Genre: Dramedy
Premise: An old and cranky local politician goes publicly bananas in an effort to draw attention to an important social issue. This inadvertently puts the career of his son, the Governor of California, at risk.
Why You Should Read: This is a character driven dramedy with a lot of funny moments mixed in with an important social mission. Our hero knows he is in the last inning of life and is going to go out swinging even at the risk of damaging his own political legacy and ruining his son’s chance of building his own . So, yeah – he’s a a bit of an asshole. But an asshole you will root for.
Writer: David Lambertson (Eldave)
Details: 120 pages

Tommy Lee Jones for Lowell?

I want to keep it 100 with you guys. As much I love doing what I do, there are times when I get tired of reading. And when I get to Thursday, and I can see the weekend over the horizon, and how I’ll be able to relax and get out of the house and do fun things… when I have that within grasp, I occasionally look at a Friday review as an obstacle standing in the way of my fun.

It occurred to me, while I was thinking about this, that for most low-level industry people working their way up the system, many of whom are required to read screenplays in addition to their numerous other responsibilities, this is how they view screenplays as well. As obstacles to whatever else they’re trying to get done that day.

I bring this up because I want the writer to know what they’re up against. Their script isn’t being read under ideal circumstances. In fact, the majority of the time, it’s the exact opposite. And it’s for this reason that the little things – the things that writers believe are insignificant – can actually become huge deal-breakers.

For example, page count. You may think that 120 pages is fine. But to a reader who sees each page as a minute of their time, they see 120 pages as you wasting 20 minutes of their time (when you consider that most spec comedies should be in the 100-105 page range). Again, in a vacuum, 120 pages isn’t a big deal. But in reality, it can be a huge deal. An agitated reader is just waiting for you to give them an excuse to start skimming.

I’ll give a more relevant example for today’s author, Eldave. Eldave expressed his dislike for Marvel movies earlier this week, finding them nearly impossible to watch. Imagine what your mood would be, then, if you were dragged to a Marvel movie by a friend. I’m guessing it would be something like, ARMS CROSSED, “You’re going to have to prove to me that you’re worthy of my time.” That’s exactly how people are approaching your script.

Which is why you want to present yourself in the best possible light. Because if your presentation is bulletproof and you’ve written a good script, it’s completely possible to win the reader over. Some of the best reads I’ve ever had have occurred when the last thing I wanted to do was read a script. But to achieve this, the little stuff – page count, easy-to-read writing style, formatting, clarity, great first scene – has to be on point.

Okay, with that tough but necessary reminder behind us, let’s get to today’s script!

82 year old Los Angeles County Board member Lowell Bachman has just learned that he may have Alzheimer’s. Or dementia. Actually, Lowell won’t allow his doctor to test him to get a definitive answer on why he’s been sick lately. So he’s just playing the “old person” diagnosis odds.

Meanwhile, Lowell heads to his daily job at the Los Angeles County Office where he listens to local citizens complain about things that nobody cares about or ask for things that nobody’s going to give them. That’s his typical daily routine, anyway. Today, however, Lowell is taken with a Mexican woman who tells the story of her veteran son who recently died homeless on the streets.

Lowell becomes fixated on this notion that our military veterans don’t have an easy way to transition back to normal life. So he proposes a bill to add a barracks in Los Angeles. This way, veterans can recuperate inside a setting they’re familiar with, before being thrust back into society.

Nobody else on the board cares, so they shoot Lowell down. But that only makes Lowell angry. He starts showing up every day in a robe (instead of a suit) and claims a plethora of ailments as the reason for his belligerent behavior (Tourette’s, Alzheimer’s, blindness). Lowell becomes relentless about these barracks, yelling and screaming like… well… the homeless vet who lives down my street on Highland and Melrose. Lowell’s behavior grabs the attention of the local press, and soon Loco Lowell videos are going viral on Youtube.

Meanwhile, Lowell’s son, Jason, the Governor of California, is prepping for the upcoming election. But when the media runs with the “Lowell has gone crazy” narrative, Jason finds his formally sure-thing re-election in question. To make matters worse, Lowell finds out he has a brain tumor, which, in his fucked up logic, grants him permission to act even crazier. Will he get those barracks? Or will his co-workers dispose of him first?

It’s not surprising to me that this script won Amateur Offerings. I’ve read a script of Eldave’s before and I knew he had game. I actually thought, “The rest of the writers are in trouble this week.”

In addition to the fact that the script is an easy breezy read with a clear plotline and a main character who pops off the page, there are little things that clue you in to this being a skilled scribe.

For example, if Lowell is causing all of this chaos unimpeded, it’s not very interesting. What makes it interesting is the choice to add the Governor son. Because the son is running for reelection, Lowell’s crazed actions directly affect him. Characters are always more interesting when their choices have consequences, as consequences mean a more conflicted character.

There are very few amateur screenwriters who know this. So seeing that thread expertly woven into this screenplay was an instant indicator that this wasn’t your typical amateur script.

With that said, I did have problems. And most of them stemmed from the premise.

Our hero’s goal is to build a barracks to help transitioning military veterans. The problem is, the only veteran we know is the one who prompted Lowell to act in the first place, and he happens to be dead.

So the entirety of this pursuit is built around helping people who we never meet. Here’s a man who’s hell-bent on getting these barracks set up, to the point where he’s shouting down fellow board-members, destroying his son’s shot at reelection, and killing his own legacy…

But for who?

Nobody we’ve met.

So why would I care if he succeeds?

I’m sure many of you followed the Thailand Boys Soccer Team cave rescue. Everyone who heard about the situation wanted those boys to be okay. But it was the video where we SAW THOSE KIDS IN THE CAVE that made us emotionally invested in their survival. That’s what made it real. Since we didn’t have that here – any tangible people to help – Lowell’s pursuit felt empty.

In fact, Lowell’s motivation seemed to be more about embarrassing his asshole co-workers than helping people in need. For him, it was all about acting like a kookoo bird and making the evening news. If we had just a single face to represent the people who needed help, it would’ve done wonders.

A better possible setup may have been for a veteran (I’ll call him “Josh”) to come in and highlight the loss of a fellow veteran. Then, Josh could become the representative of the people who would benefit from the barracks.

Even if you added that, though, it doesn’t explain why Lowell cared so much about veterans in the first place. He’s not a veteran himself, is he? So why is he so obsessed with this issue? I never found that answer and because that answer is the core of our main character’s motivation, it was hard for me to invest in what was going on.

I like the idea of an aging politician who stops playing by the rules. Any situation where someone stops playing by the rules is going to have some entertainment value. It’s a fun setup. And I could see that elite group of aging Hollywood stars stabbing each other in the back to get this role. I just think there’s a better story idea out there to get our 80 year old hero to stop playing by the rules. One of those old people Florida communities that take their rules very seriously, for example. Or maybe a country club. I guarantee you either of those would be more salable.

Or, if you wanted to stick with this setup, we need a better connection between Lowell and his cause, as well as a physical representation of who’s going to benefit from Lowell’s goal.

Screenplay Link: The Last Statesman

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

What I learned: Whenever you have a political figure in a key role, make sure an election is coming up soon. Political figures are a thousand times more interesting when they’re trying to secure re-election. If Jason isn’t up for re-election here, there’s no reason to worry about his father’s behavior.

I’ve noticed a trend in a lot of the amateur scripts I’ve been reading in regards to scene-writing. To many writers, a scene is a way to dispense information that the reader needs in order to understand what’s happening. For example, they know that in this scene, they must explain to the reader what a flux capacitor is, so that they understand how time travel works. In the next scene, they know they must introduce Henry the Neighbor, since Henry the Neighbor will play a crucial part in the story later on. The problem with this approach is that their focus is on themselves as opposed to the reader. They don’t care if the reader is satisfied. As long as they were able to successfully dispense the relevant information, they’re happy.

Here’s the problem though. You may have achieved what you’ve needed to achieved. But you sure haven’t kept me entertained in the process.

Writing a good screenplay isn’t about getting your checklist of story points down into a cohesive narrative. It’s about telling an entertaining story. So many writers want a cookie for the mere fact that they finished a screenplay that makes sense. Sorry, but if you want to play with the big boys, you have to tell a story that’s entertaining all the way through.

That’s the focus of today’s article. Making sure every single scene in your script has entertainment value. Now before we get started, I want to make something clear. I’m not using “entertain” in the hyperbolic sense. I don’t mean it like a roller coaster ride or a giant car chase. “Entertain” simply means that there’s something about the scene that makes it compelling on its own.

The most basic way to add entertainment value is through conflict. Conflict comes in many forms, and essentially refers to an imbalance in the scene. There’s something unresolved which adds tension to the proceedings. Let’s say that your hero, Joe, is at his son’s baseball game. You could certainly write this scene to establish the basics: Joe’s son plays baseball. But why not add some entertainment value to make the scene more interesting?

Let’s say Joe’s son is batting, and the pitcher’s belligerent father is sitting a few seats in front of Joe. “C’mon Frankie! Strike this bum out!” We can see the discomfort on Joe’s face, but he doesn’t want to make a scene. “Look at this kid! He’s afraid to swing. Lay it right down the middle!” Joe’s getting more angry now. Is he going to say something? This example may be a little excessive, but you get the point. You’ve taken what could’ve been a straight-forward establishing scene that your hero’s son plays baseball and turned it into a moment that’s entertaining on its own.

Another way to conjure entertainment out of a scene is to place your character in a situation of discomfort. As soon as you introduce something that impedes on a person’s comfort, they have to react. And, in doing so, you create an entertainment seed that can grow. Let’s say your character is a prisoner who keeps to himself. And you want to show his daily routine, specifically how meal time works. The boring screenwriter will simply put the prisoner in line and sit with them as they move their way forward until finally getting their food. Again, you’ve achieved your technical goal. You’ve shown us a component of the character’s shitty day. But you didn’t entertain us in the process. How can you change that?

Well, what if there are two options on the menu that day: pizza and a casserole that looks like vomit. As our prisoner is getting closer, we’re showing those pieces of pizza fly off the pan. It’s going to be close by the time it’s his turn, but it looks like he’s going to get one. Then, when he’s almost there, you impede upon the hero’s comfort. Four thugs come up. “Yo man, you mind if we jump in front of you?” Our hero glances at the last three slices of pizza, then at these guys. We can see the torture in his eyes before he finally relents. Sure enough, the thugs take the last slices of pizza, and our hero’s stuck with the gruel. You’ve just turned a scene where nothing happens into a scene where we’re entertained by a man who wants pizza.

Another easy way to add entertainment value is to introduce a problem. If there’s a problem, the audience will want to see if it can be resolved. In Thor: Ragnarok, one of the most entertaining movies of last year, virtually every scene is prefaced with a problem. We meet Thor while he’s hanging, tied up in a net. Later he gets stuck in a waiting room that he needs to get out of. Then he gets placed in a gladiator arena where he must survive. Afterwards, him and Hulk are placed in a holding bay that they have to escape from. The simple act of needing to solve a problem, no matter how small, adds instant entertainment value to a scene.

Something as simple as a time limit can make a scene entertaining. If a character has to clean up his extremely dirty apartment because his parents are in town, you could certainly show us a typical yet boring montage of him cleaning up. Or you could have his father call and let him know that they’re coming an hour early and should be there within the next 30 minutes. Now the clean-up session is a race with an uncertain ending. Much more entertaining.

You can add entertainment value by raising the stakes. Let’s say your character is a waiter. You could certainly give us a boring scene of him doing his typical waiter duties. Or you could have a fellow waiter point out that his new table is a famous food blogger. “Don’t screw it up or none of us will have jobs next week.” All of a sudden, a normal waiting scene becomes packed with tension.

A scene can become entertaining merely by changing the order in which the information is given. For example, let’s say your hero, Beth, has a long day at work. Later, when she gets home, she finds out her husband died in a work accident. Why not show us her husband dying in that accident BEFORE we show Beth’s work day? That way, we’re filled with anxiety as we wait for Beth to find out what we already know. Even a mundane task such as driving home becomes compelling since we know it’s only a matter of minutes now before she finds out what’s happened.

The lesson here is to assess when a scene is boring and to CREATIVELY SOLVE THAT PROBLEM. You don’t even need to know any of these tips to do this. You just have to be honest with yourself about the scene and come up with a way to make it more interesting. You’d be surprised at how easy this is.

Changing locations can do wonders for a scene. If you have a typical boring scene where two characters are talking, you can move them from a coffee shop, where it’s okay to talk, to a movie theater, where it isn’t. Now, every word risks someone nearby telling them to shut up.

Adding characters to a scene can do wonders as well. If you have a typical conversation scene between a guy and his girlfriend, add the girl’s best friend, who HATES the guy. Same conversation, except now the friend is constantly looking up from her phone, giving our guy judgmental looks after everything he says.

I’m sure you’re thinking, “Come on, Carson. Not EVERY scene can be entertaining. What about quick scenes whose sole purpose is to convey information?” Yes, even those scenes. You’ll vary the intensity of the entertainment value to fit the smaller scale, but you still want to entertain. For example, let’s say Alice calls her friend Claire to set up a later dinner party scene. “Pick you up at 7 for the party?” “Could you make it 7:30? I’m running late.” “Sounds good.” They hang up. Sure, that could work. But you could also throw a joke in there to make the conversation more fun. “Pick you up at 7 for the party?” “I can’t go. I have the flu.” “You used the flu excuse last time.” “I mean influenza.” “That’s the same thing, Claire.” “Fine. But come as late as possible.” It’s a small adjustment, but it makes a difference.

We live in a world where people don’t give a shit about anything other than how they feel in the moment. Back in the 70s, you could go 15 minutes in a movie without worrying about whether the audience was bored. These days, people are used to options. Entertainment is a phone-pull-out-of-a-pocket away. More than ever before, you have to make sure you’re keeping people entertained. I’d go so far as to say if you write two boring scenes in a row, the reader is already drifting out of your story. I don’t say that to scare you. I say it to keep you honest. Go into every scene with the intention of adding entertainment value and you will be fine.

Carson does feature screenplay consultations, TV Pilot Consultations, and logline consultations. Logline consultations go for $25 a piece or 5 for $75. You get a 1-10 rating, a 200-word evaluation, and a rewrite of the logline. If you’re interested in any sort of consultation package, e-mail Carsonreeves1@gmail.com with the subject line: CONSULTATION. Don’t start writing a script or sending a script out blind. Let Scriptshadow help you get it in shape first!

Genre: Action-Adventure/Sci-Fi
Premise: After being left at the alter, Indiana Jones tracks down his would-be wife only to find out she’s part of a top secret military clean-up of a mysterious crashed airplane.
About: This was the biggest Indiana Jones project that never got made. George Lucas was serious about its development, hiring one of his favorite writers at the time, Jeb Stuart, who wrote both Die Hard and The Fugitive. The legend goes that a very busy Spielberg and an even busier Harrison Ford were primed to do the film as soon as Spielberg finished Schindler’s List, but that they didn’t like all this hooky-pooky sci-fi stuff in regards to an Indiana Jones movie and therefore passed. It would take another 13 years before the three titans could find time to finally film another Indy film.
Writer: Jeb Stuart (story by Jeb Stuart and George Lucas) (characters created by George Lucas and Philip Kaufman)
Details: 2/20/1995 (Revised Draft)

There were some comments in my Ant-Man and The Wasp post questioning why people even go to see these giant Marvel films. They’re vapid emotion-free adventures designed solely to sell you merchandise. I pushed back on that because I find Marvel movies to be entertaining and that’s the only reason I physically go to the movies these days. I want to be entertained. I don’t want to spend 20 dollars to watch Jon Hamm in “Beirut.” I’m sorry but I can wait for the small screen for that.

With that said, I see the Indiana Jones franchise the same way commenters see Marvel movies. It’s a franchise that’s dangerously close to sliding into ATFT. Yes, I’m talking about Alien Terminator Franchise Territory. They just announced that the 5th film in the franchise has been pushed back to 2021, this after previously announcing that the co-writer of Solo, Lawrence Kasdan’s son, would be taking over writing duties.

So let me get this straight. They’ve got the co-writer of one of the biggest box office bombs in history to shape a script around a 79 year old action star. Does anybody see anything wrong with this? I’m asking honestly. Do you have any hope that this movie could be good? Because I don’t find any data that suggests it would be.

Which is why I’ve decided to go back to a more innocent time. A time when George Lucas still loved movies. The year was 1995 and George was actively developing the next Indiana Jones film. The reason I’m curious about this script is that it includes aliens, which was George’s only “MUST HAVE” for Indiana Jones IV. A big reason Crystal Skull suffered was because Spielberg didn’t want to do the alien thing. So the two kind of meshed their opposing visions into a single film and, well, you saw what happened.

With Mars, we have George Lucas’s unimpeded vision of how that alien storyline would play out. Let’s see if a potentially great movie was overlooked.

It’s 1949 and good old Indiana Jones is out of the game. Welllllll, at least until he finishes stealing a gold idol in Borneo. After that adventure, Indiana runs into a hot linguist named Elaine McGregor who he’s forgotten he promised to escort upriver to search for an old temple. Indie falls head over heels for Elaine and within a couple of months, they’re getting married!

Except that just before the ceremony, Elaine gets cold feet and runs away with her former boyfriend. Indiana is heartbroken and must hear it from Elaine herself why he wasn’t enough. He gets word that her and her former man, Robert Bolander, have flown to New Mexico, so off he goes.

Once there, he learns that things are more complicated than he assumed. Elaine didn’t run away with Robert because she loved him. She ran away because Robert, a military officer, was working on a top secret project that he needed her help on. After Indy shows up, he learns that Robert and the rest of the army believe they’ve found a crashed flying saucer.

Indy is skeptical until Robert shows Indy an old object from the crashed ship that’s covered in multiple ancient languages. They must translate these languages to see what the object says if they’re going to understand why these aliens are trolling them. But before anybody can do anything, THE RUSSIANS SHOW UP and STEAL THE OBJECT. Not only that, but they take the one person who can figure out the scripture on it – Elaine.

Indy’s able to catch up to his not-quite-wife and recover the object before getting chased through the desert by a flying saucer. At some point, they realize that this object is some sort of timer and when it gets to zero – game over! Pretty soon, the Russians, more aliens, and a suspiciously frantic Robert Bolander are all in pursuit of the timer object. Who will get it? And once it reaches zero, what will happen?

Before I get to the analysis, I need to address something for the Indiana Jones geeks. The NUKE THE FRIDGE scene IS in here. Which I find curious. This version of the script was developed, supposedly, without Spielberg. Spielberg famously copped to adding the “Nuke the Fridge” scene in Crystal Skull. So now I’m wondering if he was just sticking up for his friend. Of course, Spielberg could’ve suggested this scene to George even back then. But it’s always been presented as a scene that came about recently. The mystery deepens, I guess.

Now let’s get down to brass tacks. We need to use brass because all the gold was stripped out of this franchise a long time ago.

Raiders of the Lost Ark was famously constructed as a series of set pieces that Steven Spielberg wanted to shoot. Lay the set pieces out and let some screenwriter figure out how to connect them. Turns out that screenwriter, Lawrence Kasdan, did a pretty good job, since Raiders remains one of the most beloved movies ever.

Saucer Men From Mars attempts to do the same thing. We have a boat chase on the river. We have fridge nuking. We have a military plane being chased by a flying saucer. But there’s one major difference between the two films.

Raiders uses an overarching goal. Saucer Men does not. Raiders has the goal of getting the Ark. That objective dominates the entire movie. Saucer Men has no ultimate objective. It’s more about Indy and Elaine finding a mystery cube and trying to figure it out while running from aliens and Russians.

Why does this matter when building a story off pre-established set pieces? Because when you have a final destination worked out, it’s easy to guide the story to that destination. We know that Indy has to get that Ark. So the story will come to a conclusion once he does. You don’t have that in Saucer Men, which means you’re linking pre-established set pieces randomly. There’s no framework to guide the major story beats to a clear conclusion.

It’s like preparing a meal when you don’t know what you’re trying to make.

What happens in this scenario is that the plot becomes bigger than the characters. You’re not making decisions based on where the characters need to get to. You’re making decisions based on which set piece you need to get to. That’s going to result in a movie where the characters are dragged along. They have no free will (a common theme this week).

I’m telling you. When you give your hero an overarching goal, writing a good script is so much easier.

But there’s a bigger problem here. The character of Indiana Jones isn’t built for this story. George Lucas is obsessed with the idea that every iteration of a franchise has to give us something new. That’s what he did with the prequels. And that’s what he did with Crystal Skull. And I understand where he’s coming from. You don’t want to repeat yourself.

With that said, you created Indiana Jones for a very specific type of adventure. Look at his weapon. It isn’t a gun. It’s a whip. A gun helps you against spies. A whip helps you in a cave. Everything about this character was built around raiding tombs and finding treasure.

Therefore, when you put him in the desert against aliens, everything feels off. This character wasn’t built to fight aliens. He wasn’t built to avoid nuclear missile blasts. As a result, Indiana Jones stops being relevant in his own movie. You could put any alpha male hero in this role and it would be the same.

So there’s a balance here that Lucas ignores. Yes, you have to create something new. But you can’t go so far away from the source that the hero’s unique skills become irrelevant. And this is coming from someone who loves alien storylines. So if there’s anybody who’s going to buy into this premise, it’s me. But I didn’t, and that’s because of this error.

Did I like anything about the script?

I liked the opening boat chase. You had this little steamer being chased by a WW2 PT boat. That was fun. I liked that Indiana got stood up at his own wedding. That was unexpected. Cause now we’re wondering, what woman would leave Indiana Jones? And I liked the design behind the love triangle. Love triangles are often on-the-nose. Two people like the same person. Big whup. But in this case, Robert and Elaine used to be together. She left him. Now, she’s run off with him, but only because he needs her for a top secret mission. Yet we get the sense that he’s slyly taking advantage of this proximity to weasel his way back into the mix. So it’s not as simple as two guys fighting over the same woman. It’s a bit more nuanced.

But there are no game-changing set pieces in the script. Which isn’t surprising. Anything that had a modicum of potential was ushered into Crystal Skull. It goes to show how difficult it is to come up with original set pieces, in that even when something isn’t right for a movie, they’ll put it in there because it’s hard to come up with something better.

One final thought. If they changed just one letter in this title – ONE LETTER – this movie would’ve been awesome. Change the “R” at the end of Saucer to a “Y.” Boom, you have a movie for the ages.

Indiana Jones and the Saucey Men From Mars

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

What I learned: Every time you write a line of description, you have the option of turbo-charging the line. I’ll give you an example. Early in the script, when we’re boating down this river, Stuart describes the crocodiles that are hovering nearby. The functional description of these crocodiles is this: “ALONG THE RIVER – crocodiles, twenty feet long.” It’s a serviceable but ultimately boring line. It does the job and nothing more. Stuart turbo-charges the line, however. This is what he writes instead: “ALONG THE RIVER – crocodiles, twenty feet long and six months between meals.” It’s a small change, but a powerful one. In our minds, these imposing beasts become imposing beasts that are starving and looking for any opportunity to gulp down a human. Always look to turbo-charge key descriptions. It makes a difference.

Genre: Sci-Fi
Premise: In 1981, a woman working on artificial intelligence for a large corporation begins to suspect that her company has something to do with the recent assassination attempt on President Ronald Reagan.
About: Damien Ober broke onto the screenwriting scene in 2013 with this script, which made The Black List. He was able to parlay that into an assignment for Robert Downey Jr.’s company called Black Mirror (not the show), which never came to fruition. More recently, he teamed up with Joaquin Phoenix and Casey Afflek to adapt Robert Olmstead’s novel, “Far Bright Star,” about the hunting down of Mexican revolutionary Pancho Villa that goes terribly wrong.
Writer: Damien Ober
Details: 114 pages (2013 draft)

I like weird stuff.

As a reader, you’re reading the same crap 90% of the time. Some hitwoman’s trying to take down an evil mob boss. A CIA agent is attempting to stop a rogue nuclear bomb. A couple is stuck in a house with an evil presence.

It’s not that these stories can’t be entertaining. Any idea that’s executed well can be good. But the majority of the time, writers have similar ideas and are following similar beats, and I suspect that’s because they all grew up on the same diet of movies, songs, TV shows and popular culture.

Usually, the writers who stand out are the ones who were placed on a unique diet growing up. Maybe their dad only showed them black and white science fiction movies from the 50s. Or maybe they’re like Donald Glover, whose parents were Jehovah’s Witnesses and therefore didn’t allow him to do or see things the other kids were doing. Or maybe they’re like Quentin Tarantino, who was watching spaghetti westerns and exploitation flicks while everyone else was watching Star Wars.

So I like weird stuff because it means that, every once in awhile, I get to read something offbeat, something where I’m not sure how things are going to go.

And what can be weirder than a movie about artificial intelligence in the 1980s that’s connected to a real-life presidential unsuccessful assassination attempt.

Right?

The year is 1981 and 40-something Wilhelmina Ross (aka “Will,” aka female with a male name, aka “uh-oh, first time screenwriter flag”) works at a billion dollar company called Forefront. Forefront researches a lot of things. But the thing Will’s working on is an A.I. project called “Randle,” a computer program that can respond to basic questions.

One day, while playing chess with Randle, Will realizes that Randle used strategy that she didn’t teach him. This means Randle is… learning. While Will rejoices in this achievement, the rest of the world is obsessed over the recent assassination attempt on Ronald Reagan, an attempt he narrowly survived.

Will later hooks up with a studly guy in his twenties named Errol who’s convinced that Ronald Regan was successfully assassinated and is therefore dead. Will isn’t sure what to make of Errol and so keeps him at arm’s distance.

Back at the labs, the evil overseer of Will’s project, a guy named Caylax, says that she needs to speed the project up, and combines her division with another division of human clones. The request is clear. Hook your artificially intelligent computer to the brains of these clones.

Will’s having second thoughts on if her project is actually helping the world, especially with Errol chirping in her ear every 24 hours about how evil Forefront is. Eventually, Will learns what we figured out somewhere around page 5, that they’re trying to create an artificially intelligent replica of Ronald Reagan to replace the real Ronald Reagan, who died.

Okay, let’s unpack this.

I don’t like to be dismissive when reviewing a screenplay. But it bothers me when the writing is sloppy, as it is implies that the writer wasn’t trying hard.

The year is 1981 and our main character has a cell phone. Yes, gigantic impractical cell phones had been invented by the year 1981, but the first cell phone didn’t go into service until 1983. And I know that from a 10 second google search. If I can do that in ten seconds, why couldn’t the writer?

I’ll tell you why this is problematic. It’s because now I don’t trust the writer. He’s indicated that telling this story isn’t important enough to him to check basic facts. And while that doesn’t mean I’ve given up on the screenplay, it does mean I’m reading skeptically moving forward.

It wasn’t surprising, then, when things didn’t get better. Will has been working on this project for five years. In that time, she’s gotten Randle to be a better chess player and access other databases outside of Forefront. Then this guy Caylax comes in and says, “We must accelerate the program or you’re fired,” and THAT NIGHT Will connects a computer hard drive to a human brain and therefore creates the first artificially intelligent clone.

I’m sorry but that’s not how science works. You don’t just place a computer wire against a brain and all of a sudden computer and human mesh into one. I’m not saying you have to put together a 100 page thesis statement on artificial intelligence but it’s your duty as a writer to give us just enough information that we buy into what’s happening. There was no information given here. It was just connecting a wire to a brain.

Even if you buy into that, the structure of the story itself is problematic. We’ve only introduced two ideas in the whole movie. One, that Forefront is trying to connect AI with cloned bodies. And two, that Ronald Reagan’s assassination was secretly a success. Since those are the ONLY TWO plot threads, there is literally nowhere else to go but to learn that Forefront is trying to create a cloned Ronald Reagan. Since we know this as soon as the script begins, we spend the entire story waiting for the writer to catch up to us.

You must always be ahead of the reader. The only time the reader should be ahead of you is when you want them to be, when you’re going to use his assumptions about what he believes will happen against him. The worst thing a script can be is comfortable. And this is the ultimate comfortable script.

It’s funny because yesterday’s review was all about too much happening. Today’s is about not enough happening. As is usually the case, it’s that sweet spot in between that works best.

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

What I learned: There’s a bigger issue at play here and it connects with yesterday’s big talking point. And that’s the idea of centering your story around a hero who doesn’t control their own fate. They’re being dragged through the story by other people. In Ant-Man and The Wasp, Scott is being dragged along by Hank and Hope. In Randle is Benign, Will is being dragged along by Forefront and Caylax. She has no idea what her research is being used for. She has no goal of her own she’s striving towards. She’s just working on Randle for this company. When you create a character that has such a passive presence in the story, it’s hard to make work. It can be done. But it’s a LOT HARDER. Audiences like following heroes with their own plans and who are pushing the story forward themselves, as opposed to following others who are pushing for them.

How one cataclysmic screenplay decision doomed the most joyful franchise in the Marvel Universe.

Genre: Superhero
Premise: When Dr. Hank Pym uncovers information that his wife, who went missing decades ago after descending into the “quantum realm,” may still be alive, he sets out to find her.
About: The new sequel to Ant-Man had the difficult task of being the first Marvel Film to follow Avengers: Infinity War. And yet it did pretty well, finishing with 76 million dollars at the box office this weekend. With a low budget by superhero movie standards (120 million), that ain’t so bad.
Writers: Chris McKenna & Erik Sommers and Paul Rudd & Andrew Barrer & Gabriel Ferrari
Details: 2 hours long

I am always entertained by Marvel movies.

I may not be bowled over by them. But the combination of solid screenwriting, great casting, and a set piece or two that you’ve never seen before, makes me feel like my money was well spent.

Ant-Man and The Wasp is the first Marvel movie where I wanted my money back.

Scott Lang (Ant-Man) is on house arrest for his participation in some crime from the last film. Across town, Hank Pym, the man who built the original Ant-Man suit, and his daughter, Hope, start having mysterious dreams that Hank’s wife, who he lost during a mission when she went into “subspace” forty years ago, is still alive. So he wants to go save her.

Scott, who had a similar dream, likely due to his journey into subspace himself, is recruited to help Hank and Hope find Hank’s wife. When they try and buy a piece of technology from Walter Goggins that will help them get to the quantum realm, a superhero named Ghost, whose molecular structure is so unstable, you can’t hit her, shows up to steal Hank’s lab (which has been turned suitcase-sized) so SHE can get into subspace and fix her molecular issues.

The suitcase-sized lab then works as a McGuffin. Everyone is after it for their own reasons. Because the tunnel to subspace will close soon, time is running out for Hank and Hope to save their wife/mom. They will have to get the lab, figure out where the wife is, then rescue her, all before the movie is over.

Here’s the thing about Ant-Man and The Wasp. It should’ve worked. The core of the plot is not only character-driven, but emotionally poignant. Hank is trying to rescue his wife who disappeared 40 years ago in sub-atomic space. Building a superhero movie around something so personal is usually a recipe for a good film.

On top of this, you had, in theory, a complex villain in Ghost. Here’s this woman whose power is also the source of all her misery. That’s the best kind of power to give a superhero, one that’s also a burden, as it adds a complex layer to every choice the character makes.

So then what happened?

Well, for starters, Ant-Man and The Wasp had enough exposition in it for four Marvel movies. And it’s not hard to figure out why. You had Hank and Hope’s story with their mom. You had Scott’s story with his daughter. You had Scott’s house arrest story. You had the story for why Hope and Hank needed Scott’s help. You had Ghost’s story. You had Ghost’s dad’s story. You had Michael Pena’s Security Company story. And you had Walter Goggins thief story.

The more storylines you add, the more explaining you’re going to have to do. Explaining is exposition. Exposition is a MOMENTUM-KILLER. Therefore, every time this movie felt like it was getting somewhere, we’d stop and have to explain 20 million things. There’s a scene where Ghost has tied up Scott, Hank and Hope to extract information from them and it goes on and on and on because of how much everybody needs to say. Why does everybody need to say something? Because there’s SO MUCH INFORMATION the audience needs to know in order to understand what’s going on.

I don’t even know why I say this anymore since clearly nobody’s listening. But the more characters and storylines you add, the clunkier your screenplay is going to be. The only time this isn’t true is when you have forever to smooth everything out. That wasn’t the case here. They were on a typical rushed sequel deadline. So they signed their own death warrant when they decided to include 6 simultaneous story threads amongst a script that already was going to be exposition-heavy with all the quantum realm stuff that needed to be explained.

At the very least, they should’ve cut Walter Goggins out of the story. What was he doing here?? He was just some random dude. He didn’t even understand the technology he was after. At least with Ghost, the technology had the capability to save her. So her pursuit made sense. But come on. That simple cut would’ve brought your movie down from 90% exposition to 80%, which is still 60% too much, but it would’ve been an improvement.

Now you may say to me, well hold on Carson. Avengers: Infinity War had a really complex plot and it worked. Actually, Avengers: Infinity War wasn’t as complex as you think. A guy was trying to get 5 crystals so he could destroy the universe. That plot engine was so prevalent throughout every scene (save for some of the Thor stuff), that we were never confused about what was going on. Ant-Man and Wasp, by contrast, had to give us updates every five minutes on where the characters were, why they were doing what they were doing, and what needed to happen next.

But it was only as the movie was wrapping up that it occurred to me what the true problem was. And it was a mistake so baffling, I can’t believe nobody making this film caught it.

Ant-Man and The Wasp has nothing to do with Ant-Man.

Think about it. This storyline has zip to do with Scott Lang. He has no emotional tie to Hank’s wife or Hope’s mother at all. It’s their story. They’re the characters driving the plot. As a result, the entire movie is one big series of scenes where they’re trying to come up with reasons for Ant-Man to be in the movie.

It got so bad that at one point, I kid you not, they have Scott BECOME THE WIFE! She pulls a Whoopi Goldberg and somehow takes over Scott’s brain so that she can let her husband and daughter know where she is. That’s how desperate they were to figure out ways to include Ant-Man.

In retrospect, this may be the worst plot decision ever made in a superhero film. You’ve created a plot that doesn’t need your main character!!! How dumb is that??!!!!? And look. Maybe – MAYBE – they could’ve saved face if the people going after the mom were, you know, likable. But Evangeline Lilly’s Wasp was a big fat whiner who sucked the happiness out of every scene. And I don’t think Michael Douglas even knows what a superhero is. He’s the equivalent of a dad at his teenage daughter’s birthday party pretending to understand Snapchat. Good god is he miscast.

The final problem is the budget. They had 120 million dollars and decided to spend 10 of it on the first 90 minutes and 110 on the last 20. Therefore, the first hour and a half is people in rooms talking about really exciting things such as where they have to go next. The next 10 minutes is all the big special effects shots, every one of which was already shown in the trailer. And then, when we get to the culmination of the story – the quantum realm – the place where we assume all the moola has been spent, it’s a big fat nothing-burger. Sub-space looked like a half-rendered effects shot for one of those early computer generated Saturday morning cartoons. We’ve spent the entire movie building up to this moment and this is what we get??

The reason I’m so passionate about this is because Ant-Man was my favorite Marvel superhero. Now I kind of hate him. He’s pointless. I hope this isn’t a new trend going forward. Will Black Panther 2 focus on Martin Freeman’s daughter getting kidnapped and his quest to get her back? Maybe, if Black Panther is lucky, he’ll get to fight side-by-side with Martin. What a disaster.

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

What I learned: There are screenplays where the hero drives the plot. There are screenplays where the villain drives the plot. But I don’t know many screenplays where a secondary character drives the plot. I’m not saying it can’t be done. There are probably a few examples in history where it’s worked. But I will say that if that’s the way you’re structuring your story, you’re doing it wrong. When you trace all the problems of this script back to their source, it’s that the best thing about your property, Ant-Man, aka the TITULAR CHARACTER, is a background player. I can’t fathom why they did this.