Genre: Apocalypse/Western
Premise: At the turn of the 22nd century, a Federal Marshal tracks his best friend’s murderer through the Utah badlands to an outlaw stronghold. To bring his man to justice, he must first take out 30 of the most lawless fugitives in the land and their leader, a shadowy figure from his past.
About: This script finished on 2011’s Brit List, the United Kingdom’s answer to the Black List. I have to admit that many of the scripts I’ve read off of the Brit List haven’t been very good, but every once in a while I run into a sleeper. I’m hoping this is the sleeper. Burnthaven is being developed by the producer of Slumdog Millionaire.
Writer: Sebastian Foster
Details: 106 pages (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).

I’m going to admit to something that might get me kicked off my own website. I saw Once Upon A Time In The West for the first time this year. Yes, you heard me correctly. I only just saw one of the most important movies in all of history. Here’s how clueless I was about the film. I actually thought that Clint Eastwood was in it. For the first 30 minutes, I kept shifting impatiently. “When the hell is Clint going to show up??” Well, Carson, it turns out Clint Eastwood isn’t in the movie. Which just pissed me off. If I’m going to watch a Western, I at least want to watch one with the genre’s most famous star.

But then something happened. The movie started to grow on me. In a really weird way too. I became baffled not only at the sheer amount of silence in the film, but how well it worked for it. It seemed like everyone was having these really long dialogue exchanges BUT WITHOUT ANY DIALOGUE. And then the score. Easily one of the most haunting scores you’ve ever heard. If you haven’t seen this movie, rent it. I guarantee it is unlike ANY movie you’ve seen before. It just has this strange energy to it that I can’t describe in words. Check it out.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, Westerns aren’t my thing. So when I pick them up, I usually do so begrudgingly. That changed when I saw the premise of this script. A Western set in the future? After the apocalypse? That’s something I could get on board with.

Burnthaven starts off in the dried up Utah plains in the mid-2100s. We’re not told much about the past, but from the decaying airplanes and oil tankers you see strewn about, you have a pretty good idea of what’s led us to this point.

“This point” is a world trying to get back on its feet. Marshall Robert Hudson, an honest but tough lawman, is one of those people leading the charge. Hudson and his deputy, Rigsby, are tending to a crashed “stagecoach” (horses towing a gutted Greyhound bus) when one of the survivors, a squirrely man named Cander, shoots and kills Rigsby in order to preserve his stash of water filters, which are the equivalent of gold out here in the water starved plains.

Cander steals a horse and gallops away, and Hudson makes it his mission to find and bring him back to justice. The problem is a group of local bandits, led by the soulless Toby Meeks, a mean African American senior with his face half burnt off, gets to Cander first, taking an interest in his water filters. They head back to Meeks’ hideout in Burnthaven, and Hudson follows them there.

Needless to say, Meeks and his crew rule the town with fear and are used to getting what they want. But they’ve never met a man like Hudson before, who doesn’t take no for an answer. At first Hudson tries to get Cander back the old-fashioned way, by asking politely, but Meeks shoots that idea down real quick. It becomes clear, then, that the only way Hudson is going to get his man is if he kills each and every one of these bandits. So that’s exactly what he does.

What I liked about Burnthaven was that I could actually imagine a world like this in a post-World War 3 United States. This isn’t the imaginary universe of The Road Warrior, where people dress up in exposed football pads and colored Mohawks. This is just bad people taking advantage of a bad situation going up against the good guys. And that’s how things are when shit hits the fan. The bad dudes rise up and start ruling the world with terror. So I appreciated the realism in how Foster approached this world.

However, as the script went on, I began to realize that nothing about the past played into the story at all. In fact, minus the water filters and the Greyhound bus shell, you could’ve easily plopped this story down into 1857 and it would have been the exact same movie. That bummed me out even more than realizing Clint Eastwood wasn’t in Once upon a Time in the West. I mean what’s the point of setting a Western in the future if you’re not going to take advantage of the future setting?

There were some strange story choices here as well. Hudson loses his best friend to a guy who killed him more out of fear than any genuine “badness.” So the guy we’re going after isn’t really a bad person. This may seem unimportant at first glance, but if we don’t hate the guy we’re going after, we’re not really going to care much if our hero catches him or not. I mean look at my third favorite unproduced script, The Brigands Of Rattleborge. In it, we see the man we’re chasing rape and kill our hero’s wife. That’s someone I want my protagonist to catch.

On top of this, our hero doesn’t even want to do anything bad to the guy. He just wants to take him back to his town and give him a trial. In the meantime, he’s ruthlessly killing the 30 men who are holding him. So let me get this straight. He believes in justice and a trial for the man who killed his best friend, but anybody who gets in the way of that justice needs to be killed? Am I the only one who thinks this doesn’t make sense?

On top of all this, the script just becomes repetitive. Our main character is killing 30 people and he painstakingly counts them down one by one. After about the seventh kill, all I could think was, “I have to wait for 23 more of these??” And that’s exactly what happened. We just waited and waited as Hudson would kill these people one after another. Is there any way we could make it, like, 6 people?

I am willing to admit that this isn’t my genre. It seems like there’s a different set of rules in Westerns that I don’t get. Specifically, there seems to be this theme of honor that’s hit on in these films. So maybe Western fans like the fact that Hudson is trying to stay honorable in all of this instead of simply killing the guy who killed his best friend. I guess there’s some logic in that. But it still seems strange to me that he’s willing to kill 30 people to get that justice. Anyway, I couldn’t get into this one. I didn’t think it was very good.

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

What I learned: You have to commit to your plot points. If you don’t know or care about what’s going on, we won’t either. I’m referring specifically to the water filter plot. What do the water filters have to do with anything here besides initiating Cander’s killing of Rigsby? From what I understand, Meeks thought Cander had hidden a stash of them, which is why he doesn’t kill him right away. He wants to locate them first. But after that, Meeks just forgets about the filters. In fact, I don’t think they’re ever brought up again. What this tells me is that the writer didn’t fully think through this plot and is trying to fudge it. The biggest tell of this fudging is the fact that we don’t we see a single person in the entire movie THIRSTY!!! How can you expect us to commit to a storyline about needing water when nobody in the movie mentions a need for water??? Contrast this with the animated film Rango. Watch that movie and see how much emphasis is put on the lack of water and how that plays out throughout the movie. You don’t get to simply abandon major plot points in your movie because you don’t want to try and figure them out. That’s lazy and amateur hour.

Genre: Thriller/Drama
Premise: A man inherits a huge piece of land in Montana only to learn that it comes with an enormous price: a longstanding blood feud with the neighbors.
About: This is a 2011 Blood List script that will go into production later this year. Adam Wingard will direct (Pop Skull, A Horrible Way To Die). This is what he had to say after reading the script: “I was instantly attracted to the authentic 70’s style grittiness and the Terrence Malick/Sam Peckinpah feel of the script. It’s got this sweeping scope that takes you in, lifting you up as it explores the beauty and mystery of nature, and then tears it all apart with sheer brutality and violence.”
Writers: Alex and Max Schenker
Details: 102 pages – August 1, 2011 draft (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).

I don’t know what I was expecting when I picked this one up, but it definitely wasn’t what I got. Punchbowl’s about a young man named Dylan Massey, a 24 year old slaughterhouse grunt who’s probably going to be killing cows for the rest of his life. The only light in his life is Savannah King – the beautiful woman who puts up with him. Dylan knows that Savannah’s too good for him. And he knows that the second she realizes it, she’s out the door. Which is why he wants to provide a better life for her. Unfortunately, there aren’t many opportunities for a better life in rural West Texas.

And then Dylan wins the lottery, in a manner of speaking. Dylan’s grandfather just died and in the will left him a 4500 acre estate in Montana. People don’t have 4500 acre estates anymore. That’s like owning your own country. So at first Dylan is skeptical, but is corralled into driving up there by Savannah, his best friend Garrett, and Garret’s girlfriend Isabella.

The place is GORGEOUS. It’s like what the pioneers must have seen when they first travelled across America. And it’s all Dylan’s. He immediately asks Garrett to move up and work with him. They’ll be millionaires, living the life they always dreamed of. The girls are just as excited. It’s all like a dream come true.

Heh heh heh. Or so they think.

Our group gets the first hint that something’s wrong when they head into town. Everybody there is just NOT friendly. Lots of glaring. Lots of avoiding. They eventually run into the Sheriff, who tells them what’s up. There’s been a generations-old feud going on between the Masseys and their neighbors, the Shores. Dozens of Masseys and dozen Shores have been killed over the years. And word on the street is that Dylan’s next.

It’s not surprising then that they get home to see the words “Go away” on their front porch written in pig blood. Everybody’s freaking out, wondering if they should leave. But you don’t voluntarily wake up from a dream. You sleep for as long as you can.

So Dylan gets this crazy idea that he’s going to end the feud. He saunters over to Fallon Shore’s place, the most evil man you can imagine, and says he wants to talk. He’ll agree to give Fallon a few hundred acres if he ends the feud. Fallon wants to know if the acres include a water stream (known as “The Devil’s Punchbowl” because of how much blood has been shed over it). Dylan says “no” and Fallon says he’s sorry, but that means the feud is on. And boy is it ever. That night, these men are going to give a whole new meaning to the word “Hell.”

Man, this was a weird one. It was weird good for the most part, but for everything the Schenker brothers did right, they seemed to drop the ball on something else. The biggest issue with the screenplay for me was how abruptly it ended. So much time is put into the setup here that when we finally got to the actual feud, there were only 30 pages left, and that wasn’t NEARLY enough to tell the story. This is the kind of story that needs time to breath, and it would’ve had that time had it gotten to its story sooner.

This is why you always hear the advice: “Move your story along quickly.” Especially the setup. And especially in a movie like this where the central plot is 1500 miles from where the story begins. We needed to get to Montana sooner, establish the danger sooner, and then we could’ve worked our way through a few escalating skirmishes before we got to the big battle. As it stood, all we had was the big battle, which was sort of like being fed the main course without the drinks, bread, and salad. I kept thinking, “But we don’t even know the Shores yet. We’ve had like, two scenes with them. I’m not ready for a final confrontation.”

Another misguided choice was giving Dylan and Isabella (Garret’s girlfriend) a secret romance. Sometimes we can get so obsessed with adding conflict, that we add it even when the script doesn’t need it. Sure, a Dylan and Isabella affair created conflict and some dramatic irony, but it ultimately had nothing to do with the plot. It was only there to be there. And since the conflict between the families was SO intense, adding a silly affair plot almost seemed annoying, like something we have to put up with in order to get to the good stuff. I’m not saying to never add conflict between the group in movies like this, but if you force it, we’re going to notice, and that’ll kill our suspension of disbelief.

On the plus side there’s something very authentic about the details in this script. I FELT like I was in Texas. I FELT like I was in Montana. I felt like these characters were real people. And on top of that, these brothers can write. There were some great moments in Punchbowl. There’s a creepy scene where a townie approaches Savannah at the grocery store, starts massaging her pregnant belly, and asks her what it’s like to have the devil inside of her (a Massey). There’s also a great dinner scene where Dylan invites the Shores over for a truce talk that is just laced with tension. That’s when Punch Bowl was at its best. That’s where this script really shined.

And boy is Fallon a GREAT bad guy. You work so hard to create memorable villains in your screenplays yet so many of them come off as sloppy copycats of much better villains of past films. Fallon is just a nasty man. But more importantly, you believe in him. And you hate him. And you want to see him go down. If you can create a villain that gets to the audience THAT much, you’ve taken care of 60% of your movie. Just that NEED to see him burn, to breathe his last breath, can power an audience’s interest.

But ultimately this script is a mixed bag. It alienates you at the same time that it pulls you in. For example, there was all this senseless animal violence. And the feud itself was too vague. I mean we’re told that the town is split in its support for the families. But we never meet anybody who supports the Masseys. And then of course, there’s this sudden ending, where it feels like someone accidentally skipped 15 chapters on the DVD and threw us into the final climax. I wanted to see more of a build up there. I wanted to see more conflict between the families. Besides all that though, this is too interesting not to recommend.

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

What I learned: Whenever you have a story that has your hero(es) moving to a new town, you want to get to that town as SOON as possible. That’s because in addition to setting up your character’s CURRENT life, you’re going to have to set up their NEW life (and their new town). That’s two consecutive setup sequences, which is a lot of screenplay real estate. This is why you see most “new town” screenplays STARTING with the characters arriving in the new town. The Karate Kid for example (I know, I know, completely different movie) – we start with them arriving in California. Now in this case, the Schenkers wanted to establish the characters’ shitty lives before they got lucky, which is a choice I support. But we don’t get to Montana until page 35. That’s WAAAAAAY too long. We should be there AT THE LATEST by page 25, and preferably by page 20. Montana is where the meat of the story is so that’s where we need to be.

Genre: Indie Comedy
Premise: A couple of Canadian losers drive down to New York to try and sell Christmas Trees. Dumb and Dumber meets Sideways.
About: Melissa James Gibson is a well-known Canadian playwright. As far as I can tell, this is her first screenplay sale. Paul Giamatti and his wife are producing the film. Giamatti and Paul Rudd will be playing the lead characters. Phil Morrison is directing. Morrison is best known for the well-received 2005 film, Junebug. Strangely, he hasn’t made a film since.
Writer: Melissa James Gibson
Details: 115 pages – 3/11/11 draft (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).

The only thing I knew about this one when I started reading it was that Paul Giamatti was involved. He usually makes interesting choices so I was in. Later I discovered Paul Rudd had been cast and started wondering what the tone of the script was. Afterwards, I’m still searching for that tone. This is a weird script, starting with the premise.

Guy is a 42 year-old Quebecian who just got out of a 5 year jail stint for burglary. Guy is a thief. A lifer in the trade. Except he’s ready to end that life. Guy wants to go on the straight and narrow. So after being released, he heads home to reunite with his wife and eight year old daughter. But there’s a problem. Actually, there’s a couple of problems. His wife went ahead and told their daughter Guy had died. It was apparently too hard to tell her the truth. So Guy can’t even come into the house. He can’t meet and talk to his daughter. Which makes absolutely no sense of course. If I have a daughter who thinks I’m dead, I’m walking in and telling her I’m not. I’m sure she’ll get over it.

Anyway, that’s just the beginning. Guy tasked his old partner in crime, Rene (the one I believe got away on the job that put Guy in jail) with taking care of his wife while he was gone. Well Rene takes care of her all right. If by “taking care” you mean “has lots of sex with.” Now his wife loves Rene, and his daughter thinks of him as her father. In two words: Not good.

Well at least Rene still has all the money from their last job, right? Umm, not really. When Guy goes to collect his half of the loot that he’s been waiting 5 years for, he finds out Rene has spent it all. Nice! That leaves both of them broke. Guy wants to know how they’re going to make money – legally, but Rene isn’t being very helpful. He says he’s going down to New York to sell Christmas trees with a friend. Guy says, “Ditch the friend. You’re going with me. And we’re splitting the money.” Rene reluctantly agrees and off the two go to New York.

Once there, Guy realizes that Rene doesn’t have any of this planned out. He doesn’t even have a Lot to sell the trees on! So they start selling trees out of the back of their truck. It becomes clear that Rene is a total moron and Guy gets more impatient with him every minute because of it. Eventually, the duo start poaching on an empty lot, and things pick up. So how does this all end? Why they decide to steal a piano of course! “Huh?” You ask. “What does that have to do with a movie about selling Christmas Trees?” Beats me. Welcome to Lucky Dog.

Where to begin with Lucky Dog. Let’s start with the title, which has absolutely nothing to do with the story. That’s usually a bad sign and a harbinger of things to come. That’s followed by a nonsensical “you can’t talk to your daughter because she thinks you’re dead” sub-plot. Then, out of nowhere, the script becomes about selling Christmas trees (What does selling Christmas trees have to do with a movie about a couple of thieves?). By the midpoint I had no idea what the script was about or what was going on.

I wasn’t even sure what they were doing this for. To make money? Okay, fine. But for what? What was the ultimate goal? To make money so they could have… money? That’s not a goal. Making money for the sake of making money is never going to entertain an audience. They need a point – a REASON for wanting to make money. Somewhere near the end we learn that Rene’s going to use the money to provide for Guy’s wife and kid. Which didn’t make any sense because the whole time in New York, all Rene wanted to do was fuck other women. And I guess the reason Guy wanted the money was to buy his daughter a piano? Except we didn’t find this out until 15 pages before the ending. Strange.

Then there’s the baffling relationship between the two main characters. Rene is fucking Guy’s wife. But this isn’t a secret. Guy knows about it. Yet he never raises a stink about it. He gets annoyed every once in awhile, but all in all doesn’t seem to mind much. Here’s a scenario for you. Before you go to jail for five years, you task your best friend with watching your wife. You come back to find out he’s fucking her. Do you say anything to him or just continue your friendship like nothing happened? Apparently in this universe, you opt for the latter. That’s what was so damn strange about this script. There were so many illogical aspects about it that it was impossible to take any of it seriously.

Luckily, once they get to New York and settle in, the script FINALLY starts to find its groove. Once it became solely about selling Christmas trees, I at least understood the story. There is some funny stuff in there, such as the two believing they can sell Christmas trees on a lot that isn’t theirs.

Also, thank God for Olga, the woman who befriends Gary after buying a tree. She was the only character in the entire script who was exciting – who jumped off the page. There was an honesty and a vibrancy to her that none of the other characters had. I wondered why she was so head and shoulders above the other characters and I later found out that the script was written by a woman (I just assumed it was a man because it was a script about two guys on a road trip). Naturally, I wondered if she simply understood the female voice better, being a woman. That may sound sexist but I can’t think of any other reason why all the guy characters were muddled and she was so well defined. I actually would’ve LOVED a lot more of Olga. When she first appeared, I thought, “Thank God!” This script needed a woman – a love story. But then she disappears for the majority of the script until the strange piano theft finale.

I don’t know how to conclude this. Lucky Dog was just all over the place. The story was weird. The characters were odd. Nobody’s actions made much sense. The goal was vague. I felt like I was on a backwards merry-go-round being juggled by Godzilla. I never knew which direction was up.

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

What I learned: Maybe you guys can help me here. I’m all for a writer being “different.” I’m all for a script making unconventional choices and constantly surprising you. In fact, I often advocate for that kind of thing. I love not knowing what’s coming next. But there seems to be a line where once you cross it, “different” becomes “confusing/frustrating.” Sure, the script is giving us something we’ve never quite seen before. Plot points are unique. Characters don’t act like we expect them to. But the combination is so off-kilter that we can’t identify with anything – we can’t find our “bearings” so to speak. And that “unique” script ends up being confusing and weird. I don’t know where that line is, I just know when it’s crossed. And here it was crossed. No matter what I did, I could never get a feel for what this script was or what it wanted to be. It was simply all over the place.

Genre: Thriller
Premise: A newly separated mother finds herself attracted to the 17 year old boy who moves in next door. But when she abruptly ends the romance, he’s not ready to give up on her.
About: The Boy Next Door was featured on this year’s Blood List. Barbara Curry is known for another highly acclaimed script titled “Talk Of The Town,” which was featured in UCLA’s prestigious Screenwriters Showcase Event. And there’s another thing about Barbara. She’s HOT! If you don’t believe me, go check out her interview here.  I am officially starting the Barbara Curry fan club. Who wants to join?
Writer: Barbara Curry
Details: 105 pages – undated (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).

First thing I noticed about The Boy Next Door was how tight the spacing was. Hmmmmm. Barbara? Are you trying to pull one over on us here? It looks like someone got a little scrunchy with their First Draft settings. On any other day, I’d hold it against the writer. But today I’m smitten. So I’ll let it go.

High school teacher Claire Peterson is having a rough go of it lately. She’s recently split up with her hubby and is taking care of her teenage son, Kevin, all by herself. At home things are fine but she’s got a front row seat to Kevin getting bullied at school every day. She desperately wants to do something about it but knows that butting in will probably just make it worse.

Claire’s got her own issues as well. She’s suuuuuper uptight. Her best friend Vicky, a fellow teacher, is begging her to go out and have some crazy wild animal sex so she can loosen up. But Claire’s not ready for that yet. She may have kicked her hubby to the curb, but that doesn’t mean she’s not conflicted about it.

And then everything changes. A new family moves in next door, starring model-esque 17 year old Noah Sandborn. Noah looks more like a man than a boy, and he immediately befriends Kevin, making it nearly impossible for Claire to ignore him. Pretty soon he’s chatting her up and she finds herself taken by the muscle bound youngster.

Claire is a different person around Noah. She feels sexy, desired, lustful. One thing Claire isn’t feeling though is lawful. Cause one night when she’s drunk, she takes a spin on the Noah-mobile. Noah is thrilled with this development but when Claire wakes up the next morning, she’s in damage control mode. What the HELL did she just do??? She tells Noah that she’s sorry. This was all just a mistake, and does the dart-of-shame.

Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be a problem. But Noah lives right next to Claire. Noah’s best friends with her son. Noah sits front and center in one of her classes. In other words, wherever Claire goes, Noah is waiting. And he *really* wants to get back together.

Claire tries desperately to get her son to stop hanging out with Noah. But the guy’s become Kevin’s own personal bully-buster. That and there’s no perfect way to say, “Hey son. You know your best friend? I kind of had sex with him the other night. So could you ignore his texts?” I mean you thought the “birds and the bees” conversation was tough.

There’s probably a lesson to take out of all of this. Oh yeah: DON’T HAVE SEX WITH ONE OF YOUR HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS. But hindsight is 20/20, and Claire’s going to need more than a lesson plan to get out of this one.

The Boy Next Door is pretty good. I don’t think it’s going to knock anybody’s welcome mat off, but for what it’s trying to be – Fatal Attraction with a twist – it does a good job.

I will say this about the script. It’s PERFECT for studying dramatic irony. Once Noah and Claire have sex, virtually every scene contains some aspect of dramatic irony. In the classroom, Noah will press Claire on a question. Since nobody in the class knows what happened between them, their exchange is dripping with dramatic tension. At home, whenever Noah, Claire, and Kevin are together, Kevin is unaware of their secret, which means that each exchanged word is laced with subtext.

In fact, this script is further proof of how effective the “add a third person to the scene” rule is. Lots of scenes become more interesting once you add a third person (or people). I mean imagine Noah and Claire having that same conversation OUTSIDE of the classroom, without the rest of the class listening. There’s no more subtext. Imagine Claire and Noah having conversations without Kevin around. Those same electric scenes become dry and boring.

And I’m going to stay on my “unresolved relationships in your second act” kick here. Notice that there are TWO unresolved relationships in the movie. The first one is obvious. Claire and Noah. But we also have one between Claire and her husband, Gary. Claire needs to come to terms with what Gary did to her and decide whether she’s going to take him back or not. Barbara could’ve added a third unresolved relationship if she wanted – that between Claire and her son, Kevin. But she chose to keep that relationship fine.

Personally, I think three unresolved relationships is the perfect amount for your second act. There are 50-60 pages in your second act which gives you about 20 pages for each – the perfect amount of time. But it all depends on HOW much is going on in each of those relationships. If you have two REALLY POWERFUL relationships that have ups and downs and breakups and reconciliations, you may not need that third relationship. It’s up to you.

Another interesting thing to note about this script is that there’s no real goal. I’ve found that in these types of thrillers (The Hand That Rocks The Cradle, Single White Female) the train-wreck nature of the relationship is enough to drive the story. So there’s nothing big that Claire has to achieve here until late in the script, when she must scramble to fix what she’s broken. This is a little confusing, I know. But that’s how these movies work.

On the downside, I wasn’t a big fan of how easily Claire fell into Noah’s clutches. I mean he had her drooling from the very first conversation. Within like two scenes he’s asking her about her failed marriage and she’s chatting away like she’s at lunch with the girls. This is a 17 YEAR OLD BOY SHE’S TALKING TO! You’d think she’d show a little more restraint. At least initially.

I also thought people bumped into each other too easily in the story. It seemed like every other scene, one of our characters would magically BUMP into another one randomly. This is a little talked about area of screenwriting but an important one. You can’t just have characters bump into each other because you, the writer, need to have a scene between them. It has to be natural. You have to come up with seamless ways for them to meet. This is usually annoying work. It’s not creative and not very fun. But it pays off because it keeps your story seamless. If we become aware that the writer is manipulating the characters, the story spell is broken.

But overall, The Boy Next Door was fun and silly. A guilty pleasure of sorts. I had a good time with it and therefore recommend the read!

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

What I learned: In most movie romances, you want the pursuer to have to EARN the romance. This is a MOVIE. It’s no fun when anything lands in a character’s lap. You need conflict. Doubt. That’s what makes the romance (the pursuit) interesting. Here, Claire is ready to fuck Noah from the first moment they meet. That’s not very interesting. She probably should’ve resisted him more. Noah should have had to EARN the romance. Look at Titanic. Jack doesn’t just slide up to Rose and say, “Hey girl, nice hat,” and they’re banging in the boiler room 10 minutes later. He has to STOP HER FROM COMMITTING SUICIDE. I’d say that’s earning the romance.

A couple of weeks ago Sean O’Keefe sold his pitch, Riders On The Storm, to Fox for half a million dollars. The script is about a heist crew that pulls off sophisticated robberies during severe storms. I realized we don’t talk about pitching very much on the site, even though it’s a huge part of the business. Oftentimes, after you meet someone about your script, you’ll pitch them other projects you’re working on.  So I thought Sean would be the perfect person to ask, “What’s this pitching thing all about?”  Sean is also currently writing a film adaptation of “Apaches” for producer Jerry Bruckheimer and Disney Pictures about the NYPD along with writing partner Will Staples.  Enjoy the interview.

SS: Can you tell us how you got started in screenwriting? What was your background leading up to it? Did you do anything else film-related?

SO: I grew up between two isolated worlds – a cabin in Alaska with no running water and a draconian boarding school in England. As a result movies for me were always a way of feeling connected with the outside world. My final semester in college, I decided to write a spec based on Milton’s “Paradise Lost” and some family friends hooked me up with a meeting with veteran screenwriter Jay Cocks who had worked with Scorsese on “The Age of Innocence.” Jay told me I was crazy – Hollywood would never make it – so I let the idea go. Now, of course, Alex Proyas is making a film based on the material. It’s the same lessen I’ve learned a hundred times: follow your gut no matter what because it’s all you have.

After paralegalling in New York my first year out of school and writing two painfully bad scripts on my lunch breaks, I moved out to LA and worked in development first for Neal Moritz at Original Film then Michael Ovitz at APG, the film production arm of AMG. I then co-founded a film and video game production company called Union Entertainment with Rich Leibowitz.

Around that time, my father passed away and I spent a week in ICU waiting for the inevitable to happen. It turned out to be a period of reckoning for me. I realized you only have so much time to do what you want in life, so I made the choice to return to screenwriting.

SS: When was the first time you got paid to write? How many scripts had you written before you got that first paycheck?

SO: The first time I got paid was in 2003 with my former writing partner, Will Staples. We had gone out with a Mayan period piece spec (my fifth script at that point) that didn’t sell but was well received for the writing and two weeks later Sony called up and asked if we wanted to write King Tut for Roland Emmerich. We came up with a take, Roland and the studio liked it, and the rest is ancient history…

SS: I’ll be murdered if I don’t ask this question. But how did you get your agent?

SO: I was lucky in that in my capacity as a producer and exec I had dealt directly with a number of agents and managers around town. My agent, Nicole Clemens at ICM, and my manager, Brian Lutz, were both reps who were excellent at representing their clients when I was on the other side of the table. When it came time for me to devote myself to writing again, they were the first people I reached out to.

SS: In your opinion, what’s the most difficult thing about screenwriting, and what’s the best way to tackle that difficulty?

SO: Knowing that I am writing for an audience is the hardest aspect of the process for me. The moment I look up from the page and see the faces in the proverbial crowd – studio execs, agents, managers, other writers – I feel stage fright setting in. I start to second guess myself. I wonder if I have the right character for my story or the wrong story for my character. I fall into the trap of perfectionism. The trick is to write as if you are writing purely for yourself, but it’s easier said than done. Oddly, Donald Rumsfeld had some wisdom in this arena: “You go to war with the army you have, not the army you might want.” Eventually, you have to stop second guessing yourself and charge into battle.

SS: You’ve obviously been out there, talked to producers, have a beat on their needs. What do producers want these days? Are there some common genres they’re asking for? Do they want the “Next Twilight?” The “Next found footage” script? What are you hearing?

SO: Everybody thinks they want the thing that just performed at the box office but the truth is that they want the next great idea that walks through the door. Your job is to bring them that next great idea. I’ve never been very good at forecasting what the market wants and then tailoring my output accordingly. I run with the movie I most want to write and hope that others feel as excited about it as I do…

Disappointment, however, lurks around every corner in this process. That is why I have a personal rule of thumb, which is my ‘one in ten’ rule. That is for every ten swings at bat you connect with one ball. For every ten meetings or reads, someone connects with what you are trying to do. It’s fuzzy math, but it helps to keep your expectations in check. Not everyone is going to resonate with what you’re doing. But that’s okay – you only need one in ten to actually make real progress. Every studio passed on our Mayan epic, but one liked the writing enough to call us back in. That one call gave birth to our career.

SS: We were having this debate the other day on the site. Should an unknown writer try to break in with something heartfelt and personal to them – something that will bring out their best writing? Or should they write something high concept and marketable, even though they won’t be as emotionally attached to the writing?

SO: Stick with the cliché of writing what’s in your heart. It’s a cliché for a reason. But if it’s a big summer action movie that’s in your heart, then consider yourself lucky.

SS: If you could go back in time and give your younger screenwriter self some advice on how to get to the professional level faster, what would you tell him?

SO: Four things…

Write as much as you can. It’s all about clocking the hours and getting words on the page. In the Gladwellian sense you need to get in your 10,000 hours, so the sooner the better.

Write, rewrite, then move on. Don’t get stuck trying to overly perfect a script in the beginning. You will learn more from cracking a new story than you will from debating where to place your commas.

Avoid the Freshman Writer Trap. The problem is that in the beginning many new writers think they’re the next Robert Towne – and perhaps they will turn out to be – but it will likely take years to know. Don’t assume that you shit gold from the get-go. The likelihood is that your first few scripts will be abominations in hindsight (at least mine were). Humility will keep you open to constructive criticism and ensure that you are learning and progressing.

Run your writing career like a producer. Have a slate of projects – one or two that you are focused on at any point in time and the others that you continue to inch forward as the opportunity arises. Never have just one baby. This is Hollywood. There is no safety net. You need to have a Third World family of projects because sadly not all of them are going to survive.

SS: What is a pitch meeting and how does one go about getting one? Does an agent read your latest script and ask you to come in? Is it something your agent works to set up? Is it you having a previous relationship with the producers and saying, “Hey, I got this new idea I want to come in and pitch you?” How does a writer get one of these things!?

A pitch is a meeting where you make a verbal presentation of a story that you want to sell so that you can be paid in advance to write it as a script.

The three essential ingredients to a pitch are having a sample script that people already like, a story to pitch, and an agent to set the meetings.

Pitches can arise in two basic ways. First, you tell your agent you have a pitch you want to take out to the town and they set meetings with producers who then take it into studios where they have their strongest relationships. Second, a producer brings you an idea and you take it out to the town exclusively with them attached.

SS: With your recent pitch sale, were you going in to specifically pitch them this project – with both sides already knowing what you were going to pitch them? Or was it something that emerged during the course of the meeting?

SO: The pitch meetings were specific to this project, which is the way it typically goes down, but there are exceptions. For example, on “World’s Most Wanted,” a spy thriller we set up at Universal, the original pitch was about a Mexican drug cartel but the exec didn’t respond to the subject matter. He did, however, like the team-versus-team dynamic of the story and said if we could come with a new subject, he would be interested. So we did several weeks of research and found a real-life NATO team that hunts the world’s most wanted criminals. We went back in, employing a similar story with the new subject, and he bought it. It was proof that you can never tell which direction a project is going to break, but you’ll never know unless you try.

SS: Can you tell us how a pitch that leads to a sale works? Are they all different? Do they tell you right there in the room “yes, we’re buying this?” Or does it happen afterwards, once they’ve checked with their superiors?

SO: I dream of the ‘in room’ sale, and I know it has happened to others, but I haven’t been the recipient of that kind of spontaneous largesse yet. For me, selling a pitch has always entailed an agonizing wait – sometimes a few hours, sometimes a few days. Now that the studios have more leverage and they are more picky about what they buy than when I started in the business, they aren’t in the same real-time rush to respond that they used to be back in the glory days of the mid-90s spec market when high concept ideas with poor execution seemed to sell on almost a daily basis. Now execs seem more afraid of being left holding the bag on a project than they do being left out of a sale.

The truth is that very few people at the studio have the authority to buy a pitch without running it up someone else’s flagpole first. If you happen to be in the room with someone who can say ‘yes’ then you’re already doing something very right – in which case keep it up!

SS: People talk about different kinds of pitches. There’s the 5 minute pitch. The 10 minute pitch. And like the longer 20 minute pitch where you pitch the whole movie. I can’t imagine a busy producer able to concentrate for 20 minutes on any writer. Do you follow this formal time-specific pitch list or do you just do it your own way?

SO: I think it depends on where you are in your career as a writer and what the nature of the pitch is – i.e. are you pitching on a rewrite the studio has submitted to you, or are you pitching an original of your own. If it’s a rewrite, and your stock is high with the studio, you can get away with a more limited pitch – i.e. “Here are the three major problems with the existing script and here’s how I would address them.” Your presentation will then likely lead into a more informal conversation with the exec.

However, if it’s an original then your choice is more problematic and the decision to go long or brief depends on a number of factors… How established are you (i.e. how much does the studio already want to be in business with you)? If you are one of the lucky few hot scribes around town then you can probably get away with the ‘less is more’ approach. If not, you might want to incorporate more detail in your presentation. The risk is that you will lose the exec’s attention and give them more to pass on, but the upside is that if you do manage to hold their attention you want them to know that you have this story worked out in enough detail that you feel confident writing it.

Another factor to consider is what kind of story it is. If it’s a rom-com in a familiar setting like a wedding then you probably don’t need to sweat establishing the world in great detail. But if you’re pitching a sci-fi or action film that takes place in an original or arcane world, then you probably want to lead with an explanation of the setting of the story so the exec can better visualize what you are talking about and understand the consequences of your dramatic choices based on the rules of the universe you are drawing from.

However…if I had a gun to my head and had to give you an ideal pitch length, I would say 12 minutes. Beyond that any exec is bound to start wondering whether they’re going to have sashimi or the dragon roll for lunch.

SS: Can you give us any tips for nailing a pitch? It’s such a different art form from writing itself. What do you think the key is?

SO: You have to know your strengths and play to them, and by that same token know your weaknesses and try to avoid them or compensate for them. If you’re good with banter, then reduce the length of your pitch and put more weight on the Q&A with the exec where you respond to their questions and observations on the fly. If you feel more confident memorizing your pitch word for word and creating a more airtight presentation, then go for that. It’s a personal choice. No one size fits all.

In addition, try to get into the pitch itself as quickly as you can. Most execs are busy and under a lot of pressure. They’re only going to be able to listen to so much of you talk, no matter how enthralling you are. Dedicate as many words as you can in the meeting to your story, not how awesome your Cabo bachelor party was or that you just hit level 85 in World of Warcraft.

Lastly, make it personal. You’re trying to convince your audience that you have this story inside of you – that you’re going to burst if you don’t get it out, and that you’re the one person who can tell it. You have to walk into the pitch believing that you’re entering with a briefcase full of diamonds and that they’d be crazy to let you walk out with it. Only never carry a briefcase into a pitch…