There are 24 hours left to get those holiday scripts in for Holiday Showdown! Hurry hurry hurry. Any holiday themed script – send it to carsonreeves3@gmail.com with your title, genre, logline, why you think it deserves a shot, and a pdf of the script. The five holiday contestants will be posted tomorrow night!
I was thinking back through some of the screenwriting lessons I learned over the years and keyed on a few that blew my mind. You know, those lessons where all of a sudden a major part of the screenwriting matrix became clear to you? Outside of writing a great scene or coming up with a kick-butt plot twist, stumbling across that game-changing screenwriting tip is the best feeling ever.
A common problem a lot of newbie screenwriters have is they only know what their hero wants. They don’t know what the love interest wants. What the comedic relief wants. What the boss wants. What the trusty assistant wants. What the best friend wants. What the daughter wants. What the dad wants. Or what anybody in any scene in the movie wants other than the hero.
When you write from this place, your script feels thin. The conversations your hero has are thin. If people don’t want anything, if they are only there to serve the machinations of your plot, like automatons waiting for instructions, your script will never rise above average.
Now you’ve heard me say that you should know as much about every character as possible. And I continue to encourage that. The more you know, the more life is breathed into every scene those characters are in. But, realistically, you can’t know everything about everyone. Well, I guess you could. But it would take a long time. And if a character is only in your script for three scenes, it might not be worth it to spend five weeks writing out their life story.
So let’s talk about an alternative to this. For purposes of reference, I’m going to call it the NOW and THEN approach. For every character in your script who has more than one scene, give them a goal for each scene they’re in (the “NOW”) and give then an overall goal for their life (the “THEN”). Let’s see how this helps improve your script.
Let’s say your hero, JAKE, gets a hot dog every day for lunch at a hot dog stand in front of his work. Whenever he’s getting a Chicago style dog from the hot dog guy, STAN, they chat. Now let’s say you don’t know anything about Stan. He’s the hot dog guy, you argue. He’s lucky I even gave him a name. Your dialogue might look something like this…
“How’s work today?” Jake asks. “Busy busy,” Stan says. “It’s tourist season so I’m making a lot of dough.” “Nice,” Jake says. “What about you?” Stan asks. “Can’t complain. Although I’m probably going to need a doctor’s check-up soon after sucking down all these dogs.” Haha. They both laugh together.
Granted I didn’t try very hard here. But it’s clear that the dialogue exists on a simplistic plane because you don’t have any complex information about the other character in the scene. So let’s see what happens when we apply the NOW and THEN approach. Stan’s “THEN” is going to be that he’s saving money to open a restaurant. He puts a little bit of his profits away each day and, if all goes all, he plans to open the restaurant in five years. Stan’s “NOW” is that he needs to call his wife to tell her to pick up their son today but he can’t find his phone. With these new details, let’s see how the scene changes.
Jake greedily accepts his hot dog. “Getting any closer to that restaurant?” Jake says. “It’d be nice if I didn’t have to stand up to eat these things all the time.” Stan disappears under the stand. He seems to be looking for something. Jake peers over. “You okay?” “I’m fine, I just… I lost my phone. It was here a second ago.” He’s flipping over boxes, checking his pockets. “I have to call my wife.” “You want to use my phone?” Jake says. “Yes! Yes, that would be great. Thank you.” Jake hands over his phone. Stan takes it, starts to dial, but freezes. “I don’t… I don’t know her number. I don’t know what my own wife’s phone number is.” “Yeah, you might not want to tell her that.” At that moment Stan’s eyes key on his boiling hot dogs. He grabs some tongs, fishes them into the water and pulls out… his cell phone. Both Jake and Stan stare at each other.
Yeah yeah, I know. Silly scene. But you have to admit that it was more interesting than the first exchange. And the reason it was more interesting was because I had more information to go on. I knew more about Stan. In scene 1, he’s a nothing. In scene 2, he’s got a life going on. And all I needed in order to find that life was two things – his NOW and his THEN.
I already know what some of you are thinking. Aren’t peripheral characters peripheral for a reason? If they become too vocal, too chatty, they may overshadow your hero. In some scenes, Carson, you want the other character to be invisible. Of course. All of this is on a case by case basis where you vary the degree to which the other character interacts.
If Jake comes into this scene after losing a major client at work, I’m dialing down Stan’s participation to make the scene more about Jake. I still know what Stan’s life goal is. I still know he needs to call his wife soon. But maybe I ditch the lost phone stuff. Instead I have him generally distracted by the fact that his wife isn’t going to like it when he asks her to pick up their son. “You alright?” Stan says. “It’s nothing. Can’t pick up the kid today is all.” And that’s the extent of their exchange. Or, in some cases, I may not have Sam mention his problem at all. I let it come through via his mood or the subtext of his actions.
The point is, when you figure out the NOW and THEN of a character, you have more ammo for your scene gun. And let’s keep in mind, we never figured out who Jake was in this movie. If I knew his situation, the conversation would be even more specific. That’s where you tend to find your best dialogue – when you know exactly what the characters in the scene want.
I implore you to try this out in your current script. I GUARANTEE YOU your scenes will get better.
Genre: Horror
Premise: When an overstressed young woman joins her best friend at a wellness retreat in the Arizona desert, she begins to suspect that the revitalizing spa treatments, serums, and macrobiotic meals are part of something closer to a dangerous cult, run by the retreat’s charismatic leader.
About: This script finished on this year’s Blood List! Co-writers Kevin Aarmento and Jaki Bradley are just getting started in their careers. Jaki directed a small film called Last Ferry this year.
Writers: Kevin Armento & Jaki Bradley
Details: 103 pages
I wondered for years why they didn’t make more horror movies about cults. Cults are freaky, man! Not to mention, there’s so much you can do with the mythology since each cult’s backstory is unique. With Midsommer coming out earlier this year and a few other cult horror scripts floating around, cult horror is becoming a thing.
And that’s not the only script similarity we’re seeing today. Remember how yesterday’s script was about a group of people brought to a remote place who are then manipulated by a psychotic antagonist? That’s the same setup for today’s script. And that’s not a bad thing. This is a format that works well in features. As long as you come up with your own unique characters with their own unique backstories as well as a unique setting, you can get a ton of mileage out of this setup.
Let us take a look at Detox’s plot.
Sam is a 30-something consumer safety officer for the FDA. Her daily existence has been boring ever since her husband killed himself. That’s why her best friend, Madison, has set up an amazing opportunity for them to go to one of the most prestigious wellness centers for women in the entire world.
The two head out to the middle of Arizona and meet up with all the rest of the participants, women of varying ages who are doing extremely well in life but who are blocked in some way by personal setbacks. Soon we learn that Sam’s personal setback is more complicated than we were told. The reason her husband killed himself is because Sam had a miscarriage and blamed her for it.
Things get weird immediately. This center is all about detoxifying and that means they only get to eat a single plant for the first 48 hours of the weeklong excursion. But, in the meantime, they’re allowed to drink juices and elixirs, most of which make them feel woozy and wacked out. Sam is constantly seeing things, like her dead husband in the corner of a room, only to wake up in her bedroom and wonder if it was just a dream.
But the visions are nothing compared to some of the practices they use here. At one point they lock Sam in a negative 300 degree cryotherapy chamber and won’t let her out until she explains in detail how losing her husband made her feel. And in another group exercise, one of the staff members “channels” Sam’s dead husband, forcing Sam to have a conversation with “him,” an exchange “her husband” ends by screaming at her, “I hate you! I hate you!”
Eventually, Sam begins to suspect that Willa, the leader, is up to something, so she sneaks into her office, steals her phone back, and starts googling the names of everyone here. What she finds is far from encouraging. Pictures of some of the staff members hanging out with some of the participants years ago. This leads Sam to realize that maybe the person who brought her here, Madison, is also in on whatever’s going on. Or is it all part of the plan to help Sam finally detoxify her past and start living again?
Look. This script was pretty good.
But here’s something I want all screenwriters to consider because I don’t think the average screenwriter considers this. There’s a very good chance that a reader or a producer or an agent read another script similar to yours recently. That’s because none of are as original as we think we are. There are only so many story situations to pull from.
For this reason, you have to ask yourself if this is the best execution of your idea that you’re capable of. Because if I just read a script yesterday with a similar setup and it’s better than yours, then all I’m going to think of your script is that it’s the “not as good” version of the two scripts in question.
This is why holding yourself to such a high standard is crucial in screenwriting. You can’t get by with “fine.” You’re constantly being compared to other scripts and other writers that readers just read last month, last week, even last Saturday. Every plot choice you make, you have to ask yourself, “Is this really the best I can do?” And if it is, great. But if there’s some doubt in your mind, try to come up with something better. You’d be surprised at how creative you can actually be when you push yourself.
I do give the writers credit, however, for two things. First, they committed to their protagonist’s makeup. What I mean by that is, they could’ve easily lip-serviced the whole miscarriage thing. Draw it onto the character to give her that “depth” screenwriting books always talk about. But they go all in with it. The exercises at the retreat force Sam to dig deep into what happened, not only with the miscarriage itself, but how it destroyed her marriage.
That’s what you want to do in these movies. You don’t want to send your character off to a scary wellness retreat and then throw a bunch of jump scares at her and call it a day. Wellness centers are about exorcising demons and facing your past so you should be marrying that situation to your character’s inner journey.
The other thing is that the second half of this script was a lot stronger than the first half. Which was nice to see since it’s usually the opposite. Writing a script is hard. It takes a lot out of you. And you often see that in the back half of a script. The writer runs out of gas, leading each scene to be less interesting than the previous scene. Your script should always be building. It should always be getting better. And where you usually find that extra gear is in rewrites.
I can tell you the exact moment in this script where it hit that higher gear. Sam sees the picture of one of the staff members hanging out on a beach with one of the participants (from two years ago). It doesn’t make any sense. And Madison, her friend, came here last year. So she’s already vouched for this place. So it wasn’t an obvious scam where they were all putting on a show because then her best friend would have to be in on it. And that didn’t make sense. That turned the second half into a compelling mystery, that so happened to make the main character a lot more active (active characters can be gear-changers all on their own – if your story feels slow in any way, consider ramping up how active your main character is).
One last thing I want to praise the writers for is that everybody in town right now is writing female lead roles. Even if it doesn’t make sense, they do it because they know that’s what studios want. As a result, you get a lot of unnatural scenarios that feel like Ghostbusters 2016. But everything about this all-female setup feels authentic. We never question why there isn’t a single male character in the movie. And that’s the way it should be. You want to create scenarios that are organic for your characters regardless of the genre.
So I say this is worth the read. It just has the unfortunate luck of coming right after The Menu.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: Competitive Writing. – When you’re writing a script, imagine someone else writing a script which isn’t that different from yours. Because that’s happening. There will be many writers THIS YEAR who are writing screenplays similar to your own. For this reason, you want to recruit your competitive side. Imagine that other writer (or writers) writing the scene you’re writing next and be competitive about it. Write a scene that you believe is clearly better than any of the scenes any of those other writers could come up with. Writing is such a singular experience that we often forget how much our writing is being compared with others. As a reader, I can confirm that this comparison is going on. So call on that inner athlete of yours to out-write whoever the competition is.
What I learned 2: You get one “hero sees freaky thing then wakes up and wonders if it was a dream” moment in a script. MAYBE TWO, at most. But you should avoid these scenes if possible. The problem with them is that it allows the writer to cheat. They get to show something freaky and then not have to explain it. And the more you do that to the reader, the more they feel f$%#d with. So go crazy with one of these if you must. But please stop at one.
Don’t look now. But another script may have just landed in my Top 25! And in the final month of the year! Expect this one to be a Black List juggernaut next week.
Genre: Thriller/Satire/Comedy
Premise: A food connoisseur takes a first date to an exclusive and mysterious dining experience on an island.
About: Alexander Payne has come on to direct this and Emma Stone will be playing our food connoisseur’s date. Co-writers Seth Reiss and Will Tracy are late-night show writers. However, Tracy also wrote an episode of the greatest show on television right now, Succession. And in case anyone was wondering, this is a spec script! Yay!
Writers: Seth Reiss and Will Tracy
Details: 104 pages
Even though I love reading screenplays, if I’m given the opportunity to stop reading something in order to have time to myself, I’ll always take the time to myself. I have lots of things I enjoy outside of reading so it isn’t a difficult decision. Even the last script I gave an “impressive” to, The Traveler – if you would’ve told me, midway through it, that the following day was a holiday and I didn’t have to post a review, I would’ve stopped reading right there.
Not the case with The Menu.
If my place was on fire, I would’ve eyeballed the time I had before the fire reached me so that I could squeeze in as many pages as I could.
This script is a page-turner if there ever was one. I can’t remember a script with such an original premise and execution. The way this story unraveled was captivating. It had to be if Alexander Payne wanted to direct it. This is a guy who writes his own movies. Who’s won screenwriting Oscars. So if he falls in love with a script enough to direct it, it must be good. And The Menu is very very good.
Tyler is a well-off 30-something man who has an insatiable appetite for the culinary world. He’s spent months trying to get on this exclusive list of Chef Slowik’s mysterious restaurant, which is set on an island that the customers must be ferried over to. Tyler’s date is Margot, a beautiful 20-something woman who isn’t nearly as impressed with tonight’s impending experience as Tyler is. Margot is also a little mysterious herself.
Joining them are an older couple, a prestigious food columnist, a group of tech-bros, and Daniel Radcliffe and his assistant. Yes, Harry Potter is taking part in tonight’s festivities. Tyler geeks out when they all take the boat over to the island and nearly loses his mind at the rustic dining room set right next to an open kitchen, so they can watch the cooks prepare the food.
But as soon as Chef Slowik arrives, we realize this guy is nuts. All chefs are in love with themselves but this guy’s ego stretches all the way back to the mainland. This begins a 7 course meal, with each course becoming decidedly more weird. The second course, for example, is bread without bread. You get butter, oil, spread, all surrounding an area on the plate where the bread should be. But there’s no actual bread.
Course 4 is where things get really f$#%d though. That’s when Chef Slowik introduces his sous chef, who he tells a long sad story about, and at the end of the story, the sous chef pulls a hidden gun out of his pants and blows his own brains out. It is at this moment that everyone realizes tonight is not going to end well. One of the older customers tries to leave but gets his hand chopped off. The message is clear. Everyone stays until the end of the meal.
The only thing Chef Slowik is perplexed by is Margot. As he watches the diners, he’s consumed by her. Something is off. Late in the night, he corners her and demands to know who she is. She’s obviously not Tyler’s girlfriend.
This is where we learn that Margot is a companion. She’s only here because she was paid to be here. That presents a problem for Chef Slowik, who has personalized every single component of this meal. He can’t have someone random. It screws up his perfect menu. But there’s something worse about Margot’s presence. Of everyone here, she seems to be the only one capable of fighting back. Which means she’s the only one with a chance of getting out of the night alive.
I knew this script was going to be great within the first three pages. Take, for example, how well Tyler is set up. We know EXACTLY who this character is immediately. I read scripts ALL THE TIME where, by the end of them, I still don’t know a single character. And these writers have made Tyler crystal clear in three pages.
He’s obsessed with food. He doesn’t have respect for anyone who isn’t obsessed with food, including Margot. And that’s it. If you can create characters that readers instantly understand, that’s a skill that can make you hundreds of thousands of dollars. That’s because it’s a skill most people in Hollywood do not have. Most writers have a tendency to write muddy characters or pack them with so much going on that no single identity trait stands out.
When we get to the restaurant, the writers establish just how extensively they understand their subject matter. Every single description, every single line of dialogue, indicated that these two understand restaurants, food, and the life of a famous chef. “You’re really in for something special tonight, Margot. Chef Slowik is the shit right now. Two James Beard Awards. Number 5 on the World’s 50. The most exciting voice in New American cuisine, hands down.” “How quickly you forget Guy Fieri.” “His story’s incredible. He cut his teeth with Keller at the French Laundry and then at 25 he becomes the head development chef at the Fat Duck. He opens his own place in New York, gets two Michelin stars in his first year and then — boom.”
Bad writers don’t write stuff like this. They’re general and cliche because general and cliche don’t require research. Here’s the bad version of the above: “I’ve heard so much about this guy. He was one of the best chefs in France for an entire decade.” “Well I haven’t heard of him.” “He’s supposed to make one of the best steaks in the country.” See the difference? I see a lot more of the latter when I read scripts than the former. That’s why it sticks out when writers do the work. Because the average screenwriter doesn’t put forth the effort.
Also, I didn’t know where this story was going until the midpoint. It was exciting turning each page because I wasn’t just following the story, I was trying to figure out what kind of movie this was. And then when I figured out the rhythm – that each course was going to get more intense – my concern was, “How do they keep coming up with original courses?’ Because that’s the whole movie, is the anticipation of what the next course will be. And if any of them fall short on originality, the script doesn’t work. So it was shocking to me that every single course was original. Even with the thousands of scripts I’ve read, I still had no idea what was coming next. That’s another mark of a great writer. They’re ahead of the reader. The reader isn’t ahead of them.
And the dialogue. Wow. The key was they created a dialogue-friendly character at the center of the story in Chef Slowik. He comes out and gives a story before every course is served and they’re all weird and wonderful and psychotic. “Jeremy is talented. He’s good. But he’s not great. And quite frankly, he will never be great. He so desperately wants my job, my position, my prestige. Isn’t that right, Jeremy?” “Yes, chef.” “But Jeremy has forsaken everything to achieve that. He works here 20 hours a day. He has no time for friends. No time for family. He can’t go to the gym. Or to see a movie. He can’t even go to the bank because it’s only open when he’s working. Jeremy, when’s the last time you talked to your mother?” “I don’t remember, chef.” “His entire life is service and pressure. Pressure to put out the best food you can. Pressure to please your Chef. Pressure to please the customer. Pressure to please the critics. And even when all goes right, and the food is perfect, and the customers are happy, and the critics are too, there is no way to avoid The Mess. That is to say, The Mess you make of your life, of your body, of your health, of your sanity, by giving everything you have to pleasing people you’ll never know.”
The only aspects of the script that are questionable are one, Daniel Radcliffe. On the one hand it makes sense that a celebrity would want to participate in a prestigious secret high-priced rare restaurant experience. But throwing real-life celebrities into the mix always takes you a little bit out of the story. I’m not sure that was the best choice.
And two, there comes a moment in the script where people are either going to eagerly stay on for the rest of the ride or hop off. That moment is when the Chef makes it clear that everyone is going to die tonight. And there are still three courses left when he announces this. I know they’re on an island. But I would at least try to escape. And yet outside of a weak attempt by one of the customers, everyone else accepts their fate.
The reason I still went along with it, though, is because everything leading up to that moment was so well-written and so well-constructed that I believed in this world 100%. If the script was sloppy and weak, I probably wouldn’t have bought in. That goes to show that readers will take the plunge into tough story sells if the writing is strong. I mean this script is so tight and so meticulous. There isn’t a single wasted moment. It all matters. It all works. I’m jealous.
A lot of people ask me what the difference is between a well-written script and a badly written script under the pretense of, “Isn’t it all just subjective?” If you really want to know the difference, put aside four hours and read last Wednesday’s script, First Harvest, and then this script. Every single aspect of this script is better. Clearly defined characters, memorable characters, tight plotting, dialogue that pops, conflict, mysteries, suspense, surprises, research, specificity.
The Menu is what screenwriting is all about.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[x] impressive (TOP 25!!!)
[ ] genius
What I learned: Above all, there’s an assuredness in The Menu where you know the writers have complete control over their story. Whereas, when you read First Harvest, you can sense the writer trying to figure things out on the page. It’s the opposite of assuredness. That’s a defining factor in strong screenwriters – having total control over your story.
Welcome to The Mandalorian Teleplay Chronicles. I will be reviewing every episode of The Mandalorian’s first season with an eye towards helping writers learn TV writing. Here’s a link to my review of the first episode here, a link to the second episode here, a link to episode 3 and here’s episode 4.
Genre: Sci-fi/Fantasy
Premise: The Mandalorian gets stuck on Tatooine where he must help a young bounty hunter pursue a dangerous assassin.
About: This is Episode 5 of The Mandalorian. Only three episodes left! Star Wars trivia maven Dave Filoni is back in the driver’s seat. But unlike the pilot episode, he’s not just directing here, he’s writing too, making this the first episode not written by Jon Favreau.
Writer: Dave Filoni
Details: 30-35 minutes.
“Mando!”
I love the way Carl Weathers calls out to the Mandalorian. There’s something vocally pleasing about mimicking the way he says it.
But I’ll tell you what I don’t love.
Dave Filoni’s writing.
This episode is about what you’d expect from the Star Wars Trivia Guy. A jaunt down memory lane. Lots of old Star Wars lines and Star Wars spots. It’s a fan service party. I’m sorry but Filoni needs to be placed back in the cartoon side of Star wars. He works best in situations where he can give characters pink helmets and have everyone say, “I have a bad feeling about this” twice an episode.
I’m tempted to spend the next 2000 words ripping this episode apart, but I want to stay true to the purpose of these articles and focus on improving our television writing.
For those who didn’t see the episode, here’s a recap.
After Mando injures his ship in a space battle, he flies down for repairs on Tatooine! You know, from the original Star Wars! Once he lands, we meet the extremely cartoonish Rhea Pearlman who I know isn’t Rhea Pearlman but I’m going to call her Rhea Pearlman. Rhea Pealman is a space port mechanic or something. She tells Mando she can’t fix his ship without deniro and Mando doesn’t have any. Uh-oh. What’s a bounty hunter to do?
Mando leaves Baby Yoda and his viral memes in the ship to grab a beer at, you guessed it, the Cantina bar from Star Wars! There he meets Toro Calican. If that’s not a fan fiction Star Wars name, I don’t know what is. I bet I could find a better name on one of those Star Wars name generator websites. Actually, I’m going to test that theory. Hold on. ——- Back! Here’s the first one they gave me: Thes Lerann. Already better.
Toro Calican, played by someone who took his first acting class last week, is sitting in the exact seat where we first met Han Solo and even sits the same way Han Solo does!! Toro is a young bounty hunter who needs help with a bounty out by the Dune Sea (THE DUNE SEA!? WAIT, DIDN’T LUKE REFERENCE THE DUNE SEA IN THE ORIGINAL STAR WARS!?!?). He says he’ll split the payout with Mando, which will allow Mando to pay for his ship repairs and blow this joint.
They head out to the Dune Sea and get in a sniper battle with the assassin. Realizing they need to get closer, they wait til night and use flash-bang explosions to blind her gun site. This makes it so she can’t shoot them as they approach. Eventually they capture her and she smooth-talks Toto Barnacle into going after Mando. Fortunately, Mando sniffs it out and defeats Toto first. The end.
Oh, and then there’s a cliffhanger where we see a random character’s feet.
The big problem with this TV series right now is that the show doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. When you’re writing serialized television, you want to connect the episodes as much as possible. You want multiple characters pursuing multiple things. You want unresolved conflict between characters. You want overarching goals, immediate goals. You want new relationships to form, old ones to fall apart. You want conflict at every turn. And you want it all to exist within a giant web of connectedness. All of this helps your show feel like it has purpose.
So it’s strange that The Mandalorian is doing the opposite of all these things.
Each episode is singular. Not only in its mission, but with its characters. The press tour for this show focused on all of these actors who were going to be a part of this series. But so far, all of them are only getting one episode. It’s bizarre.
We continue to watch because we’re Star Wars fans and this is a new way to enjoy the franchise. But they need to get their bantha s%$# together. What is the ultimate goal of this show? There’s no big bad guy. There aren’t any real unresolved conflicts between Mando and other characters. Maybe Greef Carga, but come on. He’s had 5 minutes of screen time.
And that’s another issue with the show. Every drama I’ve ever known has been in that 48 to 60 minute length. The reason for that is that dramas are about character and it takes time to develop characters. You have to experience them in a lot of different situations and witness a lot of their conversations in order to connect with them. We’re not doing any of that. When you combine that approach with these short individualized [side] quests, the experience feels as empty as talking to a droid.
It’s funny because one of the things I was worried about going into this series was whether Star Wars could work as a “talking heads” show. Yet here I am now begging for more talking heads. If we’re not invested in multiple character storylines in a show, we’re eventually going to tune out. Focusing on a single hero’s storyline is a feature game. This is television.
Okay, back to Filoni. Everything in this episode from the characters to the dialogue was cheesy and cartoonish. However, if you look back at the original Star Wars, you could argue that it’s cheesy and cartoonish as well. A major storyline in the second film is a man hunched over in a tiny hut talking to a green frog creature who speaks backwards. But the original Star Wars is still a thousand times better than this episode. So there’s a clear line between good cheesy and cartoonish and bad cheesy and cartoonish. Where is that line and how do you know if you’ve crossed it?
I think it’s a matter of degree.
If you create overly goofy characters, it’s hard to rein them in to anything approaching authenticity. The two characters Filoni introduced into this episode were Toto Barnacle and Rhea Pearlman. Rhea is WAAAAAY over the top. And Toto is WAAAAAY cheesy.
Interestingly, they’d probably work well in a cartoon. Cartoons embrace exaggeration whereas live action requires a sense of grounded-ness. Cartoon characters don’t possess the necessary depth to make you believe that they exist outside of the moments we see them. For example, can you imagine an average day with the Rhea Pearlman character? Of course not. She wasn’t constructed to exist in real life. She was constructed to bounce off the walls and give Mando dime store life lessons in five minutes of screen time. If you want characters who feel like real people (or real aliens!) you need to think of them beyond the scenes that you write for them.
And, actually, a great exercise is to sit down and write a typical day that your character goes through. Once you’re forced to think about the mundane moments of your character’s life, that’s when you really start to understand them. Filoni clearly hasn’t done that. And that’s why Toto sounds so cliche. You can’t get original lines out of a cartoon character. You only find original dialogue through a fully lived life.
That friend of yours who always seems to come up with the funniest most original observations – that didn’t come out of nowhere. His extensive life experiences shaped his reality and, over time, all of that built into a unique world view. It’s the same thing with characters. The more you know about them, the deeper the well there is to pull dialogue from. The less you know about them, the more you’ll rely on cliches. This is a monster point so I want to stress it:
The majority of generic and/or cliche dialogue comes from a lack of understanding of the characters speaking. The more you know about someone, the more specific their lines will be, moving you further and further away from cliche.
If there’s one thing I want you to take away from this misadventure, it’s the importance of character in television. Spend more time coming up with your characters. Try to get to know their pasts as much as possible. Think about the relationships of your characters in your show. Make them complicated and interesting and full of unresolved conflict. Think about their individual storyline throughout the season and think about how it will weave in and out of other characters’ storylines. And think about the arcs of your supporting characters. In features, it’s all about the hero. But in TV, everybody needs to arc and so everybody needs to be on their own difficult journey. That’s not happening in The Mandlorian, and if it doesn’t start happening soon, this show is in major trouble.
[x] What the hell did I just watch?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the stream
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: One of the reasons I’m not a huge Stranger Things fan is that, like The Mandalorian, they depend too much on fan service. Everything is a reference to something else. I like it when writers do the hard work and come up with fresh ideas. However, the one thing Stranger Things has over The Mandalorian is that it cares a lot more about character development. There’s a real desire to get to know what makes those characters tick that I’m not seeing in this show. You can only get by for so long on plot in TV. Sooner or later, you have to let us into multiple characters’ lives.
What I learned 2: Singular POV doesn’t work well in television. The Mandalorian is a Singular POV TV show. We see every scene through the hero’s eyes. The reason this is so hampering is because television depends heavily on great characters and if we’re limiting the point of view to just one person, we’ll only get to know the other characters through the limited point of view of our hero’s eyes. I mean even Star Wars cuts around to different points of view and that’s a feature. This is a strange choice that’s slowly killing the show.
Don’t forget. You have one week left to turn your script in for the HOLIDAY AMATEUR SHOWDOWN. Must be a late-year holiday-themed script. I’m giving you til next Thursday, December 12, at 8:00 pm Pacific Time. Send the title, genre, logline, why you think it deserves a shot, and, of course, a PDF of the script (you’d be surprised at how many people forget that part), to carsonreeves1@gmail.com
Genre: Action
Logline: A disaffected NYPD cop visiting her daughter in a state-of-the-art hospital is unwittingly caught in a hostage situation when extremists raid the building seeking the cure of a deadly virus.
Why You Should Read: I got my start writing for B-Movie King Roger Corman, which basically means your creative flexibility gets completely strapped by ultra-low budget constraints. I wrote “Hemorrhage” to break free of such restrictions and focus on telling a story about a hard-pressed mother struggling to mend old wounds between her sick daughter, albeit with armed extremists threatening to rip apart what little bond they have left. I love the thrill of a good action movie, especially ones with compelling antagonists whose motives aren’t simply black or white and make us truly fear for the principal characters’ lives. If you get a kick out of the same thing, then you’ll have a blast reading “Hemorrhage.”
Writer: Justin Fox
Details: 108 pages
When I conceived of Action Week, this is exactly what I imagined. A good old-fashioned balls-to-the-wall action flick. But I realized something while reading “Hemorrhage,” which is that reading action scripts is challenging. Action is meant to be experienced visually. It isn’t meant to be conveyed in words. There are only so many “He jumps,” “She shoots,” “They runs,” “It explodes,” a reader can take before they tune out.
This is why I encourage writers to come up with action concepts and set pieces that are unique in some way. The more uniqueness you can bring, the more you disrupt the pattern. “Gravity” comes to mind. That movie had so many unique action scenes because of the story’s unique setup. Or that library book attack scene in John Wick 3. That’s the sort of stuff you need to put on the page.
Let’s see how Hemorrhage fared in this department.
An American doctor in Afghanistan is trying to help contain a deadly virus when she, herself, gets infected. She’s tossed on a plane and flown back to New York City so she can be treated. Meanwhile, 35 year old cop Laken Atwood is finishing up the day’s beat so she can get to her daughter, Piper’s, lung surgery. Piper’s lung was punctured due to a car accident where Laken was driving. So Piper’s not exactly thrilled to see her mom.
While this is going on, terrorists led by creepy frenchman, Cedric, creepier fake doctor, Mateo, and Mateo’s angry younger sister, Ana, show up at the hospital the Afghanistan doctor is being sent to and start killing everyone they see. They then withdraw blood from the woman, which no doubt they will use to kill large portions of populations at some point in the future.
In case you were wondering, this is the same hospital Piper is staying at. So when Laken and Piper hear all the shooting, Laken knows it’s time to high-tail it out of here. There are a few problems though. One, Piper is connected to a computer thing that’s keeping her lung pumping. Two, Laken’s husband, Danny, is downstairs grabbing snacks. And three, New York is in the midst of a storm so bad the streets have turned into lakes.
Laken tries to construct an escape plan but the terrorists are on them quickly. Laken kills Emil AND Ana, which makes Mateo so angry, he momentarily ditches his plan to destroy the world so he can find this pesky cop and kill her. Eventually he’s able to get his hands on Piper and does the unthinkable – HE INJECTS HER WITH THE VIRUS!!! This gives Piper a couple of hours to live. So now Laken will have to retrieve her daughter from the terrorists and somehow find the vaccine before Piper bites it. Will she succeed?
I like what Fox did with his characters.
He made this about the mother-daughter relationship. A lot of action writers don’t care about character stuff. But if you can create characters who a) we want to root for, and b) have a conflict that we want to see resolved, we’re going to be a heck of a lot more invested in your story.
I also liked the way the setup made our hero’s job more challenging. Laken isn’t the female John McClane. She doesn’t get to roam free through a building wherever she wants. She has to protect her daughter who’s only got one lung and has to lug around an apparatus in order to breathe. That was good.
And my favorite part of the script was when they jammed the virus into Piper. Now you’ve got this literal ticking time bomb that’s going to go off ON TOP OF Laken needing to get her daughter back from the terrorists. All of that was great.
But every time it felt like this script took a step forward, it would take two steps back. Let’s start with the storm. If you’re using something to create a convenience in your story that is so big it could be a movie on its own, that’s a problem. Fox needed to create a reason why cops couldn’t just descend upon this hospital and rescue everyone. So we get a storm so intense it’s creating rivers on the streets. I don’t know if that’s ever happened in New York history. If the thing you’re using to plug up a pot hole is so big it could be its own film (A flooded New York City!), people aren’t going to buy it.
Then you had the dad. He was clearly the weakest character in the script. The guy goes missing for long stretches of time without an explanation. What I’m guessing happened is that Fox never truly understood the dad so there wasn’t any commitment to the character. All writers run into this problem. At a certain point, if you’re not going to fully commit to a character, you have to cut bait. The dad could’ve died a few years ago. He and Laken could be divorced and he lives in another state. But he definitely shouldn’t have been here in this hospital.
And, finally, I didn’t understand Mateo’s plan. At first we learn that the terrorists fighting for him are doing so because he planned to use this virus to save people. How do you use a virus to save people? It didn’t technically matter since he was lying to them and was always going to use it as a weapon, but we still have to buy into why the terrorists believed such a thing in the first place. And even once we learn that he’s going to use it as a weapon, it isn’t clear who he’s going to target or how. And then, late in the movie, we establish that Piper needs to get the vaccine which means that… there’s a vaccine. So how is this virus going to kill a bunch of people if we have a vaccine for it? As your villain’s ultimate plan emerges, we should feel more and more satisfied, not more and more confused.
But hey, this is Amateur Action Showdown. So what about the action, Carson!?
The action was fine. My favorite sequence was the sky-bridge. That felt unique to the situation and therefore it popped as the most memorable of the action sequences. But everything else was standard shoot-shoot-duck-hide-shoot-fight-shoot. There wasn’t a lot of creativity. I implore action writers everywhere to do as little of the generic action stuff as possible. We can get generic action anywhere. What action can we only get from your movie? Figure that out and you’re going to come up with tons more creative action scenes. Like the “attacked at the border highway” scene in Sicario. I’d never seen anything like that before.
This is probably stale advice to you, at this point. I talk about it all the time. But, it’s one of the main things that distinguishes the writers who stay stuck on the outside from the ones who make millions of dollars. The writers who can come up with original situations within the genres they specialize in will stand out PRECISELY BECAUSE the majority of writers do not bother to go the extra mile.
This isn’t to say Fox’s script was too generic. Not at all. It’s simply that it wasn’t creative enough. If I were to rate it on a scale of 1-10, I’d give it a 6. Which is respectable because most of the action scripts I read are 5 and below. I could even see Hemorrhage sneaking into the 9 or 10 slot on my Best Amateur Screenplays of the Year list. However, I think this script has another gear or two to it and that Fox needs to really push himself if he wants to get it there.
Script link: Hemorrhage
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: “The Baby Yoda” – In order to make your hero’s journey more difficult, add something fragile that they have to protect. In Mandalorian, it’s Baby Yoda. Here, it’s a physically impaired daughter.
