Genre: Dram/Sci-fi
Premise: Sway, a talented high school pianist with a hard home life, gains the power of mind control but must strengthen it if she hopes to escape the clutches of her abusive, drug-pushing cousin.
Why You Should Read: Hey, name’s Brittany! I may not comment much but I read SS everyday. Been reading, absorbing, mostly writing. I come here with a script I’ve been working on for a little while. I’ve always wanted to write a “superpower” story set in the real, real world with very personal stakes for the main character rather than world altering ones. There’s very little special effects and no over the top sci-fi jibber jabber. It’s pretty contained and written with a low budget in mind. Chiefly, this is a story about how abuse victims grow defense mechanisms to help cope with their abusers. In this case, the victim gains an actual superpower. I look forward to any helpful feedback from Carson and the awesome SS community!
Writer: Brittany Lamoureux
Details: 88 pages
“Sway” comes along at just the right time as I’m getting in touch with my dark side this week!
I checked out Gillian Flynn’s HBO show, “Sharp Objects,” yesterday, and tomorrow I’m watching the first episode of Castle Rock on Hulu.
“Sway” has echoes of Donnie Darko in its description. Let’s see how it stands up to that cult classic.
16 year old Sway lives in a trailer park with her alcoholic mom and young sister. All of her downtime is spent working for her abusive older cousin, Rocky, who’s responsible for producing the park’s only source of income, oxycodone.
The only escape Sway has is school, particularly band class, where she gets to play piano. It’s in this class where she meets Dylan, a new kid who she quickly falls for. When Sway is chosen as one of a dozen kids to play at Carnegie Hall in a few weeks, both her and Dylan are ecstatic.
But Sway has a horrible secret. Every night when she goes to sleep, she’s visited by a horrifying shadowy monster, a monster who roughs her up and suffocates her, leaving her mentally and physically exhausted every morning.
One night during an attack, however, a black void opens up in the ceiling, momentarily distracting her from the attack. Later, she finds out that this void has given her a power, the power to manipulate people with her stare.
The power works on everybody except the most strong-minded. Unfortunately that means that the only person she wants to use the power on – Rocky – she can’t. Which sucks because Rocky refuses to sign off on Sway going to Carnegie Hall. Or hanging out with Dylan.
Dylan gets the idea that all Sway needs to do is practice her power and soon she’ll become strong enough to mind-control Rocky. Afterwards, the two can run off to New York, pursue Sway’s musical career, and live happily ever after.
Did “Sway” sway me?
Dad joke alert.
Sorry.
“Sway” is good. But it’s not nearly as good as it could be.
I like this idea of exploring rape through symbolism. Most writers will approach stuff like this literally. And literal is usually boring. When you create something to symbolically represent an atrocious act, it somehow becomes more real. And more horrifying.
My concern with “Sway” is more with the superpower stuff. I know Brittany said she ditched the exposition we typically see in superhero origin stories. And while that’s great in theory (I don’t need a 20 page breakdown explaining to me how Sway can manipulate minds), Sway’s power is SO simplistic in its origin and its application that I never bought into it.
A spinning void appears in your ceiling and that’s what gives you the power to manipulate people? Where’s the connection? At one point, Dylan jokes about Spider-Man getting his powers. That’s an example of a transformation that made sense. A radioactive spider bites a man. That man then gains spider-like powers. There’s a logical progression from A to B. There’s no logical progression here.
Not only that. But the power isn’t explored.
It’s used to get a bully to leave Dylan alone. It’s used to get Sway’s mom off her back. It’s used to get a free meal at the diner. But it’s not woven into the plot in any essential way. I mean what happens if Sway never gains this power? The movie is the same, isn’t it? Every major plot beat is the same.
Now I’m guessing this power is a metaphor for something – maybe Sway learning to stand up for herself? I don’t know. I’m notoriously terrible at picking up on these things. But even if that’s the case, a power can’t exist solely as a metaphor. It’s got to be integrated into the plot as well. That’s the power of a metaphor, is that it works on dual levels.
On top of this, there isn’t a big enough engine driving the plot. I remember I’d gotten to page 40 and I still wasn’t sure what the movie was about. You had stuff going on, such as the monster visiting Sway at night and the love story with Dylan, but there was nary a plot to be found.
Eventually, I realized the entire plot was built around going on this Carnegie Hall field trip. Is that enough to drive an entire movie? It didn’t feel like it to me.
I think that’s where I would start on a rewrite, is looking to inject more plot into the story. We definitely need more info on this piano stuff. You go from a girl in a trailer park looking at a beat up piano in the corner of the living room to her being chosen to play in the most famous music hall in the world. We need way more than that to buy her as a music prodigy.
And we need more complex characters. Outside of Rocky and Sway, everybody’s either cliche or simplistic. The drunk mom. The nervous boyfriend. The supportive music teacher. I liked how Rocky wasn’t JUST a monster. He was this guy burdened with supporting everyone in this park and living up to his father’s name. That’s the kind of complexity ALL of the characters needed.
Furthermore, there isn’t enough variety in the way people speak or act. Where’s the motormouth who lives at the trailer park? Where’s Sway’s chatty best friend at school? Everybody here speaks in one or two lines. There isn’t a single scene where two character really TALK to each other about things. It’s all so sparse that you’ll miss some scenes if you blink.
With that said, I like a lot of this. This is the kind of script that could make The Black List, especially with its subtle #metoo message. It’s the kind of script a visionary director would love. Who’s not going to want the 2018 version of Donnie Darko? But I think it needs 15 more pages. It needs more plot, more sub-plots, more characters who stand out beside Sway and Rocky, more color. It needs more dialogue. People talking to each other for more than three exchanges. And I’m not convinced it needs the power. Unless you’re going to make that power a bigger part of the story. But Brittany should keep working on this. There’s something here.
Script Link: Sway
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: Don’t miss opportunities to draw out suspense! Early in the script, Sway is in band class and the teacher says, “Okay, a dozen of you have been chosen to play at Carnegie Hall,” and then, one line later, proceeds to tell the class who made it! Noooooo!!! You never want to do it this way. You want the teacher to tell the class that TOMORROW he’ll be announcing who’s playing at Carnegie Hall. That way you have the reader wrapped around your finger for the next 10 pages until they find out. Never miss a chance to draw out suspense!
It’s time for an analysis of the 2018 box office. I know there are some people who consider box office analysis to be pointless (“Just because a movie makes money doesn’t mean it’s good!”). But box office remains the single most reliant indicator of what audiences want in a movie. In a world where entertainment options are more widespread than at any point in history, the act of taking 3 hours out of your night to drive to a theater and pay to see a movie is as strong of a vote for a film as you can make. Okay, let’s jump in!
1. The Equalizer 2 (1 wk. $44 mil, $47 ww) and The First Purge (3 wks. $62 mil, $98 ww) – The success of these two films excites me because it proves that it’s still possible for a screenwriter, without the pre-backing of a studio, to generate a franchise. Yes, I know, The Equalizer is technically based on a TV show. But it was essentially a spec script. The Purge (which is now moving into the TV space!) is probably a better indicator of what’s possible. A high-concept genre premise built on a clever contained narrative that has now become a money-printer.
2. A Quiet Place (15 wks. $187 mil, $332 ww) – I could point out the clever horror premise for the umpteenth time as the reason this movie became the second biggest box office surprise of the year. But I want to use this opportunity to highlight how a MONSTER elevates the marketing potential of a movie exponentially. There’s a shot in the first trailer for A Quiet Place where we’re creeping up a stairway and, on the wall are these giant scrape marks. What could’ve possibly done that? The only way to find out is to buy a ticket.
3. Black Panther (22 wks. $700 mil, $1.346 bil) and A Wrinkle In Time (17 wks. $100 mil, $132 ww) – I can’t believe that Black Panther made more money at the domestic box office than Avengers: Infinity War. I mean think about that for a second. That’s an amazing accomplishment. Meanwhile, A Wrinkle In Time bombed. I grouped these two films together because they represent a shift in Hollywood to produce films that include more diversity. So why did one succeed and the other fail? Because Black Panther placed its focus on writing a good movie first. A Wrinkle in Time, meanwhile, built its entire project around its message of diversity. In regards to ANY ART, nobody cares about the message unless the product is good. What’s that famous studio head quote? “If you want to send a message, use Western Union?” Your primary job when you write a screenplay is to ENTERTAIN. Nothing else matters unless you get that right. Never ever forget that as a screenwriter.
4. Annihilation (8 wks. $32 mil, no ww distribution) – I loved this movie. But let’s be real. It tanked at the box office. Annihilation is a reminder that there’s no market for big budget thinking man’s sci-fi. If you’re a thinking man’s sci-fi writer, you need to write screenplays with severely limited budgets. Think Primer or Alex Garland’s previous film, Ex Machina. The only successful thinking man’s sci-fi movies of the last decade are Arrival and Inception, which is more than zero, but not by much.
5. Game Night (17 wks. $69 mil) and Blockers (10 wks. $60 mil) – Comedies are struggling big time. Game Night and Blockers are the two biggest comedies of the year at 69 and 60 million dollars respectively. To give you some perspective, the original Hangover made 277 million dollars. Hopefuls like Tag (6 wks. $53 mil, $70 ww), Life of the Party (10 wks. $52 mil, $65 ww), and I Feel Pretty (9 wks. $48 mil, $88 ww) all underperformed. It’s looking really bad for the comedy genre. The only lesson I can glean from this is that Game Night and Blockers were both ensembles. And Blockers built a story around a wide demographic (by following a group of adults and a group of teenagers, you pull in both those demos). But should we really be propping up Blockers as the current comedy model to aspire to? I hope not. In a recent article, I noted that female-driven comedy specs still sell. Looking at 2018’s comedy numbers, I don’t know how much longer that trend will last.
6. Ready Player One (15 wks. $137 mil, $582 ww) – I know this movie didn’t do well at the box office (at least in the US). But it’s still a huge win for the writer, Ernest Cline. The odds of writing anything (much less something original) that will obtain the services of Steven Spielberg, is the movie equivalent of winning the lottery. I bring this up to remind you that the only way to write big budget material and get it made these days is to write it as a novel first. And while, in the past, that may have sounded daunting, it’s quite easy to do today with self-publishing. Don’t forget that one of the biggest sci-fi movies of the decade, The Martian, started off as a self-published novel.
7. Solo (8 wks. $212 mil, $388 ww) and Skyscraper (1 wk. $51 mil, $186 ww) – There’s a false narrative out there that audiences will eat up anything Hollywood throws at them. The failure of Solo (and to a lesser extent, Skyscraper), a product of the most lucrative franchise of all time, proves that that isn’t the case. Amongst numerous issues, Solo’s biggest failure was that it was unoriginal. It didn’t take chances. It didn’t give us anything fresh. Ditto The Rock’s Skyscraper. Let this be a lesson to screenwriters that you have to take chances somewhere if you want your material to stand out. Here’s an exercise for you. When you come up with an idea for a screenplay, close your eyes and imagine exactly how an audience would expect that movie to go. Got it? Okay, now don’t give them that movie. You can give them some of that movie. You can give them some of those characters. But never give it to them exactly how they expect it.
8. Avengers: Infinity War (12 wks. $677 mil, $2.04 bil ww), Sicario: Day of the Soldado (3 wks. $47 mil, $65 ww), and Rampage (14 wks. $99 mil, $425 ww) – Both Rampage and Sicario were box office under-performers. A big reason for that is that their stories were giant messes. I’m going to throw a phrase at you and I want you to internalize it: “Too many moving parts.” The fastest way for a script to derail is for it to have too many moving parts. Too many characters. Too many storylines. Too many subplots. Too many motivations. It becomes hard for the audience to remember what’s going on and so they mentally check out. Rampage had one of the most discombobulated plots I’ve ever read for what amounted to a movie about monsters climbing up buildings. And Sicario split its storyline up in such an odd and unnecessary way that it destroyed what was, at is core, an awesome idea. If you must write a script with a lot of moving parts, do what Infinity War did. Create an overarching storyline with a motivation so giant and so clear that it’s impossible for the audience to get lost: Thanos is trying to destroy half the universe.
9. Pacific Rim Uprising (8 wks. $59 mil, $290 mil ww) – The Pacific Rim movies fascinate me because, on the surface, they appear to have the makings of a top level franchise. Yet their dumpy box office take suggests otherwise. I think what I’ve learned when it comes to Pacific Rim is that you get one strange attractor per movie. You get dinosaurs in Jurassic World. You get giant beasts in Godzilla and King Kong. You get machines that can transform into robots in Transformers. The moment you add two strange attractors, you position yourself as a schlocky B-movie. Giant robots AND giant monsters? Ehhhh… It reminds me of Cowboys vs. Aliens. You have to pick one or the other. It makes me wonder what this franchise would be like if it was just giant robots fighting each other. (note: there are examples of this working. But there are more examples of it NOT working)
10. Hotel Artemis (6 wks. $7 mil, $8 ww) and Tully (5 wks. $9 mil, $14 ww) – I liked both of these scripts. But they both bombed at the box office. Here’s the thing. If you’re not writing a script within an identifiable blueprint (guy with a gun, heist film, contained horror, teen comedy) audiences don’t know what to make of it. That’s the trickiest thing about originality – is that you must mine it from a pre-established paradigm. Hotel Artemis isn’t really a gangster film. It’s not a guy with a gun film. I see that trailer and I don’t see a blueprint I recognize. Likewise, I see the trailer for Tully and I see a tired mom who hires a nanny. Had the nanny been a psychopath who’s going to terrorize the main character, seduce her husband, and steal her child – THAT’S A BLUEPRINT I UNDERSTAND. But just a mom who needs rest? Who’s going out of their way to see that film? Write outside of pre-established paradigms at your own risk.
BONUS CUT
Red Sparrow (14 wks. $47 mil, $151 ww) – Never ever write a screenplay with a main character who has a Russian accent. It has never ever worked in the history of the box office. I know why they continue to make this mistake (A-listers attach themselves to these films because they want to show their acting ability by playing a character with a Russian accent) but studios need to take a stand moving forward.
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: Period
Premise: The Kennedy assassination told in real-time through the eyes of CBS news anchor Walter Cronkite.
About: Expect this project to shoot for a table at the Oscars next year. The high-ranking 2017 Black List script (Top 15) nabbed Seth Rogen to play Walter Cronkite and David Gordon-Green to direct. The rest of the cast hasn’t been rounded out yet, but there are rumors that Bryan Cranston and the Hulk, Mark Ruffallo, will sign on. The writer, Ben Jacoby, has a couple of small indies to his name, but nabbing a star like Rogen makes this his biggest career achievement yet.
Writer: Ben Jacoby
Details: 108 pages (undated)
Let me start off by saying I love the setup for this script.
I’m a sucker for juxtaposing period pieces with high-speed narratives. There’s something thrilling about turbo-charging a genre that’s traditionally slow as molasses. Don’t ask me where I developed this script kink but dammit if I don’t have it (share your script kinks in the comments section!).
I always say that if you’re going to dip your toes into the period piece waters, you’ve got two choices. Find an unknown great story and tell it. Or find a well-known story and find a fresh angle into it. Going real-time on one of the biggest news stories in history is a boss move.
The opening title card informs us that the following story takes place between 1:15 and 3:02 pm, November 22, 1963.
We meet a 47 year old Walter Cronkite hanging out at the CBS News offices, wondering if he’s going to have a job in a month. The ratings for his nightly news show are bad and his boss, Jim Aubrey, is threatening to replace him with a new show they’re currently shooting called Gilligan’s Island.
As Walter ponders his future, a shocking piece of news comes across the switchboard: “President’s been shot.” Walter and the rest of the newsroom jump into action and begin the excruciating process of trying to figure out what’s happening in a world before cell phones, before cable news, and before, well, anything.
Cronkite awkwardly interrupts As The World Turns to give a hit-and-run announcement that the president was shot. Quickly afterwards he sends the public back to the soap opera. This is how they did it back then. You didn’t stay on the air unless you had real news to report. And since that’s all the info he had, that’s all the info he gave!
Jim Aubrey flies into studio and starts arguing with Cronkite about how to report the story. He wants Cronkite on the air non-stop whereas Cronkite believes they need to do some information-gathering first. There’s a young reporter, Dan Rather, who’s managed to get to the hospital that’s treating Kennedy. If they’re patient, they can report the truth instead of rumor.
Aubrey doesn’t care about all that. He wants Cronkite to be the first to report Kennedy’s death. The intense showdown culminates in a fierce battle that ends with Cronkite on-air, refusing to report the death until it’s officially confirmed, even as the competition around them reports the death, one by one.
I gotta hand it to Jacoby.
Genius idea this concept is.
You take a famous moment in history. You tell that story in a non-traditional way (through a news reporter as opposed to Kennedy himself). You add a real-time component to spice it up. You’ve got the director-porn location of a 60s news station. You’ve got a main character that a bankable actor is going to want to play. You’ve got a budget-friendly setup in that the locations are limited.
I could never write a script like this because I don’t gravitate to the subject matter. But this is the kind of setup that gets a script made into a movie.
So why the hell didn’t I like it??
Let’s start with this this: I couldn’t tell if this was a movie or a documentary. Cause all it does is recount what happened that day. If all you’re going to do is recount, you might as well make a documentary.
The reason you make a movie is because there’s a compelling conflict to explore at the center of the story. For example, if you were to make a movie about the Cuban-Missile crisis, you wouldn’t just report how it happened. You’d zoom in on the fact that if the U.S. doesn’t get Russia to turn around, it may lead to nuclear war.
Where’s the conflict in a guy trying to get a story?
What happens if he fails?
I’m pretty sure the world would still find out that JFK was assassinated.
It seems like the conflict they’re going with is that if Walter Cronkite doesn’t nail this story, he MAY be let go from CBS News. Not WILL be let go. But MAYBE (quick Scriptshadow screenwriting tip: never deal in maybes with movies, always absolutes). But is the consequence of Walter Cronkite losing his job really what we’re worried about in the wake of one of the worst moments in American history?
The other conflict is between Aubrey and Cronkite in regards to whether they should be reporting news before it’s confirmed. This is always a compelling argument when it comes to news and happens to be timely in the wake of today’s media. The problem is that this conflict is late-arriving. It’s almost like the writer figured out, “Oh yeah, THAT’S what my movie’s about,” halfway into the script, then built the remainder of the movie around it.
This happens sometimes. You’re writing a script and it isn’t until well into the process that you understand what your script is about. If that happens, it’s your job to go back and pepper that theme throughout the first half of the story as well. The reader shouldn’t be able to identify the moment an idea struck you.
Despite these issues, I have admiration for this idea and how the writer approached it. Not to mention, I love writers who care about the reader. Every sentence here is an economy of words. There’s a ton of dialogue, which also makes the read fast. Pop this script open and read the first five pages. I guarantee you’ll whip through it in two minutes. That stuff never goes unnoticed by me. I just wish there was some true conflict to make this script pop. Maybe they’ll figure it out in the rewrites.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: This is a great way to write a spec that makes the Black List and gets studio interest. Pick a famous moment in history. Something everyone knows about. Then find a slightly different angle to tell the story from. In this case, it was Kennedy’s assassination being told through the real-time exploits of a news reporter. In the number 3 script on the Black List, Keeper of the Diary, it was about Anne Frank’s experience, but told through her father trying to get her diary published. The famousness of the moment catches an audience’s interest, and the unique angle intrigues them enough to check it out.
Genre: Period/Action/War
Premise: Based on a true story, a young woman enlists in the Revolutionary War in a bid to help America win independence.
About: Today’s script was one of the big spec sales from 2016, fetching nearly seven figures due to an intense bidding war that Amy Pascal and Sony ended up winning. 33 year-old Christopher Cosmos ends up being one of the lucky first-time screenwriters to nab a big sale. The project is currently in development. But with its girl-power slant, it’s only a matter of time before the film gets made.
Writer: Christopher Cosmos
Details: 116 pages
Hollywood is in this new era where messages and agendas are becoming almost as important as the bottom line. Even when you’re promoting a more inclusive system, there are always people pointing out you’re not inclusive enough.
Take this weekend’s Mama Mia sequel, a film that is built around and stars multiple women. That should be championed, right? Not exactly according to some. Twitterverse couldn’t help but take shots at how the entire cast is as white as the inside of a coconut.
Don’t think for a second that the studios aren’t discussing these issues. And while they probably realize you can’t win over everyone, they’re going to try. Which is why any female-driven project is shooting to the top of the script pile these days.
I don’t care what a script is promoting or even what the subject matter is AS LONG AS IT’S GOOD. If you’ve got a great script to back up whatever you’re selling, I’m 100% with you. Let’s see if today’s script delivers.
20-something William Jaffers is living a nightmare. The trench he’s in is so filled with dead bodies that he has no choice but to stand on them while shooting at the approaching redcoats. When the British make a run at the Americans, William has no choice but to retreat.
While doing so, he watches two teenage brothers, James and Andrew Thomas, get shot. While dying, James makes William promise to deliver a letter he wrote to his parents. William survives the retreat and delivers the letter and devastating news to the Thomas family, and while there, takes note of a young maid named Deborah.
After William leaves, something comes alive in Deborah resulting in her wanting to join the war. The only problem is, it’s illegal for women to fight in the army. So Deborah has to sneak away, dress like a man, and join under false pretenses.
Ironically, after she joins, she’s assigned to be the assistant to a captain, which basically means she’s performing the same duties she did as a maid.
Deborah says “screw this,” and sneaks away to fight a mission to secure a bridge. Coincidentally, William is leading that mission. He notices something familiar in this new recruit, but doesn’t think much of it. Deborah performs heroically on the mission, helping obtain key British intelligence, which should help the Continental Army catch Lord Cornwallis, the leader of the British Forces.
Unfortunately, while prepping for the final battle, William discovers Deborah’s secret. Will Deborah be sent back to doing household chores? Or will William and the rest of the army realize they have one of the fiercest soldiers in the army – man OR woman – at their disposal?
American Rebel has one hell of an opening scene.
I’m talking Saving Private Ryan worthy. The way Cosmos describes the chaos of this battle placed me right in the thick of it.
But it’s not just the description of the battle. For these things to work, you have to introduce us to a character – in this case, William – and immediately make us like him so that we’re WORRIED for him. Without that emotional attachment, the words describing the battle mean nothing. They’re glorified description porn.
And this is something I alluded to yesterday. Stories don’t work unless we’re attached to the characters on an emotional level. Whatever approach or device you need to use to achieve that, do it. Cause if you think you can plop names down on the page and we’re going to give a shit, you can take your place in the Never Sell A Script Line.
Here’s the problem with American Rebel, though. It does a better job making us care about William than it does about Deborah. As a result, the script never quite works when it shifts to Deborah’s struggle. Because we always feel like even though this movie is about her, William is the guy who pulled us in.
To be honest, I’m not even sure why Deborah wanted to join the army. Two seconds after we meet her, William shows up to deliver the news about the dead sons. And, all of a sudden, Deborah’s determined to be G.I. Jane.
What were Deborah’s feelings about the war? What are her feelings about the British? What are her feelings about ANYTHING?? We don’t know. And therefore we’re kinda confused why she all of a sudden wants to fight. It would’ve made a lot more sense, for example, if she was the mother of these boys who were killed. Or the sister. But no. She’s just some random maid.
One scene could’ve solved this. Before William showed up, we could’ve had a dinner scene with the father and maybe some other men from town, and they’re all sharing their thoughts on the war and what’s going to happen, and Deborah, who’s serving them, can’t resist after a certain point, and interjects with her very opinionated take. Just one moment like that would tell us how passionate she was about this topic.
The rest of the script is a mixed bag. Cosmos is really good at describing action as well as delivering the occasional surprise. Things would happen in this script where I’d go, “Holy shit! I didn’t expect that to happen.” I always like being kept off-balance in a read. If I get too comfortable, it means I’m ahead of the writer. And Cosmos was always knocking me off my assumption perch.
But a lot of that was undermined by the handling of Deborah. I was never clear on what Cosmos was trying to do with the character. For example, Deborah’s secret is exposed three separate times, and there were zero consequences to any of it. The other character was slightly shocked, but ultimately shrugged their shoulders and said, “Who cares?”
So if nobody cared, why disguise yourself in the first place? This may sound nit-picky but if you’re going to build your story around the need to be disguised, then there needs to be consequences if that disguise is discovered. And there wasn’t. At the end of the script, I found myself pondering whether anything in the movie would’ve been different had Deborah been a male character.
Despite those issues, Cosmos did a really nice job with the historical details and the set-pieces here. I cared whether these characters were able to win this war and I was mostly looking forward to each sequence. For that reason, I give this script a worth-the-read.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: Why does your hero want to go on their journey?? I’m amazed that writers overlook this question. Most of the time, the reason will be built into the premise. If there’s a serial killer and your hero is the detective assigned to the case, we don’t ever ask why he’s on this journey. He has to be. It’s his job! But for movies where that isn’t as clear, you, as the writer, need to make it clear. Or else we’re wondering the whole time why your character is even bothering. And in Cosmos’s defense, there is a scene at the end of the movie where Deborah’s asked this question and gives an answer. But it’s too little too late. We need to know that answer AT THE OUTSET. Or else we’re going to be confused the whole time.
What I learned 2: This is a good example of if you write a script in one of the 2 or 3 categories Hollywood is looking for at that moment, they’re willing to overlook weaknesses in the script.
Genre: Horror
Premise: (from Blood List) A rebellious teenage girl is sent to stay with her strict grandmother in the sleepy town of Cedar Falls, a place with many strange traditions, including a curfew banning anyone from going out at night.
About: This script finished #6 on last year’s Blood List, which is an unofficial list of the most liked Thriller, Horror, and Sci-Fi scripts in Hollywood. The writer, Dick Grunert, has a very active resume, working as everything from Assistant Director to Writer’s Assistant. He’s written on the highly popular animation shows Samurai Jack and Adventure Time.
Writer: Dick Grunert
Details: 112 pages
Today’s script, Curfew, attempts to build an entire plot around the simplistic concept of curfew. And you know what? I can see that working. Drop our poor hero in a remote town where nobody’s allowed to go out at night. You’ve got the mystery of curfew. The mystery of “What’s out there?” Sounds fun to me!
But, as always, the thing a reader is worried about when they open a script like this is that there isn’t enough meat on the bone. In fact, I’ll tell you exactly what goes through a seasoned reader’s mind when a script like this lands on his laptop:
Hero gets to town by page 10. Establish curfew rules by page 20. Our hero sees a few weird/scary things by page 30. Hero goes out after curfew at some point by page 45. Monsters chase her.
THEN WHAT??
What happens for those final 60 pages?
Because usually with a script like this, the characters run amok for 60 pages in a structureless free-for-all mess of repetition. The writer who knows how to navigate this problem is the one who gets the movie made. Let’s see if we’ve found that writer.
16 year old Megan O’Connell is doing the sorts of stuff a teenager does after her father dies. Drinking, smoking, and wrecking shit. After her and best friend Bekah total a stolen car, Megan’s mom has had enough. She dooms her daughter with the ultimate punishment – a stay with Grandma, who lives in the middle of Nowhere, Wisconsin.
Actually, the place is called Cedar Falls, and this is the first time Megan’s meeting her grandmother, Dorothy. Dorothy is not keen on having this troublemaker around, but she feels an obligation to do so, seeing as Megan is her son’s daughter. Dorothy instructs Megan that she only has one rule to follow – stay inside after curfew.
You’re talking to a girl who lives for the night, so Megan is immediately looking for ways to break curfew. When she meets a group of kids her age – Derek, Amy, and Brad – she thinks she’s found her partners in crime. The problem is her new friends are the Dork Squad. Especially when it comes to going out after curfew.
However, when a local church has a weekend “Lock-In,” Megan finally sees an opportunity to stir shit up. Once there, she and her gang make the bold choice to sneak into the night. And boy do they regret it. Within minutes, a shadowy creature yanks Derek into the shadows and tosses his head back at the rest of them. That can mean only one thing – RUN!
Eventually, Megan is able to make it to the sheriff’s station, who lays out the town’s deep dark secret. What are these things who come out at night? And why are they so strict about curfew? You’ll have to get your hands on the script to find out. Or just go to the comments section.
So…
Did the script fall victim to my “Simple Premise” fears?
Yes and no.
Grunert uses another method to battle the Simple Premise issue known as the “Delayed Reveal.” Instead of introducing the monsters in the first 15 pages of the second act, he draws things out. We don’t get our first monster until page 64.
This is a perfectly acceptable approach to the problem. If you introduce monsters too soon, it’s easy to run out of gas. How many “run from monsters” scenes can one person write before they start getting repetitive? I’ll give you a hint based on reading hundreds of these scripts – NOT MANY. So Grunert’s solution to delay all that monstering is clever.
However, delaying the candy being advertised in your commercial for that long only works if your character work is impeccable. By that I mean, you need to set up a couple of strong emotionally unresolved relationships. Look at A Quiet Place. It should be noted that they had their first attack way before page 64. Even so, they established a strong unresolved relationship between the father and daughter.
Here, there isn’t a single emotional thread for the script to hang its hat on. The central relationship, Megan and Dorothy, is as empty as this town’s streets after curfew. Dorothy has never met Megan. She doesn’t care about her. Megan doesn’t like Dorothy and there’s no attempt TO like her. The two never have a conversation that doesn’t involve exposition.
What you probably wanted to do here was build an unresolved relationship with the dead father. I have a friend whose father died young and he never forgave him for that. He felt abandoned. What if you did something similar with Megan? Dorothy, then, could be a conduit for Megan to finally find closure with her father’s death.
It’s not ideal. These things work better when the two characters who have a problem with one another are forced to work things out together. Like the son and the mother in The Babadook. But it’s better than nothing, which was what was on display here.
Why is this relevant?
Let me explain it this way. Have you ever gotten notes back on a script where the main critique was, “I didn’t feel anything.” Or have you gone to a movie where you enjoyed the overall experience but you felt like something was missing, like the overall experience was empty?
Lack of an emotional core explored through character relationships is usually the reason. When you don’t have that, it’s hard for us to connect on anything more than a surface level.
And look. If you don’t think that opportunity is there in your story, you can still explore the human experience within your hero. What are they battling inside? What do they need to overcome? If you look at Tully – which just came out on video – here’s a movie that’s all about what’s going on inside. This mother is overworked to the point where she’s lost her sense of self. And she needs to get it back. How much more of an emotional journey can one go through?
As much as writers think this stuff doesn’t matter, it does, if you want to stand above the pack at least. Cause anyone can put a plot together. But there are far fewer screenwriters who can explore the human condition. Which makes those writers a lot more valuable.
Curfew wasn’t bad. It could be a good movie. But it needs a rewrite focusing specifically on the stuff I brought up.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: Split up dialogue between characters to make it more naturalistic.
There’s a scene in the script where Megan is talking to Amy, Brad, and Derek. The ritual of “curfew” is brought up. Even amongst the teens who live here, it’s controversial. Not everyone believes in it. Derek, the jokester of the group, isn’t sold, and says so. Amy replies, “Then what about Jeremy Singer?” Megan asks, “Who?” Amy then responds with this line….
“Jeremy was a few years older than us. He was having trouble at home — his father was an alcoholic and beat him.”
Notice how unnatural this sounds. It reads like a written checklist of things that need to be known about Jeremy. The thing is, Grunert had the solution to this clunky line at his fingertips. The very next line is Brad correcting Amy with, “It was his stepfather.” That correction makes the moment feel a bit more like a real conversation. That’s because real conversations have people chiming in, mistakes being made, other opinions being offered, corrections, laughter, finishing each other’s sentences. So when you have multiple people in a scene, you want to take advantage of that. A better exchange might look like this…
AMY: “Then what about Jeremy Singer?”
MEGAN: “Who?”
AMY: “A guy we knew. He was a few years older than us. His dad was an alcoholic.”
BRAD: “You don’t know that.”
DEREK: “I heard his dad beat the shit out of him.”
AMY: “Stepdad.”
DEREK: “Whatever.”
See how much more natural that sounds? Looking back at it, I’d probably eliminate “He was a few years older than us” even. That information doesn’t add anything. And since the line reads cleaner without it, I see no reason not to take it out. The point is, use the other characters in your scene to split the dialogue up and, in the process, make it feel more natural.
