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The Karate Kid makes 56 million on its opening weekend. I don’t think anyone saw that coming. Not even “I’ve never failed at anything in my entire life” Will Smith! This is great news for Jackie Chan as well, who was just about to commit to a The Spy Next Door sequel, which we all know would’ve been titled, “The Spy Next Door Too.” I did not see Karate Kid, but I have to admit, the trailers did not look awful. The actors seemed to be taking the movie seriously, and against all odds, it kinda worked. Have no idea if the full movie is the same. Here at Scriptshadow, I’m reviewing an Oscar winning screenwriter tomorrow, putting together what should be a fun little article for Wednesday, and am yet to commit to my Thursday and Friday reviews. Today, Roger comes at you with a script I’m 97% certain was written specifically for him. Here’s “The Book Of Magic.”

Genre: Fantasy Adventure, Horror
Premise: Harry Houdini teams up with the legendary author, H.P. Lovecraft, to track down a supernatural serial killer in 1920s New York City.

About: This script won first prize in the 2003 ManiaFest Screenplay Competition and landed Sheldon Woodbury a writing assignment for Jeff Sagansky, a producer who used to be the president of Sony Pictures.

Writer: Sheldon Woodbury


Surely, as deep calls to deep, mystery attracts mystery. Which is an idea explored in “The Book of Magic” (not to be confused with Neil Gaiman’s The Books of Magic), a tale where the infamous escape artist Harry Houdini teams up with the grandfather of horror fiction to catch a supernatural serial killer in 1920s New York City. That logline appeared in my inbox a few weeks ago and all I could do was stare at it and exclaim, “Seriously?” As a reader of this blog, it doesn’t take a lot of homework to know that I love two things:

Magic and monsters.
On one side of this fantastic coin, we have arguably the most popular magician that ever lived, and on the other, we have a writer who probably influenced every horror and fantasy writer living today. The concept of these two men teaming up hit so many geek buttons I just couldn’t say ‘No’ to the sender of the email.
But, wait. Both men come from the opposite ends of the psychic spectrum. Houdini spent a lot of his time debunking the supernatural, why would he team up with someone like Lovecraft?
In real life, Lovecraft historian S.T. Joshi writes that the editor of Weird Tales (the cool pulp mag that Lovecraft published most of his stories in, which is still around today thanks to the awesome Vandermeers) wanted Lovecraft to ghost-write a supposedly real adventure Houdini had in Egypt at Campbell’s Tomb.
And that’s the starting point for our fabulous team up in “The Book of Magic”. Houdini, a media whore and exhibitionist, enjoys monopolizing the headlines with his death-defying stunts. He doesn’t like it when people throw the word ‘impossible’ around, and when we meet him he’s shaming the warden of the New York City jail system by escaping out of a strait jacket and maximum security cell.
He wants to team-up with a writer to tell The Amazing Adventures of Harry Houdini. And after reading some of Lovecraft’s stories, you could say he becomes a fan. A meeting is set up for the two men by the editor of Weird Tales (which also had an “Ask Houdini” column), Chester R. Greeley. Side note: Oddly, no mention of J.C. Henneberger?
What’s the depiction of Howard Phillips Lovecraft like?
I’ve yet to be satisfied with any story that attempts to use the writer as a character, and this includes Rodionoff, Giffen and Breccia’s graphic novel Lovecraft to John Carpenter’s In the Mouth of Madness, where the character of Sutter Cane is a sort of narrative analog for the love child of Stephen King and H.P. Lovecraft.
In this script, the depiction doesn’t fall into caricature, and my only complaint is that I wanted more of him. He’s sickly, frail, dresses all in black. He’s experiencing vivid nightmares that afford him no rest when he sleeps, and he starts to wonder if his ghastly visions have something to do with the grisly murders that are vying with Houdini for the newspaper headlines.
He believes he may be going insane, and he arrives at the offices of his publisher to let him know that he’ll be leaving the city soon. Why? It’s that classic nihilist’s dilemma of feeling like he doesn’t belong, but he never mentions that his dream cycles may be responsible for all the mysterious violence taking place within the shadow of his presence.
He snubs Houdini, makes a quick exit, but Houdini jumps out a window and descends the face of the building to save the writer from being trampled by a horse-drawn carriage. Coincidentally, Houdini also tells a reporter that he can solve these serial killer murders before the police can, becoming the unofficial detective for the case.
We learn that all of Lovecraft’s stories come from his dreams, and when Houdini learns that Lovecraft can communicate with his dead mother in this dream world, he refuses to let the writer leave the city. Because Houdini saved his life, Lovecraft opts to stick around and becomes intrigued by the murder investigation, especially when Houdini discovers some symbols that point towards the mythical Old Ones.
Lovecraft is more of an advisor to Houdini, who is the hero of the story, and the Cthulhu Mythos is the setting that is bleeding into our reality. Sure, there’s a sequence in the 3rd act when Lovecraft has to journey into his dream world to save Houdini, but I think we ought to be emotionally moved by Lovecraft’s story as much as we are by Houdini’s.
What’s The Cthulhu Mythos, Rog?
Houdini and the police find a lair and dumping ground for bodies in the sewers underneath the city, and after the sewers are flooded and Houdini almost kills himself while saving a cop named Quinn, he shows Lovecraft, ever the scholar, some of the drawings he saw in the cave.
It’s an oddly shaped head with globe-like eyes. A fishy visage. Sure, this may be a description of our supernatural serial killer, but it’s also a nod to the weird hybrid inhabitants of the town in the Lovecraft story, The Shadow Over Innsmouth. The natural appearance of a race of people that not only worship Mother Hydra, but Cthulhu.
You see, Cthulhu is one of many creatures Lovecraft would reference as background detail in his stories. I’ll let him explain them here:
“…They’re beings, fantastic creatures…and they lived on this planet long before us. Their history is the history before ours…They were grand in size, maybe even Gods, but hideous to look at it. They lived in great cities that touched the sky, and they walked this world like kings…It was a time of miracles beyond description…But their world vanished, and ours began…”
It’s a bit different than what we really find in the tales, which is usually a character who suffers fatal consequences when the veil is removed from their perception of reality and their minds shatter as they come to the realization that humanity is not the center of the universe, but the spirit is the same.
Our heroes discover that the secrets of these Old Ones are contained in a real book of magic, which is something that sparks Houdini’s imagination and obsession. Of course, whoever finds the book will find themselves in control of a dangerous power, and as more and more clues concerning the identity of the killer point towards the awakening of these creatures, we begin to realize that the fate of the world and humanity is at stake.
Does it work?
Yeah, it’s weird though, but in a good way. It reads like a pulpy, Detective Comics procedural with a famed magician as the hero trying to stop a Lovecraftian horror from invading our reality. I’d imagine if Weird Tales published screenplays, this would be the type of script they would herald.
What I like “The Book of Magic” is that it never falls into the trap that most of August Derleth’s (and others) Cthulhu Mythos fiction falls in, which is creating a dualism within the structure of The Old Ones, a good and evil bifurcation that Lovecraft never intended.
The horror of the Lovecraftian world is that there absolutely is something bigger than us in the universe, and to it we are as inconsequential as a grain of sand. There’s a nihilism to it, a realization of an encroaching despair, something that snuffs out our light of significance and hope. And what’s scarier than that?
“The Book of Magic” is about stopping The Unbeheld from returning to our world and destroying us. And while Lovecraft is someone who may have suffered from his own sense of despair, Houdini is someone that fought the impossible. It’s a nice combo that mixes together well, and I suppose there’s something about this draft that makes it read like a great graphic novel, if not a cool, little movie.
The heart of the story is the relationship between Houdini and his wife, Bess. Bess’ is concerned about Houdini’s well-being, as she worries herself into a frenzy that her husband is going to kill himself one day and become a victim to one of his own adventures. This is used to great effect during the final scene of the story, and it moved me when I wasn’t expecting to be moved.
I suppose my only criticism is that the writer should have made Lovecraft more of a three-dimensional character, and I would have liked to see the concept exploited even more than it was, i.e. Why not have Houdini pull more from his bag of tricks during his quest?
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[xx] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: Even if you have a concept that is a comic-book (or in this case, literature geek) geek’s wet dream, it still has to be emotionally moving. A fanboy concept may make a great logline, but it won’t make a great script unless the execution of the story moves you in some way. One of the ways this script did this was by focusing on Houdini’s ambition. It’s a flaw that his wife believed would lead him to his death. It’s a flaw that caused conflict between him and his wife. Because she worried about his well-being, I worried about his well-being. If each obstacle is a challenge bigger than the last, I kept wondering, what obstacle is going to kill him? When Houdini goes missing into the 3rd of this story, I found that my heart was invested in Lovecraft’s quest to locate him. Comic-books may have plenty of external conflict, but it’s the internal conflict that ultimately moves you.

Genre: Comedy
Premise: A man is forced to travel cross-country with his annoying brother in order to get to his wedding.
About: Disney picked this spec up back in 2009 for 250k. Kopelow and Seifert have been writing for TV for over a decade, having worked on shows ranging from “Kenan & Kel” to Oxygen’s “Campus Ladies.”
Writers: Kevin Kopelow and Heath Seifert
Details: 98 pages – May 16, 2008 (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time of the film’s release. 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).

My vote for the most annoying person in the world. Who’s yours?

The best “two guys stuck together traveling cross-country” movie is Dumb and Dumber by a mile. The script was actually a bit of a gamble when you think about it. Whenever you write about two people stuck together in any situation, the traditional approach is to make one guy the “crazy/dumb/weird” guy and the other guy the “straight man.” The extreme contrast between the two characters usually provides the most potential for comedy. The Farrelly brothers said screw that and just put two idiots together. Somehow, we got a classic.

The Most Annoying Man In The World goes back to the more traditional pairing of super extreme guy and super straight guy, and proves that it’s still a safe bet when done well. Stuart Pivnick IS the most annoying man in the world, and I have to give it to Kopelow and Seifert for giving us one of the best descriptions I’ve ever read in a comedy. Stuart is described as… “an enthusiastic, hyper, immature, naive, nosy, arbitrarily opinionated, completely un-self-aware, chronic complainer with no sense of personal space.” I love how they not only have fun with the description, but how it perfectly portrays Stuart in the process.

Across the country, finishing his bachelor party in Las Vegas, is Stuart’s brother, Alan. Alan is basically the opposite of everything Stuart is. He always wants to get everything right and boy has that become a problem with his wedding fast approaching. Everything seems to be going wrong and Alan is having to do damage control minute by minute from 2000 miles away.

Alan also hasn’t spoken to his brother in over a decade. Why? Well because he’s the most annoying man in the world! In fact, so relentlessly annoying is Stuart, that Alan’s created a ruse whereby he works at a remote research facility in the middle of the South Pole, one where he’s supposedly unable to communicate with anyone outside of his research operators.

But when Alan gets stuck at O’Hare and all of the day’s flights are canceled, he’s forced to call the only person he knows in town. Stuart.

Stuart, of course, is thrilled! He loves Alan more than anything. And when’s the next time the government is going to let his poor brother out of that research facility? So he welcomes Alan in with open arms, situating a second mattress inside his bedroom so they can both sleep together, then proceeds to read out loud and sing in his sleep all night so that Alan doesn’t get a wink of rest.

Despite being late the next morning, Stuart drives the exact speed limit to the airport, and this leads to a series of problems which result in Alan missing his flight. But Stuart comes up with the wonderful idea that they just drive to Philly together! With options dwindling, Alan agrees. Because Alan can’t tell Stuart *why* he needs to get to Philly so urgently (there’s no way he’s allowing Stuart to come to his wedding), it results in a logistical nightmare, as more and more wedding plans continue to fall apart, and Alan must manage them without letting Stuart on to what he’s up to.

The two take many detours, with Stuart repeatedly screwing everything up as much as humanly possible. He has a medical condition that forces him to eat at EXACT times, flipping out if he’s even a second late. He listens to movie scores in the car and makes up his own words to them (He’ll listen to E.T. and sing “E.T. likes reeses pieeeeces. He’s going home soooon.”) He likes to play games like “Guess a number between one and a million” where Alan picks a number and Stuart keeps guessing which number it is til he’s right. He truly is the most annoying man in the world. And for the most part, it’s really funny.

But like I always tell people who write comedies, you have to have the story and the emotional element up to the level of the comedy, and Kopelow and Seifert do a great job with that here. This is just as much about getting to Philadelphia without letting Stuart in on his wedding as it is about funny scenes. It’s just as much about two brothers reconnecting as it is about making an audience laugh.

I saw “Get Him To The Greek” this weekend and what baffled me was just how unimportant the story was. Nobody really gave a shit about GETTING TO THE DAMN GREEK! Outside of Jonah Hill half-heartedly reminding Aldous every few scenes, nobody, from the record label to the fans, gave a shit whether Aldous made it to his concert or not. I remember that at least in the original script, Aldous hadn’t played a concert in 10 years. So it felt like the concert actually meant something and was a special event. Here, he plays a fucking concert in the middle of the damn movie!!!, completely sucking dry any of the importance of the concert that’s supposed to be the whole damn point of the movie! – My point is, if we don’t feel the push of the story – If that isn’t completely dominating the narrative – then none of the comedy freaking matters. The Most Annoying Man In The World, much like The Hangover, feels like the characters’ plight actually matters and isn’t just a convenient destination for the movie to end.

My only real complaint here is that the script needs to axe some of the generic situations its characters find themselves in. At first, going to a carnival/theme park sounds funny, but in the end it has very little to do with their specific journey, and therefore feels more like a desperate laugh grab than a logical story sequence. In fact, I think all of the set piece scenes here could use a jolt, except for the car getting stuck on an ice sheet scene – which had me laughing for a good five minutes. I thought The Hangover did this well. In the initial draft of that script, one of the guys wakes up to find out he was at a gay bar the previous night. I couldn’t figure out why they ditched that in the film, but then I realized we’ve seen that before. We’ve never seen characters steal Mike Tyson’s tiger though. It just reminded me how you have to push yourself to come up with original sequences in comedies.

Overall, a solid comedy. And more importantly, one I think could make a great movie.

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

What I learned: Comedies, more than any other genre, allow you to tell your story in the title. 40 Year old Virgin. Knocked Up. This is obviously a huge advantage in an ADD Twitter-obsessed 5-second-version no-fat-allowed world. But don’t just sum up your movie in the title, make sure it’s still funny and/or jumpstarts the imagination for what kind of movie it could be. 40 Year Old Virgin did the best job of this (I immediately thought of all the hilarious scenes you could have of a 40 year old man trying to get laid for the first time) and the 2008 spec sale “I Wanna F— Your Sister” also did a wonderful job. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. There’s still an art to it. “Two Guys, One Who’s Dumb, Roadtrip To Marriage,” may tell us your story, but doesn’t roll off the tongue. So if the opportunity’s there and you come up with something clever, do it. If not, specs like “Due Date” and “Cedar Rapids” are still selling. So don’t sweat it.

Everybody always says it. The one surefire way to break into the industry is to write a great script. “All you have to do is write a great script,” they say. “Ohhhh,” you reply, “That’s it? “That’s all I had to do all this time?? Was write a great script? Well why didn’t you say so? And here I was working on my 20th really bad script!” Bitter reactions aside, it’s true. Write a great script and you’re in.

What hasn’t been clarified is what “great” means. Well I got to thinking (yes, it does happen). Why don’t I post exactly what a “great script” is so there’s no more confusion? Now when we say, “Just write a great script,” people will actually have something to reference. This idea sounded brilliant when I first came up with it, but the more it marinated, the more I realized that if writing a great script could be explained in a 2500 word blog post, we’d probably all be millionaires.

However, that doesn’t mean I can’t offer a list of 13 things I consistently see in great scripts. It may not be a step by step guide but at least it’s something. Yeah, I thought. That might work.

Now while I was hoping to provide an all-inclusive list of tips to best help you write a great script, the reality is I’ve probably forgotten a couple of things. So this is what I’m going to do. In the comments section, I want you to include what YOU think makes a great script. Over the course of today and tomorrow, I’ll update this post to include the best suggestions from you guys. Together, we’ll create *the* perfect go-to list when it comes to writing a great script. Isn’t this wonderful? Team Scriptshadow!

So here they are, in no particular order…

1) AN ORIGINAL AND EXCITING CONCEPT

This is the single most important choice you will make in writing your script because it will determine whether people actually read it or not. I used to hear agents say, “90% of the scripts out there fail before I’ve even opened them.” And it’s true. If you don’t have a compelling concept, nothing else matters. This slightly circumvents the “great” argument because nobody’s saying you can’t write a “great” script about a boy who goes home to take care of his ailing mother. But the reality is, nobody’s going to get excited about reading that script. Even the kind of people who WOULD want to read that script probably won’t because they know it’s a financial pitfall. It’ll take 5 years off their life and, in the end, play in 10 theaters and make 14,286 dollars. Now obviously an “exciting” idea is objective. But it’s fairly easy to figure out if you have something special. Pitch your idea to your 10 best friends. Regardless of what they *tell* you, read their reactions. Do their eyes and voices tell you they’re into it? If you get 10 polite smiles accompanied with a “Yeah, I like it,” it’s time to move on to the next idea. So give me your Hangovers. Give me your Sixth Senses. Shit, give me your Beavers. But don’t give me three people in a room discussing how their lives suck for 2 hours. And if you do, make it French. –

2) A MAIN CHARACTER WHO WANTS SOMETHING (AKA A “GOAL”)

Some people call it an “active protagonist.” I just call it a character who wants something. Ripley and the marines want to go in and wipe out the aliens in “Aliens.” Liam Neeson wants to find his daughter in “Taken.” The girl in “Paranormal Activity” wants to find out what’s haunting her house. The stronger your character wants to achieve his/her goal, the more compelling they’re going to be. Now I’ll be the first to admit that passive characters sometimes work. Neo is somewhat passive in The Matrix until the end. And, of course, Dustin Hoffman is the most famous passive character of all time in The Graduate. But these characters are tricky to write and require a skill set that takes years to master. In the end, they’re too dangerous to mess around with. Stick with a character who wants something.

3) A MAIN CHARACTER WE WANT TO ROOT FOR

This is one of the more hotly debated topics in screenwriting because a character we “root for” is usually defined as being “likable,” and there are a whole lot of screenwriters out there who would rather bake their craniums in a pizza oven than, gasp, make their protagonist “likable.” I got good news. Your hero doesn’t have to be “likeable” for your script to work. But you DO have to give us a character we want to root for, someone we’re eager to see succeed. He *can* be likable, such as Steve Carrel’s character in “40 Year Old Virgin.” He can be defiant, like Paul Newman in “Cool Hand Luke.” But he has to have some quality in him that makes us want to root for him. If your character is mopey, whiney, and an asshole, chances are we’re not going to want to root for that guy.

4) GET TO YOUR STORY QUICKLY!

Oh man. Oh man oh man oh man. As far as amateur screenplay mistakes go, this is easily one of the Top 3. Even after I explain, in detail, what the mistake is, writers continue to do it. So I’m going to try and make this clear. Are you ready? “Your story is moving a lot slower than you, the writer, believe it is.” For that reason, speed it the fuck up! In other words, that ten page sequence which contains 3 separate scenes, each pointing out in its own unique way that your hero is irresponsible? Well we figured it out after the first scene. You don’t need to waste 7 more pages telling us again…and again. Remember, readers use the first 30 pages to gauge how capable a writer is. And the main thing they’re judging is how quickly and efficiently you set up your story. In The Hangover, I think they wake up from their crazy night somewhere around page 20. You don’t want it to be any later than page 25 before we know what it is your character is after (see #2).

5) STAY UNDER 110 PAGES

This is a close cousin to number 2 and a huge point of contention between writers as well. But let’s move beyond my usual argument, which is that a 120 page script is going to inspire rage from a tired reader, and discuss the actual effects of a 110 page screenplay on your story. Keeping your script under 110 pages FORCES YOU TO CUT OUT ALL THE SHIT. That funny scene you like that has nothing to do with the story? You don’t need it. The fifth chase scene at the end of the second act? You don’t need it. Those 2 extra scenes I just mentioned above that tell us the exact same information we already know about your main character? You don’t need them. I know this may be hard to believe. But not everything you write is brilliant, or even necessary for that matter. Cutting your script down to 110 pages forces you to make tough decisions about what really matters. By making those cuts, you eliminate all the fat, and your script reads more like a “best of” than an “all of.” As for some of those famous names who like to pack on the extra pages, I’ll tell you what. For every script you sell or movie you make, you’re allowed 5 extra pages to play with, as your success indicates you now know what to do with those pages. Until then, keep it under 110. And bonus points if you keep it under 100.

6) CONFLICT

Does everyone in your script get along? Is the outside world kind to your characters? Do your characters skip through your story with nary a worry? Yeah, then your script has no conflict. I could write a whole book on conflict but here’s one of the easiest ways to create it. Have one character want something and another character want something else. Put them in a room together and, voila, you have conflict. If your characters DO happen to be good friends, or lovers, or married, or infatuated with each other, that’s fine, but then there better be some outside conflict weighing on them (Romeo and Juliet anyone?). Let me give you the best example of the difference between how conflict and no conflict affect a movie. Remember The Matrix? How Trinity wanted Neo but she couldn’t have him yet? Remember the tension between the two? How we wanted them to be together? How we could actually feel their desire behind every conversation? The conflict there was that the two couldn’t be together. Now look at The Matrix Reloaded and The Matrix Revolutions. Trinity and Neo are together. They’re always happy. And they’re always F’ING BORING AS HELL! The conflict is gone and therefore so is our interest. If your story isn’t packed with conflict, you don’t have a story.

7) OBSTACLES

Your script should have plenty of obstacles your main character encounters in pursuit of his goal. A big issue I see in a lot of bad scripts is that the main character’s road is too easy. The more obstacles you throw at your hero, the more interesting a script tends to be, because that’s why we come to the movies in the first place, to see how our hero heroically overcomes the problems he’s presented. He can’t be heroic if he doesn’t run into anything that tests his heroism. Go watch any of the Bourne movies to see how obstacles are consistently thrown at a character. And a nice side effect? Each obstacle creates conflict!

8) SURPRISE

A great script continually surprises you. Even if the story seems familiar, the characters’ actions and the twists and turns are consistently different from what we expected. The most boring scripts I read are ones where I have a good sense of what’s going to happen for the next 5 or 6 scenes. Remember, readers have read everrryyyyyything. So you really have to be proactive and outthink them to keep them on their toes. The Matrix is a great example of a script that continually surprises you. The first time you watched that movie (or read that script) you rarely had any idea where the story was going.

9) A TICKING TIME BOMB

Ticking time bombs can get a bad rap because they have such an artificial quality to them, but oh how important they are. What’s so great about them? They add * immediacy* to your story. If a character doesn’t have to achieve his goals right now, if he can achieve them next week or next year, then the goal really isn’t that important, is it? We want to watch a character that has to achieve his goal RIGHT NOW or else he loses everything. Sometimes ticking time bombs are clear as day (Hangover: They need to find Doug by noon on Saturday to get him back in time for his wedding), sometimes they’re more nuanced (Star Wars Luke needs to get the details of that battle station to the Rebel Alliance before they find and destroy the planet), but they’re there. If you don’t have a ticking time bomb in your script, you better have a damn good reason why.

10) STAKES

If your character achieves his ultimate goal, there needs to be a great reward. If your character fails to achieve his ultimate goal, there needs to be huge consequences. The best use of stakes is usually when a character’s situation is all or nothing. Rocky’s never going to get another shot at fighting the heavyweight champion of the world. This is it. Those stakes are damn high. If Wikus doesn’t get Christopher up to the mothership in District 9, he’s going to turn into a fucking alien. Those stakes are damn high. If all a character loses by not achieving his goal is a couple of days out of his life, that’s not very exciting, is it? And that’s because the stakes are too low.

11) HEART

We need to emotionally connect with your characters on some level for us to want to follow them for 110 minutes (NOT 120!). The best way to do this is to give your character a flaw, introduce a journey that tests that flaw, and then have him transform into a better person over the course of that journey. This is also known as having your character “arc.” When characters learn to become better people, it connects with an audience because it makes them believe that they can also change their flaws and become better people. In Knocked Up, Seth Rogan is a grade-A fuck-up, the most irresponsible person on the planet. So the journey forces him to face that head on, and learn to become responsible (so he can be a parent). You always want a little bit of heart in your script, whether it’s a drama, a comedy, or even horror.

12) A GREAT ENDING

Remember, your ending is what the reader leaves with. It is the last image they remember when they close your script. So it better leave a lasting impression. This is why specs like The Sixth Sense sell for 2 million bucks. If you go back into that script, there are actually quite a few slow areas. But you don’t remember them because the ending rocked. And I’m not saying you have to add a twist to every script you write. But make sure the ending satisfies us in some way, because if you leave us with a flat generic finale, we ain’t going to be texting our buddies saying, “Holy shit! You have to read this script right now!”

13) THE X-FACTOR

This last tip is the scariest of them all because it’s the one you have the least control over. It’s called the X-Factor. It is the unexplainable edge that great scripts have. Maybe it’s talent. Maybe the variables of your story came together in just the right way. Maybe you tap into the collective unconscious. A great script unfortunately has something unexplainable about it, and unfortunately, some of that comes down to luck. You could nail every single tip I’ve listed above and still have a script that’s missing something. The only advice I can give you to swing the dreaded X Factor in your favor is to write something you’re passionate about. Even if you’re writing Armageddon 2, create a character who’s going through the same trials and tribulations you are in life. You’ll then be able to connect with the character and, in turn, infuse your script with passion. Probably the best example of the X-factor’s influence on a script is American Beauty. A lot of people didn’t understand why they liked American Beauty. They just did. The Brigands of Rattleborge is another example. It just seeps into you for reasons unknown. I sometimes spend hours thinking about the X-Factor. How to quantify it. It’s the Holy Grail of screenwriting. Figure it out and you hold the key to writing great scripts for the rest of your life.

So there you have it. I’ve just given you the 13 keys to writing a great script. Now some of you have probably already come up with examples of great scripts that don’t contain these “rules.” And it’s true. Different stories have different requirements. So not every great script is going to contain all 13 of these elements. But you’ll be hard pressed to find a great script that doesn’t nail at least 10 of them. So now I’ll leave it up to you. What attributes do you consistently see in great scripts?

P.S. – Tomorrow I’ll post a review for a recent spec sale which you can read and break down to see if it has all 13 of these elements. So make sure to sign up for my Facebook Page or my Twitter so you’re updated when the post goes up. If I have to take the script link down, you’ll miss out.

Ahhh, a day off. Remember when we used to have those? I mean sure, technically us in America have Memorial Day today and don’t have work, but somewhere around 10 years ago holidays just became “get all the shit done you couldn’t get done otherwise” days. There is no such thing as a day off anymore. And that’s good news for you guys because it means that you still get a review! Yahoooo! So I’m going to leave the rest to Roger as he busts out a script with so many genres it needs its own multiplex. Here’s “Howl…”

Genre: Time-travelling werewolf Western (Okay, okay: Adventure, Horror, Science Fiction, Western)
Premise: A time-travelling Texas Ranger has spent the past 500 years hunting a particularly nasty werewolf. When he finally corners him in modern-day Texas, he’ll need the help of an unlikely posse to save the world from chaos.
About: This script was picked up in 2001 by Warner Brothers sans producer with Lemkin attached to direct. Back in October, I reviewed another Lemkin script, titled $$$$$$, about a modern day city war in Los Angeles. Lemkin’s writing credits include Red Planet, The Devil’s Advocate, and Lethal Weapon 4. Upon being asked about “Howl” and his opportunity to direct, “It still makes me laugh and I assume still terrifies them which is why it hasn’t happened.”
Writer: Jonathan Lemkin
Details: Third Draft

If I wasn’t a fan of Lemkin after reading $$$$$$, well, “Howl” won me over a lot sooner than the moment when Wanda, an ex-stripper and Waffle House waitress who has been recruited into a posse of werewolf hunters by a time-travelling Texas Ranger, dons a scant Red Riding Hood outfit and black fuck-me pumps and lures an army of werewolves into a seedy alley that has been converted into a kill box by the posse.

That’s a little over eighty pages into the script, but by then, I had already fallen head-over-heels for “Howl”, which I read on a plane cramped between two linebackers.
The title indicates that this is the third installment in what’s a nod to serialized adventure storytelling, and the next page serves as a warning to a particular type of reader:
If you don’t read comic books, stop.
Don’t bother to read this. It’ll just confuse you.
Watch the Bloomberg channel or something. Trade some stocks on-line. Worry about the Nasdaq.
For God’s sake don’t read this and complain that it’s not something else. It’s not.
As a guy that not only loves this kind of material, but writes it himself, I turned the pages with gusto.
Who the hell is John Dead?
Professor Jane Hamilton is the New Texas gal who discovers our time-travelling gunslinger. When we meet her, she’s arrived with her archeology team at a construction site in the middle of West Texas in the middle of the night. The foreman greets her, hopes that they haven’t stumbled across Indian ruins, because he can’t pave over that. A likeable woman, she’s brought the crew a ton of road beers while she investigates the site. These thoughts tell you everything you ought to know about Jane, “There’s no adventures anymore. We just dig up what’s left. Everything’s linked by cell phone, internet, alphanumeric pager. Your GPS tells you exactly where you are at all times. You can’t even get lost. That’s why there’s no men. Only boys and toys.”
Well, what Jane doesn’t know, is that she’s about to meet a genuine, honest-to-goodness, real man.
Using state-of-the-art seismic imaging equipment, she discovers a western town from the 1880s. There’s even a graveyard. It all looks pretty typical, but then she notices the oddly-shaped crypt calling attention to itself amidst the usual headstones and caskets. It appears to be a hypostyle, hieroglyphic-covered burial crypt that seems to be a replica of a three thousand year old Egyptian building about thirteen thousand miles from home.
She writes it off as the burial site of a crazed Egyptology enthusiast, so she puts an underling in charge. Of course they discovered mummified remains, and the underling even breaks a wax seal on one of the bodies, something he’s going to regret in a few minutes.
What appears to be a cowboy and his dog are also discovered in the strange crypt, and they transport all the remains to the University of Texas at El Paso Medical Center, where of course, the body of the dog disappears and people die horrible, horrible deaths.
John Dead is the cowboy, and he awakens, pretty pissed off to discover that the dog has escaped. Dead wears new-fangled Levi jeans from 1874. White shirt. A pair of seven and a half inch Colt .44-40 revolvers on a gunbelt, Bowie knife in a scabbard, and a Winchester 1873 lever action rifle over his shoulder.
Dude is vintage.
He’s on the hunt. He blends into El Paso, Texas, because, well, the guy’s a motherfucking cowboy. He realizes a hundred years have passed by picking up a paper, finds a coin shop that buys precious metal, which he has a lot of and exchanges for new money. He takes this money, goes to a gunshop, invests in cartridges, primers, powder, scales, bullet molds, crimpers.
In other words, everything you need to make your own bullets.
At a flop house, he boils silver, and proceeds to make a shit-ton of ammo. At the Texas Ranger Offices, he asks to see the ranking officer. He’s brought to Ben McCulloch’s office, where he shows his one-hundred year old Ranger badge and a leather-bound ledger.
McCulloch says, “I take it if you’re here, there’s trouble.” He knows about John Dead, but he can’t quite believe the man is real.
He opens up a safe for Dead, revealing more ammo in wooden boxes. Dead requests some Rangers, but McCulloch explains, “We ain’t had any call for our original mission for the most of the last hundred years.”
So, this mean Dead is going to have to form a posse. He needs outlaws, mean sons-of-bitches.
Who gets to be part of Dead’s posse?
McCulloch sends Dead to a roadside café where we meet Lumber, former road captain of the Pagans MC. Dead tells him, “I want a man who when it comes to nut cuttin’ time, knows how to die standing up. I want a man to watch my back. Pay is a thousand dollars a day. Ten days up front.”
“What exactly is it you’re doing?”
“Hunting a werewolf.”
Well, ten grand is ten grand. He accepts.
Then there’s Wanda, the local slattern waitress who Dead and Lumber save from a bunch of rowdy customers, although they can’t save her from getting fired. She asks to tag along with them, and Dead agrees, as she seems to be a radar for when people don’t seem like…people. In the old days, he used to recruit prostitutes for this task.
She asks, “So where’re we goin’?”
“Looking for a dog.”
They go to a ranch house, where a man is breeding and training pitbulls to fight. Dead, against the breeder’s warning, steps into the yard, and stares down the alpha. The alpha backs off, and all the other dogs hang back, except one, who approaches Dead, curious.
“Won’t fight. Friedrich.”
“Shows his belly?”
“Won’t pit.”
“Dog ain’t afeared. Just ain’t stupid. We’ll take him.”
And last but not least is Jane, whom Dead sees on television talking about the mummies. In a moment of misunderstood sarcasm, she reveals that the thieves should return the bodies to her as there’s a pretty terrible curse associated with them.
Dead hears this, explains, “She’s either a fool admitting she can read the curse and a threat to them…or she’s one of ’em and she let him go on purpose.”
So who is this werewolf and what’s his plan?
His name is Marrok. He’s a follower of Anubis, and his goal is to unleash seven years of devastation and death on Earth. See, Marrok is gathering a pack, because he needs to “kill an entire town in the light of a full moon, drench himself in the blood, as the last scream echoes, the pack is annealed, protected from silver for seven years.
This is information they discover thanks to a guy named Lobo, a priest who was part of Cortez’ expedition. He was bit but not killed as an insult to the Church, but the Indians took him on as a shaman.
Lobo tells them, “All of the great calamities…The Black Death, Khans sweeping out of Mongolia, Fall of the Roman Empire…They were fermented by a Were or a lie to cover up something a Were had done during a frenzy.”
Crazy. Does it work?
Fuck yeah, it does. But look, it’s not a character study. Dead’s flaw is that he’s a virgin. He can never get close to a woman, because whenever he does, Marrok kills her. It’s his way of torturing Dead.
And his inner conflict is over his feelings he has about Jane, a woman unlike any he’s ever met before. In fact, he even asks Wanda about love and she reflects, “It’s like wanting to be with someone so bad, you’d cut your arm off to be with them. And not miss it.”
And it’s a cool, satisfying theme. There may even be a scene, that quite literally, embodies what Wanda says about love.
And although the characters are quirky, that’s as deep as it gets, but it works anyways because it’s just well-executed fun. It delivers everything you want to see in a Texas Ranger Posse Vs. Werewolf Pack movie, and there’s some inventive set-pieces that don’t disappoint.
How different is it?
Well, have you ever read a script with a werewolf hunting dog that tries to protect its masters by taking on a super-alpha, only to be bit and turned into a human male? It’s strange, it’s funny, it’s surprising.
The carnage in this thing is not for the squeamish. Yes, entire busses full of people get eaten. Towns are massacred. A motorcycle gang is converted into werewolves and there’s all out war on the Texas roads.
This baby is bloody. As any self-respecting werewolf movie should be.
What separates “Howl” from the rest of the pack?
For the record, my favorite werewolf movie is the Neil Jordan adaptation of Angela Carter’s The Company of Wolves. That’s followed closely by John Landis’ An American Werewolf in London and then the original The Wolf Man.
“Howl” fits somewhere within that triumvirate, a pulpy and campy action-adventure that is easily the best werewolf script I’ve ever read. It cures the staleness that has settled over the genre as indicated by everything from the Underworld franchise to The Wolfman remake. We’re used to watching men transform into hulking beasts. That’s nothing new. Perhaps we’ve experienced all of the horror and subtext that’s possible within that, so what’s the point in making another movie about werewolves?
Lemkin has created an interesting mythology that’s all about the invasion and violation of community and security. John Dead explains, “…wolf was the greatest threat to family, community…Lotta places wolf was the largest, meanest thing you were likely to run into…but different countries, different Weres.”
And I love that.
As someone who values the need for community, this spoke to me. These monsters are creatures that have made a pact with evil and they’ve discovered a way to become invincible that is based upon the ritualistic destruction of a community. To me, that’s disturbing.
And these things come in droves. A horde. A terror shared with the threat in 28 Days Later, which will be remembered for its fast-motion tweak on the zombie mythos. “Howl” kind of does the same thing, but where the above flick was full of despair, this tale is occupied by a badass comicbook hero whose presence creates a bottleneck against this evil.
John Dead and the quirky recruits of his posse presents an original heroism and spirit that would separate “Howl” from all the other werewolf projects out there if its unique mythos, invention action sequences and fun narrative drive didn’t already make it the leader of the werewolf pack.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[x] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: The final third act battle, the confrontation with the Jungian Shadow archetype, is a master class in raising the stakes and throwing obstacles at the protagonist. Everything about Dead’s plan is turned on its head by Marrok, exploiting all the mythology set-ups Lemkin peppered the script with. The werewolf mythology here is that if a werewolf bites a human, the human has to kill the werewolf before the venom takes root, otherwise they become one. Now, that’s not all. There are other rules that Lemkin sets up, but every single one is used against the hero.
Marrok explains, “Right about now, you’re thinking if I could only kill the Were that bit me…and you know what’s funny, you can’t. Cause I’m pretty much impervious to everything. Except maybe fire hot enough to boil silver…But…the trouble with burning me is, that won’t work now either. Cause you can’t commit suicide. Cause self-destruction isn’t an option for a Were, which you are about to be. So now you can’t die and be my guardian forcing me into the afterlife. Cause you ordered the fire and now it can’t kill you. And you can’t leave cause you’ve bound in the followers of Anubis of which you are now one…”
John Dead finds himself in a situation that seems to have no escape. Which makes how he’s going to get out of such a situation a mystery for the reader. Mystery and subverting expectation can keep the reader turning the pages. What’s even better is when the solution, the escape, the last Hail Mary, is unexpected, satisfying and in-tone with everything that came before it.

Okay, so Amateur Month is officially OV-AH. That was fun. And at times scary because some of you are terrifying. It’s appropriate that today’s script is about nightmares because I think I’ll be having plenty due to Estrogen Deprived and Effscottfitz. If this is your first day back to Scriptshadow in awhile, you can go to Amateur Week here, Repped Week here, Favorites Week here, and of course, don’t forget to sign up for a tracking board if you haven’t already. I fixed the damn pricing thing I screwed up on, so it really is $44.25 now. I promise. — Hope you guys enjoyed this month as much as I sometimes did. We’ll have to do it again sometime. :)

Genre: Adventure/Children’s
Premise: A young boy teams up with a nightmare hunter to help him catch a monster that escaped from his dreams.
About: In 2002, Spielberg/Dreamworks picked up this very hot spec. The project unfortunately fell into a nightmare of its own (known as Development Hell) and unlike in the script, there was no one to save it. But Spielberg was a huge champion of the writers and tabbed them to write a couple of adaptations, including author Scott Lynch’s fantasy epic “The Lies of Locke Lamora,” about a likable con artist and his band of followers, and an original idea of Spielberg’s, “Charlie Dills.” (Don’t know what this is about – maybe It’s On The Grid knows???). But their adaptation with the best title by far, is the script they wrote for 1492 Pictures, titled: “Carpe Demon: Adventures of a Demon-Hunting Soccer Mom.”
Writers: The Brothers Hageman
Details: 99 pages (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time of the film’s release. 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).


Wow, I don’t review many children’s scripts on the site. But I love a good high concept idea and this is about as high concept as they come. So hey, why not change it up?

I mean we were all kids once. I remember as a young tyke, watching “Tales From The Crypt” and one of the tales was about a dead guy who came back to get his birthday cake. He kept repeating the phrase, “I waaaant my caaaaake,” as his deteriorated skeleton of a face oozed worms and slime. That night, I sat scrunched up in the corner of my room with a hockey mask, a baseball bat, and any sharp object I could find, staring at my door til the sun came up, convinced Mr. I-Want-My-Cake Man was going to burst through that door and take me to Deathville.

Which is the perfect segue into today’s script, which is all about nightmares. Hugo Bearing is an 11 year old orphan (that’s old in orphan years btw) who’s plagued with horrifying dreams every night he goes to sleep. In his nightmares is the sickly evil spider-ish monstrosity known as Mister It. Mister It doesn’t just scare Hugo, he psychologically burrows into him, reminding him that no parents will ever come to adopt him, and that he will always be alone…forever.

Hugo’s best friend is the pudgy tag-a-long known as Asmus Fudge (note – All of the names in this screenplay are absolutely brilliant). There’s also the twins, Eye-Patch Pete, and the eternally cranky Benny. As Hugo is the oldest, he’s the one they all look up to. And for that reason, he’s reluctant to tell them about his secret – that his nightmares still haunt him.

So what’s the only thing worse than a nightmare? A nightmare that comes to life of course! And unfortunately for Hugo, Mister It escapes from his dreams into the real world. After he slithers away, Hugo meets 70 year old Atticus Marvel, a green trench-coated Nightmare Hunter. A cross between “Sherlock Holmes and Don Quixote,” Atticus is quite the badass for someone who gets a senior discount. He informs Hugo that they have a problem. Nightmares aren’t allowed to exist in the real world, and it’s their job to capture his nightmare and put it back where it belongs.

As their journey unfolds, Atticus explains the rules of Nightmare Hunting. Nightmare Hunters are kind of like Jedi. They’re called in when a nightmare gets unruly. Old stories you hear about dragons and goblins? Those were simply nightmares who escaped from people’s dreams. Nightmares are identified by their class. The higher the class, the more dangerous they are. For example there’s a Class 2 Trundle Trotter, there’s a Class 3 Obesian Snackpacker, and so on and so forth. (did I tell you these names were great or what?)

The reason it’s so important to find Hugo’s nightmare is that he’s a class 10, and class 10’s are capable of spawning other nightmares, which is exactly what starts happening. If they don’t get Mister It back into the dreamworld soon, the entire planet will be invaded by a nightmare army.

The first thing that popped out at me here was the sheer breadth of imagination. It really feels like these guys thought this world through. The mythology, while occasionally silly, is easy to buy into. I mean the whole “monsters throughout history being escaped nightmares” thing was really clever. I also loved the whole class system and how it operated. For example, nightmare class is dependent on how extraordinary the subject’s fear is. Mister It is a Class 10 because Hugo is so terrified of him.

I think this leads to my only beef, which is that maybe the characters aren’t as deep as they could be. I mean, Hugo’s situation is a perfect setup for a major character flaw. Hugo somehow needs to overcome his fear of Mister It in order to take him down. But I was never really sure what Hugo’s flaw was (what caused his fear), other than the very basic: he was scared of Mister It. Therefore, the character arc (Hugo overcoming his flaw) doesn’t resonate. Then again, this is a kid’s story. So maybe it doesn’t matter.

Another potential problem is the world the story takes place in. Even before the nightmares arrive, the town is described in a very fairy-tale like manner. I would imagine that throwing nightmares into that world wouldn’t provide enough of a contrast to take advantage of the concept. In other words, we may feel the impact more if the town were realistic. Throwing a dream into a world that’s already dreamy prevents them from sticking out, right? But again, this is a choice they went with and it’s not like it’s a dealbreaker.

I’m not easily won over by children’s movies. Whenever Harry Potter pops up on my boob tube, I can’t help but wish I’d run into him one day in a dark alley so I could punch that little zig-zag mark off his noggin. But this was cute. It won me over.

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

What I learned: So we’ve talked a few times about the mid-point and what a good mid-point achieves. Usually – not always, but usually – a midpoint is where you raise the stakes of the main goal. So if it’s a story about trying to get to the moon to save 3 astronauts who are trapped and running out of supplies, the midpoint might be the shuttle that’s going there blowing up a day before launch. Time’s running out. Their predicament is a thousand times worse than it was a day earlier. The stakes have been raised. The Nightmare Of Hugo Bearing has a nice midpoint. Initially the goal is to capture Mister It and put him back into the dreamworld. Difficult but still doable. Exactly halfway through the story (the midpoint) we learn that Mister It is a Class 10, which means he can spurn other nightmare creatures into existence. Talk about raising the stakes. Now, they not only have to capture THIS nightmare, they have to capture ALL of the nightmares he’s created. Go to the middle of your script right now. Do you dramatically raise the stakes of your story?