Genre: Whimsical Dramedy
Premise: A young man makes the all important second round of a mission to Mars contest, and begins his training, despite the fact that everyone in town thinks the contest is a scam.
About: This script snuck onto the 2016 Black List, grabbing 6 votes. The project, written by Rebecca Banner, got some initial heat, attaching newbie director Sam Boyd (In A Relationship), but struggled to get money in that all-important financing stage. Contrary to popular belief, Rebecca Banner is not the mother of Marvel cinematic hero, Bruce Banner.
Writer: Rebecca Banner
Details: 106 pages

Ah, the Delusional Adventurist sub-genre. One of the most beloved by writers, yet one of the hardest to execute.

From The Fisher King to Field of Dreams to Nebraska to K-Pax to Safety Not Guaranteed, the temptation of writing these movies is their adult fairy tale nature. We may have outgrown our knights and princesses saving the day. But boy would we like to write about a guy who puts an ad in the paper asking for a partner to go back in time with him.

I wrote a Delusional Adventurist script back in the day about a guy who believed he could use the junk in his dead father’s junk yard to build a satellite receiver that would allow him to talk to his father again. Yeah, um, that script didn’t go anywhere. But boy did I love writing it. This genre really allows you to use your imagination and have fun. And isn’t that what writing movies is all about?

27 year-old Alex lives in a small town in the middle of nowhere and has recently learned that he’s made the all-important second round of the Mission Mars Space Program Contest, which will put him in a ship with a group of fellow astronauts to fly to Mars where they’ll live the rest of their lives. Alex takes the mission very seriously and starts preparing immediately, even though they don’t leave for another 10 years.

Alex’s sister, Liz, considers Alex’s obsession with this Mars mission embarrassing. Everyone knows that the company is a scam. They’ll never be able to put this thing together. So Alex prancing around town telling anyone who will listen that he’s a Mars astronaut is not only making him look bad, but the rest of the family as well.

Alex decides that because a Mars trip is dangerous, he should probably take out a life insurance policy, so he heads into the local insurance office where he meets Daisy, who just moved into town. When Alex tells Daisy he’s going to Mars, she can’t stop laughing, until she realizes he’s serious. Um, okay, she says, I guess we’ll write up a policy for you.

Daisy takes a liking to Alex, but Alex makes it clear that they can’t get too close. He must put all of his focus into training. Even though, based on what’s in the script, Alex’s training amounts to walking around town aimlessly. Eventually, we learn that Alex and Liz had a brother, Christopher, who died last year, and that maybe this is playing into Alex’s Mars’ obsession. When you need a little extra drama, why not throw in a dead family member backstory, right? Will Alex finally face reality and be with this amazing girl? Or is he stuck living in a fantasy world the rest of his life?

So how do you make the Delusional Adventurist genre work? Well, for starters, you have to figure out if your hero is smart or dumb. For example, Ray (Kevin Costner) in Field of Dreams is smart. Kenneth, in Safety Not Guaranteed, is not smart. The story is completely different depending on which route you take. And this was Space Oddity’s biggest misstep. I had no idea who Alex was. At first I thought he was dumb. Then I thought he may have been on the spectrum. Then I thought he was of average intelligence but just in a daze since his brother died.

Let me make something clear to all writers out there. If the reader doesn’t understand who your hero is, you’re screwed. Nothing else you do in the screenplay will matter because we don’t have a handle on the person who’s taking us on the journey. This is why I PLEAD with screenwriters to spend more time on your hero’s introductory scene than any other scene in the script. I don’t care if it takes you THREE MONTHS, as long as, once you’ve figured out that scene, the audience is crystal clear on who your hero is.

Yes, there are times where you’ll obscure your hero for mystery purposes. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the 95% of screenplays where you introduce a hero and we know immediately who they are.

For that reason, it took me a good 60 pages until I had a reasonable feel for who Alex was. By that point, with half the script gone, there was only so much of myself I could invest. Truth be told, there were a number of newbie mistakes in the script. It’s a script based around dialogue but the dialogue is predictable and safe. It’s never bad. But it’s never good either. And if you’re writing a script where the dialogue is one of the main focuses, then the dialogue has to be exceptional.

I knew the script was in trouble when Daisy’s job had absolutely nothing to do with the story. Literally the only reason she holds this position is so Alex can walk into an insurance store and there’s a girl there he can start a relationship with. I can’t remember insurance coming up at all after that scene. Not only that, but the act of getting insurance didn’t make sense for the story! The one thing we know about Alex is that he only cares about going to Mars. He’s selfish. So why would he open a life insurance policy? Who does he care about after he dies? Nobody.

This is the kind of stuff that bothers because it’s an indication that the writer isn’t thinking through what they’re writing. They get an idea – “I know. I’ll have him fall in love with an insurance saleswoman.” But then they don’t think about what that means or why the character would hold that position or why that choice is best for the story. They think the initial inspiration is enough to justify the choice. And that is enough to justify the choice in a first draft. But then you have to challenge those choices and decide if they’re the right choices. In almost every case, they can be improved upon.

The original time machine in Back to the Future was a refrigerator. Had Zemeckis and Gale kept that idea, that movie would’ve been a hell of a lot less exciting.

Unfortunately I was too caught up in all the rookie mistakes to think about the bigger question here, which is how do you write a great Delusional Adventurist script? And I think the answer to that question is a boring one. Or, at least, not the one you’d expect. It’s to make the characters interesting regardless of the storyline. In other words, in the end, it doesn’t matter if the mission is real, if the field is real, if time travel is real. What matters is having a catch with your father. And that payoff only works if you’ve done the hard work on the characters. Like I said, I couldn’t tell you if Alex’s IQ was 90 or 160. That’s how clueless I was about this character. So of course I cared very little about his relationship with Daisy.

With all that said, I’m a sucker for a good Delusional Adventurist script so here’s hoping that the next one gets a worth the read.

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

What I learned: “A means to a monologue.” Too many writers treat dead family member backstories as a means to a final act monologue and nothing more. They don’t truly explore grief. They don’t truly explore pain. They don’t know who those characters were before and after their brother died. They merely see plot beats as chess pieces to move around until they can give that final monologue. Look, I get it. It’s a character piece. There’s probably going to be a big monologue at the end. But it needs to be earned! You actually have to feel the things the characters are feeling in order for it to land. Jason Bateman says that the only way he can cry on cue is if he imagines that his kids are dead. I know that’s drastic but who said the arts were easy? If you’re not feeling it when you write it, we’re not feeling it either.

I was recently watching a movie reviewer who had the audacity to say, “I don’t know why more critics aren’t supporting Men in Black International considering how many diversity boxes it ticks.” I mean, am I living in an alternate universe right now? Why would anybody encourage others to see a movie other than that they enjoyed it? Truth be told, Men in Black International has way more problems than what boxes it’s ticking.

The franchise became a hit not because of all the cutesy alien special effects, but because of the chemistry between Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones. I know they’re trying to make Tessa Thompson a thing. But she doesn’t have chemistry with anybody. She’s a dead-eyed boring actress. And casting her in a tired franchise was the nail in the coffin for MIB. I’m sorry if I sound upset. But sometimes Hollywood can be so frustrating. Everybody on the planet saw that this was a dud. So why didn’t the people who were making it – the supposed experts – see the same thing?

I think I know.

The Marvel Armada.

Marvel has got everyone else thinking cross-eyed. They’re all so desperate to put a dent in the perfectly constructed mega movie franchise, they can’t see straight. And I sort of understand where they’re coming from. I mean, you can’t throw up your hands and give up, right? You have to come back at them with SOMETHING. And, as a competing studio, you have two choices on how to battle them. With something original or with something in your studio library. If you asked every creative who worked at a studio what they WANTED to do, they’d say make something original. If you asked them what made the most business sense, they’d say go into the studio library. Which is exactly why we get a movie like Men in Black International. Or Godzilla. Or Dark Phoenix (which, yes, is a Marvel movie, but not really).

The irony is that the only reason the Men in Black franchise was an option to bring back in the first place was because it was once an original idea that the studio took a chance on. So if you’re not going to take chances on new properties, you’re not going to have old properties to reboot 20 years from now!

Strangely, the only movies that can compete with Marvel for eyeballs are… Netflix films? I know, right? It may surprise you to know that while 200 million people saw Endgame, 75 million are estimated to have seen Bird Box, a tiny Sandra Bullock movie that cost 20 million bucks (1/20th the estimated budget of Endgame). Why is this? Convenience Convenience Convenience. Netflix is the single most convenient entertainment product in history. There are zero barriers. Consider with Marvel there’s finding a time to go see the film, planning with your friends to be there, driving there, paying, getting food, getting your seats. That may seem like nothing. But compared to clicking a button? It’s everything.

The most recent Netflix entry is Murder Mystery starring Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston. I like Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston a lot. They seem like cool down-to-earth people. And compared to some of Sandler’s other Netflix entries, this one looked pretty good. A comedic take on a whoddunit that takes place on a boat with a group of eccentric characters – that’s a great setup for a movie.

Except it’s a lie.

The murder itself takes place on the boat. But then, the characters inexplicably leave the boat for the remainder of the movie. Let’s unpack this because it gets to the heart of why Sandler struggles to make good movies. The boat is where the tension is. The contained nature of their predicament – of not being able to call for help, of needing to solve the murder themselves, all the while being in danger – is what makes the concept work. So to leave the boat is dramatically devastating.

You can see the effects of this almost immediately. Adam Sandler is resting a lot. He’s putzing around the city. There’s no urgency in his pursuit to solve the murder whatsoever. So why did they do it? I believe there are two reasons, one lazy and one that sort of makes sense. Reason 1 is that Adam Sandler likes to enjoy making movies more than he actually likes to, you know, make them. Being on a cooped-up boat during an entire shoot wasn’t as fun as, say, hanging out in Monaco. By expanding the story to several international locations, he got to have more fun! While I’ll never understand laziness in regards to making movies, the reality is that actors make movies for stupid reasons all the time. We’ve heard stories about actors making movies in Maui because they’d get to party on the beach for two months. About actors who make horse movies cause they want to learn how to ride horses. It just bugs me that major dramatic choices are being made in the name of the actors having fun. We’re the ones who are supposed to have fun – the audience! Not you. You’re supposed to be doing a job.

The less cynical reason is that it makes for a better trailer. If your movie takes place solely on a boat, you’re only going to have shots of a boat. But if you’re shooting all over the planet, your movie looks bigger, and, arguably, has the potential to draw in more people. The net result is a movie that could’ve been good but must settle for decent. At least we get a good screenwriting lesson out of it. Always do what’s best for your story. If that means keeping your murder mystery on a boat, KEEP IT ON THE DAMN BOAT!

All this badmouthing, Carson. There’s got to be something out there I can watch. If you’re talking about movies (and not TV), there isn’t a lot. I think everybody cleared the hell out of Endgame’s tsunami wake, which means only those films which studios pegged as duds were released. So in some ways, you can say this dry spell was planned. But there are a few flicks out there that won’t put you to sleep. The Upside is a film the industry tried to get rid of. It was delayed forever. Kevin Hart was hit with a manufactured-outrage-of-the-week attack right before its release. But the film has amassed an incredible 108 million dollars at the box office. For a non-Oscar pushed drama? That’s unheard of. I mean if that movie would’ve got the same awards push as, say, Roma? It would’ve made 200 million at least. The movie isn’t perfect. But Kevin Hart is good in it and, most importantly, the chemistry between him and Bryan Cranston is strong.

I reviewed the I Am Mother script three years ago and found it to be average. It wasn’t doing anything new enough inside of the contained horror genre to get me excited. So when I threw it on Netflix, I expected to spend fifteen minutes on it and never go back. Half-a-movie later I was still watching. The young actress is good. Hilary Swank is always good. And the most important character in the whole mix – the robot – worked. Something was keeping it from being awesome though and the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if making the drifter a male would’ve been the difference. In stories, you’re always looking for contrast. The more contrast you can create, the bigger the pocket of unresolved conflict you’ll have to play with. The Upside, for example. Bryan Cranston’s character takes his wealth for granted. Kevin Hart is broke. Cranston’s character can’t move. Hart takes his youth and athleticism for granted. There’s so much estrogen in I Am Mother. Imagine if there was a charge of testosterone. It definitely would’ve offset the dynamic in a dangerous but exciting way. Anyway, this movie is worth checking out. One of the stronger Netflix entries for sure.

This next recommendation is going to surprise you. The Lego Movie 2. I actually enjoyed this film! The trailer was all over the place but the whole thing about the city getting destroyed and having to live in a dystopian Mad Max like society was hilarious. For a mainstream movie, the plot is totally bonkers. It doesn’t always work but if you need a two hour prescription of Cheer Up, this is the movie for you. — There are a bunch of movies I still haven’t seen yet that I’ll turn to you for. Cold Pursuit, Isn’t it Romantic, Dragged Across Concrete, High Life, and Booksmart. Thoughts? Are any of them worth the money? Let me know in the comments!

Genre: Thriller
Premise: Whilst performing an autopsy, a forensic pathologist suspects the body is from the future on a failed mission to prevent a world catastrophe. He must now decide whether to continue the mission, a task that requires bombing a commercial airliner on a transatlantic flight.
Why You Should Read: Money problems. Custody battles. Drinking on the job. A penchant for violence. 48 Hour Token is a high concept thriller that demands a common but deeply flawed man to prevent a world catastrophe whilst fighting to keep his sanity. To save the world, it’s usually expected you must don the spandex to fight the battle between good and evil. In the real world, the protagonists often come with baggage and the room for failure is non existent. — This isn’t a blind submission. In preparation for this Amateur Offerings, I have utilised several coverage services that most followers of this website would be familiar with. 48 Hour Token has been labelled a ‘well constructed thriller’ with ‘multiple, diverse elements’ whilst containing ‘realistic dialogue for the genre’.
Writer: Branko Maksic
Details: 115 pages

I always like Branko’s insights in the comments section so I’m excited to see what he has in store for us. Let’s check it out…

41 year old Patrick Crawley is an alcoholic pathologist who’s going through a messy divorce. After a particularly nasty argument with his ex-wife, Esmeralda, he goes to determine the cause of death of his latest dead body, only to find a bloated corpse that was discovered in the sea with its face smashed in. Yummy. While poking around, Patrick finds a key for a safe deposit box in the dead dude’s stomach!

Hoping by some miracle this key will lead to cash that will nab him the best lawyer in town (which will allow him to get custody of his daughter), Patrick instead gets a USB drive and two tokens. He plugs the drive into his computer to find a movie file where some woman claiming to be from the future is talking about saving the world from a terrorist attack. Feeling its his civic duty to find out more, he seeks this woman out, but she ends up dead.

Soon after, Patrick is cornered by the Chinese, who administer a toxin that paralyzes his body but not his other senses. Patrick is carried into a hotel room where a woman performs fellatio on him to secure his sperm, and then tells him that if he continues to snoop around, they’re going to kill his daughter and insert the semen into her rectum to make it look like he assaulted and killed her. Not nice people these terrorists.

Patrick ignores this warning for some reason, possibly because he’s beginning to believe that mankind is truly in danger. The Chinese’s plan seems to revolve around having a doctor carry a super-toxin on a flight to America and then letting it free so that everyone in America dies. Somehow, Patrick has to stop that from happening. Unfortunately, he finds out that he was duped and the doctor is a decoy. A separate woman with the real toxin is on a different flight that has already left for America.

Luckily, Patrick gains access to a time machine that allows him to go back in time and try again. And this time he has the help of Past Patrick, allowing the two to divide and conquer. Will they stop the decimation of America in time? Or is this all happening whether they succeed at their plan or not?

(A quick apology to Branko if I missed anything here. The plot was a little hard to follow at times)

This is an interesting one because Branko clearly knows what he’s doing. He knows how to hook us with a dead body teaser. He knows that that’s going to give him time to thoughtfully introduce his characters. His first scene with our lead, Patrick, is packed with conflict, like all good scenes should be. We get to see Patrick at his job, allowing us to grow closer to him. And before we get bored, Branko introduces a mystery – a key inside the body. While we eagerly await that mystery box to be opened, Branko uses the time to develop Patrick even more. We see him interacting with his daughter. We see him talking with his dead dad at the cemetery. If this were a test on writing first acts, Branko would ace it.

Yet something was bothering me and I couldn’t figure out what it was.

Then it hit me.

How you introduce your hero is one of the most important scenes in a script. Some might argue it’s THE most important. The reason for this is that the first scene has a huge impact on how we view that character. Therefore, if we don’t like the hero in that first scene, it doesn’t matter if you ace the first act test. A part of us checked out after that intro. And that’s where the problem was here.

Patrick is introduced as an angry aggressive person. He’s saying a lot of bad things to his ex-wife. He admits to clocking her in the face for cheating on him. While movies are all about exploring character flaws, anger is a tricky one. It’s hard to identify with someone when our first impression of them is pure rage. I mean, think about if you met someone in real life who’s going off on some angry tirade. Would you be like, “Hey dude, what are you doing later? Want to hang out?” Because that’s what you’re asking us to do here. Hang out with Angry Yelling Man for the next two hours. I would never say something’s impossible. But I was never 100% Team Patrick in this script, and I think meeting him this way was why.

But even that wasn’t the whole reason. There was something else bothering me about the first act so I went back and reread it. Eventually, I figured it out. The storytelling was too technical. You could see the writer’s mind at work in each scene. “This is the scene where I set up what he does for a living.” “This is the scene where we show he loves his kid more than anything.” There wasn’t enough flow. It didn’t feel organic enough.

I know Branko is going to kill me for this comparison, but if you read the beginning of Juno, you’re not really aware that a movie is being set up. We feel like we’re organically following this girl around during a particularly disruptive time in her life. I don’t want to confuse Branko by pretending that Juno and 48 Hour Token are anything alike. However, I think he could benefit from a looser more organic storytelling style and not this mathematical dissection of scenes where it’s too obvious what he’s doing. Just because a scene passes the Screenwriting 101 Test doesn’t mean it’s connecting emotionally with the audience.

Despite all this, I still felt the logline teased some juicy ideas, particularly the stuff with the plane, so I was confused when I got to page 35 and we still weren’t on the plane. And then page 45 and we still weren’t on the plane. And then the halfway point passed and we still weren’t on the plane. They keep talking about a plane. Why aren’t we on a plane?

At a certain point, I realized we weren’t getting on that plane, and once I realized that, I had a hard time grasping what kind of movie I was watching. It didn’t seem to fit inside of any known template. Some people will argue that this is a good thing. If a movie isn’t fitting inside a template, it’s original! You’re not going to know what happens next! And while that’s a valid argument, it all depends on if you’re actually enjoying the ride. I wouldn’t say I WASN’T enjoying the ride here. But I was only casually invested.

I suppose if I were to pitch this, I might call it a sci-fi version of Chinatown. And if you’re reading it through that lens, you might enjoy it. But for me I was too often lost in this story. Even though there was a clear goal (stop the world-ending killer virus), the plot points seemed to arrive in a way that was at odds with the plot. Our Chinese super-villains didn’t show up until the midpoint. Our time-travel didn’t get used until the final act. The plane, which is the whole point of the story, doesn’t arrive until the very very end. If you were a fly on my wall while I was reading this, you would’ve repeatedly heard me say, “Earlier.” “Earlier.” “Earlier.” I wanted everything to happen earlier.

Having now read the script, I would advise Branko to take the plane out of the logline. Just make clear that it’s a whodunnit with a sci-fi time travel twist. At least this way, you won’t have anyone going in thinking this is a plane thriller then be disappointed that it’s a traditional sci-fi noir procedural.

Curious to see what others thought. Share your reviews in the comments section!

Script link: 48 Hour Token

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

What I learned: Stay away from “try-hard” descriptions. They always take readers out of the story. When it comes to description, it’s better to be clear than clever. One character here is described as, “Possesses skin so healthy that it radiates its own moral laws.” Another one is described as, “A hummingbird of naked nerve endings.” Neither of these really make sense.

I’m sure it’s frustrating going from screenwriting site to screenwriting site hearing that the ONLY way to break in is if you write “THIS” type of script. Does this sound familiar? “You have to write a biopic.” “You have to write the next Jane Wick.” “Your script has to have a social message.” “Don’t bother typing FADE IN unless you’re writing contained horror.” What if you don’t like those kinds of movies? Are you doomed? Or is there another way?

Oh yes. There’s another way.

I’m going to provide you with a hack that allows you to write about anything you want. And it’s surprisingly simple. What is it? Great characters. If we love or are fascinated by your characters, we won’t care what the movie is about. I’ll give you definitive proof of this. There’s a movie that came out in the 90s starring two nobodies by the names of Vince Vaughn and Jon Favreau. The movie was called “Swingers” and it would launch Vince Vaughn’s career as an actor and Favreau’s as a writer-director. But if you revisit Swingers, you’ll notice something strange. The movie has ZERO PLOT. It’s an absolute structural disaster. The characters go to parties, strike out with girls, then go on a Vegas road trip, have some adventures there, then come BACK to Los Angeles, go to more parties, strike out with more girls, then get in a random gun dust-up with gangsters, then play video games, then go to more parties and strike out with more girls.

The editor of this movie nearly quit because Favreau and director Doug Liman couldn’t convince him that the movie had a point. And yet, in spite of this, the movie turned out to be immensely enjoyable. Why? Because the characters were so great. Once a reader falls in love with a character (and preferably, with more than one of your characters), they stop judging the plot. They just want to be around those characters to see what happens to them. This is why you can point out a million plot holes in that movie your friend loves and they don’t care. They love the characters so much that the plot doesn’t matter.

You can use this same power to make readers forget about their biases, forget about the scripts they’re supposed to be looking for for their bosses, and even forget about the almighty dollar, which, in the end, is the ultimate deciding factor on whether to move forward with a project. Why? Because a great character doesn’t need a genre. A great character IS the genre.

So go ahead and write whatever you want IF, and only if, you have killer characters within your story.

How do you write killer characters? I dunno. Just, like, create someone interesting n stuff. I’m just kidding. There are eight character types that have a strong impact on the reader. But before we get to those, I first want to tell you what kind of character to avoid should you write something outside the mainstream. The big character you want nothing to do with is the internal character. This is the character who doesn’t say much, who keeps his thoughts to himself. These characters die on the page. There are ways to make them work, but it’s a lot harder. So if you want to write one of these characters, I’d recommend doing so inside one of the scripts Hollywood’s looking for. John Wick is a good example, actually. John Wick doesn’t say a whole lot. So if you put him in an indie drama, he’ll be boring. He only works because he’s shooting everybody who moves. As for who you do want to include, here are my suggestions…

The Motormouth – The character who says whatever’s on their mind all the time with no filter always pops off the page. We see it with Tony Stark. We see it with Juno. We see it with Clementine in Eternal Sunshine. These characters are not only fun to write, but readers are drawn to them.

The Voice Over Narrator – This is sort of an offshoot of the Motormouth, as narrators will tend to talk a lot as well. But the big reason these characters connect with readers is because we’re getting inside the character’s head, which is something we don’t often get to do in movies. Edward Norton’s character in Fight Club is a good example.

Wild Card Characters – These are characters who you’re never quite sure what they’re going to do next. And you have to write them that way. Where you’re literally getting into the reader’s mind and asking, “What does the reader think my character is going to do in this moment?” And then you make sure that that character never does that. On the villain side of the Wild Card Character, you have Hannibal Lecter. On the hero side, you have Captain Jack Sparrow. And on the comedy side, you have Alan from The Hangover.

The Fearless Character – Audiences LOVE fearless characters because we’re all drawn to bravery. But the great thing about fearless characters is that they charge towards danger and danger is where all the fun is. Meanwhile, fearful characters are hanging back, playing it safe and, therefore, not encountering as many potentially entertaining scenarios. On the blockbuster end for Fearless Characters, we have Ethan Hunt. On the indie end, Eighth Grade. Kayla is trying in every scene to put herself out there, be more brave, and she ends up being one of the most memorable characters of the year for it.

The Liar – Characters who lie a lot spend the majority of their movie inside dramatically ironic situations, which are reading-crack. Dramatically ironic situations are when we know our hero is lying and the other character does not. So we’re constantly wondering if they’re going to get caught. Melissa McCarthy just got an Oscar nomination for this type of character in Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Bats&%t Crazy Characters – Lay it all on the line and just throw a character out there who IS the movie. The crazier and weirder and more bats&%t the character is, the better. This is how Mel Gibson became a movie star (in Lethal Weapon). It is also how Tom Hardy became a movie star. He broke in with the character Bronson in “Bronson.”

Worst Circumstances Best Attitude – One of the most lovable types of characters in existence is the character who’s had a terrible life, who grew up in terrible conditions. Life has thrown nothing but lemons at him. And yet, he keeps charging forward with reckless optimism. These characters work because they remind us that our situations aren’t nearly as bad as we think they are and, no matter what, you can still find the positive in life. The most famous of these characters is, of course, Forrest Gump.

The Racist (or Sexist, or Bigot, or Homophobe) – A lot of people in the screenwriting industry believe that you can’t make your characters too bad. The flip side of that argument is that bad people tend to be the most interesting. The reason these characters really pull a reader in is because we want to see if they’ll be redeemed. There are tons of examples of this character type lighting up the page. Recently, we saw it with Tony Lip in Green Book. Then with Dixon (Sam Rockwell) in Three Billboards. And if you want to go back a ways, Melvin in As Good As It Gets.

You can mix and match these character types as well. You don’t have to pick just one. If you’re looking for a connection between all of them, you’ll notice they’re all either big or active or dealing with some major internal strife. And, of course, there are more character traits out there you can use. These are just eight of the bigger ones I see working time and time again. So if you’re tired of Hollywood telling you what to write, zoom in on a great character and write whatever the heck you want.

Genre: Horror
Premise: A recovering alcoholic travels off to his dead uncle’s remote island to battle the disease, but ends up battling a deadly monster who lives in the surrounding water instead.
About: Hooray! A recent spec sale. A few weeks ago, actually. And high six figures even. Never say the dream is dead. However, if you’re going to live the spec sale dream, you probably want to get your script to David Boxerbaum, as he’s the only agent in town the studios go to for original material. Peter Joseph sold this script to Universal.
Writer: Peter Joseph
Details: 105 pages

I’m doing this review for one reason and one reason only. Because I know that Grendl will post a 5000 word essay in the comments section on why it can never live up to its inspiration, Jaws.

There is a specific movie that brings all of us into this bizarre frustrating addictive craft known as screenwriting. And while we fight against copying the films of our past, an argument can be made that all we’re really trying to do is rewrite our favorite movie ever. Grendl knows Jaws so well, he can probably tell you the name of Extra #482 on the beach. So he can tell you how this script fares much better than I can.

I, however, am not bound by these chains. I’m easily entertained when it comes to monster movies. I’ll be the casual fan here and Grendl can be the New York Times critic.

30 year old Henry Wabash just got out of rehab. His sister, Athena, is proud of him, but worried that if she leaves him alone, he’ll relapse. That’s exactly what happens. Henry ends up at a bar his first night back. And so Athena comes up with a plan. She’s going to drive them out to their Uncle Pat’s place, which is located on a tiny island in the middle of a river way out in the middle of nowhere. There, Henry can fix up the house of their recently deceased uncle and truly put this addiction behind him.

After Athena leaves, the only connection to the outside world Henry has is Maurice, a local caretaker. Maurice is going to motor out and deliver him groceries every week. That way Henry won’t have any access to booze at all. One day, while out on the lake in a canoe, a rogue wave knocks Henry out of his boat. While underwater, he spots an old military plane at the bottom of the lake. Later, when Maurice comes by, he explains that the crew got out fine and it’s nothing. But it sure didn’t seem like nothing to Henry.

The next day, while out near the shore, a giant tentacle slips out of the water and tries to yank Henry in! He’s able to chop it off with an axe, but that’s not the end of it! The tentacle turns into its own entity and continues to attack Henry, who’s only barely able to kill it. Henry sends up a flare to have Maurice get him out of here, but on the way back, the tentacle creature attacks them! Not only that, but it seems to have grown! Henry is somehow able to escape but can only get back to the private island.

But if he thought he was safe there, think again! The sea monster is growing so rapidly that it’s able to squirm its tentacles up to and even INSIDE the house. It really wants to kill Henry. Henry realizes that if he doesn’t come up with a plan pronto, he’s going to be sea food. Ironically, Henry’s lone stash of liquor allows him to McGruber together a Molotov cocktail, which, theoretically, he’ll be able to use as a weapon. But this giant sea thing is getting smarter by the second. So whatever Henry’s plan is, it better be foolproof.

Let’s start off by recognizing the EXTREME streamlined writing style here. Pop open the first scene in Don’t Go In The Water and you won’t even see the right side of the page. That’s because there are no words on it. This script is written to read fast. And while I’m not sure a script should be THIS sparse, there’s an argument to be made that it should. All of Max Landis’s scripts read like this and he sold a bunch of stuff as well. Readers like effortless reading experiences and this script selling is proof of that.

Another takeaway is that monster-on-an-island specs are gonna sell at a higher rate than other specs. I know it’s simplistic. It almost seems like cheating. But we saw this with last year’s spec sale of Beast, about a woman running around an island with a beast creature. We saw an extreme version of it with The Shallows. The reason it works is because it hits all the beats that make for a thrilling experience. You’ve got a character who’s trapped. You’ve got a mysterious monster. And you’ve got time ticking down. As crazy as it is for me to say, I don’t think it’s a bad idea to write one of these. It’s sort of like a sneaky loophole to a spec sale. Sure, two of them are now in development. But any studio would like to make one of these because they’re so cheap.

As for the quality of the story itself, it had its pros and cons. I liked that Joseph attempted to explore something real with this character by making him an alcoholic. And I liked how organically that played into the plot itself. He had to come out here because it was his only shot at beating this. But I’m not sure Joseph ever really committed to it. There were times where he did and other times where Henry seemed like he wouldn’t know what alcohol was if a Budweiser hit him in the face. You probably need a writer who really understands addiction to do a pass on this storyline. Cause you can’t just dabble in addiction when its convenient. It’s supposed to be who your character is.

For that reason, I was only casually interested in the story. It was all too simplistic for my taste. However, after Maurice is killed and Henry is forced to flee back to the island, things picked up considerably. In any monster movie, one of the primary variables that you have to nail is the threat level of your monster. This is why Aliens remains one of the greatest monster movies ever made. When we see those aliens first attack the Marines, and they’re so overmatched, we think our heroes are done for, no matter what they do from now on. That’s the threat level you want to bring to your story – if not early, then by the midpoint.

Once I felt that Henry wasn’t safe in his own house, that he didn’t have any way to communicate with the outside world, and that any attempt to use the water for escape was suicide, I became a lot more invested. That final 40 pages is when this script delivered. So it’s by no means a killer screenplay. But once it hits the home stretch, you leave feeling like you got your money’s worth.

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

What I learned: Alcoholism is everywhere in movies and TV. For this reason, it usually comes off as cliche. The reason for that is writers think that to convey alcoholism you have to show the character drinking. A lot. The more they’re drinking, the belief is, the more developed the character becomes. In actuality, they’re just feeding the cliche. To accurately convey alcoholism, focus more on NOT HAVING THE DRINK. It’s the moments between drinks – the struggle – that’s where you explore true addiction.