Genre: TV Pilot – 1 hour drama
Premise: An antiquities expert and an art thief team up to catch a terrorist who funds his attacks by selling treasure he finds from around the world on the black market.
About: Today’s writers have worked in TV for a long time, writing on such shows as Limitless, Human Target, and Jericho. Blood & Treasure was picked up for a guaranteed 13 episode order and will appear on CBS this summer.
Writers: Matthew Federman & Stephen Scaia

Cobra Kai has reinvigorated my love for TV. Before it, I had to buy smelling salts to keep myself awake during episodes of Westworld. Now I have this great show where the writers of Harold and Kumar somehow created a series where every one of the main characters is nuanced. Who would’ve thought?

Blood & Treasure is a network show, which, these days, is the equivalent of pitching a new Atari 2600 game. Are they still making these generic bake-offs? I guess so. But to the creators’ credit, this sounds fun. Keeping with our Indiana Jones themed week, we got a show that revolves around tomb raiders. Any story that has tomb-raiding in it can’t be below average.

Can it?

After Dr. Elizabeth Castillo is kidnapped by thought-to-be-dead terrorist Karim Farouk, who stole a 2000 year old cross from her worth 50 million dollars, we cut to Professor Danny McNamara in New York. Danny just got a text from Castillo giving him the lowdown on her situation.

Danny heads to the Homeland Security unit where he used to work and tells them that, dammit, he’s going to go rescue Castillo AND get that cross back. Homeland isn’t into it but he goes anyway! First he’s got to find his old girlfriend though, who’s a globetrotting lying thief. But she’s hot. So that doesn’t matter.

Danny meets Lexi in the French Riviera, and it turns out she’s already looking for Farouk herself. In fact, she knows that after a short plane ride to Rome, they can attend a secret bazaar where the cross and a bunch of other antiquities will be up for sale! Sweet! So off they go, trading quips along the way.

Once there, they meet a guy who knows Farouk and slip a tracker onto him so he can lead them right to him! They end up at a warehouse where they find Castillo alive. Yay! But the building is rigged with a ticking time bomb. Boo! Which they’ll need to defuse if they want to get out of here alive.

Spoiler Alert. They live. And while Farouk gets away, Homeland Security is impressed enough with their teamwork that they award our formal couple with their own division – a division that stops terrorists who steal antiquities to fund their terrorist plots.

Believe it or not, despite that summary, this pilot does have some things to offer, the biggest of which is that it MOOOOOVES. It moves fast. One of the first and most important lessons one learns in screenwriting is that every scene should move the story forward. And these writers take that lesson and hook onto the back of a tomahawk missile.

I didn’t realize how happy I was to experience this until I remembered yesterday’s script – and really lots of scripts I’ve been reviewing – where writers are fine with moseying along, taking 3-4 scenes to do what they could’ve done in one. Having characters sit around and talk a lot, while fun for writers to write, isn’t fun to read.

Never forget how quickly a reader gets bored. It can happen within a page. So you want to pack purpose into every scene. If you’re not using a scene to set up where your characters are going next, then you better give us a scene with some intense conflict. We the reader need to be entertained at all times. Don’t disappoint us.

Unfortunately, the rest of this pilot is, quite possibly, the most generic thing I’ve ever read. All the lines are generic (“If this thing goes sideways, we can all kiss our careers goodbye.”). The cities are generic. New York! Rome! We’re using the old tracking device move. We even have a ticking time bomb scene where we have to cut the properly colored wire (although, to the writers’ credit, they added a fun twist in that the bomb instruction booklet was written in Romanian).

I know I’m dealing with a real writer when I get specificity. When, if we’re in Rome, the writer can describe the details of Rome in a way that only someone who’s been there could describe them. Not the way that somebody who’s only experienced Rome through movies and television would describe it.

Like Saturday, when I told you I went to Madrid. Unless you’ve been to Madrid, you’ve never heard of the Retiro. So you wouldn’t be able to write about it. That lack of specificity adds up. The less of a world that’s described, the more generic the painting gets.

The one area where they did research was on these antiquities, which was cool. But if you’re going to do a globe-trotting TV show, you have to do the hard work. You have to do the research about all of these places so it feels like we’re there. It’s all about the suspension of disbelief. And with a flashy show like this, you can fool people for a few episodes. But sooner or later they’re going to realize that they know more about the places you’re showing them than you do. And then you’re fucked.

It sucks because I could see this show being fun. Every week you’re introduced to a new “Lost Ark.” And the decision to flip the “Indiana Jones” role over to the show’s bad guy was a clever one. It reminded me of how they flipped the focus onto Johnny as opposed to Daniel in the greatest show ever made, Cobra Kai.

But can this show survive writing that only believes there are three cities in the world? New York, Paris, and Rome? I don’t know. I hope future episodes get a little more exotic.

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

What I learned: The more important the goal of each scene is, the faster your script is going to move. So if the point of a scene is to drug the bad guy to steal his phone in order to find out where the terrorist is, we’re going to feel like the script is charging forward. But if the goal of a scene is for the hero to find out how his friend is feeling about life, we’re not charging forward at all. And I know that scripts need a mix of these two things. It can’t all be “go go go.” But what I’m telling you is, if the point of a scene doesn’t feel important, you’re risking reader boredom. That’s all.

Genre: Drama
Premise: Based on a true story, in the summer of 1982, three kids innocently attempt to recreate Raiders of the Lost Ark, a task that ultimately ends up taking them seven years.
About: Today’s script is based on one of the most heartwarming filmmaking stories of all time. Maybe the biggest fan-film ever made, these kids were able to adapt a 20 million dollar movie for 5000 dollars. A fun factoid. There was no way to get the Raiders of the Lost Ark movie on any medium at the time. This meant the kids had no way to know exactly what happened in the film. Luckily, the film was re-issued in their small town for a few weeks, allowing the kids to audio-record the entire movie, and hence construct a working screenplay. The choice of adapter here is unorthodox. Daniel Clowes is mainly known for films like Ghost World and Wilson. I suppose they thought he’d bring a quirky sensibility to the kids. But, traditionally, he hadn’t written anything like The Raiders Project before.
Writer: Daniel Clowes
Details: 115 pages

I watched two things this weekend. The rest of Cobra Kai, which was awesome. And the This Is America video from Childish Gambino that everyone’s talking about. I don’t care what the storytelling medium is. If something’s good, I’m interested in it. And I’m even more interested in figuring out why it works.

This is America works, in part, because it tackles hot button issues – race and guns. In a way, it’s sort of cheating when you use these. They’re always going to get a reaction, regardless of the level of skill behind the artist. Hot button topics, by definition, get you hot!

But the reason this one stands out is that it’s not on the nose. It’s not sending a clear message. There’s tons of mystery behind the choices made in the video. And trying to put those puzzle pieces together isn’t only fun, but it gets you asking other people what they think, which grows the conversation.

Getting back to today’s script, I’m still searching for the actual movie these kids made. It sounds like a blast. So if anyone knows where I can find it, holla at ya boy.

It’s 1982. 12 year old Chris has just moved to a small town in Mississippi with his newly single TV anchor mother. The only thing making this bearable is Indiana. Oh, I’m not talking about the state. I’m talking about Indiana Jones, the greatest movie character of all time. Chris is kinda obsessed with him. He even owns a replica of Indy’s famous hat, which he wears everywhere.

Chris’s immediate goal at his new school is to be popular. And he’s a charming chap, so he succeeds. However, he can’t help but be drawn to a little nerdy kid named Eric, the only other kid in school who understands how important Raiders of the Lost Ark is.

Chris sacrifices popularity to team up with Eric, who he immediately pitches an idea to: Let’s remake Raiders of the Lost Ark. Eric points out that they have no way to make a film. I mean, how do you create a giant boulder? Or, if you really want to talk impossible, how are they going to get a girl to be in their nerdy movie??

But Chris’s enthusiasm is contagious, and soon, they’re recruiting a third member to the production team, Jayson, a lover of obscure cinema (he’s more THX-1138 than Star Wars). The group starts shooting their film, recreating scene after scene, and before they know it, the local news does a story on them, turning them into mini-celebrities.

The problem is, each of these scenes takes tons of time to set up. Weeks, if not months. A couple of years go by and they’re not even halfway done. Then Chris goes off to boarding school, limiting the time they have to shoot Raiders to the summers. Finally, they finish the film (except for one scene that was infamously too expensive) and have a big premiere at the local Coca Cola plant, making all those seemingly endless hours worth it.

The funny thing about screenwriting is that every screenplay you write is the first time you’re learning to write that story. So you won’t know the unique challenges of that story until you’re knee-deep in it.

The challenge with this screenplay was the seven summers (ooh, that’s a good title). I’m not sure Clowes has ever written a movie that needed to be spread out like this. And we feel it. The more the script has to jump forward in time, the more uncomfortable the writing gets.

Remember that whenever you jump forward, you pop the balloon, which forces you to start blowing up another balloon. And it’s hard to get readers to stick around for new balloons. Yet that’s what kept happening here. The kids would shoot a scene, they’d go their separate ways, they’d come back again next summer, meet again, plan another scene, shoot it, go their separate ways, etc., etc.

It was so boring.

The bigger problem with this screenplay, though, is the motivation. We’re never clear on why they’re making this movie. And since “making the movie” is the point, it’s frustrating that we’re never clear on why they’re doing it.

It’s okay in real life if there isn’t a reason. But movies need a point. The characters need motivation, even if it’s something they’re not aware of. It’s up to the writer to find that.

A good example of this is the upcoming movie, “Tag.” Personally, I don’t think the true story of a group of friends who have been playing the same game of tag for 30 years is a good idea for a film.

But to the writer’s credit, he did with that story what Clowes couldn’t do here. He realized that the reason these friends were still playing this stupid game of tag as adults was because it was a way for them to stay in each other’s lives as they grew older. That’s the theme. And having that theme adds purpose to the game.

In The Raiders Project, even the characters are unsure of why they’re doing this. They keep asking each other, “Why are we doing this??” And nobody has an answer!

The answer probably should’ve been, “You can do anything you want to if you try.” It’s cheesy but it’s a powerful theme. Everyone here is telling them they’re idiots for trying this. Why not have it be about proving them wrong? The power of perseverance? It seems obvious in retrospect.

I think I know how to solve the seven-year structural challenge as well. In real life, the kids famously couldn’t shoot one scene – the one where the Nazi plane blows up. Years later, after completing the film, they finally raised enough money to shoot that scene.

The script should’ve been built around that scene, using it as an anchor to keep coming back to. You build up the GSU of the scene (They only have this location for one day. The plane isn’t working. The explosives haven’t arrived). And as we get closer to shooting the scene, we jump back to each individual time period of them making this movie.

That way you don’t have this weird time-jumping problem of trying to cover seven summers in the final sixty pages.

If there’s one positive I’ll take away from this script, it’s that we’re way more capable of achieving things than we think we are. These kids did something that everyone thought was impossible. And sometimes things are impossible. But it you don’t at least try, how will you know?

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

What I learned: I think one of the reasons this didn’t get made was because it’s one of the most difficult casting situations I’ve ever read. How do you cast actors to play 12-20? This is puberty, the time in life where people physically change the most. You can’t cast different actors to play the same part. It would be too distracting. And I don’t know a 20 year old who can also play 12. It’s a casting nightmare! So don’t create any casting nightmares in your own scripts, folks.

Sneaky me snuck off on vacation these past two weeks. I tried to rig my WordPress to automatically put up posts. The result was, um, not what I had hoped for, which meant I was constantly popping in to do maintenance, all on my phone. It’s not fun to try and fix a post when you’re in the middle of a castle! Or looking at the biggest Picasso painting ever painted. For those interested, I went to Dublin and Spain. The above picture I took in a park in Spain called the Retiro (in Madrid). Easily the most beautiful park I’ve ever been in.

Anyway, this post is meant to keep you accountable. You are now 5 months into the year. You should be closing in on one completed script. So, are you there? If not, write more! Or vent your frustrations. Or offer encouragement. Or whatever you want to say. As long as it’s about writing or vacations! :)

Genre: Action/Adventure
Logline (from writer): After jumping ship on a remote island, a sailor must escape from his new captors, a fabled tribe of cannibals named the Typee.
Why You Should Read: “Typee” was Herman Melville’s best-selling book in his life time, NOT Moby Dick. The story was a hit with audiences because it was written by a man who “lived with the cannibals.” Yet for some reason, Hollywood has continued to overlook this hidden gem, which has everything a big cinematic movie needs: unique setting, high stakes, lovable characters, mystery, twist and turns, and a dramatic ending. The truth is no one really knows about this book. Moby Dick will always reign supreme as the iconic Melville text, but Typee deserves some love, too. It would make a much better movie! — There was one big theme I noticed throughout the book: identity. During his adventures on the island, the main character always walks a fine line between engaging in the native cultural and rejecting it outright. He is afraid of losing his western identity, yet he is forced by his captors to participate in the rituals and ways of the Typee. I used this as a central point of conflict in the script. — One last thing. This script has a lot of what I call “Oh, shit!” moments. You know, when you’re reading a script and something crazy happens and you say “Oh, shit!” out loud. I really worked to put these moments in there because the original text didn’t have enough of them. There’s one particular “Oh, shit!” at the end of Act II that you really shouldn’t miss.
Writer: Kent Sariano (based on the novel, “Typee: A Peep Into Polynesian Life” by Herman Melville).
Details: 104 pages

I loved this pitch. Who would’ve thought that Moby Dick, one of the greatest novels of all time, wasn’t even Herman Melville’s best selling book when he was alive? Throw some cannibals into the mix and of course I’m hungry to find out more.

The year is 1841. 23 year old Tom is a deck hand on a whaling ship (write what you know, I guess!) that’s ruled over by a power hungry first mate named Hall. Hall has his sights set on making Tom’s experience as miserable as possible, always having him do extra work and calling him, “Thomasina” to embarrass him in front of the crew.

Tom’s lone ally is 18 year old Toby, an eager newbie who’s keen on making a good impression. Despite the danger in associating with Tom, Toby is always there for him, even when he gets whipped in front of the crew for publicly challenging Hall.

When their ship reaches a Polynesian island and the crew is given a few days to play, Tom and Toby hatch a plan to hide out in the island’s center in order to get away from Hall, figuring they’ll catch the next ship that comes along. One problem. There are rumors that this island houses a tribe of cannibals known as the Typee.

Cannibals? Hall? Both the same as far as Tom is concerned. So he and Toby venture into the island where they, indeed, meet this mysterious Polynesian tribe. Toby freaks out, tries to run, and pays the ultimate price for it – he’s killed.

Tom, injured from earlier, has no choice but to stay with the group. And you know what? They aren’t so bad. The tribe’s King, Mehevi, takes a liking to Tom, and helps him learn the ways of the Typee, namely how to hunt. Also, Mehevi warns Tom of their rival tribe, the Hapaar, who are constantly threatening war with the Typee.

Tom falls in love with a Typee woman and is on good terms with almost all of the residents. But as interesting as these people are, Tom longs to go home to America. Unfortunately, his buddy Mehevi won’t let him. Which means if Tom’s going to get away, he’ll have to escape. Tom knows that his plan will need to be perfect. Because it if fails, the Typee will kill him. Or worse.

I can see why this won. The writing is slick. It’s succinct yet also descriptive. You usually only get one or the other. Not only that, but we jump right into things. We’re on a ship. Conflict is thrown at us in the form of Tom battling Hall. I was drawn in immediately.

But as the script made its way into the second act (when we get to the island) I noticed that something was missing. The storytelling was becoming too casual. For example, instead of building up the mysterious horror of our looming cannibalistic tribe, we learn about them through some random deck hand who informs us of their existence as casually as one might give directions. “Are we making port?” “Aye. We are. But it’s an island of cannibals.”

We needed some mystery. We needed to get to that moniker – cannibalism – gradually. To throw the word out there so haphazardly sapped it of all of its power.

Also, it didn’t make sense why Tom and Toby would head directly towards the cannibals. Cannibals are dangerous, right? So why are we walking towards them? I get that they wanted to hide from Hall, but surely there’s a better plan than hiding amongst cannibals.

Toby’s death happens way too easily. This was a major character, a likable character, and his death doesn’t even occur on screen.

From there, it took me awhile to understand what kind of movie I was watching. I was promised cannibals, but instead I got Dances with Wolves – a film about fitting in with an unfamiliar culture. It wasn’t bad. And Melville provides plenty of conflict (there’s a frustrated Typee second-in-command who wants to kill Tom). But I couldn’t help but feel that I was a victim of false advertising. Where’s the cannibalizing???

Towards the end, we finally get what we’ve waited for (Cannibal Time!). But it wasn’t as exciting as we’d hoped. It’s simply Tom sitting down and eating human meat with the tribe. This might have been a fine plot point 100 years ago. But today? It needed to be bigger. I would’ve kept Toby alive and maybe they cook and eat Toby while he’s still conscious. Lol. That’s pretty sick but I mean, come on! It’s a movie about cannibals. You need to deliver “that scene,” that perfect cannibal moment that an audience never forgets.

The key to fixing this script is to add bigger plot developments throughout the story and deliver more on the promise of the premise. I mean, I was promised this big “Oh shit!” moment at the end of the second act, but I’m still not sure what moment Kent is referring to. Is it when Tom eats human flesh? That’s not big enough for today’s audiences.

And then there’s Hall. What a great villain! Yet we never get the satisfaction of taking him down. Once we leave the boat, the character is gone for good. Why not have Hall and his men come looking for Tom. It would provide you with an opportunity to close his story arc. Hell, he’d be a perfect candidate for Tom’s first cannibal feast.

Some of you might be wondering if it’s okay to radically change plot points like this. My experience has been that the further back in history and the more obscure the material, the more leniency you have. I’ve never met anyone who’s read Typee. It’s the first time I’d heard of it myself. So I think it falls under the category of “obscure enough” to make changes. Hell, Alex Garland changed tons of plot points in Annihilation, and that book was written less than a decade ago.

Writing was good here. But the script never leaves 3rd gear. You need to step on the gas more, Kent!

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

What I learned: A good pitch doesn’t alway mean selling your concept. A good pitch can be any fun fact or piece of information that creates curiosity in the reader. Sometimes that means finding the story surrounding the story, which is what Sariano did here. That one factoid – Melville had a book that outsold Moby Dick – convinced me to give this a shot.

It’s easy to tell if a movie’s not going to work. You watch the trailer and instantly sense that something is off (check here and here for exhibits A and B). You don’t always know what it is. But you know you’re not going to waste 2 hours and 15 bucks of your life on it. For the average moviegoer, this reasonless choice is fine. But the aspiring screenwriter must know why every marketed release fails so that they don’t make the same mistakes themselves. And yes, you can often identify giant screenwriting mistakes right there in the trailer. So today, I’m going to take you through 15 failed films and the screenwriting reasons why they bombed. Let’s get into it.

Downsizing – It’s unclear what the point of the movie is. After our hero shrinks, what’s his goal? What’s the story’s destination? For example, when I watch Infinity War, I know the goal is to stop Thanos. That point is clear as day. These trailers displayed no point to the story. So it wasn’t surprising, then, that the movie didn’t have a point either.

Tomorrowland – The premise promises a movie that never arrives. You tell us a movie is about Tomorrowland, yet we barely spend any time there. Not only that, but Tomorrowland is lame. If you’re going to promise us something, make sure your script delivers it.

Logan Lucky – It’s a genre-less movie. Young writers commonly assume that genre doesn’t matter. Despite all his experience, Soderbergh keeps making the same mistake as well. You have to write in a genre or sub-genre that has a proven track record of turning a profit. “Wacky indie dark comedy heist” is not a genre that’s ever proven to be successful. So of course the movie didn’t catch on.

127 Hours – Just because something happened in real life doesn’t make it a movie. A movie still needs movie-like elements to work. Having only one character stuck in a visually unappealing rock crevice… there’s nothing cinematic about that. Nor is it a situation that lends itself to 2 hours of dramatization. Maybe you could make a 20 minute short about the subject (at most). But the point is, just because something dramatic happened in real life doesn’t mean it’s right to turn into a movie (see also: Sully).

The Five Year Engagement – I don’t know if this movie is any good or not. I never saw it. The reason I didn’t see it? The title. This shows just how badly a terrible title can hurt a film. A title needs to be either creative or clear. This is neither. It slams you over the head with its bluntness yet leaves you confused. So it’s a movie about… a sort of long engagement period? Why is that funny? Why is that topic worthy of a movie?

Inside Llewyn Davis – An example of how a miserable main character can destroy any chance of drawing an audience. Every hero must have something about him we can root for. This character had nothing.

The Place Beyond The Pines – The Place Beyond the Pines is what happens when a writer writes to impress film school classes as opposed to real people who go and see movies. Sprawling, unfocused, hyper-serious, long. You can write films like this if you want. But don’t expect anyone besides hardcore cinephiles to like them.

Tully – The concept is simply too small. A mother gets help raising her children. Um, okay. The only thing marketable about this movie – its twist – can’t be marketed. So what’s left?

Foxcatcher – Your script can be slow. Your script can be depressing. But your script cannot be slow and depressing. People typically see movies to escape reality and be entertained. To give them something that embodies the opposite of that is a risk that always ends in failure.

Ghostbusters – Tried to force an agenda on audiences at the expense of telling a great story. If you start putting agendas first, whether they be social, political, personal – the movie comes off as a commercial for your way of thinking rather than a piece of entertainment. Audiences are too savvy for that.

Valerian – “Everything-and-the-Kitchen-Sink” Syndrome. There isn’t any focus. Only a desire to throw as much crazy as possible at the screen and see what sticks. Every movie, even sprawling fantasy or sci-fi, must feel focused in some way. Without a strong story engine and clear goal, scripts like this can quickly descend into messes, which is exactly what happened.

Draft Day – Outside of boxing, fictional sports movies are almost always bombs. People who go see sports movies want to feel like what they’re watching happened. Of course, it didn’t help that both the director and lead actor constructed what was originally a fast-paced fun script and turned it into something that plays to the 80-and-older crowd.

Sex Tape – Dated material. The worst thing you can be is late to the party on a subject matter. This is why it’s advisable to stay away from trends. Although, going off of interviews, it sounds like this was made solely because Sony Studios head Amy Pascal just learned about sex tapes in 2013. Stay current people!

The Mummy – Absolutely positively nothing new. Even Tom Cruise’s Mission Impossible films have a stunt or two that’s never been done before. This had nothing new. When you don’t have a single new thing to offer with your screenplay, why would anyone show up to see your movie?

Blade Runner 2049 – A tsunami of self-indulgence killed this one. Nearly every scene took twice as long as it needed to. Don’t fall in love with your stuff so much that you forget to keep your story moving.