan for succeeding as an unknown screenwriter is to write a really compelling single narrative screenplay about a strong character who is pushing towards a big climax. Magazine Dreams was a little slow but its main character helped it achieve that. And scripts like Osculum Inflame. Another great example.

I’M NOT SAYING THEY’RE THE ONLY SCRIPTS THAT WILL LEAD TO SUCCESS. Don’t get your jammies in a bunch. I’m just saying THEY GIVE YOU THE BEST SHOT to succeed when you’re a nobody.

Often, when a screenwriter breaks through using this strategy, they go back to their desk full of old screenplays and pull out that passion project, the one that has a little more “complexity” to it. They’ve got a little buzz so people will read whatever they send out so they send everybody their “I’m a real writer” script.

But here’s my argument. I don’t think these scripts were meant for primetime. They were meant to teach you to become a screenwriter! This type of script teaches screenwriters a valuable lesson – that an ensemble multi-plotline script is really hard to propel forward, especially early on when you’re having to introduce all these characters and their individual storylines. It’s a Setup Carnival but without the fun. Us readers have to muscle through it before the script can gain any sort of plot momentum that hooks us.

So, after writing a script like this, you become much more aware of narrative momentum in screenwriting.

None of this is to say the script isn’t good. I actually found it fairly entertaining. It’s kind of like a softer cozier version of Pulp Fiction. It just didn’t have the teeth that that script had. Pulp Fiction had a good handful of shocking moments. Which meant that any time we waited (such as through the blueberry pancakes dialogue), we were rewarded by something shocking or unexpected that happened in the next scene.

Here, the story is slow. And the rewards are mild. For example, there’s this mystery that Jack has done something horrible in his office that this blackmailer has a videotape of. It turns out he was having sex with two black women. Umm… so what? Maybe that could’ve ended his career in 1980 I guess. But it doesn’t land with the same punch as revealing a gimp, a la Pulp Fiction. I thought, with Jack’s early interactions with children on his show, that his secret sexual exploits were going to be MUCH much worse.

But look, this script is LIGHT YEARS better than yesterday’s script, Behemoth, by Tony Gilroy. This actually shows an understanding of the craft – a writer who knows what he’s doing, even if the creative choices along the way weren’t 10/10.

There’s a great moment in the script where Cotton is telling this long story about working at the late night show and how an actor left some high grade acid in his room and Cotton stole it with the intent of selling it later. But he had to stash it. And after he stashed it, it got lost.

We then cut to Jodie, who’s prepping for her big performance on Jack’s show. And she’s freaking out and the only thing she wants to calm her down – her safe space – is an orange juice. And she keeps asking everybody there for orange juice and they all say they’re going to get it for her but when they look around, they can’t find any orange juice. So they keep lying to her saying that it’s on the way.

We cut back to Cotton, who’s finishing his story. He says how frustrated he is that he lost the acid cause it was worth 5 grand. And the guy he’s talking to asks, “Well where did you stash it?” And he says, “In a bottle of OJ.” And then we cut to Jodie, about to go on stage, and a manager comes up and gives her… a bottle of OJ. And that leads to Jodie taking in 20 doses of acid before going on stage.

The way those two storylines built and then intersected demonstrated a certain poetry that, when this script was working, was great. But there weren’t enough of those moments. There were just enough to keep you invested and that’s it.

Maybe if the script had a character as compelling as Killian Maddox in Magazine Dreams, it could’ve overcome the slower parts of the story. But it didn’t. It had a lot of medium to strong characters. But nobody who truly stood out.

I’m going to say this script is worth reading because there’s plenty of good here. But the format prevents it from ever being able to break out of its screenwriting shell.

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

What I learned: Spoiler (for both today’s and yesterday’s script). I read two scripts in two days, both of them about COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THINGS. These scripts could not be more different. And both have a surprise ending where a main character learns that they fathered a child many years ago. I tell you this to remind you that YOUR IDEAS ARE NEVER AS ORIGINAL AS YOU THINK THEY ARE. You may think you’re writing gold. But if the writer down the street who’s finishing their screenplay just as you’re finishing yours, is coming to the exact same conclusion you are, you’re not pushing yourself hard enough, man. That’s why I never trust first choices in writing, especially on endings. You have to dig deeper to find that reveal that’s truly going to surprise people.

Is this Tony Gilroy’s Megalopolis?

Genre: Drama
Premise: A womanizing cellist lands a job scoring a new film, prompting reflections on the journey that brought him to this moment.
About: To some, he wrote the best Star Wars material since the original trilogy. To others, he sucked every ounce of fun out of Star Wars and bored the fans to pieces. Well, now that Gilroy is finally finished with a galaxy far far away, he can take us into his obsession with scoring movies with classical music.
Writer: Tony Gilroy
Details: 128 pages

This may be the first time I’ve ever seen a writer write a script for the age 85-100 demographic.

Ho-boy.

I know I shouldn’t say this. Cause it’s going to piss some people off. But I have to be truthful. If I’m not being truthful with you guys then what’s the point?

Tony Gilroy is a REALLY REALLY bad screenwriter.

I’ve always felt like something was off about his writing. This confirms it. There’s a lack of focus to his material that is consistently infuriating. We saw it in Andor. Five full episodes would go by before an important plot point arrived.  Every once in a while in his scripts, he does stumble into a good scene. But, in the meantime, it’s like listening to a homeless man ramble.

And that’s exactly how I would describe this script. A homeless man rambled it off in one sitting.

Oh boy. How do I summarize this plot?

So, there’s this cellist named Alex. And he’s a ladies’ man. He plays in a bunch of different orchestras and makes sure to bang the hottest girls in the orchestras wherever he goes. Honestly, I could stop there and you’d have 98% of the story, lol. I’m not lying. That’s pretty much ALL THAT HAPPENS.

And some of you might say, “Actually, that sounds pretty good to me, Carson. We get to see this guy hook up with all these hot ladies.” No.  No, it’s not. It’s sooooooo boring. We just see him talk to a series of girls over the 20 years he’s been in the orchestra: sometimes before sex, sometimes after sex. And they all fall in love with him but he moves on to the next chick and leaves them behind.

I suppose there’s one special one named Nadia. He had a bang-buddy relationship with her while she was preparing to get married to some other man. And then, 20 years later, she dies. So he goes to her wake and meets some other girl who knew her and the other girl says Nadia’s dying wish was for Alex to have sex with her too. So he does.

And I guess the main storyline is happening in the present. There’s this movie that needs to be scored and Alex is no longer a hotshot cellist. But he’s still really good. So he’s working on the movie.

There are zero stakes to this job. It doesn’t matter if it works out or not. He’ll find work somewhere else tomorrow. Like everything in this movie, we don’t care about the story at all. It actually feels like it was designed to bore readers. I’m not even lying. There’s no other way to explain this atrocity of a screenplay.

The climax has Alex obsessed with a teenager named Viviana, who’s a trip-hop artist. They’ve interacted for like two seconds in the script before this. But now we’re supposed to care that Viviana is taking over for the lead orchestra position in the movie that’s being scored. Without spoiling things, we learn something “shocking” about Viviana and how it relates to Alex. And that’s the movie! The end!

How do you know a script is bad?

There are numerous ways. But I just found a new one! You have no idea what to write for a logline until you read the entire thing. Good movies let you know what the concept is by the end of the first act. This one did not give me that information! Heck, I don’t even know if Behemoth had acts!

How else do you know if a script is bad?

When there’s a car crash in the first twenty pages AND IT DOESN’T HAVE ANY EFFECT ON THE PLOT WHATSOEVER! The Uber driver was even killed! But Alex got a couple of scrapes and bruises and just headed home the next day and the movie continued. WTF????

How else do you know if a script is bad?

The scenes have no structure. You just drift into a conversation between two people with no point. They talk about absolutely nothing that anybody would care about. “Where are you now?” “Boston.  What about you?” “I got a new house.” “You must love it.” “I do.” That’s paraphrased but VERY ACCURATE trust me. 95% of the scenes read like that. It’s either that or this endless montage that Gilroy writes in. We’re whisking from one area to the next.

I have no idea what Tony Gilroy is trying to do here.

Maybe he’s on such an advanced path of screenwriting that he’s five generations ahead of the rest of us and we can’t comprehend how baller his writing is. Maybe in the future, scenes don’t need a point. Who knows?

But come on. Let’s be real here. In the first 60 pages, there is one significant scene between Alex and his lover, Nadia. And then on page 60, we’ve flash-forwarded to Nadia’s wake. And everybody who knew her, including Alex, talks about her and plays music in remembrance of her. And it’s supposed to be this really important moment in the screenplay.

WE KNEW THIS BITCH FOR ONE SCENE!!!

WHO CARES???????

Now, if one other person makes it through this script and therefore knows what happens, they might say to me, “But Carson. That sequence is actually important because it sets up the big reveal at the end of the movie.” No. That only works when the rest of the script is compelling. You don’t get to write a setup on page 60 and write a payoff on page 128 and then fill the rest of your script with rambling conversations and montages and call it a movie.

That’s not how it works.

One of the biggest things I look for when I read a script is something I can tell that the writer slaved over. I can tell that they were OBSESSED with making every scene perfect. OBSESSED with their plotting. OBSESSED with every line of dialogue. OBSESSED with every single word that was written in the script.

You DEFINITELY do not get that feel here at all. You leave this script feeling like… hmmm… what’s the best way to put it? ……… This is the type of script I would expect someone to write who has not had a single person be honest with them for decades. They just assume everything they write is gold. And the irony is, it’s the complete opposite.

Look, I’m guessing this is a writer-director thing. And since Gilroy has 856,921 orgasms describing different classical music pieces in this, it can’t be fully judged until we’re watching it on screen with the music. But I just don’t see how this can possibly overcome such a rambling narrative. It’s sooooooooo all-over-the-place. There is no plot. And you know how I feel about scripts with no plot. They’re narcissistic experiments forced upon the masses. Or, in this case, forced upon the five people who will pay for this movie.

This was not it, guys.

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

What I learned: Give the reader a steady diet of entertaining plot points. This script had one single entertaining plot point. Its ending reveal. That was it! A good script should have a solid plot point, where something interesting happens that moves the story forward in an entertaining way, once every 15 pages.

What I learned 2: Be careful about writing a movie completely on “feels.” No structure. No plan. Just feels. When you do that, you get this, which always feels amazing to you, the writer, cause it’s got all those feels you felt down on the page. But to everyone else, it feels like landing inside the brain of a madman.

Is this a glorified X-Files episode (the show that gave Vince Gilligan his start)? Or is this the next game-changing watercolor sci-fi TV series?

Genre: Science Fiction (TV Pilot)
Premise: (spoiler) A bizarre signal from space creates a virus on earth that spreads to every single person, connecting them into a unified mind. Except for one person. Carol.
About: In an interview with Inverse, Gilligan recounted how he came up with the idea for his show ten years ago. “I started to ponder a character, who was originally male when I conceived it, who everyone inexplicably loves. He hadn’t done anything to deserve it, but everybody’s really, really nice to him suddenly, and they’ll do anything for him. They’ll bend over backwards to make him happy, and they love him. And that was kind of intriguing. And I thought, ‘Is there a story in there?’” Pluribus just debuted its first episode on Apple TV Friday.
Writer: Vince Gilligan
Details: 60 minutes

Breaking Bad.

Iconic.

Was it Gilligan’s opus? Or does he have something even better?

Gilligan, who started his writing career on The X-Files, said he never had some big plan to return to sci-fi. It’s just that when the concept for Pluribus came together, he realized that the only genre he could tell it in was sci-fi.

Gilligan has been adamant that nobody know anything about this show going into it. “That’s how I experienced The X-Files when I first watched it. And that’s part of what made it so cool. It came out of nowhere.” He hints that that was a big part of going with Apple TV over other streamers. Cause nobody knows anything about any of their shows.

Lol.

Just kidding.

But he does hint that being in control of the marketing was part of why he signed with Apple. He wanted to make sure people went into this series knowing absolutely nothing.

So, what’s it about?

A signal from space. Always the best way to start a story in Carson’s world. :)

Cut to Carol, who’s a bestselling romance novelist who’s just released her latest book. She’s promoting it at bookstores with her agent, a woman, who she’s also in a relationship with. The two head to their hotel after a book signing and, in the parking lot, her girlfriend has some sort of seizure.

Carol runs into the hotel for help but sees that everybody else is having a similar seizure, many of them stuck standing in place while they shake uncontrollably. Carol rushes her girlfriend to the nearest ER only to find the same thing going on.

(Spoilers) Carol’s girlfriend then dies. And, not long after that, everybody stops shaking and turns to Carol and asks how she’s doing. Freaked out, Carol drives home (with her dead girlfriend’s body) and proceeds to run into more people who inexplicably know her name and tell her that they’re there to help. Carol tells them to fucking leave so they do.

Carol starts checking the TV to see if there’s news on what’s going on. There’s only one channel, though. And, on it, is the president of the United States. Who proceeds to talk… directly to Carol! He explains that the world has become a unified mind EXCEPT for Carol and ten other individuals. They want to find out what went wrong so they can fix it. In the meantime, they’re here for Carol. Whatever she needs, they’ll give it to her. The end!

Exhibit A in how vague they’re keeping this promotion

There are a couple of smart writer things I want you to take note of right away here.

The execution of the premise was great. I’ve read ten million scripts that start with some sort of outbreak but none of them quite like this. This was weirder and, unlike the typical zombie-outbreak scenario, there was this mystery as to what was going on that was very compelling. People just stopped, stood in place, and shook. And then they’re okay again, then they’re kissing. Then they’re happy. And then they’re unified in the way they communicate. It really had you wanting to see what happened next.

Gilligan also did something interesting with his hero. He made her a super successful romance novelist… yet she’s gay. I bring this up specifically because a few years ago, this would’ve been tracked as a “woke” choice. But this is how you become a good writer. If you use irony, nobody can criticize your chocies. There’s something clever and interesting about a romance novelist who writes the big brooding men that her readers fall in love with, yet she herself has zero romantic interest in men.

Finally, Gilligan did something interesting with the threat. What do we usually associate with a threat? Aggressiveness. Violence. Anger. Cruelty. Evil. Gilligan went in the opposite direction. The threat here is kindness. Helpfulness. Happiness. Understanding. This is what good writers do. They flip things on their head to create a unique experience for the reader.

And, just, overall, I thought it was a fun pilot. It’s essentially a sci-fi version of Breaking Bad. Not in subject matter. But in tone and place. Just like Breaking Bad, it’s set in Albuquerque. Which gives it this unique big-town/small-city feel, where you could be in a city one block and in the country three blocks over.

So, it’s a slam dunk right?

Well. Not quite.

I’ve been burned by way too many shows that start strong and fade fast. So let’s take a closer look.

Whenever I read a pilot these days, I’m gauging whether it has legs. That’s the main reason the golden age of TV died out. 20 different stinking rich Hollywood entities were craving so much content that they didn’t care about questions of longevity. They just needed stuff NOW. So they bought all these shows that had good pilot scripts and good concepts, but didn’t ask if they could last. Turns out, very few of them had lasting power, resulting in a ton of failed shows. These entities then decided – we’re not getting burned like that again.

I’ll be honest. I’m still trying to figure out if Plubius has legs. The central gag – that this unified blob wants to find out what’s wrong with Carol so it can unify with her, and they’re going to be ultra nice while doing so – I don’t see how much longer you can play that gag out before it gets annoying. 3 more episodes? Maybe 4?

So, what else is there to look forward to? THE most reliable tool in TV writing is to establish a strong unresolved relationship in the opening episode. Bar none. Gilligan knows this! He did it with Walter White and Jesse in Breaking Bad. Most of the time, it’s done with a romantic storyline.

But Plubius has zero unresolved relationships in its pilot. That seriously worries me. Cause that puts even more pressure on the gimmick to keep us entertained.

Pretty much the only thing hinted at in the pilot that provides a long-term view of the story is the fact that there are 10 other people in the world like Carol. So, presumably, she’s going to team up with some of these people somehow and they’ll try to fight the system. But, outside of that, Gilligan may be in serious trouble. There aren’t a whole lot of avenues to go down here.

Now, I want to talk about what Gilligan can do well in the next episode, and where he can falter. If his strategy was that the pilot episode was going to be 100% about the hook and nothing else, and episode number 2 is where he introduces the main unresolved relationship in the show, then he can get right back on track for episode 3. He solves the very issue I just laid out.

However, if he starts doing that thing where he goes backwards and tries to establish lives before all of this happened, he will lose a huge chunk of the show’s audience. You can do that. But only after you’ve earned ‘flashback credit.’ You gotta give us a sustained entertaining experience before you start doing the old TV flashback thing. Cause that shit got old fast and audiences don’t like it anymore.

[ ] What the hell did I just watch?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[xx] worth the stream
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: Even if your pilot lacks a strong hook, if you can create a kick-ass unresolved relationship in your pilot, that can be enough to make people want to keep watching. If they fall in love with two people whose storylines they want to see resovled, they WILL come BACK. It’s the most tried and true tool in TV writing. Let’s stay on brand here for our example, which is one of the best ever: Mulder and Scully.

I had an insane amount of stuff to do this week so I’m going to include the newsletter here on the site, as well as send it out to everyone. Hope you enjoy!

HALF-OFF SCRIPT NOTES DEAL (ONLY 3 AVAILABLE!!!)
I’m currently working with several produced writer-directors on their screenplays at the moment. Every time I give them notes, they tell me that they’ve never gotten better feedback in their life. “Carson, I went to USC for film school and I learned more about screenwriting from these notes than I did the entire time while I was there.” It’s time to stop fooling around. It’s time to get professional feedback that’s going to change your script’s life. Don’t you want to change your script’s life? Don’t you care about your script? If so, you can get some life-changing notes for half-off. That’s $249 for 4 pages of notes on either a feature or pilot script. I’m going to give the first two deals out to the first two writers who e-mail me. Then I’ll give the last one to the 15th person, just to make sure that if you’re in a different time zone and asleep when I send this newsletter, you still have a shot at it. To get a deal, e-mail me the subject line “249” to carsonreeves1@gmail.com!

As most of you know, I’m a big tennis guy.  I used to compete when I was younger. I played in college. And I even played some smaller professional tournaments out of college, before realizing that I wasn’t ever going to be able to reach the level required to make it on the pro tour. So I said, “I’m going to do something easier. Become a professional screenwriter!” lol.

But I’ve never abandoned tennis. Usually when I work, I have The Tennis Channel playing in the background. I closely follow my favorite players on Instagram. I still play and try to improve parts of my game. I love it! It never gets old.

Part of this love has led me to discover the rapid emergence of tennis-related social media accounts. It became common, if you were a coach for example, to start a Youtube channel and use it to give tips or commentate on the pro tour. This “tennis influencer” industry has opened up a whole new way for tennis aficionados to engage with the sport.

There’s one influencer, in particular, though, who I want to talk about today. His name is Winston Du and he’s one of the more popular dudes on the tennis social media landscape. His channel is based on a very simple premise. He records himself playing against other players and posts the matches on his channel.

Winston’s channel started blowing up several years ago and it’s not hard to figure out why. He’s an affable sweet guy who really enjoys the sport and, when he started, I don’t think many players were recording their matches and posting them. So he benefited from being the first.

For context regarding Winston’s level of play, the USTA uses a 1.0 – 7.0 rating scale. A 1.0 is someone who just picked up a racket yesterday. A 7.0 is Raphael Nadal. By the time Winston started his channel, he was a 3.5. A 3.5 is a level that you can achieve fairly easily if you play 2-3 times a week for a year.

Now, you have to understand that the way tennis works is that you get better by playing better players. Better players hit the ball harder, forcing you to be faster. They put soft shots away, forcing you to hit harder and deeper. They hit their serves bigger, forcing you to improve your reflexes. They’re more consistent, forcing you to improve your own consistency. And they run you around more, forcing you to improve your cardio. The fastest way to become a better player is to play better players.

But the tennis community has this quirky little bug embedded in its system whereby players only want to play against players who are better than them. It’s kind of like dating. Everybody wants to date someone hotter than them. But if no one is dating down, then nobody ever gets together. This makes it difficult to get better in tennis. Cause the better players don’t want to play with you.

How do you circumvent this? You must get lessons, you must practice, you must play matches. In other words, you must BUILD A STRONG FOUNDATION FOR YOUR GAME. The more practice hours you put in, the better you get. The better you get, the better level of coaching you get invited to. The more tournaments you play, the more experience you get. The more you win, the more times you encounter those better players, the ones who push your game to the next level. All of this takes time. Years in fact!

But Winston Du didn’t have to do any of this. He’s found a loophole in the system that allows you to skip to the front of the line. He gets to play against the 200th ranked tennis player in the world simply by having a YouTube channel. He’s been granted instant access to an advanced level of tennis without having to earn his way there.

Now, why am I going on about tennis influencers in a screenwriting newsletter? Because Winston Du’s Youtube channel is the perfect metaphor for what AI does to aspiring screenwriters. Both are shortcuts that grant you instant access to advanced-level output without requiring you to build the foundational skillset that makes that output possible. Just like Winston’s channel became a loophole that let him bypass years of practice and coaching to play elite players, AI is a loophole that lets new screenwriters bypass years of learning to produce professional-looking scripts.

All a new screenwriter has to do to write a scene now is tell AI what the scene is about and it will write it for him.

It sounds like screenwriting utopia. You don’t actually need to learn the craft anymore!

Right?

Well, not so fast. Let’s talk a little more about Winston Du.

Despite Winston having instant access to top level tennis, he hasn’t gotten much better. He started at a 3.5. And now he’s a 4.0 (he says he’s a 4.5 but he’s not). His backhand has gotten a tiny bit better. His forehand’s improved a little. But his serve hasn’t improved at all. His footwork hasn’t improved either. He continues to make basic mistakes, such as running backwards from hard hitters instead of standing his ground. Overall, his game looks very similar to what it was when he started.

Why is that?

I’ll tell you why. Because he never built a foundation. He never had coaching. He never had someone explain to him how a body-to-ball positioning difference of 3 inches can completely change your swing, losing you 20 mph on your shot. He’s never been told the importance of a deep knee bend on a serve. Or how to pronate your wrist to add more power. He’s never done any footwork drills. He only gets as ready as early he needs to instead of getting ready as fast as possible. Nobody’s ever gone over with him the importance of hitting cross-court as opposed to down-the-line.

In other words, Winston Du never had an education. He doesn’t understand what he’s doing or why he’s doing it. He just sees the other players he invites on his channel and tries to mimic them. He’s playing at a level he hasn’t earned the right to inhabit.

This is exactly what’s happening with AI and new screenwriters. Like I said above, AI can write a scene for you. You can give it all the variables along with some direction and it will give you an approximation of the scene you want. You can then go in there and make some changes, turning it more into the scene you want. And, voila, with very little work, you have a scene.

However, if that’s how you learn to write scenes, you haven’t learned anything. Just like Winston, you’re writing at a level you haven’t earned the right to inhabit. Nobody taught you to come into the scene as late as possible and leave as early as possible. Nobody taught you how conflict is the lifeblood of every scene and how you need to identify where that conflict is coming from for the scene to shine. Nobody taught you how to hide exposition in dialogue. Nobody taught you how each character must have a “want” in the scene. You’re just hoping AI figures out all that stuff for you.

And if AI doesn’t include these things, you’ll never know. Cause you never learned it in the first place. So, if the scene isn’t working, you don’t know how to tell AI how to fix it. This is the same scenario Winston is in. If he’s always hitting the ball late, how does he fix it if he never learned all of the reasons why you hit late in the first place? Winston’s channel, ironically, has done more damage to his game than good. It’s put him in a position of power without requiring him to understand how he got there.

This is what the next generation of screenwriters will look like. They’ll be wielding a sword that’s too heavy for them. Their screenplays will look like screenplays. But they won’t feel like them. Most of the stuff they do, they won’t understand why they’re doing it. They’ll just trust AI with the process.

But guess what? Hollywood is a business of rewriting. The guys who get paid the big bucks get paid to problem-solve and know how to fix things. If you were hired to write Star Wars Episode 11 and your second act is boring as hell, AI is not going to be able to fix it on its own.

Implementing changes in a screenplay is all about understanding the intricacies of how a screenplay works. If Disney wants a protagonist to be more likable, that might mean changing your hero’s flaw. And well-taught screenwriters know that the hero’s flaw is tied to everything else in the movie. So changing the flaw will mean changing numerous other things in the script. AI doesn’t know that!

And even if, theoretically, it gets to a place where it did, it still needs you to guide it. But since you never built your foundation, since you skipped to the front of the line like Winston Du, you won’t know to tell it that. You’ll be just as clueless as the dumb executive who hired you. And if you’re just as clueless as them, why do they need you?  They can prompt AI to write a scene just as easily as you can.

So, here’s the cool part about all this. If you’ve been reading my site for more than two years, you are part of the last generation of real screenwriters. Everybody coming up now will know less about screenwriting than you do. They will depend on AI for an increasing amount of the workload and, in doing so, destroy any chance of developing the screenwriting skills they actually need. This means that the studios will want YOU going forward. Not these fake AI screenwriters. And I think that’s pretty fucking cool. That we were the last ones who actually learned the craft. I can’t emphasize how valuable a commodity that is.

Now, if you are a young screenwriter making your way up, my advice to you is to STAY THE HELL AWAY FROM AI. It’s a shortcut that is going to prevent you from learning. You need to make your own mistakes. You need to read all the screenwriting books. You need to write bad scripts. All AI is, is your dad doing your homework for you. Yeah, it got done. And it saves you time so you can go play with your friends. But you didn’t learn jack shit. And if you’re not continually learning in this craft, you will never get good enough to write a good screenplay. Are you a Winston Du?  Or are you a Winston Don’t?

BLOOD & INK SCREENPLAY CONTEST UPDATE

In one of the most popular months on Scriptshadow, thousands of writers pitched their horror movie ideas to try and get into the Blood & Ink Horror Screenplay Contest. 97 pitches were accepted. Those writers are now (hopefully) hard at work writing their screenplays for a finishing date of late February.

I’m trying to do a Blood & Ink related showdown every month in order to keep the participants motivated. I know how easy it is to get derailed while writing a script. What was once so obvious now seems like hieroglyphics in your head. My advice is to STAY THE COURSE. All screenplays have periods of frustration baked into them. You have plots that have lost momentum. You have weak story beats that feel unsolvable. You have characters who are way too boring. It’s all part of the process! Just remember that every single movie you’ve seen has been through the same thing and the writers of those movies always talk about how solving these problems was the breakthrough that opened the rest of the script up. I would go so far as to say, if your script is easy to write the whole way through, it’s probably not very good.

This past weekend, I had a Scene Showdown for the contest. A little less than 40 of the contestants decided to enter. You can take a look at all five of the chosen entries here and see if you agree with the winner of the competition. Keep visiting the site for announcements on when the next showdown will be!

AROUND TOWN

Osculum Infame Begins – Osculum Infame is a script by German screenwriter Bernd Bachmann. It is a script that came to me several years ago for a contest. It’s a real-time contained horror thriller set in the 1600s about a woman assumed to be a witch who’s hanged on a tree and left to die. To this day, it is the single most intense reading experience I have ever had. But it also has a woman getting brutalized for 90 minutes and I didn’t think Hollywood at the time was ready for that. But deep down I knew that its time would come. Recently, I decided I was finally going to expose it to Hollywood. I was nervous but my gut told me that the writing and story were so incredible that someone was going to buy it. Now, you have to understand that, normally, it takes sending a script out endlessly to get a sale. Yet, in the case of Osculum Infame, the very first producer I sent it to e-mailed me 48 hours later and said, “We want to make this movie and we want to make it now.” And so in the past week, both the writer and I have signed deals (myself as a producer) and now we’re in the process of putting the package together and getting financing. It’s a very exciting experience for both me and the writer. But it should also act as a reminder to all screenwriters. Bernd wrote a screenplay that you literally couldn’t put down if you tried. It never lets up. Not for a second. And he does an amazing job of putting his hero into situations where you’re certain she will die and she somehow finds a way to survive. I honestly think that if it’s filmed as written, it will be the most intense movie ever made in history. That’s not hyperbole. And I’d bet that those of you who have read the script would agree. That’s really cool – to be able to do something that’s never been done before. The lesson?  Make your script unputdownable.  This is a SPEC SCRIPT.  Those need to be fast.  They need to grab readers and never let go.  The slower your spec script is, the harder you’re making things on yourself.  — Now I don’t think the production company is okay with me sharing too much information about the movie. I know that part of the plan is to keep this quiet then unleash it upon an unsuspecting world. But I will try and share with you what I can in these newsletters. Assuming you guys are interested. But, very cool success story for both a Scriptshadow writer and Scriptshadow. :)

5 million views in 2 weeks
Pluribus Trailer – Something that’s always fascinated me about Hollywood is how quickly you can fall from its heights. You would think that if someone created an amazing show, they’d be a superstar forever. But tis not the case. What happened to Nic Pizzolatto, who wrote True Detective? What happened to David Benioff and D.B. Weiss, who ran Game of Thrones? What happened to David Chase, who created The Sopranos?? Vince Gilligan is very close to being a member of the ‘What Ever Happened To’ club. Ever since the end of Breaking Bad, he’s been invisible. Better Call Saul was decent (if slow and clunky) but he wasn’t nearly as involved in that as he was Breaking Bad. The man has been MIA, particularly when it comes to new ideas. Well, he finally has a new idea and it’s one that he’s so precious about that he wouldn’t even reveal it to his own family. That idea is finally here in trailer form and… it does not look good. I know that Gilligan is trying to purposefully keep the concept vague but it’s usually a bad idea when your trailer is confusing as hell. And it’s rare that one of those becomes a riveting series. Don’t get me wrong. I like that he’s trying something different. And I will watch because it’s Vince Gilligan and anything from the creator of Breaking Bad makes me curious. But expectations after THIS trailer?? They’re low.

4 million views in 2 weeks
Send Help Trailer – It’s hard for me not to get excited about a spec idea. By the way, a “spec” idea is a script with a big concept and a high-octane engine. Everything feels big or fast or intense or terrifying. Or a combination of all four. These are the scripts that sell. Stuff that’s hard to put down. Like Osculum Infame! And the smart writers look to add irony to them. Cause they know irony is the best bang-for-your-buck way to supercharge a concept. Here, we have an asshole boss who makes his assistant miserable. The two then crash land on an island where he gets injured. This means his life is in her hands. The assistant is now the boss. The boss the assistant. These spec ideas do have a trap door, though. Which is that they tend to feel dated. Specifically because spec ideas aren’t as popular anymore. So it feels like we’re going back to a time past. Honestly, Send Help is giving me those vibes. It feels like a movie that could’ve come out in 2003. But look. I was one of the few people who liked Flight Risk, another spec idea. So, who’s to say I won’t like this too?

Something is Killing The Children – Blumhouse is panicking. The little horror house that could made its name on producing 3 million dollar horror movies with no stars, with one out of every 3 of them breaking out and becoming a money-printing machine. Then M3gan 2 happened, scaring the bejeezus out of everyone there. Since that fateful opening, rumor is that people at the Blumhouse offices are “spooked” (ironic, cause they make horror films) and meetings were called. This deal seems to be the first peek into what new company philosophy came out of those meetings. They have officially snatched up the biggest-selling horror comic since The Walking Dead, about a world where children can see monsters but adults can’t. Blumhouse outbid the likes of Lionsgate and Netflix, outfits with much deeper pockets. It’s a total 180 to what Blumhouse was built on, signaling that they’re looking for a big franchise, and maybe to move into TV as well. As for the concept, it goes to show that simple, but big, ideas always hold cachet. However, if it’s excessively simple, like this, it helps to have some visuals as well as some prior success. An interesting side bit about this is that Netflix dumped a lot of money into developing “Children” for a while, with Mike Flanagan guiding the project, but ultimately, the option ran out. Only when it got hot around town again did they decide they wanted it back.

Shiver Spec Sold – If you put Deadpool creator Tim Miller in a project with Keanu Reeves, I’m going to pay attention. And this project comes from one of the more prolific screenwriters out there, Ian Shorr. Shorr has written tons of scripts that got on the Black List, back when the Black List was cool. Many of them were very high concept. But, if I’m being honest, of average execution. He wrote that Mark Wahlberg movie, Infinite. It’s yet another reminder of how important concept is. It can make up for so many other issues in your script. I don’t have a logline for this but it’s said to be about a smuggler who gets double-crossed in the middle of the Caribbean, a sinking occurs, and the smuggler is surrounded by hungry sharks and evil mercenaries. Oh yeah, and this keeps happening over and over again because………… TIME LOOP. That’s right. The loop sub-genre is NOT DEAD YET. A concept like this is interesting because it’s got a lot of flash to it. But there’s not enough connective tissue. You need that connective tissue to create an idea that sounds clever. But, look, it got this package together, which is pretty impressive. And it’s another script success story, which we now have three of in this Around Town section. I’d call that a win. :)

SCRIPTSHADOW TIP OF THE MONTH 
Up your concept’s stakes (especially important for TV show ideas)
We talk about stakes all the time on my site but here’s a story that emphasizes just how important they are. Nobody Wants This, starring Kristin Belle, is a breakout show on Netflix about an atheist girl who falls for a Rabbi. They try to make a relationship work despite the fact that “none of their friends or family want this.” What I recently learned was that the creator, Erin Foster, had been pitching this show around town for half-a-decade and nobody wanted it. However, there was a huge difference in her show’s concept back then. It was still about a girl dating a Jewish guy. But the guy wasn’t a rabbi. He was just… Jewish. When she pitched that show, everybody kept coming back with the same note: “It feels too small.” At her wit’s end, Foster brought on one of the co-creators of Modern Family and he demanded an immediate change. Instead of just making the boy Jewish, make him a rabbi. Now, it wasn’t just his family life that could be disrupted, it was his job. The project was purchased quickly afterwards. The lesson here? Look for ways to increase the stakes of your concept. Here, a seemingly minor character profession change created much higher stakes, which then led to a sale. You should always be looking to do the same, ESPECIALLY if you’re writing something on a smaller canvas, like Nobody Wants This.

SCREENPLAY REVIEW – KITTEN

Genre: Horror/Action
Premise: When a brilliant but reckless inventor accidentally shrinks himself and his sister to six inches tall, they must outwit her suddenly monstrous house cat and survive long enough to reverse the experiment before it’s too late.
About: There’s a guy in Hollywood who’s the only person I’ve been able to find who reads as many screenplays as I do. And I asked him the other day if he’d read anything lately that he liked. He immediately sent over this screenplay. Let’s see if our tastes mesh!
Writer: David Christopher Bell
Details: 116 pages

Here kitty-cat!

Here kitty kitty kitty!

Come on kitty!

To me, the most fun scripts to write in the world are the ones like this. You come up with a wild premise then you think up as many ways as possible to exploit that premise. That’s the main way I judge these scripts. I’m looking for AMAZING SET PIECES. Cause that’s what the concept promises so that’s what you gotta deliver. Remember, Steven Spielberg went to David Koepp and said, “I need these five set pieces in Jurassic Park. You figure out how to connect them together.” That’s how important he knows set pieces are FOR THESE TYPES OF MOVIES.

Ironically, Jurassic Park is a great comp for today’s script. Cause the danger is similar. Let’s take a look.

30-something inventor Garth Chapman (think a young Doc Brown) lives in his loft with his slacker, 20-something sister, Nahla. Nahla has absolutely zero going on in her life besides streaming shows she likes and hanging out with her cat, Kitten. Meanwhile, Garth has turned the sauna on the ground floor of his loft into a shrinking machine.

Garth is shocked when billionaire Noel Monk, who invented a rideshare app, and who Garth has been informally talking to, says he’s coming over right now to check out the machine to potentially invest in it. This is how Noel likes to work – on the fly. Noel brings his wife (who’s also his business partner), Alice, his security guard, Leonard, and decides to also bring along the rideshare driver who’s driving them, Adnan.

When they get there, a nervous Garth shows them how the machine works. You have to turn the safety switch off upstairs then go downstairs to the sauna room to operate it. Everybody THINKS the safety switch is on. But Kitten goes exploring on top of the control panel and accidentally turns it off.

I think you know where this is going. The group heads into the sauna, there’s a crazy ass explosive noise, and the next thing they know they’re all six inches tall. While everyone else is freaking out, Noel is celebrating. It works! This is going to make him billions! Until he sees what’s just outside the sauna door. It’s Kitten! And now, compared to all of them, Kitten is the size of a bus!

When they realize that the only way to fix this problem is to head back up to the control panel to reverse the process, and that if they stay in this sauna for too long at this size, they’ll overheat and die, a plan needs to be made quickly! But while nobody’s looking, an unafraid Noel just walks out of the sauna, decides to try and calm the kitty down, then proceeds to get sliced and diced by the cat, who treats him like a cat toy. A cat toy that must be destroyed until there’s nothing left of it.

Uh oh.

The rest of the group freaks out and realizes they need a REAL PLAN now. They decide to split up, one group to try and distract the cat, the other to get to the control panel. This results in Garth and Alice attempting to pull a cat wand up the back of the refrigerator and dangle it so the cat obsessively watches it. That half of the plan doesn’t go well for Alice. Nahla and Leonard then head for the control panel. That doesn’t go well either when Leonard sees an open window and figures he has a better chance outside than in here with this monster (he doesn’t). Meanwhile, Adnan goes rogue – full Arnold Schwarzenegger in Predator.

Our story concludes with Nahla having a face off with her cat. Unlike the others, the cat only decides to play with Nahla. But a cat isn’t the best judge of what “playing” means when dealing with a fragile 6 inch piece of flesh. In one intense moment, Nahla is thrust inside Kitty’s wet cat food that she wouldn’t eat earlier, pushed deep down into it, and almost drowns in cat food goo. (Spoiler) What a way to go that would be! But not to worry. Nahla survives and becomes big again. As for the others? I can’t promise the same.

Ever since this stuff started happening with Osculum Infame, I noticed, subconsciously, that I was reading scripts less from a script reviewer point of view and more from a producer point of view.

When I read scripts as a script reviewer, all I care about is, “Did the script entertain me?” But when I read scripts as a producer, I care only about, “Could this be a movie?”

And with Kitten, I’m on the fence in that department.

I know this. I WOULD MAKE IT!

I think the premise is hilarious and ripe for all sorts of set pieces that nobody’s ever seen before, which is one of the big things you’re looking for as a producer. You want to give people something new.

But the tonal execution must be so precise here that, if it’s even a little bit off, the whole thing is stupid. Because unlike Honey I Shrunk the Kids, which doesn’t really take itself seriously because it’s only got to win over family audiences, Kitten is darker and more serious. If you play that too lightly, it’s silly. If you lean too hard into it, it becomes ridiculous. Cause you have characters acting like they’re in Predator here. Yet they’re in an apartment facing a cat. That’s not an easy note to hit.

But I love this idea so much. I’m always looking for those great ironic premises. And this one hit the bullseye. The least threatening thing in the world all of a sudden becomes a T-Rex.

And I love that Bell didn’t hold back. When the cat jackrabbit scratches the entire front side of Noel off, with all of his flesh and skin splattering up against the sauna door, I was giddy with excitement. We’ve already seen the safe version of this premise. It’s time to get uncomfortable!

And I loved the final “showdown” between Nahla and Kitten.

But goodness gracious me does this writer get in his own way. Every single paragraph is at least double the length it needs to be. A script like this needs to MOVE. But there’s too much description. And it’s not like you shouldn’t describe what’s going on here because we are talking about a scenario that needs the world explained.

But that was ANOTHER thing that was so frustrating. With all the extra description, Bell wasn’t actually describing the things that mattered! I couldn’t figure out, for the life of me, how they kept opening and closing the sauna door. The sauna door would be impossible to open if you’re 6 inches tall. But people kept opening it and closing it no problem.

You’re skipping over the fun part of these screenplays – that the things we take for granted all of a sudden become impossible. Getting stuck in the sauna because you’re six inches tall could’ve been one of the best set pieces in the movie. Cause if they don’t get out, they basically sweat to death. But the writer ignores these possibilities.

And then the set pieces that he does write, he takes for granted what the reader is seeing. It’s strange because he’s overwriting and underwriting at the same time. He’s overwriting all of these unimportant details yet not meticulously describing how the back of the fridge is set up so that we understand what we’re looking at when Garth and Alice are trying to climb it.

I was getting super frustrated because this premise has so much potential. It’s the dark version of Honey I Shrunk the Kids.

And the writer didn’t do his homework trying to figure out what fun situations might come up when you’re this small. For example, there comes a point where they have to enter a code on an iPad to restart the machine. That’s something we take for granted. But if that iPad is really big compared to them, just entering the code alone would become a challenge. I wanted to see more stuff like that.

But I always say that great concepts are the deodorant to poor writing. There’s nothing that covers up the smell of weak writing like a strong concept. Cause all I kept thinking was, “This would be a really fun movie.” And there was the occasional strong moment – like Noel getting killed. Like Nahla’s battle with her cat in the end. It just needed more of that.

And it needs to both slim down all of its unnecessary text while doing a better job at describing what we’re looking at. If it can do all these things, I would hope that some risky production company would make this. Cause I think it could be awesome.

Script Link: Kitten

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

What I learned: Spec scripts – especially high concept contained ideas like this – need to be SHORT and LEAN. This script should not be a single page over 105. Yet it’s 115 pages long. And what was my main complaint? Overwritten. And that’s what overwritten gets you. It gets you to 115 pages. This is not a criticism I came upon in retrospect. I noted it the second I saw the page-count before reading. I saw 115 and thought, “That’s not good.” For simple premises guys: 105 pages. No longer. If you’re writing Oppenheimer, go ahead and shoot for 140. But not ideas like this.