A reminder that you have until 10pm Pacific Time tonight to get your entries in for March Logline Showdown, aka “Movie Crossover Showdown.” If you need to know how to enter, here is the post that gives you the instructions!

Week 11 of the “2 Scripts in 2024” Challenge

As a reminder, we are writing a screenplay! That is correct. Over the first six months of the year, I am helping you write an entire screenplay. We are over halfway done. Don’t worry. If you missed out, you can go write your screenplay right now because I’ve included every article on the timeline right here.

Week 1 – Concept
Week 2 – Solidifying Your Concept
Week 3 – Building Your Characters
Week 4 – Outlining
Week 5 – The First 10 Pages
Week 6 – Inciting Incident
Week 7 – Turn Into 2nd Act
Week 8 – Fun and Games
Week 9 – Using Sequences to Tackle Your Second Act
Week 10 – The Midpoint

Today, we are taking on one of the least defined areas of the screenplay: The section of the screenplay that follows the midpoint. I believe “Save The Cat” calls this the “Bad Guys Close In” section. However, when I looked through a bunch of movies, I didn’t see a whole lot of bad guys closing in.

Instead, I saw one of three things happening. Either the characters chilled out, things ramped up, or we cut to subplots.

Let’s start with Zombieland. They finally get to California at the midpoint, which is a big accomplishment. The writers follow this by placing their four main characters at Bill Murray’s house and having them get to know each other. We get several scenes of the characters splitting up and chatting.

This happens in Leave The World Behind as well. We get the big Teslas Gone Wild midpoint scene, then we spend the night with everyone at the house. The dad gets to know the house owner’s daughter. And the mom gets to know the house owner. Each scene has a deeper dialogue-driven focus.

I get the sense that the writers of these movies know they’re going to ramp things up soon and build toward a rousing climax. So they treat this section as the “calm before the storm.” It’s the final attempt by the writer to do some real character work before the sh*t hits the fan.

The next option is to Ramp Up. This is the one I like best because it keeps the narrative moving and it focuses on the primary goal. In Back to the Future, the midpoint is Doc and Marty realizing, when they go to the high school, that Marty’s mom has fallen in love with him.

Notice how this gives us the opportunity to create an INTENSE GOAL that will be used to propel the story to the endpoint. The overarching goal in Back to the Future is for Marty to get back to the future. Duh. But now he can’t do that until he makes sure his mom falls in love with his dad as opposed to himself. THAT’S THE GOAL THAT GETS US TO THE GOAL.

So the very next scene after the midpoint is Marty approaching his dad at the cafeteria during lunch and trying to convince him to ask Lorraine to the dance. Notice how we’re jumping right back into the story after the midpoint. We’re not screwing around. We’re getting to the goal.

In my experience, the best screenplays are the ones where there isn’t a whole lot of dilly-dallying. Meaning, there aren’t a lot of scenes that aren’t pushing the story forward. When I look at Zombieland and Leave The World Behind, I find them both to be strong movies. But they are definitely not as good as they could be. And the reason for that is they have dilly-dallying scenes, scenes of the dad and the owner’s daughter smoking pot and discussing life (funny enough, Zombieland inserts a pot-smoking scene after the midpoint as well). Neither scene pushes anything forward. So why include it?

Whereas, with Back to the Future, which is arguably the tightest screenplay ever written, we see that there is zero dilly-dallying after the midpoint. We’re right back in the plot. And we’re back in it because they have a story to tell and they don’t have time to waste.

By the way, this is why, when you have plot issues later in your script, it’s usually because of mistakes you made earlier in the script. If you didn’t do a great job establishing a big goal with huge stakes and a lot of urgency, don’t be surprised when, later in your script, you’re struggling to figure out exactly what your characters need to do, to give those actions consequences, and to insert urgency.

Finally, you have subplots. All this option means is that, in stories where there are multiple plotlines going on separate from your main plot, this is a good time to cut to those subplots. You just showed us a major scene with your main characters via the midpoint. Give those characters a quick break to recharge and, in the meantime, get us up to date on the other storylines.

I suspect this is where Save The Cat’s “Bad Guys Close In” beat makes sense. Cause I pulled up Empire Strikes Back. The midpoint has Han Solo escaping an attack from an Imperial Star Destroyer. And then we cut to the main subplot, Darth Vader’s pursuit of them, and he angrily tells the ship’s captain to find Solo immediately.

I don’t remember exactly how No Country For Old Men was structured, but I would guess that that would also fall under “Bad Guys Close In.” We cut away from Llweyn Moss to see that Anton Chigurh is getting closer.

But you can also cut to other subplots. Jurassic Park actually does the opposite of Bad Guys Close In. Nedry (gotta love that name), the guy who steals the embryos, makes a run for it in his jeep, only to crash and get attacked by a mini-dinosaur. In that case, Bad Guys Run Away!

So there are plenty of options to work with here. It’s yet another reminder that screenplays are complex. There is no one-size-fits-all template. Nor should there be. Anyone But You is trying to do something different from The Beekeeper which is doing something different from American Fiction which is doing something different from Oppenheimer.

Despite that, I always find that it’s advantageous to have guidelines to work within. If you’re out there blind in the dark waving your hands around, it will show in the script. I read amateur scripts every single day and it’s one of the most common things I see. You can tell the writer isn’t sure where to go in the latter stages of their story.

I was just reading an amateur script the other day with this problem and the writer made up some side-quest that had no basis whatsoever in what had been set up previously. We do that when we don’t have a clear plan. No goals, no stakes, no urgency.

So figure out which of these options best fits YOUR script, and then have a plan. As long as you have a plan to keep pushing your story forward, you should be okay.

Once again, write 2 pages today, 2 pages tomorrow, 2 pages each Saturday and Sunday, 2 pages Monday, and then you get Tuesday and Wednesday to rewrite or catch up.

What are some of your strategies when writing directly after your midpoint?  Do you have a plan or do you just wing it?  Inquiring minds want to know!

Seeya next week when we take on pages 71-80.

Did Christopher Nolan hoodwink Hollywood?

Can you really call it a successful Oscars if no one got slapped?

I got thoughts.

I got opinions.

But I’m not going to be hating today. I’m going to be celebre-hating.

Oppenheimer won the two biggies – Best Picture and Best Director. But it says a lot that it didn’t win Best Screenplay.

Why is that?

Because the screenplay was baaaaaaaad. It was bad, folks. It was. Nobody really knows who Oppenheimer was after that movie. Nobody understands why there were 45 minutes of movie left after the film was over. The cutting back and forth between all the time-periods was clumsy and disjointed.

But it shows just how amazing of a director Nolan is in that he was able to overcome that to win Best Picture and Best Director. And I support those wins. There was no movie this year that looked better, that felt more authentic, that was better constructed, that had a better cast of actors, that felt like a moviegoing experience, than Oppenheimer.

But, dude, Nolan. Get yourself a screenwriter. If you do that, you could literally become the greatest filmmaker ever. Right now you are limiting yourself with your weak screenwriting.

Okay, onto the screenwriting categories.

Best Writing (Adapted Screenplay)
American Fiction (Written for the screen by Cord Jefferson)
Barbie (Written by Greta Gerwig & Noah Baumbach)
Oppenheimer (Written for the screen by Christopher Nolan)
Poor Things (Screenplay by Tony McNamara)
The Zone of Interest (Written by Jonathan Glazer)

Winner: American Fiction

I can’t count how many people have recommended this movie to me so I just started watching it last night and, WHOA! A little heads up there on the bummer of a first act climax would’ve been nice! The trailer promised a fun funny movie! Here they are killing people off. Sheesh. But I will continue watching tonight. I loved the opening scene in the classroom. It brilliantly went after the ridiculousness of woke culture. I’m assuming it’s going to keep doing that and, if so, expect a positive review.

Personally, I would’ve voted for either Barbie or Poor Things. You can’t leave 2023 without giving Barbie a major award. It’s ridiculous. The movie deserved it.  Either for the directing, which was amazing, or the writing, where they took way more creative risks than they’re getting credit for.

The thing I loved about Poor Things is that it not only used the most basic story template of them all – The Hero’s Journey – but it took a lot of risks as well. The father character was such a weirdo and unlike any other character in 2023. I would say it lost because nobody saw it. But nobody saw American Fiction either and it still won.  I suspect Poor Things was too weird to catch on with people.

Best Writing (Original Screenplay)
Anatomy of a Fall (Screenplay by Justine Triet and Arthur Harari)
The Holdovers (Written by David Hemingson)
Maestro (Written by Bradley Cooper & Josh Singer)
May December (Screenplay by Samy Burch; Story by Samy Burch & Alex Mechanik)
Past Lives (Written by Celine Song)

Winner: Anatomy of a Fall

The Original Screenplay category is always a bit of wildcard. That’s because most of the “serious” movies that Hollywood makes are adapted from something. If Hollywood makes an original movie with an original screenplay, it’s usually a genre film, like The Beekeeper. And we know they’re never going to celebrate one of those scripts at the Oscars. So we get this group of oddball contestants that always feels lacking on some level.

With all that said, I’m surprised that Anatomy of a Fall took down The Holdovers. The Holdovers was the favorite. It’s always a bit of a shock when a script that wasn’t even written in the English language wins Best Screenplay at the Oscars.

To be honest, I don’t know why this script won. Even those few people who saw and enjoyed the movie, if you asked them what they liked best about it, I’d be shocked if 1 out of 100 said, “the screenplay.” Most people would pick Sandra Huller’s performance.

I guess the script does keep you guessing. But any script that has a 100-page second act can f right off. I’m sorry, but seriously. Show some focus with what you’re trying to do, for God’s sakes. A 100-page second act screams, “I don’t know where I’m going so I’m just going to include it all.” And that’s how it felt. It wandered.

I still haven’t seen The Holdovers even though I’m one of the few people who has Peacock’s streaming service and therefore the film is free for me. As you know, I didn’t like an early draft of the script and even though you guys have told me that the shooting draft is vastly improved, it’s always hard for me to drum up motivation to see a movie where I disliked the script. Every once in a long while, the movie turns out great (Three Billboards Outside Ebbings Mississippi). But it’s usually impossible for the movie to be salvaged.

I’m sure I’ll check it out at some point.

As for the other major categories, I’m ecstatic that Cillian Murphy won over the thirstiest Oscar thirster in history, Bradley Cooper. If he would’ve won for that boring self-important piece of crap, I would’ve chosen violence.

I’m ecstatic that Emma Stone won for Poor Things. I thought she was amazing in that film. She had the single most interesting main character I’ve seen in a movie in over a decade. She holds nothing back in the movie. She’s funny. She’s weird. And I just respect any artist who takes a huge swing.

The one category where the Academy got it dead wrong was supporting actor. I can’t recite a single line Robert Downey Jr. said in Oppenheimer. I can’t recall a single memorable moment he was involved in. Of every actor who was in that film, I would say he was the 14th or 15th most memorable.

Ryan Gosling deserved to win this award. This speaks to a bigger question, possibly even a conspiracy. From the start of Awards season, the Oscars wanted nothing to do with Barbie. And I don’t know why. Barbie is not Transformers. It’s not mindless entertainment. It actually made you think. It’s a movie made by women celebrating women in an industry desperately trying to promote women.

And yet crickets for Barbie at the Oscars. I’m baffled by it. Does anybody have any theories as to why they’d turn their backs on the movie that’s most representative of what they’re trying to do? Is Margot Robbie secretly Scott Rudin behind the scenes?? What’s going on here! Tell me!

What are your 2024 Oscar hot takes?

Did anyone rob the Academy? Who didn’t win but should’ve? And, of course, I expect lots of comments telling me I’m wrong about Oppenheimer so I’m going to preemptively respond to them here. YOU’RE WRONG. It was a junk screenplay.

Happy Monday!

Today we take on the WINNER of one of the tightest Amateur Showdown races yet!  Did you guys do good picking Animosity as the winner??

Genre: Thriller
Winning Logline: After he discovers the body of a murdered 9-year-old girl near his house, a popular horror author’s neighbors decide he must be guilty of the crime and take justice into their own hands.
About: This script won the February Showdown (First Line Showdown) by a mere ONE VOTE. So it was a close one. The first line that helped get the script over the top? “BAM!–ANDY HOLLAND (30s) slams against the passenger window, his eyes wide with fear.” That first line seems to have changed during the rewrite. So let the controversy begin!
Writers: Mark Steensland & James Newman
Details: 93 pages

Joe Alwyn for Andy?

I saw a lot of chatter about this showdown. A good chunk of you thought basing a showdown on a first line was stupid. And you know what? Maybe you’re right. How can one line tell us how good a script is? It probably can’t.

However, the whole reason I did it was to use an inception-like hijacking of your mind to remind you that the reader’s judgment of a screenplay STARTS IMMEDIATELY. Which means you have to impress them with the very first line. I mean, look at how many opinions we got regarding the first lines presented. Managers and agents and producers – they’re looking at those first lines in the exact same way.

But now that we’re past that, we can focus on the next showdown, which is happening Friday, March 22nd. “Movie-Crossover Showdown” will have you using the old 90s way of pitching scripts by crossing over two popular movies. It’s “Titanic meets John Wick.” It’s “Avatar by way of John Hughes.” It’s “Oppenheimer meets Poor Things.” It’s “Mean Girls but with dads.” I have a feeling we’re going to have some really fun pitches so join the club and get your submission ready by March 21st!

MOVIE CROSSOVER SHOWDOWN!!!

What: Movie-Crossover Showdown

I need your: Title, Genre, Logline, and Movie Crossover Pitch
Competition Date: Friday, March 22nd
Deadline: Thursday, March 21st, 10pm Pacific Time
Where: Send your submissions to carsonreeves3@gmail.com

Okay, on to today’s winner!

30-something Andy Holland is his small town’s version of Stephen King. The man likes to write bloody novels. And he’s become quite successful at it. Although, he’s behind on his latest one and it’s adding stress to an already stressful life. His ex-wife, Karen, and his daughter, Samantha, are metaphorically beating down his door to take some responsibility and start spending time with his offspring.

One day, after walking his dog home from the local bookstore, Andy finds the body of a dead girl behind an unused home. He calls the cops, lets them know what happened, and that’s when we learn a little more about Andy. When he was 18, he had a sexual relationship with a 17 year old and he ended up pleading guilty in court for it. This raises the cops’ eyebrows.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Andy notices that his neighbors no longer treat him the same. They walk by his house more. They’re always pointing and whispering at it. His next-door neighbor buddy Ben is all of a sudden asking him more probing questions about his past. And a local reporter named Staci seems to have an axe to grind with Andy and hints strongly in her reports that Andy, being a horror novel writer, is highly suspicious.

After the locals start digging through Andy’s trash at night and poison his dog, Andy has had enough and calls for the police to do something. But the police aren’t interested in helping him. Once the neighbors sense this, they get more aggressive. They start hanging out near his house more. They yell at Andy. They throw things at him. It’s getting bad.

But when a second murder happens, it gets a hell of a lot worse. A lot of the neighbors and even one of the off-duty cops set up shop in front of Andy’s house. When night comes, they start bashing his windows, trying to get in. Andy fights them off as best he can. But things get really crazy when his ex-wife shows up. It’s a moment that will test just how far off the reservation the mob has gone. And it will turn this night into the worst night of Andy’s life.

Well well well.

We’ve got one heck of a dilemma here.

Because half of this script is really good. And the other half is really boring.

Before I get to which was which, let me ask you guys: What’s more important? Writing a good first half of a script or a good second half?

Thoughts please.

Okay, ready for the answer?

Both. Because if the first half is boring, the reader won’t make it to the second half. But if the second half is boring, all that good will you built up in the first half was for nothing. I’d say the ground floor level for what you need to achieve is an average first half and an awesome second half. But any other weak combo won’t work.

This script is tricky as heck because I understand the thought process behind Mark and James’ strategy. They knew that, in order for the house mob to work, they needed to do a lot of setup first. A mob isn’t just going to appear out of nowhere. They need multiple reasons to get to that point. So Mark and James introduced half a dozen plot points in that first half that got the mob to the angry point they needed to be at.

But the plot points were so bland. Even the two killings felt PG. And now that I’m thinking about it, the local reporter implying that Andy had to be involved also felt… how do I put this? Like the way a murder might be covered in one of those Hallmark movies. Like, “Oh no! There’s a murder in town! The local baker ended up dead!”

I feel like Mark and James need to go watch the first season of True Detective or that David Fincher serial killer series on Netflix to get more into that “brutal murder” mindset so you can sell these murders as the horrible things that cause all this chaos.

But man… once we get to the mob part of the script, which begins about halfway through, this script goes from “barely interested” to full-on “impressive.” These two captured mob mentality perfectly. It reminded me of Spike Lee’s Do The Right Thing in a lot of ways. Once the mob feeds off itself, logic no longer applies.

There’s this terrifying moment in the script (spoiler!!) where the ex-wife shows up and the mob rips her to shreds. That’s when I said, “We’ve got a movie now.” Not because every script needs over-the-top violence to be good. More so that you finally knew how bad this had gotten. Cause, up until that point, you were thinking, “Logic has to prevail at some point.” Once that murder happened, it was clear that logic no longer mattered to these people.

I think this script is worth pursuing and fixing. But to do that, we need to get to the mob by page 30. That doesn’t mean they have to start attacking Andy’s house by then. But they should be in their cars parked outside. Maybe a couple of the scarier ones set up chairs on the lawn. Start building that world of this growing mob. Cause you can get through all of those early plot beats a lot faster and it won’t hurt the script a lick.

As for the riot, you need to do some finagling there. I think that once the ex-wife is killed, some semblance of reality would set in for, at least, some of the people. They didn’t come here to hurt anyone other than Andy. And also, there’s a cop involved. Once he saw a murder happen, he’s probably peacing-out so that he doesn’t go to prison. It’s not like the old days where you could hide that stuff. Social media doesn’t allow it. Speaking of social media, the normal people in the neighborhood observing this are probably putting it all over social media within five minutes. There would be real cops there quickly.

The way to handle that is to probably keep everything contained to one night. Don’t wait til morning for the mob to reconvene. It’s gotta all happen during that night so that it’s reasonably believable that other people didn’t come and stop this.

Now, I had an idea for this that James and Mark might want to consider. What if we made Andy black? Then it turns this entire story into a metaphor with a much bigger meaning. I understand that a lot of stuff comes with that change. It becomes a “race” script instead of just a thriller. But I’m pretty sure that it would do better on the reading circuit. Curious what you guys think. Share your thoughts in the comments.

But this is a good script with the potential to be a really good script. And as you know from me talking about it all the time, I rarely encounter any script with the potential to be really good. So that’s a big deal.

Oh, and finally, I think we can come up with a better ending here. The revelation (spoiler) that they already found the killer was cool. But I’m wondering if we need a bigger twist. Anybody have any ideas?

Check out the script here: Animosity

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

What I learned: Earn your introductions! This script introduces a lot of characters. When you introduce characters weakly, you force the reader to remember them. That should never be the case. The reader should never feel “forced” to remember anything about your screenplay. It’s your job to make a character instantly memorable either by the memorable way in which they do something or the memorable way in which they say something. Only when you’ve created a memorable character do you earn the right to introduce your next character. A big issue with the first half of this script is that we RAN THROUGH a bunch of blasé generic character introductions. Put some actual thought into these intros because a screenplay *is its characters.* If we don’t know everyone (as in GENUINELY FEEL LIKE WE KNOW THEM), we’re only half-enjoying your script.

Here’s the introduction of Ben, a fairly major character. This just isn’t cutting the mustard. It’s an okay intro. But it’s far from memorable.

Week 10 of the “2 Scripts in 2024” Challenge

Week 1 – Concept
Week 2 – Solidifying Your Concept
Week 3 – Building Your Characters
Week 4 – Outlining
Week 5 – The First 10 Pages
Week 6 – Inciting Incident
Week 7 – Turn Into 2nd Act
Week 8 – Fun and Games
Week 9 – Using Sequences to Tackle Your Second Act

Every Thursday, for the first six months of 2024, Scriptshadow is throwing you on his sleigh and flying you around Planet Screenplay. Planet Screenplay is a world that, at times, contains love, beauty and wonder. Other times, it is a world of fear, frustration, and uncertainty.

But don’t worry. I got ya! I will make sure you get through every single country of your script with all your limbs intact. Not promising you won’t lose your head. But limbs I’m pretty sure I’ve got.

That’s because I’m offering the easiest way to write a screenplay in the books. All you have to do is write 2 pages a day and you get 2 extra days at the end of the week to catch up if, for whatever reason, Captain Writer’s Block makes a visit to your brain condo.

The greatest thing about all this is that when it’s over, WE HAVE A COMPETITION. The biggest Showdown in Scriptshadow history will take place: Mega Showdown (Imagine those giant echoing voices they used to use for those monster truck commercials: “Megaaa-ahhh-ahhh-ahhh Showdown-down-down-down!” It’s going to be stupendous.

But first, we have to get through one of the toughest parts of the screenplay: THE MIDPOINT.

A lot of that initial excitement you had when you first came up with your idea and wrote those first few scenes of your script? Yeah, that’s long gone. Reality has set in. And with it, its mistress: frustration.

You’re starting to question certain plot points, certain characters. And, if you’re a real writer, you’re starting to question if you should give up screenwriting altogether. The “Give-Up” Dragon becomes a constant companion on this journey.  And he breathes failure-fire, that bastard.

One thing that helped me learn to finish screenplays (as opposed to abandon them) is to stop thinking of screenwriting as something that has to be fun all the time. If you’re a screenwriter, screenwriting IS YOUR JOB.

For your regular 9 to 5 job, are you allowed to stop showing up? No. You have to go. Even when you feel like crap. Even when there are seven fires you’ll have to put out that day.  Even when Annoying Bill is going to ask you to play racketball with him for the sixth time this month.  Even when you just plain don’t want to go. You still go.

Which is how you need to approach screenwriting. The real screenwriters are not the ones who can write when everything’s going well. They’re the ones who keep writing even when things are going badly.

A big part of the reason things go badly is judgment. Your brain is constantly judging your writing. Even as you’re writing stuff down, you’re thinking, “This doesn’t work. This is stupid. I don’t like this.” So you stop.

You can’t do that. The first draft will always be the messiest draft. It will be your worst draft. AND THAT’S OKAY. Cause the goal of the first draft is not to write something great. It’s to get it done.

I went on a sneaky little family vacation to Cancun a couple of weeks ago and my brother and I got in a long discussion about writing. He’s not a writer but he’s interested in what I do. He said, “All I know is that, in college, when I had to write a paper, rewriting it was going to be easy. So I knew that all I had to do was get a first draft done as fast as I could.  No matter how bad it was, from that point on, it was easy.”

That’s great advice for screenwriters as well. Get it down on paper so you can start rewriting it. Cause rewriting is easier than conjuring stuff up out of thin air.

Now onto more specific advice. We have arrived at your script’s MIDPOINT.

The midpoint is a critical checkpoint in your screenplay because the audience needs to feel some sort of SHIFT in the story in order to stay interested. This shift, when done well, works like a rogue wave in the ocean. There’s our screenplay, floating along, and then this giant wave picks it up and pushes it all the way to shore (our ending).

There are multiple ways to approach the midpoint. Some writers like to insert a surprising twist. Some writers like to up the stakes. Some writers like to kill a character off. Some writers like to introduce a new character. There’s one common denominator here and that’s that something bigger needs to happen.

In the original Top Gun, the midpoint has Maverick lose his wing man and best friend, Goose.

In the midpoint of Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle, the four characters who are stuck in the game run into Alex, a mysterious character who has been stuck in the game for years. He then sets them on the proper path in order to get home.

In everybody’s favorite punching bag of a movie (but one I like), The Force Awakens, the midpoint is the demonstration of Starkiller Base, which uses its power to destroy dozens of planets at once. The stakes have been raised. We now know why it’s so important to defeat the First Order.

In Zombieland, the midpoint’s effect is a little more complex. It has our crew arriving at their destination, California. This doesn’t necessarily up the stakes. There’s no big twist. But since the first half of the movie was a road-trip, the arrival in California changes the make-up of the movie considerably. The conflict will now be contained to one area. That’s important: You don’t want the second half of your movie to feel exactly like the first half or we’ll get bored.

The midpoint of Equalizer 3, which has our hero Robert McCall hiding out in an Italian town, has him move from avoiding detection and staying undercover, to actively going after the evil crime syndicate there.

Steven Spielberg, the king of the action set-piece, uses his midpoint in Jurassic Park to mark the arrival of the T-Rex, which attacks our poor protagonists who are helplessly stuck in their jeep. It’s not so much a plot development as it is an antagonist arrival. The stakes have been raised considerably now that we know what we’re up against.

In the almost brilliant “Leave the World Behind” (Netflix), which follows two families stuck in a remote house as World War 3 begins, the midpoint has that amazing remote-Tesla driving attack scene, where Tesla cars shoot at our driving heroes at 130 miles per hour, crashing into each other at the highway entrance, gumming up the highways so that people can’t escape. Like the T-Rex scene, this scene upped the stakes and let us know just how dangerous this threat is.

In one of my favorite comedies ever, Dumb and Dumber, our two favorite morons break-up! Lloyd accidentally drives 600 miles in the wrong direction and it’s the straw that broke the camel’s back for Harry. He’s out. He leaves (and starts walking home!).

A Quiet Place has one of the better midpoints in recent memory. It’s the moment when Emily Blunt’s character’s water breaks and she has to have her baby in silence, alone. Not only is it the best scene in the movie, but it ups the stakes considerably. Now there’s a baby involved for the second half of the movie. And babies like to make noise.

That’s something I only noticed by doing this research. For some of these movies, the midpoint includes the best scene (or one of the best scenes). So, if you don’t know how to raise the stakes or how to change the fortunes of your second half so that it doesn’t feel like the first half, or you don’t want to introduce a new character or kill one off, one thing you know you can do reliably is write a great set piece scene. That alone can JOLT a reader back to attention.

So there you have it. I’m excited that we’re crossing the halfway point of our scripts this week. We’re going to be finished with this thing in no time.

See you next week!

One of my weaknesses when it comes to watching movies is I put almost the entire onus of whether a movie works or not on the screenplay. So if the screenplay fails to deliver, I’m let down. Whereas, the average moviegoer and a lot of you guys are better at taking in the entire experience of the movie. You’re moved by the imagery, the acting, the sound, the music. That creates a stronger impression on you than me, which is why I feel that there’s a disconnect between myself and audiences when it comes to movies like Dune.

Dune 2 looks absolutely epic. The costumes alone are some of the best I’ve ever seen for a sci-fi movie. But that first screenplay, man…. That screenplay was so slooooooooooooooooooooooow. And I just can’t get over that. That and the fact that the movie is 90% world-building and 10% story. Maybe the first film was solely a setup so that this second film could fly. But Blade Runner 2049 (also directed by Villeneuve) had pacing issues as well. So my assumption was that I was going to get more of that in Villeneuve’s latest which is why I didn’t spend 20 bucks on it.

It’s weird because I run into people who absolutely loved the first movie. I remember I was walking on Larchmont (a fun little community-driven street in Los Angeles) and I saw this guy with the Dune book in his hand. I asked him if he’d seen the movie and he couldn’t stop raving about it. His love for it was so infectious I decided not to share how I thought the government should consider offering the film as the definitive solution for sleep apnea. But it was just a reminder that I’m seeing this film differently from everyone else. I mean, the movie has amazing critic and audience scores.

Despite my disinterest in the franchise, I’m thrilled that Dune 2 made 81.5 million dollars, doubling what the first film made on its inaugural weekend. What that means is we’ll get more adult sci-fi. And more adult sci-fi is better than whatever the heck the last five Marvel movies have been.

Those of you who didn’t watch Dune 2 probably stayed home and watched the other big epic release this weekend, Shogun, on FX. Just like Dune, the critics are infatuated with it. And, although it’s too early to rely on the audience scores, they seem to love it as well.

I read about one-third of the famous novel that the show is based on a decade ago. It’s one of those novels, ironically, like Dune. It’s world-building after world-building. There’s more building in this thing than Manhattan and Dubai combined. So it’s slow-going. What surprised me about the pilot episode was how quickly it brought me back to the novel. When a big scene popped up, it was as if I was right there in the book again. That’s how true it was to the novel.

The show also achieves something that’s critical to any show working – which is to get a lead actor that, whenever he’s onscreen, it’s impossible to look away. The second Cosmo Jarvis, who plays the lead character, John Blackthorne, showed up (he was being held in an underground prison with his fellow sailors) I was laser-focused on him. His eyes are mesmerizing. But he also has a really unique voice. Hey, maybe I’m better at focusing on the stuff outside screenwriting than I thought! Actually, hold tight, cause we’re going to get to the writing.

Here’s where I’m worried.

In a lot of ways, these new giant TV shows have become modern day “movies.” They may not have the presence of a feature film. But their longevity gives them a heavier weight when it’s all said and done. And therein lies the unique challenge of writing these series. They mimic movies with their sequential storytelling, but do so over a much longer period of time, which requires a much higher level of skill than the feature screenwriter.

I mean imagine writing an Avatar movie compared to writing eight seasons of Westworld. Which one do you think is harder?

Westworld by far. Which is why it fell apart and why a lot of these shows fall apart. They require a level of writing that only a few people in the world are capable of delivering. I don’t know a whole lot about Justin Marks, who created this series, but I do know that he wrote one of the worst screenplays of all time. That would be 2009’s Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun-Li.

This is where things get tricky because there’s this entire sub-level ecosystem when it comes to the screenwriting industry that makes it hard to know who’s responsible for what and how much they’re responsible. I’ll never forget when this producer who gave me too many extremely specific details for him to be lying, laid out why the credited screenwriter of Groundhog Day, Danny Rubin, was only responsible for the unreadable early drafts of the script, which is why you never heard from the guy again.

My point is, Justin Marks may not be responsible for how bad Chun-Li was. Maybe it was even worse and he made it “readable.” But even with that, his IMDB page doesn’t get my samurai sword extended, so to speak. He has The Jungle Book, Counterpart, and a ‘story by’ credit on Top Gun: Maverick. That last one is obviously huge. But Top Gun is a 180 degrees different universe than Shogun.

But the big thing that tweaked me was Marks hiring his wife, Rachel Kondo, to co-write and run the series. Rachel Kondo has zero writing credits. We all know how big nepotism is in this town. But this is one of the most outrageous examples of it I’ve ever seen. Would Marks have hired Kondo, someone with zero writing credits, to help him write a 300 million dollars show if she WASN’T his wife? I’ll let all of you guys answer that one. If you’re truly invested in creating the best series possible, you need people who have done this before.

Why am I bringing this up when the first episode was a solid 7 out of 10? Because, to me, this is why shows like this fall apart all the time. Cause the people writing them don’t have the developed skill to write a long-running complex series. Westworld is one of the best examples of this ever. And that had two pretty big names running it itself (ironically, another husband and wife team, Jonathan Nolan and Lisa Joy). I saw the wheels falling off the writing for that in the fifth episode. And every episode got worse from there. And that’s because it was this big giant story and the writers didn’t have the talent to visualize it and tell it.

This all stems from this new hybrid form of storytelling that streamers have created which is the “never-ending movie.” It used to be it didn’t matter that TV shows didn’t end because they were episodic. Each episode was contained to a murder or a group of people in an apartment yukking it up. But now, with the story continuing, you need to realllllllyyyyyy understand what you’re doing as a storyteller to make a story last 40-50 hours. The last show I can think of that achieved this was Breaking Bad. No show has done it since.

Maybe there’s a bit of a defense mechanism going on with me here. I’m saying this so that I won’t be hurt, once again, when Shogun gets sloppy in episode 5 and starts dovetailing. But it’s really a bigger issue. We’ve created this new TV genre that we don’t know how to wrangle. It’s the world’s biggest bucking bronco and no writer knows how to stay on it. Does that mean that it’s impossible to write these long-form movies? Should we even try since 95% of them fail?

The solution may be to do what Benny Safdie and Nathan Fielder did. Just write one contained season of a show (The Curse). It starts and finishes within eight hours. Even THAT’S really freaking hard to do, though. It’s harder than writing a traditional feature. But it’s certainly easier than writing a 50 hour movie when you’ve only got 8 hours of story in your head and a history of average creative choices on your IMDB page. Give me The Mare of Easttown. One great season and you’re out. Or The Bear. Keep your episodes short so you don’t have to tell as much story. And focus more on the characters than some giant plot the writer can’t keep up with.

What are your thoughts on Dune 2 and Shogun? Did either of them blow you away? If so, put me in my place!