The team that brought us Arrival, Ted Chiang and Eric Heisserer, is back with an adaptation of another one of Chiang’s stories.

Genre: Drama/Light Sci-Fi
Premise: After being released from a mental hospital, a brilliant mathematician comes up with a theory that could destroy the entire mathematical field.
About: This project just came together recently. It reteams author Ted Chiang with Eric Heisserer, who adapted his short story, The Story of Your Life, into the surprise hit sci-fi film, Arrival.  Heisserer will be producing this time around.  Henry Dunham, who directed the super-interesting (and killer script), “The Standoff At Sparrow Creek,” will be adapting and directing. This comes from a story that Chiang wrote all the way back in 1991. You can read the short story for yourself here.
Writer: Ted Chiang
Details: 5500 words (for reference, a screenplay is a little over 20,000 words)

I have to give it to Eric Heisserer. He’s the one who saw something in “Arrival” that no one else did. Because when you read Ted Chiang’s stories, it is not an effortless experience. His stories tend to be vague, metaphorical, and feelings-based rather than having some clear plot that one could easily sculpt a feature film out of.

That is, without question, why we haven’t heard of anything from Ted Chiang since Arrival. As soon as that movie became a hint, Hollywood scoured through all of his short stories, of which there are many, and came away with bupkis. They just couldn’t find anything.

That’s why this development is so interesting to me. For one, it says that if there’s one person who knows how to figure Chiang out, it’s Heisserer. He’s the guy who can get into his head and know how to bring one of these weird stories to life. And two, this is one of Chiang’s earliest short stories. He wrote it all the way back in 1991. That implies that maybe this is one Hollywood missed when they went digging into Chiang’s work – a gem just waiting to be plucked and sold at Sotheby’s for tens of millions of dollars.

We shall find out together if said belief is true.

Our story follows a 32 year-old mathematician named Renee, who’s just been released from the mental hospital for unknown reasons. She heads back home with her supportive husband, Carl, and immediately gets to work on a mysterious new mathematical theory.

The tale is told in mini-chapters roughly 250-500 words long. Between each chapter is a history lesson on how math has evolved throughout the centuries. A recurring theme in these “Did You Know?” snippets is the idea that arithmetic has never entirely been proven infallible.

Back at home, Renee, for whom happiness is so foreign it appears she’s never so much as giggled in her life, spends the majority of her time in her office, working on this math theorem. Carl, in the meantime, starts to wonder if he actually likes his wife anymore. I would counter that by asking Carl why he liked Renee, you know, in the first place.

Around this time, we get some odd backstory that Carl was once in a mental hospital in his early 20s as well! And Renee had been there for him, nursing him back to health after he’d tried to commit suicide. I think the point here is to create this dynamic by which Carl can’t leave Looney Renee since she was there for him during his time of need.

I’m sure you’re all wondering what this theorem is that Renee came up with. My decision to create some suspense before telling you is far more of an attempt to entertain the reader than anything I read in this short story.

The theory Renee proves is that all of arithmetic is false. She has proven that the number 1 can equal the number 2. Not only that, but that any number can equal any other number. And, therefore, there is no such thing as math. Everything we have built our world around is false. Or something. The End.

Amy Adams completing the band getting back together?

Sorry.

I couldn’t hide my disgust for this story in the summary.

Here’s the thing. I’ve read so many of these “the world is the universe is math is numbers equals equations that kind of sort of explain the meaning of life” stories and they never ever deliver. Because they can’t.

You’re not going to be the writer who figures out something about math that nobody’s ever figured out before and then lay it out in a fashion that is going to be anything other than vague, frustrating, and, ultimately stupid. Go watch Interstellar if you don’t believe me.

I guess the question is, does Heisserer plan on using Division By Zero as the starting point of an idea or the idea itself? I would posit that he approach it as a starting point. Because two people fumbling around their house talking about mathematical equations and also remembering suicide attempts isn’t compelling storytelling.

What I’m hoping for is that this is the kernel for a much bigger story Heisserer has in mind. Because if you extrapolated someone disproving math to affect the entire world, there might be a movie there – another “thinking man’s sci-fi movie” like Arrival was.

For example, maybe this is a mathematical proof that, if it was released into the world, it would cause complete chaos, since no form of math matters anymore. But let me stress that nothing like that was ever mentioned in the story.

In fact, in the short story, Renee publishes her proof and a bunch of mathematicians collectively shrug their shoulders. That was one of my biggest problems with the story. There was zero stakes. Who gives a rat’s behind about some proof if it doesn’t affect anything??

But again, Heisserer might already feel this way and have plans to fix the issue.

For those wondering what makes a short story “adaptable,” there are two questions you want to ask yourself. 1) Should the story be adapted? This is divided by zero into two secondary questions. A) Is the concept good? And B) Are the characters worthy of building a movie around? The second question is, 2) Do you have a good angle to adapt the story into, something that can fit nicely into a feature-film structure?

So let’s quickly answer these questions. Should this story be adapted? The concept of disproving all of math has potential. So I’d say, “Maybe.” But there are zero characters in this script. Renee is way too harsh to be anything other than hated by audiences. And Carl’s just boring. So Heisserer would need to completely rewrite these characters.

Finally, is there an angle here? Again, the “math isn’t real” thing has some potential but I’m not sure I see an angle into it. You could go the stupid route of the theorem being placed on a thumb drive and everyone’s after it, some to expose it, others to keep it hidden.

You might be able to do something like Margin Call meets Don’t Look Up where we watch this theorem work its way up the mathematical world hierarchy, getting to bigger and more influential mathematicians, each of whom are terrified by the prospects of the theorem getting out and what it would lead to.

A third option – and I suspect this is the one that may have attracted Heisserer to the story – is to go the A Beautiful Mind route. There’s some stuff in the story about, is Renee going crazy or not? I suppose you could shoot for the Best Actress Oscar with that. But you’d need to find a way to make Renee at least tolerable. At the moment she’s about as relatable as a Pythagorean theorem.

In conclusion, this feels like an “almost idea.” It’s one of those ideas where you think, “Yeah, there’s something interesting in there. But it doesn’t add up to anything.” And yes, I just went there. Because 9 minus 5 still equals 4 so why not? :)

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

What I learned: Despite what I’ve said today, I do think that you can mine short stories for great concepts even if the execution of the story sucks. We’re all just searching for that great idea. So if you like the core of a story but not the rest, get in touch with the writer and see if they like your idea of changing it. Remember that one of my favorite shows, Into the Night, about a group of people on a plane trying to outrun the sun, was based on the very first page of a 400 page novel and nothing more. Most writers want to see their stuff turned into TV shows and movies so the smart ones will listen to you.

What I learned 2: Avoid repeating yourself. For example, Renee attempted suicide and stayed at a mental hospital. Later we learn that Carl, when he was younger, attempted suicide and stayed at a mental hospital. Whenever the same things happen to your characters in a way that’s not necessary for the plot to work, it reads as lazy. Like you couldn’t think of anything original for the other character so you just copy and pasted. It seems as if Chiang was trying to create a dilemma for Carl in that Renee once helped him out of this problem so it is his duty to help her out of hers. But you could’ve easily achieved this by creating a separate tragic event that required Renee to help Carl. Maybe he lost his sister or something and she helped him through it. You don’t want or need to use the exact same experience.

Is ‘Straight Man,’ Bob Odenkirk’s attempt to create his own Big Lebowski?

Genre: Dark Comedy
Premise: An aimless professor at a backwoods university creates a stir when he threatens to exterminate the local duck population if his college doesn’t get its act together and provide his department with a budget.
About: This is the big AMC project that will keep Bob Odenkirk in the fold after Better Call Saul. The book was written by Richard Russo in 1997. It’s being led by Aaron Zelman (supervising producer on Silicon Valley) and Paul Lieberstein (HR rep and Michael Scott foil, Toby Flenderstein, from The Office). Peter Farrelly (There’s Something About Mary, Green Book) will direct several episodes.
Writer: Richard Russo
Details: 391 pages

Since this may appear to be a strange project for a review, let me give you some quick background. Richard Russo’s novel, “Empire Falls,” is one of my favorite books. It would go on to win the Pulitzer Prize in 2001 and continues to hold a special place in my mind/heart library.

For reasons I don’t have an answer for, I’ve never read another Russo novel. Flash-forward to last week, and I saw that Bob Odenkirk had picked his next project with Better Call Saul ending. It was the Richard Russo book, “Straight Man.” It seemed like the perfect excuse to finally read another Russo story. So with that out of the way, let’s see if it’s any good!

“Straight Man” – A straight man is a member of a comedy act who plays a stooge, feed, or foil.

Our story, which takes place over one week, follows 49 year old William Henry Devereaux, Jr. a once famous author who wrote a New York Times best seller 20 years ago. But today William is an English professor at West Central Pennsylvania University who seems to be the only person in his department who isn’t worried about the impending budget cuts, cuts that most surely will result in the firing of several professors.

William has other things on his mind, such as his extremely successful author father moving back into town after having a mental breakdown. There’s also his wife, who sees him less as a husband every day than a child who needs to be taken care of. Then there’s William’s own child, his adult daughter, Julie, who moves back into his house after her seemingly sweet husband may or may not have hit her.

As the week goes on, more and more professors keep coming to William, wanting to know if they’re safe from the budget cuts. William finally has a mini-breakdown at a local park. Spotting a news crew doing a story, William grabs a goose by the neck and holds it up until the cameras are pointing at him. He then says he’s going to kill one “duck” a day starting next week until West Central Pennsylvania University gives him a budget. The fact that a man would make such a crazed demand and not understand the difference between a duck and a goose results in the video going viral (or “1997 viral”), where it ends up on Good Morning America.

This causes a stir in the school’s ecosystem. Some want William fired. Others think his outburst was productive, as it will put more pressure on the college to deliver a budget. William doesn’t seem too bothered by it, even as PETA moves into town to protest his actions. He’s more worried about his decreasing ability to pee (he fears a kidney stone may be forming). And if you’re wondering just how much play peeing gets in this novel, I’ll put it this way: More than in any other novel in history.

In the meantime, William attempts to fend off all the romantic feelings he has for his female professors and mentally prepare for the arrival of his father. He never takes any of it too seriously as William often sees life as one big joke. In a pivotal moment near the end of the story, someone frustratedly asks William, “What is it you *want*?” William doesn’t know the answer to that question. And, unfortunately, neither do we. The End.

Boy.

There’s a lot to say about this novel. It’s meandering. It’s frustrating. It thinks it’s funnier than it is.

Probably the worst thing about it is the lack of a plot. I understand that a lot of novel writers don’t care much for plot but jeez. Make SOMETHING happen. Just to give you an idea of how slowly everything moves in this story, we get our first indication that William needs to see a doctor about his urinary issues on page 75 and then don’t take our first doctor’s visit UNTIL PAGE 250!

And don’t get me started on the dad stuff. We never even meet the dad! We just keep hearing about him and hearing about him and hearing about him. But no dad! What an odd choice.

Nor do I think the novel’s main comedic storyline – William holding a goose by its neck and threatening to kill it – is going to go over as funny as the author, and apparently, Odenkirk, think it will. In screenwriting, your hero is supposed to save the cat, not kill it. Threatening to kill an animal is a surefire way to kill audience interest. Even in a comedy.

Another issue is that the main character doesn’t want anything. Your character has to want SOMETHING. To instead want nothing makes them uninteresting as a person and uninteresting as a character, since the lack of wanting anything ensures that they won’t be active. Indeed, William is highly inactive. He essentially stumbles around all day thinking about pointless nonsense.

So then what did Odenkirk see in this?

Well, if I were arguing FOR this novel, I would point out a few things. One, I like the real-time approach to the story. Russo seemed to understand, at least on some level, that his story could be perceived as boring, since there’s no plot. So by condensing everything into a single week, he was able to keep a stream of momentum that, at least, feigned structure.

Russo is also great at creating fully-fleshed out interesting characters. His best work in this novel is chronicling all these weirdo professors. One of my favorites was a fellow annoying professor who was such a devoted feminist that whenever a student used a masculine pronoun, he would always correct them by saying, “Or she.” He would do this to such an extent that everyone eventually began calling him, “Professor Orshee.”

Russo can also be quite witty at times. While jawing with a fellow professor, they say to William, “I hear you don’t write anymore.” “Not true. You should see the margins of my student papers.” “Not the same as writing a book though, right?” “Almost identical. Both go largely unread.”

And he has the occasional keen observation, some of which are more relevant today than they were in 1997: “I can’t remember the last time anyone changed his mind as a result of reasoned discourse. Anyone who observed us would conclude the purpose of all academic discussion was to provide the grounds for becoming further entrenched in our original positions.”

And I think I know why Odenkirk wanted to play this character. This is his Jeffrey Lebowski. This is his, “The Dude.” Without question. William’s a lunkheaded but sweet doofus who just wants everyone to leave him alone.

But Zelman and Lieberstein should take note of why the character of Lebowski worked. Remember, characters who don’t want to do anything in life aren’t interesting in a vacuum. They’re only interesting when they are forced to do something that they don’t want to do. That conflict is what creates the humor: a guy who doesn’t want to do a damn thing is forced to do lots of things.

You get a little of that in Straight Man. Annoying professors keep bothering William. But you don’t have it like Lebowski had it. Lebowski was forced to go on this entire adventure in order to be reimbursed for his ruined rug. There was more of an ongoing resistance he had to deal with and the stakes were much higher in regards to that resistance. Here, every time William has to do something he doesn’t want to do, it’s a minor inconvenience – some annoying student he doesn’t want to talk to, for example.

I know that TV doesn’t need plot the same way features need plot. But I worry people are going to think this character is boring because he doesn’t pursue anything, doesn’t want anything, and is never engaged in anything. He’s (or She’s) like a pinball that keeps getting knocked around with no agency unto himself. Can that work? I guess we’ll see.

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

What I learned: If you don’t have a plot, make sure you have a ton of characters who are all up in your protagonist’s grill wanting different things. This will, at least, ensure that your character is always having to deal with something. This is what Straight Man did well. The second William was done talking to one character, another character called him, or another character wanted to talk to him, or he had a meeting across campus with another character. While this doesn’t supplant the fact that there’s no plot, it at least makes it less of an issue.

Did another franchise just bite the dust? Combined with the WB-Discovery merger, does this mean even MORE superhero movies?

Don’t worry all you muggles.

I’m not here to bash your favorite franchise for its poor showing at the box office (Fantastic Beasts = $43 million). But it appears that this latest Dumbledore excursion was more like a Dumble-BORE.

I shall instead use this as a teaching moment.  Writing good movies is a backbreaking endeavor that even Professor Minerva McGnagall would have trouble enduring. When you have seven 500 page books to mine stories from, chances are they’re going to be good. But if you’re trying to mine the same number of stories from a single 120 page book…. Well, I’m sorry, but it’s probably going to go the way of Avada Kedavra.

Let us remember that the primary reason book adaptations tend to do well is that the screenwriter has so much to draw from. Once you throw out that formula, expect bad things to happen.

It’s why I like to remind writers that a spec screenplay is drawn from nothing. You are conjuring up words, characters, mythology, and backstory from a giant bottle of bupkis. It’s why I encourage you to learn as much about your world and characters as possible before you write because how are you going to compete with someone who has an endless slew of character backstories when all you know about your main character is that he’s kind of a jerk?

WB’s meteolojinxian misfire comes on the heels of the company merging with Discovery, who promises to reevaluate the movie catalogue at the company, including DC. I have to say, apropos of nothing, that I’m confused how the company built off of 90 Day Fiance has more sway than an iconic 100 year old movie studio. Do we really live in a world where Big Ed is a bigger deal than The Joker? Either way, Discovery has implied more ‘shared universe’ stuff is ahead for DC, and less muggles and snuffledores.

Join me in campaigning WB-Discovery for a Big Ed – Joker crossover!

I’m 100% in agreement with this approach. I’ve always found DC’s strategy of making random unrelated superhero films to be bizarre. I know their initial attempts at a shared universe failed. But that had less to do with it being a bad idea than it did with putting Zack Snyder in charge. If I need a dreamy CGI backdrop to a badly written movie, I’ll go to Snyder. If I need vision, scope, and a plan??? I have about 700 people in Hollywood I’m calling before him.

One of the properties Discovery is so miffed about is Superman. He’s the most popular superhero ever and they don’t even have him in the production rotation. On the surface, they’re correct. You’d think Superman would be the centerpiece of any comic book movie plan.

But the deeper you delve into the character, the trickier you realize he is. For a screenwriter, the most compelling Superman story is his origin story, cause it’s so fun. But everyone knows that story so you can’t make a movie of it. The next most compelling story is the “Death of Superman.” And they tried to do that to middling results. Snyder also tried to turn him into a tougher darker “Batman” like character. But that didn’t work because it wasn’t Superman. So what do you have left? I honestly don’t know. You need someone with a crazy cool take and there aren’t many people out there who are capable of coming up with that take. Maybe Christopher Nolan? Taika Waititi? JJ Abrams. Problem is, everyone wants these guys. So good luck getting them. Speaking of, I’d like to see a Daniels’ Superman, lol. How awesome would that be?

I want to know what’s going on with JJ. WB snatched him up for giganto money and we haven’t heard a peep from him since. Did they lock him inside a mystery box in the Warner Brothers basement?

He was supposed to shepherd the promising sounding “Justice League Dark” line of characters, which includes Constantine, Swamp Thing, Pandora, and the Phantom Stranger. Newer, fresher, superhero characters who could provide a jolt to the stagnant DC slate. Alas, we are yet to see these characters materialize.

I suspect JJ is still traumatized after Rise of Skywalker, his last film. I was able to get some inside information that JJ was devastated by the final cut of “Rise,” which included numerous things that he did not approve of. I think that experience has made him gun-shy to direct again. So I’ll make my personal plea to JJ here. JJ! You know I love you! Come back! Make movies again!

In the meantime, I’m trying to find something, ANYTHING, to watch. Severance (Apple TV) is good yet I’m not sure the central mystery is powerful enough to get me to the finish line. I stopped watching during episode 3, figuring I’d get back to it soon, but never did.

I like the mood and tone of this new show, Outer Range, on Prime. But I’m not convinced cowboys and aliens are a good marriage. The most interesting thing about this show is how similar it looks to Jordan Peele’s “Nope,” another alien-cowboy hybrid. It never ceases to amaze me how even the most original ideas aren’t as original as you think. Everybody’s drawing inspiration from the same stew. That’s why whenever someone claims somebody stole their idea, I roll my eyes. Nope. You’re just not as original as you thought.

Moon Knight is another show I started but haven’t gotten back to. I’m realizing with these ‘event’ shows, there’s a formula. They spend a ton of money on the pilot episode then have no money left over for the second episode. Moon Knight’s second episode is one scene after another of two people talking in a room. My interest dove from an 8 out of 10 (the pilot) to a 3 out of 10 (second episode). And I haven’t been able muster up the energy to get back to it.

That’s a weird thing to say: I find it hard to press a remote control button to enjoy a FREE high production value TV show. But this is the entertainment environment of 2022, a sort of “TV FOMO” where there are so many shows that whenever you watch one, you figure you’re missing out on another. Or, at the very least, there’s gotta be some other show that’s better than the one you’re watching, right? That’s been my experience lately. I keep thinking, “I vaguely remember there’s some show I should be watching. Where is it again?” That thought alone can get me to turn off the current episode of Moon Knight, Severance, or Outer Range.

I checked out feature film, “After Yang,” on Showtime Streaming. As most of you know, I’m a huge Kogonada fan, who directed one of my favorite movies from 2017, Columbus. I also love his directing story. He was a film critic for years and decided, in his 50s, to start directing himself. It’s a reminder that it’s never too late to give this career a shot!

Unfortunately, After Yang is storyless. There’s no screenplay here. After starting out with an amazing visual of several families dancing to a networked video game workout, the movie never identifies any sort of driving narrative. There is a goal – a family’s android helper breaks down and they try to fix it – but the stakes are below sea level. You never get the sense that it’s that important they fix Yang. And the casualness with which the father character, Jake, goes about the journey, gives the story a laissez-faire attitude that, quite frankly, puts you to sleep.

While Kogonada thrives with slower-paced deliberate material – that’s what was so great about Columbus – this story is begging for more urgency and importance. The implications of why the family’s android conked out appear to be large. So nobody caring all that much whether they fix him or not creates a confusing message.

I’m not giving up on Kogonada, though! He directed four episodes of the Apple TV series, Pachinko, which chronicles the hopes of a Korean immigrant family across four generations. Did I just say I was gonna watch a period Korean drama? Hell yeah I did. Only fellow members of the Kokonuts fan club understand what I’m talking about. Kokonuts, unite!

I was going to see Everything Everywhere All at Once this weekend but I came down with a cold and didn’t want to be a cold superspreader. Even if I was okay, though, I still would’ve huffed and puffed at spending 20 bucks on this film. As much as I admire A24 for bucking all logic and refusing to cater to the new demands of the industry, it’s hard for me to justify seeing an independent film in the theater these days. I love the Daniels. And the movie’s doing pretty decent so far ($17 million total). But I wish they would’ve premiered this on a streamer and spent a ton of money promoting it as a big event. It’s got streamer written all over it.

It may sound like I have no hope for the future of entertainment but that would be incorrect. My hope rests with YOU! More specifically, your first acts. My First Act Contest deadline is just two weeks away (May 1). So keep sending those entries in!  Also, if you need help on your logline, e-mail me at carsonreeves1@gmail.com with the subject line “CONSULTATION.”  Logline consults are just $25!

THE FIRST ACT CONTEST

I need your title, genre, logline, anything you want me to know about the script, and, of course, a PDF of your first act. You want to send these to carsonreeves3@gmail.com with the subject line “FIRST ACT CONTEST.” The contest is 100% free.

What: The first act of your screenplay
Deadline: May 1st, 11:59 PM Pacific Time
Where: carsonreeves3@gmail.com
Include: title, genre, logline, extra info, a pdf of the act.
Cost: Free!

Genre: Biopic!!!!!
Premise: An overweight sexually confused young boy overcomes massive amounts of adversity to become one of the most famous exercise personalities in history.
About: This script finished top 30 on last year’s Black List. It comes from newcomer Greg Wayne, who hails from Canada. Wayne’s favorite movies are Barry Lyndon, The Remains of The Day, and Amadeus, which pretty much guarantees he’s never read Scriptshadow before. His favorite screenwriter is… well, I’ll let him tell you. “I love Joe Eszterhas. His screenplays have such an effortless flow to them, and are incredibly easy to read. I swear you can finish the BASIC INSTINCT script in like twenty-five minutes.”
Writer: Greg Wayne
Details: 110 pages

This is your quarterly reminder that, as much as I would like to develop a computer virus that seeks out every biopic screenplay on every hard drive in the world and instantly destroys it, biopics remain the most dependable bet to make the Black List. They don’t even need to be good! You can just write about somebody famous, give the script the old college try, and voila, you’re celebrated as the next Aaron Sorkin.

Okay, maybe it’s not *that* easy. But if I had a dime for every average biopic I read from the Black List, I would’ve retired and been in Hawaii by now. The current trend seems to be picking people from the 80s and 90s under one of two categories. One, talented and immensely successful artists (Madonna, Kurt Cobain), two, eccentric and weird celebrities (Richard Simmons, Anna Nicole Smith, Mr. T, Vanilla Ice). I think the reason writers tend to go with the latter is because it’s easier to get the rights to them. And, obviously, you don’t have to worry about getting access to their music.

I’m yet to read a script about an eccentric celebrity that’s blown me away. But I guess there’s a first time for everything. Might today’s review be that first?

10 year old overweight Richard Simmons (real name, “Milton”) is growing up in the single worst place in the United States to be a food addict, New Orleans. You can’t find a breakfast there that’s under 2000 calories. Richard’s tough father tries to get Richard to lose some weight but he just can’t do it. Richard loves food!

At 19, and over 250 pounds, Richard heads to Italy, where he becomes an actor who stars in a bunch of commercials as “the fat guy.” After a particularly humiliating commercial, Richard heads back to New Orleans. In his dream of dreams, he wants to be a performer. He just doesn’t know how. Then one day, a friend takes him to an aerobics class, and he’s in heaven! He’s dancing, yelling, having an out of body experience.

The next day, he tries to get his overweight friend, Maggie, to come to the class. But she’s too afraid of being fat-shamed. That’s when Richard has the revelation of all revelations. There is an entire market of people out there – overweight women, mainly – who are too afraid to go to a gym because of the way they look. So Richard creates an aerobics class specifically for overweight people!

Not long after, he becomes a superstar. Women don’t just like Richard, they don’t just love Richard, they see him as a religious figure, a conduit to God himself. And Richard runs with it. He opens dozens of Richard Simmons aerobics centers across the United States. He starts a TV show. He says yes to EVERYONE who asks him to do something. Pretty soon, it’s Richard Simmons’ world and everyone is living in it.

One of the reasons Richard is so successful is that he actually cares about everyone. When his production team shows Richard the hundreds of fan letters he’s been getting, they ask him if they should throw them away. Throw them away??? Hell no, Richard says. I’m going to write every single one of them back. And he does!

While all this is happening, Richard is massively struggling with his sexuality. He is clearly gay and yet refuses to admit it no matter how many times he’s confronted with it. He is so determined people not know he’s gay, that Richard doesn’t date anyone. As in, ever! He lives a completely asexual lifestyle. This resistance manifests itself in some weird habits, such as Richard keeping a giant dollhouse with tons of headless barbies in it that he often has little tea sessions with. The language during these sessions is… not suitable for children to say the least.

At the height of Richard’s empire, which culminates in him winning an Emmy, he realizes that there is no possible way he can keep up with all of this. There are too many studios, too many shows, too many appearances, too many people to keep in touch with. All that energy he’s been blasting out for the last 30 years finally overwhelms him, and he retreats out of the spotlight. To this day, no one has seen him since 2014.

One of the things I find interesting about biopics is that the writer will often operate on the assumption that the reader already knows where the story is going because they know what has happened in that person’s life. For example, if you write a movie about Jaleel White, the actor who played Urkel, everyone supposedly knows that he ends up on the show Family Matters, where he then becomes a big star.

The problem with approaching your script this way is that you’re using an assumption to power your narrative. You assume that we, the reader, will want to keep reading simply because we’ll want to get to the Family Matters part. Instead of creating a mechanism within the plot itself to power the narrative.

What that might look like is a young Jaleel White is aiming to get into Juilliard Acting School. This would give him a GOAL. Which would create narrative THRUST. We’d feel like we were moving towards something, which would keep us engaged. Maybe he gets into Julliard or maybe not. Once that plotline is over, you would then introduce a new, replacement, goal

St Simmons doesn’t have that, at least initially. It assumes that we’re all in on Richard Simmons becoming an aerobic superstar and we’re just going to keep on turning the pages until we get there. To me, that’s dangerous screenwriting – leaving the job of wanting to turn the page up to the reader. It should be the writer’s job to make you want to turn the pages. And what happens with readers who have no idea who Richard Simmons is? You’re going to lose a lot of them.

Now, once Richard Simmons becomes a superstar, Wayne does start introducing goals. For example, Richard wants to win an Emmy. And then Richard wants to get a bill passed that will make it mandatory that all schools have P.E. The lesson here is that you should have these goals throughout the screenplay. There shouldn’t be a big 30 page chunk anywhere in the script where it isn’t clear what your character wants. That’s when scripts wander.

This is a common mistake in biopics due to what I brought up above. The writer assumes you’ll just want to keep reading because you want to get to that part you know about. Just to be clear, that *will* be enough for some people who are huge fans of the biopic subject. But it won’t be the case for most people.

Despite this hiccup, St. Simmons succeeds just enough to be worth your time. That’s due, in large part, to the character of Richard Simmons, who is just so interesting. He’s actually a great character study for anyone looking to create memorable characters in their own scripts. There are three main areas that make him a standout character. Let’s go over each one.

1) He’s bizarre – Weird/different/unique characters tend to do well in scripts because they’re so memorable. Richard’s obsession with cutoff barbie heads and his excessive aggressive swearing despite being one of the sweetest guys in the world in his public life was enough to keep you intrigued throughout the story.

2) His internal struggle – If possible, you want to add some level of internal struggle to your main character. Characters who have an unresolved issue that’s tearing them up inside tend to be interesting to watch (and read about). Richard’s inability to accept his sexuality makes him quite fascinating to watch.

3) Likability – You’ve never met a person who wants to help more people than Richard Simmons. By the way, this is an important point so I want you to pay attention. You know how we sometimes artificially make our hero more likable by having him help an old man across the street. Readers smell that b.s. If you want to make your character a good person, they need to genuinely be a good person. That’s Richard Simmons. He genuinely wants to help people.

St. Simmons is messy and sometimes untethered, like a lot of biopics. But Richard Simmons is such a unique person that you ultimately get wrapped up in his journey. Not to mention, the dude is kind of inspiring!

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

What I learned: Sometimes in screenplays, you encounter technical things that you can’t turn to a screenwriting book for because they’re too specific to have been covered anywhere. Wayne encounters one of those problems early on in St. Simmons. The script is about a guy named Richard Simmons. However, some of the script covers him when he was younger, when his name was Milton Simmons. So what do you do? Do you call your main character Milton for half the screenplay and Richard for the rest? Or do you just go with Richard, even if, for all the younger scenes, people are calling him Milton? There’s no easy solution, right? Whenever this happens, the way I like to think about it is I ask, “What would be best for the reader?” They’re the ones who have to engage with your choice. So you want it to run as smoothly as possible for them. I think Wayne made the right choice here. It would’ve been weird to call someone Milton for much of the screenplay if we know him as Richard. So he decided to refer to him as Richard the whole time. Here’s how that looked.

Wait a minute. This script sold for 3 million dollars??

Genre: Comedy/Horror/Blockbuster?
Premise: When a man comes to a psychiatrist claiming to be a werewolf, the psychiatrist attempts to videotape his transformation to prove to him that he’s merely hallucinating, but is shocked to learn that the man is telling the truth.
About: Is Hollywood ruthless or what? It’s 1992. You wrote the crowd-pleasing movie of the summer that got an actress her first Oscar in “My Cousin Vinny.” You struggle for a couple years. But then, in 1997, you write a werewolf script that sells for THREE MILLION DOLLARS to Dreamworks, a deal that Steven Spielberg himself brokered. I’d say life is good, right? Except screenwriter Dale Launer would only get three more produced credits in the next 25 YEARS. Those credits? Eddie. Tom Nu’s Heaven. And The Hustle. Ouch. Might Bad Dog have changed his fortunes had it been made? Let’s find out!
Writer: Dale Launer
Details: 118 pages – 1997 draft
Readability: Medium to Fast

Chris Pine for Griffin all the way

As Scott pointed out to me, this script was purchased right after the birth of Dreamworks, Steven Spielberg’s company. When you’re a new company and have a lot of money, you make big splashy sales to announce yourself. Nobody’s going to put you above the fold if you buy a script for $250,000. But three million? That’s a front page story on Variety right there.

This is a rare look into the minds of two of the biggest names in Hollywood, Steven Spielberg and Jeffrey Katzenberg. These two PERSONALLY brokered this deal, which tells you EXACTLY what they like. I bring this up because Spielberg is still involved in his company, Amblin Entertainment, where he’s still buying Spielbergian things, like the Tom Hanks movie, Finch. “Bad Dog” tells me he wants to make a werewolf film.

What often happens with creatives is that once they get their minds set on making a certain type of movie, they *will* make that movie eventually. I saw this with the Russo Brothers. A decade ago they bought a script about a guy who came back from war and robbed banks. After developing it for a while, they abandoned it. A decade later, they optioned the book, “Cherry,” about what? About a guy who just got back from war who starts robbing banks.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, if you have a great werewolf script, get it to Steven Spielberg. He may want to make it. While you’re taking care of that, let’s figure out why he threw three million dollars down the drain.

45 year old Griffin Black is a nationally renowned psychiatrist whose schtick is to “control your emotions.” One day, Griffin’s visited by a guy named Archie who desperately needs his help. According to Archie, every full moon, he turns into a werewolf. But not just any werewolf, a werewolf that grows bigger and fiercer with every human he eats.

Griffin nods along before explaining to Archie that he’s having hallucinations. What if I proved it to you, Archie asks. Would you believe me then? Sure, Griffin says. Why not. So they go to Griffin’s remote cabin and tie Archie up in preparation for when he “transforms.” Griffin then pops on his video camera and starts taping. Needless to say, Griffin learns fairly quickly that Archie wasn’t lying.

In fact, Archie breaks free of his restraints and the next thing Griffin knows, he’s jumping into his Ferrari and speeding the hell out of the forest – WITH A GIANT WEREWOLF JUST INCHES BEHIND HIM. Griffin gets to a paved road and shoves the car into 4th gear, climbing up to 100 miles per hour. But the werewolf is STILL behind him! It’s only when Griffin gets up to 120 that he’s able to ditch the monster.

Griffin runs to his new girlfriend, criminal attorney Marcy, and explains what just happened. She, of course, doesn’t believe him, so they set up a SECOND taping session so that Marcy can see what he saw. Unfortunately, as they’re getting the experiment ready, 12 cop cars show up. They’re arresting Archie for his suspicious ties to several dozen people who were killed in a remote town.

Guess what that means. That means Archie is going to be arraigned in court ON A FULL MOON. Griffin does everything he can to convince people that Archie is a werewolf and that if they don’t restrain him, they’re all going to die. But they ignore him. And boy do they regret it. During the court session, Archie transforms and immediately jumps onto the judge and BITES HIS HEAD OFF.

After fleeing, Griffin explains to Marcy that he had a bunch of silver bullets special made just in case this happened. So they locate a gun and off they go to try and find Archie. Except Archie is busy running through Los Angeles, eating everything in sight. He even pops by LAX and eats an entire plane full of passengers! It’ll be up to Griffin now – who’s never fired a gun before – to find Archie, shoot him down, and stop the killing!

Remember how I told you a couple of weeks ago that one great set piece can sell a script? Never has there been more proof of that than Bad Dog. I know EXACTLY why this sold. And, after reading the plot synopsis, you should too. Giant were-beast chases Ferrari going 100 miles per hour. That’s why this sold. Spielberg loves a great chase scene and this was the faster crazier version of his famous T-Rex jeep scene. It’s a really cool scene. But is it the only thing this script has going for it?

Actually, no.

Bad Dog may not be reinventing the dog bowl but it’s a script that understands something a lot of writers have forgotten since the 90s. Which is that you shouldn’t be writing screenplays. You should be writing MOVIES. Ironic, I know, since this never became a movie. But it should’ve. I’m sure the reason it didn’t was the same reason any Spielberg project gets killed – he’s got a million projects he wants to do and he can’t make them all.

I’m going to tell you where this script won me over. It was the point where Griffin was about to prove to Marcy that Archie was a werewolf. I was reading it thinking, ‘Oh boy. Here we go. We’re going to repeat the beat in the story WE JUST SAW when Griffin watched Archie become a werewolf.’ But then the cops showed up and arrested Archie. My mind immediately switched over to, “Ohhh, okay. We’ve got a movie now.”

Why do we have a movie?

Because watching somebody change into a werewolf in a controlled environment with two people around isn’t exciting. But watching our future werewolf be pulled into a courtroom with a hundred people sitting around, none of whom know he’s a werewolf? Now you have some serious dramatic irony (we, the audience, know he’s dangerous, but nobody else does) with some serious stakes (every single person here is in danger of being killed).

You can FEEL the suspense. You can FEEL the tension. If they would just listen to Griffin. Please listen to Griffin! Once the werewolf gets loose, it’s open season in the city of Los Angeles and who doesn’t want to watch that? I know I do.

Okay Carson, but there must be something wrong with the script if they never made the movie. Yes, there are a few things wrong. The love story between Griffin and Marcy is cheesy as hell. And it’s hard to buy into Griffin and his ten silver bullets being the only thing that can stop the werewolf. Oh, and the tone is weird. The first half of the movie is all talking. The second half is all action. But none of these things are script killers. They could be worked out in rewrites.

The reason Bad Dog works is because IT’S A MOVIE. A werewolf that keeps getting bigger the more people he eats running around rough-shod through a major metropolitan area is a movie. I can envision that on the big screen. Now, the question becomes, is it a movie in 2021? To be honest, I don’t know. It’s not perfect. But when it comes to non-superhero IP, this is as good as anything the studios are putting out there these days.

Take a look for yourself and see if you agree!

Script link: Bad Dog

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

What I learned: As crazy as it sounds, Bad Dog did in 1997 what nobody’s been able to do in the 25 years since – come up with a fresh spin on werewolves. When you’re writing about vampires or zombies or werewolves or Dracula or Frankenstein – you want to look for ways to advance the lore. Creating a werewolf that grows bigger with each kill turns a horror monster into a blockbuster monster. No doubt this is exactly what Spielberg liked about the idea.