Hello everyone. I wanted to take a quick moment to thank everyone for visiting the site. We’re growing bigger and bigger every day (why am I saying “we”? I’m the only one here). Today we/I had a bit of a setback though. A private community of script traders gave me the heave-ho amongst fears that my reviews were drawing attention to them. Although I am upset, there are no hard feelings. I understand they were just covering their asses. This does not change much. I still have sources where I can get new material. But I may need a few people to step up to the plate and help out. I’d like to review at least 2 hot specs a week. So if you’re plugged in and have access to these scripts, send them my way. Your identity will remain anonymous. You have my word! Thanks everyone.

Genre: Drama
Synopsis: Goodfellas meets 21.
About: Don’t know much about this one other than it’s damn good writing.
Writer: Steven Feder

Behold……the passive hero. In screenwriting, to even mention the words “passive” and “hero” in the same sentence can get you blacklisted (and not in the good way). Development execs have been known to kill screenwriters who turn in screenplays with passive heroes. And yet here we are with Charlie, the hero of Breaking Irish, who’s about as passive as they come. Somehow, it all works. What??? Blasphemy you say!!! That’s impossible. All scripts with passive heroes suck. Yes. Usually that’s true. But not here.

First of all, I should probably explain what a passive hero is. No, actually, let me explain what an active hero is. A well-known screenwriter once said, “a great hero is one where when he turns left, the movie turns left.” In other words, he’s driving the action. He’s determining the outcome of the film. How is this achieved? It can be boiled down rather simply: Give your main character a clear goal and have him try to achieve it. By that very definition he has to be active (since he’s *trying* to achieve it).

A passive or “reactive” hero reacts to everything around him. You usually find these in big conspiracy movies. Like Eagle Eye for instance, where someone’s chasing our hero. Obviously, since he’s being chased, he has to “react”. How did I “react” when I saw that movie? I reacted by throwing my drink at the screen. See? That makes me a “reactive” hero.

How does this all relate to Breaking Irish? Well Charlie’s grown up with a gift, a gift to “see” the odds. He’s a number-cruncher with a photographic memory who can always find that one stat to sway the odds in his favor. Charlie wins at poker, he wins at horse races, he wins at blackjack, he wins on basketball games. 70% of any bet Charlie enters into, he wins. But Charlie is reluctant to use his talent for anything other than making it through the day. He’s not interested in the cars and the bling. He just wants to get by, marry his sweetheart (AVERY) and have a normal life. Ahh, but if he had a normal life, we wouldn’t have a movie now would we? Soooo… JACKIE, the local Italian mobster, discovers Charlie’s talent, and ropes him into predicting games for him. Charlie decides to take the job to pay his and Avery’s way through college. But when the money is no longer needed, getting out isn’t as easy as Charlie thought it would be (is it ever?). Jackie has the Super Bowl of meal tickets and an endless appetite. He’s not letting Charlie go anywhere.

As a result, Charlie’s only “active”goal is giving the bets to Jackie and staying out of trouble. He’s as passive as can be. Yet we still like him. Why? There are people out there who will tell you that your hero can be passive AS LONG AS at some point he becomes active. Even if it’s within the last 20 minutes of the film (and Charlie does eventually become active). But I don’t buy into this theory for this reason: You’re saying that for 90 minutes (3/4 of the movie) we can hate our lazy ass hero, then the second he comes up with a plan, we forgive him and think he’s the coolest cat on the block? Surely, if we’re still invested in the screenplay at the 90 minute mark, we had to have already liked our main character, right? My opinion is that nobody knows why passive characters work (Forrest Gump being the most famous of them all) and so they try to justify them by throwing a bunch of screenwriting mumbo-jumbo at you. I personally believe that if a character is interesting, people will want to watch him no matter what. And Charli is interesting. Breaking Irish is a very well-constructed screenplay, and a great addition to your digital library, if only to study how to create a successful passive hero.

[ ] trash
[ ] barely readable
[ ] worth the read
[x] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned from Breaking Irish: The passive hero *can* work, but it’s still very hard to pull off. I would recommend staying away from them if you can. But if you must, offer us someone that we like. An easy way to make people like your character is to have him be great at something. People like people who are good at things. I don’t know why. They just do. It’s probably for the same reasosn that we don’t like people who aren’t good at anything. Charlie is so awesome at betting, we can’t help but root for him.

Genre: Sci-fi
Synopsis: In a post World War 2 New York City, a troubled reporter learns he is meant for a higher purpose.
About: Not much is known about this one. I know Trevorrow has had four movies produced so he’s got a track record.
Writer: Colin Trevorrow

Colin Trevorrow is a good writer. But I think this story is bigger than him. In fact, I think it’s bigger than 99% of the writers out there. It’s Matrix meets Wanted meets Alice In Wonderland. It almost comes together. But World War X suffers from Feature Length-itus — a disease that gives your movie only 2 hours to live. And there simply isn’t enough time to deliver the depth that a premise like this promises.

Tom, a foster child, has spent his entire life feeling a rage inside him. Where it comes from, he doesn’t know. After this troubled childhood and a stint in the war, Tom finds himself barely clinging to a reporter job at the local newspaper. While inspecting a series of strange murders, he encounters a man who seems to have superhuman abilities. Leaping and jumping 10-20 feet in the air. Tom follows him the best he can, surprising himself with his aiblity to keep up. But in the end, the mystery man is too fast, and gets away.

Later he’s approached by a group of men who let him in on a secret. Tom is actually superhuman. A combination of both Wanted and Matrix, he posesses a hidden strength and speed that if he can learn to tap into, he’d be unstoppable. He joins this group, which calls itself “The Brotherhood”. Their first mission involves stopping a bank robbery. Curiously, The Brotherhood seems to know exactly when this robbery is going to happen. They succeed, but instead of returning the money, The Brotherhood keeps it for themselves.

Tom is then approached by ANOTHER group who claims that the group he’s been associating himself with is actually…now hang with me here…a group of “time terrorists”. Even worse, their leader – a guy who obviously dug his name out of the sci-fi handbook – “Zael”, has actually gone back thousands of years in time to impregnate his seed into hundreds of women – creating multiple generations of his bloodline. Tom is one of these children. He is one of “The Brotherhood.”

This new team is an anti-time terrorist organization, sent back in time specifically to try and stop Zael and his “brothers”. Or “sons” or whatever the hell they are. Tom then fnds himself stuck in the middle. Who does he believe? The Brotherhood? Or the TT Organization? Despite stumbling my way through that, Trevorrow actually sets all this up fairly well. We buy into the whole premise, even if it does border on the extreme.

I think Colin may have watched Star Wars a bit too many times though. There are so many echoes of it here it borders on plagirism. Tom and Zael have a sword fight at the end while a larger war rages on outside, all the while spouting out heated one-liners which mainly revolve around “evil” and “doing the right thing.” I kept waiting for Zael to finally scream “I am your fatherrrrrr.” But then I realized that would be redundant. He is his father. We already know that.

It’s only because of this action-suffocated derivitave ending that I can’t whole-heartedly recommend World War X. It has its moments, especially early on. But the last thing every audience member leaves a movie with is its ending, and World War X’s simply isn’t memorable enough.

[ ] trash
[ ] barely readable
[World War x] worth the read (barely)
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned from World War X: Within 10 pages, I know some distinct things about our main character. He’s extremely violent and has a bad heart. Already, he’s separated from most of the main characters I read. Even though neither of these things is wholly original, together, they paint a picture of a man that’s distinct and that I feel like I know. Make sure your main character stands out.

Genre: Romantic Comedy

Synopsis: A bald overweight TSA screener, Kirk, somehow lands Molly, the most beautiful girl ever.

About: Despite Kirk’s description as “bald and overweight”, Judd Apatow alum Jay Baruchel will be playing the lead in this. God are these Freaks and Geeks guys kissing the ground that Apatow walks on or what? There isn’t a comedy that comes out these days without one of them.

Writers: Sean Anders & John Morris

I wouldn’t say this was the most hilarious script I’ve ever read. But what it lacked in the laugh department it made up for in sweetness. At its core, the story is about the insecure guy inside all of us struggling for acceptance. What we tend to forget, however, is that true acceptance doesn’t come from others. It comes from within.

She’s Out of My League spends a hell of a lot of time making it very clear to us that Molly is way out of Kirk’s league. She’s constantly being hit on whenever they’re together because, well, everyone assumes that Kirk and Molly can’t possibly be together. He’s kicked out of restaurants as owners assume she must be a high-class escort. He’s tackled by cops who assume he’s a random pervert. It goes on and on and on and a lot of it, I have to admit, is pretty funny. But at a certain point you have to say, “Okay, you’ve made your point. She’s out of his league!”

Although I loved Kirk, the writers at times try to make him a little too lovable. He’s so low on the family totem-pole that he’s been resigned to the butt of all jokes. His brother is a total asshole. His parents like his ex-girlfriend so much that they’ve adopted her into the family, along with her new boyfriend! And through all this, Kirk takes it in stride, accepting it for what it is. We’re meant to feel sorry for him but in the end, he comes out looking like a little too much of a schlub. We wanna grab him and scream, “Stick up for yourself! Say something!” But he never does. I wouldn’t have minded if they’d given him something – anything – to rough him up a little. Make him not soooo perfect, ya know? Even the best people have faults.

Kirk spends much of the movie trying to figure out why Molly is with him. Is this some kind of bet? Is it a misunderstanding? His best friend Stainer, an anger management candidate if there ever was one, is convinced she’s a terrorist, befriending him in order to circumvent security. But the truth is, Molly’s just sick of all the jerks she usually goes out with. Kirk is first genuine guy she’s met in…well, ever.

It is an interesting question. Is it possible for a relationship like this to exist? I’m not sure She’s Out Of My League gets to the bottom of that , but it certainly tackled the kinds of situations a couple like this would find themselves in.

The script moves along nicely and I don’t really have any complaints except that I felt they missed an opportunity in the end. As we all know, every romantic comedy ends with someone running to the airport. And here, he *works* at an airport. So there was such potential to come up with a unique ending. Like maybe he has to race to her house (away from the airport). Or maybe he does have to run to the airport, only to get stuck at…SECURITY (he’s a TSA screener). You know, something like that.

But all in all it was a fun script. And maybe with Kevin James’ newfound fame, it’s a role he might be interested in (Jonah Hill also comes to mind). Otherwise, I don’t know if this has the teeth to make it to the big screen.

note: I wrote this before knowing that it had been made into a movie. I like Jay Baruchel and have been waiting for him to get a legitimate leading man role. I guess we’re going to find out if he’s got leading man chops.

WHAT I LEARNED FROM “SHE’S OUT OF MY LEAGUE”

Never miss a chance to create suspense, even if it’s using a cheap trick. We’re told at one point that Molly has a birth defect that’s caused her some self-esteem issues. When Kirk is informed of this by Molly’s friend, he’s ecstatic. Because it means she’s not perfect, and he doesn’t have to feel so inadequate. For the 12 pages between when you’re told of the defect, and it’s actually revealed, you are riveted. You desperately want to know what it is. So cheap, but it works.

Genre: Drama
Synopsis: An upper-class New York family of five bratty sisters must fight for their father’s inheritence.
About: Taxonomy of Barnacles is an adaption from the novel of the same name.
Writer: Amy Lippman adapting Galt Neiderhoffer’s novel.

Now I’m going to go on a little rant here so hang with me. I hate book adaptations. When you adapt a book, you’re writing a screenplay to adapt a book. When you write a screenplay, you’re writing a screenplay to write the screenplay. It’s natural, organic, and the only thing you have to worry about is telling a story. Adapting books, your first priority is to find a way to tell the same story but in screenplay form. So you’re fighting a battle even before you place a word on paper. This is very evident in screenplays like Taxonomy of Barnacles, where 6 characters are being jammed down your throat in the first 3 pages and FIVE of these characters have names that start with the letter “B”. A screenplay rule for as long as there have been screenplays is to give your characters distinct sounding names to make it easy for the reader to differentiate between them. Five characters all having names that start with “B” is absurd. Especially when you meet them all at once. I had to keep going back and checking who was who. It was incredibly annoying. And this is just a minor problem with adaptations. The big one is that old problem of having to tell 100% of the story in 10% of the space. But I digress.

The movie begins with four rich bratty sisters, Benita (10), Beth (20), Bridget (24), and Belinda (15), (we’ll meet Bell – 27 – later) complaining about everything from school to life to boyfriends. We’ve got a roomful of complete brats and it’s hard to like a single one of them. After 10 pages I wanted to nail these girls to my door and throw darts at them til they bled to death. So far so good.

But then Barry Barnacle (God does this author like the letter B), their father with a hard-on for Charles Darwin , comes home to inform the girls that he’s decided to use their inheritance money to have a room at the Museum of Natural History and Art dedicated in his name. He’s giving the girls one last chance to convince him that they’re “worthy” of the inheritance. If they somehow achieve this feat, one of them will get it all. That’s right: only ONE of them. And thus Barry infuses their lives with his own little Charles Darwin experiment. Survival of the fittest indeed.

Can I just say? THANK GOD! I was so worried this was going to be some novelized version of Privileged about a bunch of snobby rich girls bitching about how difficult it is to be rich (I’ve never actually seen Privileged but this is what I assume it’s about). Now we actually have a story. Bravo. I’m on board. But dammit. This means I’m going to have to learn these girls’ names!

It’s actually a nice setup, as each of these girls must now face their deepest flaws and see if they can overcome them. Bridget never finishes anything she starts (her boyfriend Trot wants to set a date to get married but she’s reluctant). Beth won’t even interact with a man. Belinda can’t think for herself. And there’s something wrong with the other one too. Is Bartha her name?

But Barry is a peculiar character. He cheated on his wife. He resents having all girls. He’s disappointed in Bell for leaving her husband, even if the man was a compulsive cheater. So this “prove you’re a good person” bit doesn’t hold much water when you think about it. It’s kind of like gutters in Los Angeles. They’re not really equipped to handle a lot of rainfall. When Bell claims she doesn’t want the half of the money she’s entitled to through her divorce, Barry is the first to tell her to take it. So the man who’s trying to teach her a lesson about being entitled tells her she’s entitled to half her husband’s fortune? Uhhh, what?

The most compelling storyline is Bridget, who left her previous fiance, Billy, unannounced. Then Trot, her current boyfriend, the only person in the story with any actual working blood in him, finds out that Bridget’s gone back and slept with Billy. He confronts them both and tells her he can never be with her again. Billy lies and tells Trot that Bridget won the inheritance, in order to prove to Bridget (in an effort to win her back) that Trot’s been in this for the money all along. Trot changes his tune once he finds out that Bridget won the money, and ole Billy’s point is proven. The problem with this is – TROT’S THE ONLY PERSON WE LIKE IN THE WHOLE GODDAMN SCREENPLAY. Now you just made him an asshole like everyone else.

The rest of the story is fun. Beth finds out she’s a lesbian. Belinda tries to marry a punk rocker to rattle her father (who she dumps because he ends up being jewish – which wouldn’t have rattled her father at all). All Benita wants is her father’s appreciation. And what we find out, in a rather touching finale, is that their mother committed suicide because of depression. Barry needed a way to rationalize it, and used Darwin’s theory of Survival Of The Fittest to explain it away – hence his peculiar obsession with the theory.

There’s a humorous subplot about a nest of rare eagles living out on the ledge that Barry’s been trying to get rid of for years (but Animal Activists groups have prevented him from doing so). Again, there’s some Darwanism going on here – will the birds make it? But I think the biggest strength of the script is watching these little bitches battle each other for the gold. Making us dislike them from the get-go was a calculated move, and now we revel in their misery. And it’s so wonderfully written (save for the noted problems) that even without a character to root for, you’re desperate to find out how it’s all going to end. I see Taxonomy of Barnacles as the movie I had hoped The Royal Tenenbaums would be. As it is, it’s probably too obscure to be made into a film. But that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be.

What I learned from Taxonomy of Barnacles: The power of a strong theme can really unify your script. Everything in Taxonomy stems from Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, and it works superbly.