And a review of House of the Dragon!

I was watching The Critical Drinker talk about The Acolyte yesterday. By the way, it’s impossible to trust these guys anymore. They make SO MUCH MONEY from trashing Star Wars that it’s in their best interest to trash it whether it’s good or not.

But, anyway, he was asked what he would do if he ran Lucasfilm. He said the first thing he would do is fire everyone. Get rid of the rot. As over-reactionary as that sounded, he’s probably right. A lot of the people in Lucasfilm right now aren’t focused on the most important thing for Star Wars – which is to make the best Star Wars stories possible.

I think that most of them do care about good stories. But to varying degrees, they’re also focused on things like diversity and using stories to promote alternative lifestyle choices. Which is noble. But what people in Hollywood constantly forget for some reason is that – THIS STUFF IS HARD.

It’s really really really hard to write a good story. REALLY HARD. The more I do this, the more I realize just how difficult writing something good is. And if your focus isn’t 1000% committed to that, and that alone, you’re probably going to fail.

I don’t think Acolyte is that bad. The last episode is actually pretty well-structured. It’s just that it’s constructed within a flashback that you don’t need. So the whole episode feels unimportant.

But I do think that Leslye Headland and, to a certain extent, Kathleen Kennedy (since she greenlit this show so vociferously) are more committed to the overall message behind the show than they are writing the best story possible. And because they’re focused on that, they’ve written a show that doesn’t attract male viewers and, according to a lot of the data, isn’t attracting straight female viewers either. So who’s left to watch the show?

Which is why I think Critical Drinker is right. You can’t have this message-first thinking if you want to write good Star Wars movies. You just can’t. It’s hard enough to write something good WHEN THERE ARE NO RESTRICTIONS. So, yes, you probably need to fire everyone. Even Dave Filoni. I know everybody loves him. But I think we’ve all realized at this point that his talents are relegated to animation. Not live-action.

But what then? We’ve fired everyone? What next?

I actually don’t think who you hire to replace Kennedy is a big deal. As long as they’re someone whose only goal is to make good Star Wars movies, that’s what matters. Because, then, every decision they make will be motivated by that directive. That alone will result in better movies and shows than have been made under this regime.

But here’s the golden ticket. Here is what’s going to lead to the success of Star Wars going forward. You need a great new trilogy. None of these one-offs that are floating around, and then, if they work, maybe we do more. That’s mostly how the last trilogy was made.

Instead, you bring in the top 50 writers in Hollywood and you have them all pitch their next Star Wars trilogy. You then hire the writers of the five best pitches. You tell them, this is going to be a Battle Royale. Over the next 2-3 years, you will develop all five projects individually. At the end of 3 years, whoever’s project rises to the top, that’s the trilogy we go with.

Now you may say, “Do you really think A-list screenwriters are going to dedicate themselves to a 3 year development process where it’s not even guaranteed that their movie will be made?” Yes, you know why? Cause you’re going to pay all of them 5 million dollars each. Trust me. They’ll do it. And you can do that because you’re Lucasfilm.

The reason paying 25 million bucks to write one great trilogy is financially smart is because a good Star Wars movie can make 25 million dollars in a third of a day at the box office. So you’ll get that money back and a lot more.

The issue with all these Star Wars projects is that you announce them 3 years ahead of time and then, whatever script you come up with, even if it’s bad, is what you’re stuck with. This eliminates that problem. Not only are you not stuck with a bad script, but you get 5 choices.

This is the way.

It is the only way. Because The Acolyte is causing massive damage to the Star Wars brand. It is trending for all the wrong reasons. Screenwriting is here to save the day if you let it. Will you let it, Star Wars? Or are you going to put your head in the sand and pretend like none of this is happening?

There’s been a lot of talk about bad Star Wars writing lately.

But people say that and 99% of them have no idea what it means. They vaguely point out that the “dialogue” is bad and that’s their definition of “bad writing.”

So a good way to create context around “good” and “bad” writing is to show what good writing looks like. And to understand why it’s good.

That’s the attitude I had going into tonight’s viewing of House of the Dragon, Season 2, Episode 1.

I wanted to be able to point to something that definitively conveyed good writing. Was I able to find it? I’ll tell you in a sec.

Most of my viewing experience of the premiere had me trying to remember who was who and how everyone was related. What makes it tricky is that when I see blond-haired people, I expect them to all be one family. And when I see brunettes, I expect them to all be one family. But the brunette kids in this show are members of blond-haired Rhaenyra’s clan and the blond kids are Queen Alicent’s. Or, at least, they’re part of her kingdom.

So that was confusing. But anyway, writer Ryan Condal took a huge gamble this episode. The entire episode is setup and exposition. We’ve got a lot of people in small rooms (sometimes big ones) talking about the upcoming war between the two kingdoms.

As I was watching it, I was thinking, “Come on guys. You need to give me a scene that I can point to and say, “This is clearly better than the writing in The Acolyte.” But I wasn’t getting it.

There was the hint of a good scene early in the episode when the new king flirts with a “Joe Pesci in Goodfellas Do I Make You Laugh” moment. He nearly makes one of his cabinet members embarrassingly take his young child for a pony ride during the meeting. But they stop before it happens. I don’t know why. I think it’s because this new king isn’t Joffrey. He’s supposed to be kind of good.

Which leads to my first complaint about the show, which is that there’s nobody who’s bad!!! This is the exact mistake Star Wars has made. Every character lives in the middle now. They’re all “gray” rather than good or evil.

But Star Wars flourished when it was clear who was good and who was evil. Its downfall is connected, in a lot of ways, to everyone being gray. The audience loves to root for the good guy and against the bad guy. That’s what takes us on that roller coaster of emotions that all good stories achieve. If our emotions always live in that middle area, we’re never really feeling anything.

I was getting more and more frustrated about this as the episode went on. But then, as those of you who saw it know, we got that whopper of an ending. Believe you me, this was a calculated move by Condal. He knew he could not write one hour of exposition and setup unless he gave us the ending of all endings. Which is exactly what he did.

(Spoiler) If you haven’t seen it, Prince Daemon hires two dumb assassins to kill the 18 year old heir to the throne. These two idiots infiltrate the castle and get to the sleeping quarters. But there’s no heir there. There are, however, two young children sleeping, one a boy, and therefore the 4th heir. The killers decide that one of them will do. But since they’re young, they don’t know who the girl is and who the boy is. So they demand the mother tell them. The mother then must choose who to save basically (she can lie if she wants). A true Sophie’s Choice.

And unlike in other shows, nobody comes at the last second to thwart their plan. A 4 year old kid gets his head cut off. Luckily we only hear noises. But they’re not pleasant!

By the way, they use a clever little writing trick here. They prep the audience for something they’re okay with. Killing this 18 year old dude isn’t going to move the “grossed out” needle. So we feel safe in a way.

Then, when we get to the room and we see the kids, we realize this is waaaaayyyy worse. And that’s when we internally say to ourselves, ‘Nooooooooo. They’re not really going to do that. Noooooooooo. No no no no no way.’ If Condal had prepped us for this moment, we would’ve been more ready. It hits us hard specifically because he waited to spring that on us at the last second.

So, I’m on board! They did it. And even though I didn’t get my scene that I wanted to use to demonstrate good writing, I got something close – a writer who clearly understood how much exposition he had to pack into the first episode, and what he would have to offer the audience in order for them to excuse that exposition.

Can’t wait til next week! :)

We are about 5 weeks away from the first ever MEGA-SHOWDOWN (I will start accepting submissions Saturday, June 29th — I’ll keep you updated on how to do that with numerous posts here on the site. So start checking in 2 weeks!).

If you haven’t hung out here in a while, we’ve spent this entire year writing a screenplay. We are in the rewrite process, belting out 3 rewritten pages a day for 6 days of the week, giving us a total of 18 rewritten pages per week.  The 2-Week Mega Showdown will be the culmination of all that hard work. So keep rewriting those scripts. I don’t care how hard it is. DO IT!

Week 1 – Concept
Week 2 – Solidifying Your Concept
Week 3 – Building Your Characters
Week 4 – Outlining
Week 5 – The First 10 Pages
Week 6 – Inciting Incident
Week 7 – Turn Into 2nd Act
Week 8 – Fun and Games
Week 9 – Using Sequences to Tackle Your Second Act
Week 10 – The Midpoint
Week 11 – Chill Out or Ramp Up
Week 12 – Lead Up To the “Scene of Death”
Week 13 – Moment of Death
Week 14 – The Climax
Week 15 – The End!
Week 16 – Rewrite Prep 1
Week 17 – Rewrite Prep 2
Week 18 – Rewrite Week 1
Week 19 – Rewrite Week 2
Week 20 – Rewrite Week 3
Week 21 – Rewrite Week 4

Today, we’re going to approach rewriting a little differently. Well, actually, it’s going to be Star Wars related so… maybe it won’t be so different. :)

When it comes to rewriting a script, the process can be overwhelming. There are so many things that need to be upgraded that you’re not sure where to start. And general instructions on how to rewrite a script only give you some guidance, since every script is unique and therefore has its own individual issues.

Because Star Wars is on the brain this week, I thought I’d take a look back at The Phantom Menace, a script that was never rewritten. The reason for that is that George Lucas hates writing so he notoriously wrote only one draft of the screenplay

I see this as a fun experiment: What if George Lucas HAD rewritten The Phantom Menace? What improvements might he have made? And what can we learn from those improvements that can help us rewrite our own scripts?

The first scene of The Phantom Menace is a great example of first draft writing. In it, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Qui-Gon Jin head to a trade ship orbiting the planet of Naboo to discuss a trade dispute. One thing that’s very obvious is that there’s no sense of detail to this Trade ship. The rooms are all generic. There’s nobody around at all. It feels empty and vague.

This is what happens in first drafts. You don’t yet know what things look like so you latch on to the generic – a conference room here, a controller room there. Contrast this with the Death Star or Cloud City. In both those cases, you felt like every single foot of those structures had been mapped out by the writers. They felt specific and they felt real.

When you can’t fully visualize something, you will revert to writing basic bland scenes, which is exactly what we get in that Phantom Menace opening. There’s no sense of structure or detail in any moment. It literally feels like the writer is making things up as he goes along, which is the principle identifier of a first draft.

The next thing that Lucas needed to do for the good of the screenplay was eliminate Jar-Jar Binks. Jar-Jar is a character you start with in your first draft. He’s not a character who should make it to the final draft. You figure out, with each successive draft, that the character isn’t working. It always feels like a battle when you have to write a scene with him in it.  It’s hard to write dialogue for him.  You’re always fighting with the character to make him work.

That’s the screenwriting gods telling you, you have to get rid of that character. So why didn’t he? Well, the character was tied to some major plot points in the screenplay which was this race of amphibious aliens who would be needed to fight the Trade Federation in the climactic battle.

This is what separates good writers from bad ones. Good writers accept when something isn’t working and are willing to tear down everything associated with it, even if that’s a big chunk of the screenplay. Bad screenwriters are often lazy. They see that as a bunch of work. So they instead double-down on their mistakes, putting as much lipstick on the pig as possible in the hopes that, at a certain point, it becomes pretty.

Some of you may say, “But you eventually have to commit to what you have.”

Well, Jar-Jar Binks was so goofy that his tone never matched up with the rest of the characters. Everybody else was playing to the 10-40 demographic. Jar-Jar was playing to the 2-4 demographic. Therefore, every single scene he was in, he was ruining. That’s why it’s so important, if a character isn’t working, to get rid of him. Or massively change him.

As far as how to know if a character needs to go? You know. If you’re being honest with yourself, you know. The only reason you’re holding on is for emotional reasons. You put all of this effort into it and created this character. You don’t want to kill them. But you have to.

This should not have been a hard decision for Lucas. Jar-Jar was not a main character. That’s when rewrites get REALLY HARD: when main characters don’t work. This was just an ancillary character. Either get rid of him or completely reimagine him.

Another common thing that happens in first drafts is we just sort of go where we want to go and we don’t think much about how smooth it is or if there’s enough logic to it. We’re not concerned about that in the first draft.

But in the rewrites, you have to smooth all that stuff out. The Phantom Menace was a total mess in terms of the journey. We go to this planet. We find out they’re in trouble. We try to head back to the main planet, Coruscant, we get stuck on Tatooine, we have to partake in a race, we finally go to Coruscant, we partake in a Senate hearing. We go all the way back to where we started. We fight in a battle.  It’s a mess.

Compare that to Star Wars, which was so elegant. We try to go to Alderran to deliver R2-D2’s message. Alderran has been blown up by the Death Star, which sucks them in. They escape the Death Star and head to the secret Rebel Base, where the final battle happens.  Imagine if Star Wars ended where it started, on Tatooine.  It would’ve been a mess.

Always look to smooth the journey over. If you can connect the dots a little more elegantly, a little more effortlessly, your story is going to feel whole. It’s not going to feel random and disjointed, which is exactly how so many first drafts read.

So, how could we have fixed this? I would say that one planet had to go. Probably Coruscant. Coruscant was boring. It was all political gobbledygook that didn’t make a lot of sense. You could’ve waited to introduce all the Jedi Temple stuff in the second movie, Attack of the Clones.

And I know some of you are gasping right now but remember, the original draft of Star Wars included the Emperor and the “wookie” planet of Endor and Yoda along with his planet. Lucas eventually realized (or was convinced by actual screenwriters) that he couldn’t keep all that stuff in a single movie. He had to push it off to other movies.

You could’ve brought relevant characters who were on Coruscant to Tatooine. It would’ve been difficult but that’s what rewriting is. It’s figuring stuff like that out. The Phantom Menace’s narrative was always messy. It needed simplifying.

One of the easiest first-draft mistakes that could’ve been fixed in The Phantom Menace was the Queen Amidala/Handmaiden issue. If you don’t remember, Queen Amidala sends her “handmaiden” along with Qui-Gon’s clan and, for the rest of the movie, we’re supposed to not know that the handmaiden is Queen Amidala. We get the big “reveal” at the end before the Naboo battle when the handmaiden reveals who she truly is.

The moment had so little impact, even Liam Neeson broke character to roll his eyes at this reveal since he knew that the audience already figured it out 2 hours ago.

This is what we do in the first act, guys. We write stuff that doesn’t make a lot of sense. And our job is not to hold onto that stuff. It’s to get rid of it. It’s to fix it.  It’s to improve it.  Just have the queen tell Qui-Gon that she’s coming with them and they all agree that they tell everyone they meet that she’s a handmaiden. Problem solved.

But let’s get real now. The Phantom Menace made a critical error that George Lucas couldn’t write himself out of if he had a 100 drafts. Anakin Skywalker didn’t work. He was too young. We saw that in the ridiculous scenes where they try and have him flirt with the queen. When your most memorable line is “Wheeeeeee,” that character isn’t working.

So, what could they have done here? Well, I know that Lucas was sort of locked age-wise in a couple of directions. But he should’ve figured out a way to make Anakin 12. At 12 years old, you’re in “Stand By Me” age territory where you can deal with some deeper stuff and it not feel stupid.

Making Anakin just a little bit more sophisticated would’ve made him easier to root for. Easier to like. Easier to identify with. That movie was just destroyed by how young the character was. Seeing him win a 300 mile an hour race? The kid had the dexterity of a handicapped sea lion.

That may seem like a nitpick but you should ALWAYS be thinking about age in your rewrites. You are a different person at 25 compared to 18. You are a different person at 35 compared to 25. You have different responsibilities. You’re more established in your career. You’re usually married as opposed to in a relationship. Your money situation is different. All that stuff changes people so you want to be asking yourself if an age-change would improve your characters.

There are many more things I could get into (“Now that’s podracing!”) but you get the idea. The rewrite is where you get rid of problematic story elements and you smooth out everything else.

Just one more week of rewrites and then we start our polishing!

Rumors swirled online all week that this would be the episode to end Star Wars. Yoda doing weird dances? The Force designed by women? A witch’s brew?

Genre: Science-Fiction Adventure
Premise: We head back in time 16 years when twins Osha and Mae were being raised by a coven of witches. But when the Jedi find out about this illegal activity, they come to retrieve the girls.
About: The writers of today’s episode are fairly inexperienced. Jasmyne Flournoy has never written a television episode or feature film in her life. Eileen Shim did write one episode for House of the Dragon (the show debuts this Sunday by the way!).
Writers Jasmyne Flournoy and Eileen Shim
Details: 42 minutes

I’ve tried my darndest to stay away from the online chatter of The Acolyte because I know it’s all about divisiveness and how there can’t be fire in space or something. None of that has any effect on anything AS LONG AS THE STORY IS GOOD. And, so far, the story is good.

However, despite my best efforts, I could not avoid hearing that today’s episode was going to create a firestorm. I mentally prepared myself. But I’m committed to judging this series on the story and the story alone.

And look, just to be clear – for the people who are saying this series is stupid and it’s making all these dumb choices. Dudes. Star Wars has always been a bit silly. Little teddy bears are responsible for defeating the Empire. You can’t slam Star Wars for being a little silly.

The only time I get mad in Star Wars is when things get sloppy and, as a result, the storytelling suffers. If you’re putting 100% in and you have some modicum of talent, which Leslye Headland does, you’re going to write some good Star Wars episodes.

Famous last words, right?

Here we go!

**Carson watches Episode 3 of The Acoylate.**

Osha and Mae are 9 years old in today’s episode. It’s 16 years in the past and they’ve both been found by a coven of witches. The two head witches, who are also married, argue extensively about how to raise the children.

There is a big ceremony in a couple of days called “The Ascension” which will officially make these two witches. There are going to be a few challenges that are force-related so they do their force exercises whenever they can fit them in.

But just as the ceremony gets started, four Jedi show up (including a Wookie Jedi!) saying what the witches are doing is illegal. They know the two girls are force-sensitive and want to give them the Jedi test. If they pass, they will come to Coruscant.

For this reason, their two mothers tell them to deliberately fail the tests. But while taking the test, Osha can’t help but be truthful. So she passes. Mae is so infuriated by this that she locks her sister in her room and starts a fire! Osha is barely able to escape, but all the other Jedi, including Mae, die in the fire. Osha then hops on the Jedi ship and heads back to the Jedi temple.

Today’s episode had a surprise treat in the credits. One of my favorite up-and-coming directors, Kogonada, directed the episode!

That was cool to see.

I did think the episode was well-directed, although Kogonada seems to have been restrained from adding too much of his own style.

But let’s talk about the writing.

As I always say, the third episode of a TV series is where the rubber meets the road. If it’s bad, your series is bad. If it’s good, you could have a show on your hands.

Unfortunately, the series decided to gamble and use episode 3 as a flashback episode.

Flashbacks are more evil than Sith themselves. Not because they don’t work. But because only a tiny percentage of screenwriters understand how to make them work.

CATEGORY 1
Most screenwriters believe that the audience will blindly want to see what happens in the past because of how it will add more context to the characters.

CATEGORY 2
Better screenwriters understand that audiences don’t like going backwards. Therefore, they have to add more than just character context. They have to add a story to the flashback.

CATEGORY 3
The best screenwriters understand that going backwards is a gigantic gamble. It is taking the story away from the present, where the audience wants to be. Therefore, if you’re going to do it – especially a flashback that’ll last an entire episode – it has to be a great story in and of itself. And if they can’t come up with that great story for their flashback, they don’t write the flashback.

Because they know how quickly viewers can tune out of a series. Which, by the way, is 10 times faster than it used to be, when there were only 50 shows on TV. Flashbacks are a “f*ck around and find out” gamble.

So, where do today’s writers fall?

To their credit, they knew enough to get to Category 2.

There IS a legit storyline to this flashback episode. We’ve got the goal – the ceremony, the stakes – they become official members of the coven if they pass, and the urgency – the ceremony takes place in a couple of days.

We then have the complication that throws everything into disarray – the Jedi show up and say they want the children for themselves.

That IS a story. The problem is, it’s only a mildly entertaining one. And this is what keeps decent writers from becoming great writers. Just creating an okay storyline so that you can give us more context about your characters isn’t going to move the needle.

Let me be clear about this. If you fumble in a present-day storyline, the audience will forgive you more than they will if you fumble in a flashback episode. Because when a flashback episode is weak, not only were we not entertained, but the story didn’t move forward at all.

Remember what we talked about last week. Headland had made the smart decision to use what TV does well to create her series: The Acolyte was an investigative mystery. You didn’t do that this week. You went back to the mistakes that all these other Star Wars shows have made which is to force movie-like storytelling onto the TV format.

Movie-like storytelling is built upon the concept that the viewer gets to experience the entire story NOW. If you take away the NOW part, we get movie-like storytelling without all the payoffs.

So does that mean all flashbacks suck? No. I actually did a feature consult recently where the script was about a famous director. And he used flashbacks throughout. The difference was, his flashback story was even better than the main story! So whenever we flashed back, I was excited. Cause I wanted to see what happened next in that story.

That’s the way you got to think of it. You can’t think of it as a second-banana storyline. Try to make it as good or even better than the main storyline and that way we’ll WANT to flash back.

On a personal level, I didn’t like today’s subject matter. I know some outlier Star Wars comic books have witches in them. But witches aren’t Star Wars. So when you put them on screen, you’re losing a LOT of your audience. Probably almost your entire male audience. So I don’t know why they would do that.

Read the room.

It can’t be all about you. “I want witches cause I like witches!” No. Ask yourself if the audience for the subject matter likes witches. If they don’t, you probably want to go in another direction.

I will say that Headland seems to understand the Jedi better than a lot of the previous Star Wars showrunners. I say that because this Jedi group is a cool group. They all feel like Jedi. They act like Jedi. They talk like Jedi. They basically saved this episode.

This episode isn’t nearly as bad as everyone is saying it is. Someone was telling me that they were going to announce that the force was “female” in this episode or something. None of that nonsense happened.

But they need to get their act together for Episode 4 next week.

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

What I learned: If you’ve got backstory you need the viewer to know, do the hard work and slip it into conversations. Show it through character actions. When Han Solo chirps at Luke in their first meeting at the cantina, saying, “And who’s going to fly it kid, you??” Luke says, “You bet I could, I’m not such a bad pilot myself.” That’s how you slip in backstory (that Luke is a pilot). You don’t have to do an entire episode on a coven for us to know Osha and Mae were once part of a coven.

This 7-figure sale is getting the Netflix treatment

Genre: Mystery/Thriller
Logline: A sleep specialist is the final hope to wake up a suspected murderer who’s been asleep for four years.
About: Today’s book is from debut author, Matthew Blake. Blake worked in politics for ten years but like a lot of you, secretly wanted to be a writer. His debut book, Anna O., had everyone going nuts, with multiple publishers coming in with 7 figure offers. If we could all be so lucky! Concurrently, super producer Greg Berlanti snatched up the book to turn into a TV series for Netflix. The Netflix deal makes sense. Not only is Berlanti a producer on the breakout Netflix hit, “You,” the streamer is currently the only kid on the block without a high-profile mystery-thriller show. So did they make the right move picking this one up?
Author: Matthew Blake
Details: 420 pages

The big reason I’m reviewing this book today is that writing a mystery novel and turning it into a TV series is currently one of the best paths for writers to make a lot of money.

Streamers are DYING for these shows.

But how do you come up with one of these mystery ideas? Haven’t they all been done already? Apparently not! When Matthew Blake learned that the average human spends 33 years of their life asleep, he felt like he’d found an untapped idea market. And thus Anna O. Was born.

Dr. Benedict Prince (Ben) is a sleep doctor. Maybe the best in the world. Which is why he’s recruited by the famous Abbey Sleep Center to look over their newest patient, Anna Ogilvy, also known throughout the world as “Sleeping Beauty.”

4 years ago, Anna O. killed two people during one of those team-building retreats but when the cops showed up, Anna was asleep. It turns out Anna has been a lifelong sleepwalker, so the assumption is that she killed the victims when she was sleepwalking. No problem, we’ll get to the bottom of this when she wakes up. Except Anna doesn’t wake up. In fact, she’s been asleep for FOUR YEARS.

After everybody and their mom (including her own mom) try to wake Anna up, people lose hope. However, Ben wrote some papers on sleep that have made some waves in the community. Which is why Ben is now appointed Anna’s primary doctor. He’s the last chance they have at waking her up.

The book takes us through different points of view, mainly Ben’s, as he uses his 3-pronged ‘wake-up’ formula (touch, listen, smell) to tempt Anna out of sleep. The main way that Ben is different from all the other sleep doctors is that he believes you have to use the ‘mind’ not the ‘brain’ to wake someone up. Whatever the hell that means.

We also hear from ex-wife Clara, a cop who was called to the scene of the famous murder. There’s a mysterious blogger constantly dropping tips about Sleeping Beauty on Reddit that she can’t possibly know. We even hear from Anna herself, whose journal leading up to the night’s events is drip-fed to us entry by entry.

It appears that Anna, an aspiring writer, was working on a story about the infamous 1999 murder of a woman who killed both of her stepchildren while sleepwalking. Anna’s journal entries indicate that she was getting close to figuring out the truth to that murder. Could Anna’s sleep-induced nightmare be tied to a murder from 20 years ago? And is Ben being 100% honest about his relationship with Anna? The answers are dependent on Anna waking up.

You know, sometimes the world just confuses me.

I have a solid feel for the screenwriting world. I know, for example, when a crappy script sells, that there are three likely reasons why it happened. I understand those reasons and therefore I can write the sale off as following some form of logic.

But I always thought that novel-writing required pure talent. You needed to be able to actually write. Because, unlike a script, which is just a blueprint for what the finished product will look like, a novel IS the finished product. So you’d think it would need to be, you know, good.

Maybe I’m overreacting here. I suppose I should give Blake credit for the insane amount of research he’s done. I could tell that this man knows more about sleep than 99% of the people on the planet.

But for God’s sake, THIS PLOT! This plot is so wacky and stupid. I’m not even convinced the concept works! This girl kills someone while sleepwalking. Then she wakes up momentarily to see what she’s done. Then she falls asleep for 4 straight years. What???

Those are two completely different things, both of them incredibly rare. What are the odds of both happening at once?

Someone paid a million bucks for this. I can see thousands of novelists everywhere shaking their heads in fury. You mean *THIS* is all we had to do to become millionaires? Come up with a flashy premise that only vaguely resembles a story??

The book obviously wants to be Gone Girl but – and I’m going to regurgitate what I always say on this site – the reason that Gone Girl was good was because it was SIM-PLE. Girl goes missing. Her diary proves her husband is the murderer. Midway through we learn that the diary was made up and she orchestrated her own disappearance.

This book is just… what the hell. It has sixteen million twists! Every few chapters, there’s another twist. If every plot beat is a twist, the twists stop mattering. What makes twists work is that they are singular. We work our way up to them, carefully setting them up, and that’s why they hit us like a ton of bricks.

It’s a very first-time writer thing to do — twist twist twist twist twist. You do that when you’re not confident as a writer, when you don’t believe in your story. You’re constantly thinking, “Am I doing enough? Is this boring? It’s too boring. I have to make something happen!”

Good writers are confident that they’ve built characters compelling enough that we’ll want to stay with them even when crazy things aren’t happening. I mean, these characters WEREN’T compelling enough for that. But if you can’t even write characters, what are you doing writing a book?

There was really only one thing that worked – the suspense that was built up for Anna waking up. Despite despising every contrived chapter that was written, I kept reading because I wanted to see what happened when Anna woke up. And for about three chapters there, when she woke up, the book actually worked. It, of course, fell apart immediately after. But a 3-chapter win streak for a writer of this caliber is admirable.

By the way, Anna wakes up at the midpoint. So at least he got that part right (have something big happen at the midpoint of your story).

Here’s my guess at what happened and you book experts can let me know if I’m right. Books like this are never meant to be books. They’re created to become movies or TV shows. The purchase of the book by the publishing house acts as a dual-purpose publicity push that gets eyes on the sale that can then be concurrently used to push the book around town in the hopes of securing a movie/show deal.

In that sense, I suppose this works. We’ve got a high concept here. A screenwriter buddy of mine who adapts high-profile material has reminded me that lots of good movies are adapted from weak books because you get to pick and choose the best parts.

I don’t know if any screenwriter can possibly save this book, though. This is trashy weak overly-twisty unconfident writing in its purest form, the kind of thing that if it does make it all the way to Netflix, will be lucky to crack a 30% on Rotten Tomatoes.

The ending alone, with its 96,000 twists, has a good shot at sending half its audience into their own 4-year slumber. A 4-year slumber of stupidity.

The only positive I can take out of this is that it proves you clearly don’t need to be a good writer to make millions of dollars. But the weaker you are, the flashier your concept has to be. That’s all this book had going for it.  I guess it was enough.

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

What I Learned: One of the things I’ve found while reading books is that good authors integrate their research into the plot. So if you’re researching people who have been asleep for a long time and you come across a particularly interesting real-life case? Figure out a way to work that case into your story. That’s what Blake does. This could’ve just been about Anna’s case. But Blake found another case through research that he decided to work into the plot – the sleep case from 20 years earlier when the mother killed her step-children while sleepwalking.

Has Hollywood just birthed the next movie star?

Genre: ???????
Premise: A part time cop pretends to be a hit man to trap people hiring contract killers but changes tactics when one of his clients ends up being hot and sexy.
About: This movie was born out of an online article that I reviewed last year. It should be noted that this is one of the best ways to sell a movie idea these days. You find an interesting story out there in the real world and you write about it. The movie paired longtime collaborators Rinchard Linklater and Glen Powell, whose finished product ended up being one of the big purchases at the Venice Film Festival, going for 20 million dollars to Netflix.
Writers: Richard Linklater, Glen Powell, and Skip Hollandworth
Details: 2 hours long

So let me explain to you how these things work.

This movie sold for a giant amount of movie to Netflix after its debut at the Venice Film Festival. The non-initiated would assume that that must mean the movie was amazing. But that’s not how the movie business operates.

The reason this movie sold for so much money is because for the first time in a long time, Hollywood believes they have a movie star in the making in Glen Powell. Top Gun Maverick made SO MUCH MONEY that they figured SOMEONE had to come out of that as a rising star. And with Miles Teller already getting his shot, they went with Glen Powell.

Anything But You’s runaway hit status only bolstered this belief. Glen Powell HAD to be the next big thing. Or did he? It was easy to make the argument that the only reason Top Gun Maverick made so much money was because of superstar, Tom Cruise. But a good case could also be made that the only reason Anything But You made a ton of money was because of Sydney Sweeney. Which would mean that Glen Powell just got lucky.

It’s notoriously difficult to identify movie stars. You don’t know until they happen. From Alex Pettyfer to Eric Bana to Sam Worthington to Clive Owen to Colin Farrell to Josh Hartnett, Hollywood has a long list of “swing and a miss” movie star hopefuls.

And it goes both ways. I’ll never forget watching Bradley Cooper in Jim Carrey’s “Yes Man” and thinking how sorry I was for him. I thought, “That’s the kind of guy always meant to get second billing. He’ll never be the top dog.” I turned out to be a little wrong on that one.

The only legitimate movie star we’ve found in the last decade was Chris Pratt, which may have been the hardest to predict in history. The guy was known as the overweight 10th billing crappy boyfriend on Parks and Recreation.

In other words, who knows what’s going to become of Glen Powell? He’s certainly getting his shot. We’ll see just how much star power he has later this year when Twisters comes out. But, for right now, let’s look at his splashy new streaming flick, Hit Man.

Gary Johnson is a nerdy philosophy teacher, cat owner, and part-time desk cop. One day, he’s thrown into action as a fake hit man. The cops need him to entrap someone who’s trying to kill a business partner. All Gary has to do is convince this guy he’s a hit man, get him to give him the money, and admit that it’s for murder. And, what do you know, Gary is AWESOME at it.

He’s so awesome that he becomes their go-to “hit man.” The great thing about Gary is that he caters his hit man persona to whoever he’s talking to. If there’s a lonely housewife, he’s more sexy. If it’s a crabby old gun owner, he’ll throw on tattoos and swear like a sailor. At one point he even plays a heartless German dressed in black, complete with accent.

Gary’s hit rate is close to 100%.

But that all changes when he meets Madison. Since it’s a younger woman, Gary goes with his rugged edgy sexy persona, “Ron.” Ron is a smooth operator, a ladies’ man, and we can feel the crackle of electricity between them. But when Madison is about to give him the money to kill her abusive husband, Gary improvs and tells her to keep it and use it to escape him. He doesn’t want this woman going to prison.

Weeks later, Madison calls Gary and wants to see him. Of course, he’s not Gary to Madison. He’s Ron. So he must see her as Ron. When they meet, she thanks him. She ran away from the guy. She’s single now. And… maybe it wouldn’t be too bad to go back to her place. We can figure out what happens next. A whole lot of sexy time.

Before Ron, I mean Gary, knows it, he’s in a quasi-relationship with Madison. Which is tricky because, well, he’s not himself. He’s this persona. And the more time he spends with her, the more lines between his real self and persona get crossed. But that turns out to be just one part of the problem. The other is that Madison may not be as innocent as she first implied. Maybe Gary should’ve been able to figure that out since, you know, what kind of woman goes out with a hit man?

Hit Man is a Hollywood engine trapped in an indie chassis. It’s a weird movie with a weird script. Linklater can’t shake his indie roots. He’s never understood the “dumb fun” nature of Hollywood movies – stuff like Bad Boys – and therefore can’t help but add 5 minute scenes of characters arguing about the existential conflict inherent in marriage. Which is what keeps this movie from ever finding its groove.

It’s a comedy! No, wait. It’s serious! Oh wait, it’s a comedy again! Wait, it’s a romance. No, now it’s a sexy thriller! Actually, hold on… it’s a crime movie. The tone is shiftier than a drug addict on the corner of Hollywood and Vine.

Linklater’s confusion is evident when we watch Gary and Madison’s first scene together. The movie had been rolling along as a comedy for a while. Yet this scene is both serious and sexy. There were numerous opportunities to cut back to the cops listening in and making fun of how Gary’s clearly gone gaga over this girl, yet for this scene, comedy was abandoned. It was strange. You never had a feel for what the tone was.

From a screenwriting perspective, the script should work, as we’re using one of the more reliable tools in the screenwriting toolbox – dramatic irony. Dramatic irony is when we know something that one, or more, of the characters do not. It’s an important tool that I dedicate an entire section to in my DIALOGUE BOOK.

We know that Gary is not who he says he is. He’s a cop. But Madison DOES NOT know this. Whenever you build a romance around a lie, there’s going to be interest from the viewer about how that ends. Because we know it can only end badly. And we want to stick around to see what ‘badly’ looks like.

But the use of dramatic irony is pretty basic stuff. You’ll see it almost every TV show going, in some form or another. The good writers can twist and turn dramatic irony in ways that the average writer never would’ve thought of.

(Spoiler) In Hit Man, the central line of dramatic irony is between Gary and Madison. We know Gary isn’t really a hit man. She does not. That’s where the viewer’s intrigue lies. But about 70 minutes into the movie, the gig is up and Gary has to admit to Madison who he is. She confides to *Ron* that she killed her husband and he loses it. He admits that he’s not Ron. He’s Gary. He’s a cop. Hence, the dramatic irony *between them* is over.

But then Gary heads back to the station for an emergency meeting. The captain believes that Madison is the primary suspect for the husband’s murder. And hence, A BRAND NEW LINE of dramatic irony begins. Almost all of the cops don’t know that Gary has been secretly seeing Madison. Nor do they know that he now knows that she killed him. BUT WE DO. And that’s how to cleverly utilize dramatic irony. The second you cut it off in one plot, you add it to another.

It’s actually a more sophisticated scene than even that since one of the cops in the room spotted Gary on a date with Madison once. So he knows Gary isn’t telling the whole truth. This is an advanced form of dramatic irony that has to do with inferior and superior perspectives which I go into in my dialogue book. If you want to become a master at one of the most valuable screenwriting tools there is, make sure you buy that book.

Despite its wonky tone and inconsistency, it all comes together in the end with an unpredictable final turn. Now, does this movie prove that Glen Powell is a movie star? That I don’t know. The only reliable metric I’ve come up with for what makes a movie star is, “Can you not look away whenever they’re on screen?” Doesn’t matter if you like them or hate them. Can you not look away? And, for the most part, I think I wanted to watch Glen Powell. *I think.* Maybe I need more evidence. What do you guys think?

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

What I learned: You may have wondered, why did this article – out of millions of articles published online – become the one that was purchased to be made into a movie. Nobody but the people involved know for sure. But always factor in movies that have roles which allow the actor to play multiple parts (in this case, multiple personas) – those are highly coveted by actors. So there’s a good chance some very good actors are going to want to be in the movie. No doubt that helped Linklater snag one of the fastest rising stars in Hollywood.