Devastating news, my friends. I’m under the weather. I couldn’t muster the strength to read and review a script. This stuff takes more brain power than you think. But I hate leaving you guys with nothing, so I wanted to highlight something someone brought up in the comments section yesterday. Jordan Peele quit writing “Get Out” 20 times. Think about that for a moment. If any one of those times took, he would not have been standing at the front of the most prestigious movie awards ceremony in the world accepting an Oscar on Sunday. One of the most difficult things about writing is that you get so close to a script that all you can see are its faults. You may even start to hate it. These are the moments when you want to hang it up. Don’t. If you believed in your script with all your heart when you started it, there’s something there. It’s your duty to finish it and get it out there. You never know what could happen. :)

Is Apple’s flagship “See” the “Game of Thrones” slayer it so desperately wants to be?

Genre: Science-Fiction
Premise: In the distant future, after a virus has left less than 2 million souls on earth, tribes of people attempt to survive without the most basic human sense – sight.
About: When a media company worth 900 billion dollars lets everyone know they’re entering the TV space, everyone in that space gets really f’ing nervous. We live in a TV world that’s increasingly becoming harder and harder to stand out in. The only way to do it is with big money. And no one has more money than the house that Jobs built. “See” is one of their flagship programs, and it comes from Francis Lawrence (Red Sparrow, The Hunger Game sequels) and Steven Knight (Eastern Promises). Lawrence is quoted as saying that they’re going to be able to do stuff with this show that you never get to do in TV. Can’t wait to find out what that’s all about!
Writer: Steven Knight
Details: 69 pages (Third Draft)

With all of the screenplays I read, it is rare that I come across an idea that I truly consider original. I’ve never seen an idea like this in the television world. I’ve seen a movie covering similar territory – Blindness – but that was one of the worst movies I’ve ever had the misfortune of sitting through.

Sight-challenged subject matter, unless you’ve got Al Pacino, is a TOUGH thing to film. I mean, you’re watching people literally stumble around in the dark. To put an entire cast into that world is one of the riskiest things I’ve ever seen. And when you’re introduced to the world-building here, with entire towns built around strings and ropes that the inhabitants use to pull themselves around, you’re thinking, “They’re going to do this for 70 episodes?”

I kept waiting for the moment where some miracle light came down and all of a sudden everyone could see. But I don’t think that moment’s coming. We’ve got babies who can see. But that isn’t going to pay off for another 15 years. What do we do in the meantime?

Maybe I should break down the plot for you. The year is 2600-something. We’re high up in the mountains in a weird village that has, like I said, ropes and pulleys and shit. Through some title cards, we learn that back in the 22nd century, a virus swept through the planet that killed almost everyone. Anyone who remained was left sightless.

Over in a cave, a strange woman, an intruder of sorts named Maghra who only joined this clan weeks ago, is pushing out twins. Meanwhile, the clan’s leader, a giant of a man named Baba Voss, is dealing with an approaching army. He can’t see this of course. No one can. But in a world with no sight, you use your other senses acutely, and sense-specific generals use their hearing to note that hundreds of horses are coming up the mountain. They will be here soon.

Via a series of conversations throughout the village, we learn of a mysterious man named Jerlamarel. He was the man who got Maghra pregnant then disappeared. It is rumored that Jerlamarel had sight (vision is considered witchcraft in this time, so sight is never talked about). Jerlamarel left a message (messages are written via a series of knots in ropes) that there is a secret bridge off this mountain that will take everyone here to a new land.

Because they are vastly outnumbered by the approaching army, the village decides to flee to this rumored bridge. After they cross it, they find their way into a valley, a valley overlooking a once-familiar but now dead skyline, that of New York City. What they don’t know is that they’re moving towards another village, a village led by a woman with one goal – to find and kill the witch babies who have inherited the power of sight.

Does the word prayergasm mean anything to you?

Oh, it will.

What I really liked about “See” was that it had an extremely complex world it needed to set up, but said, “Fuck it. I’m not only going to set this world up. I’m going to entertain you while I do it.” It kills me when young writers make the mistake of believing that because everything in their fantasy world is soooooo complex, it needs 70 entire pages of dry setup. There can be no fun when you’ve got the Squybar language to establish, and the Tenth Thistle Law that the reader has to know to understand why the War of 2119 ended in the Calagar Revolution.

Your job as a writer is to tell us those things WHILE ENTERTAINING US AT THE SAME TIME. Trust me. However complex you think your world is? It’s not a tenth as complex as this one. And yet we already have a war on page 10 in “See.”

This is a testament to the old advice: Start your story as late as possible. Sure, Knight could’ve given us 30 pages of setup before the war. But that’s not how good storytelling works. Especially these days when viewers have LITERALLY 400 other options to turn to. You have to grab people fast. So we grab and go with a war and then an evacuation.

I was shocked they made that choice, to be honest. Usually, when you have TV shows, money is tight. If you’re going to build an elaborate village on a mountain with an intricate system of movement and engagement? In a normal show, you’re going to use that set for AT LEAST your first season. That set gets torched by page 50 here. I guess this is what Apple was talking about with their deep pockets. You think you’ve got money Netflix? That’s pocket change for Apple.

So I didn’t know what the hell was going to happen once they left. But I’ll tell you one thing that happens. Prayergasm. Queen Kane, who rules the only town in the world that still has electricity, masturbates whenever she prays to God. And hey, why not? Nobody’s going to catch her. Even if they hear her, it’s easy to deny. “Queen? Are you buttering your muffin again?” “Um, no!” “I thought I heard something.” “Prove it.” Argument won.

The cool thing about this concept is that it places the audience in the unique position of knowing more than the characters. So, for example, in the scene where the fleeing village people are approaching the cliff and looking for this rumored bridge. Everyone is desperately looking around, dangling perilously near the cliff that the bridge crosses, tempting fate with each step. WE can see that the bridge is right there. But they’re clueless. That adds a unique form of dramatic irony that allows us to ball our fists and scream out, “It’s right there! It’s right in front of you! Just keep walking.” This opens up avenues you can explore on multiple levels throughout the series.

What I wonder about is the staying power of this hook. Its biggest asset is also its biggest weakness. Will audiences stick with characters flailing around like drunken sailors season after season? I don’t know. There are no old comps to compare this to. Everything is brand new and therefore unknown.

But I like that. If these are the kinds of risks Apple is going to be taking, then they can definitely take on “I don’t know how to make good movies” Netflix and “We Only Have One Good Show” HBO. All you need is a couple of winners and you’re a player baby.

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

What I learned: Knight will occasionally use a tactic where we meet an important character, but due to the way the story’s set up, the intro to that character needs to be brief. So Knight will write, right after the character intro: “We will get to know this person well.” Knight understands that when tons of information and new characters are being thrown at the reader, it’s difficult to know what needs to be remembered and what can be filtered out. Adding that little tag is a thoughtful way of saying to the reader, “I don’t have time to get into this person’s deal now. But since you have to remember so much shit, I want you to know he’s important. So don’t forget him.”

Genre: Gothic Horror
Premise: Two hitmen are recruited by a strange Native American woman to kill a bizarre monster who lives under her basement.
About: This script was written in the mid-70s for Hal Ashby’s production company. Ashby is best known for the weirdest love story of all time, Harold and Maude, a personal favorite of mine. He was obsessed with this project though, coveting Jack Nicholson to play the lead. He had the author of the book, Richard Brautigan, adapt the screenplay himself, but was unhappy with the result. So he got a real screenwriter in Michael Haller to adapt the story, the final product of which he was excited about. But he could never get all the pieces together. Later, Tim Burton would become obsessed with the project, but he also had trouble getting it made. This is the Haller version of the script.
Writer: Michael Haller (based on the novel by Richard Brautigan)
Details: 108 pages

Still getting over that Oscar hangover?

Texting your buddies to remind them when tonight’s Bachelor Finale Viewing Party starts?

I’m right there with ya. Mine starts at 6:30. I invited all my neighbors but for some odd reason, when I approached them with roses and asked, “Will you accept this Bachelor Viewing Party Rose?” 5 of them shut the door in my face, 3 stood silently, and 2 called the police.

The good news is I made bail. So onwards and upwards and let us all hope Ari finds love.

A few of you sunk your teeth into me the other day like a diseased zombie when I eviscerated some script choices in Three Billboards, calling me delusional for blindly following the GSU faith. But anyone who reads this site regularly knows I like a lot of weird scripts. I mean, I liked Meat, which was the anti-GSU. I’m also consistent in saying that how you break the rules is how you will make your script stand out.

Where myself and my critics differ is in intentional rule-breaking vs ignorant rule-breaking. I’m fine when someone breaks a rule with a purpose. But when I sense they made a choice ignorantly, either overall or in a specific area, I’m going to call them out on it. If you overlook a more dramatically engaging choice out of sloppiness, that needs to be discussed. Because while the strength of that film may have masked that particular mistake, aspiring screenwriters need to know that it won’t work if they try the same thing.

How does this tie into today’s screenplay? Because today’s script is a more obvious example of what happens when you abandon structure, instead “writing from the heart” and steering your choices through theme.

The year is 1902. Two hitman, Cameron and Greer, are coming back from a failed job in Hawaii. Greer is the brains of the operation while Cameron’s a bit of an autistic weirdo. Everything is counting for him. He counts footsteps, words, repeated noises, everything.

When these two get back to the mainland, they’re approached by a young beautiful Native American woman named Magic Child. Magic Child hands them a few thousands dollars and says they need to come back with her to Oregon to kill something.

At a time when Coke cost negative 5 cents, a few thousand dollars is a lot of money. So these two don’t hesitate in accepting the offer. However, once they get back to Magic Child’s town, shit starts getting weird. They go back to Magic Child’s mother’s house, Miss Hawkline, and within five minutes, Magic Child and Miss Hawkline become the same person. So there are now two Miss Hawklines.

Sure, why not.

Original Miss Hawkline explains that Cameron and Greer need to kill a monster for them. This monster lives underneath their basement, in something known as the Ice Caves. You see, Miss Hawkline’s scientist husband was working on an experiment, and may or may not have accidentally created the monster before disappearing.

Cameron and Greer are all geared up to go, but as the group of four gets to talking, they become distracted, even confused, about why they’re all here. After several scenes of this, they seem to get their senses back, only for Miss Hawkline to confide that the monster has the ability to make them confused. Which is why they’re confused.

Uh-huh. Okay.

This goes on for many more pages, with the group fucking (yes, fucking), having tea, and eventually realizing that the monster they thought was the monster was never the monster. Or… something. In the end, the missing dad comes back and everything is great again. But not really.

Getting back to my point. It’s easy to say that one’s critique of a story choice is incorrect when the overall screenplay works. But when an objectively awful screenplay makes the same mistake, nobody’s there to defend the same reasoning. The reality is that every script is the sum of its parts and therefore if a script does a few things wrong but a lot of things right, it’s still a success. But that does not mean its mistakes are above criticism. And I’d argue that that’s what this site is about – having a discussion about those choices so we don’t make the same mistakes in our own scripts.

The second this script went away from its structured setup – find and kill the monster – to an unstructured one – reality dissolves and everyone talks to each other for long periods of time trying to figure out where they are and what’s happening – it completely falls apart. It’s a terrible choice. And it’s a terrible choice specifically because it abandons structure.

It just so happens that this script is so appallingly bad after that choice that I doubt any of you would disagree with me after reading it. But while the critique of a similarly bad choice in an otherwise good movie (Three Billboards) makes for a more interesting discussion, a bad choice is still a bad choice. Sam Rockwell’s racist character in Three Billboards not becoming the deputy under a new black sheriff was the wrong choice. Period. Dramatically, it was way more interesting than sending Rockwell home to do nothing for the next 30 minutes. And writers need to know that.

Getting back to The Hawkline Monster, the bigger problem here is that poor screenwriters working before the internet had little to no resources for how to structure a screenplay. So you got a lot of scripts like this, which charged strong into the midpoint, only for the writers to run out of ideas. Their solution, then, was to write whatever came to mind for the next 50 pages until they got to the climax.

Sadly, a lot of writers still write this way.

The way to prevent this is to KNOW YOUR ENDING. Once you know what you’re writing towards, it’s the same as picking a vacation destination. You can now look up prices, book the plane, book hotels, study the place you’re going to visit, pack, go to the airport, and show up at your destination. Imagine if you hadn’t picked a vacation spot? You just winged it. You might show up at the airport with a suitcase full of t-shirts and land in Juneau, Alaska during a time of year when all the hotels are booked.

Once you have your ending, you just have to make sure your characters are always moving towards that ending, that there are obstacles getting in the way, and that each ten pages we’re feeling a little less certain that they’re going to succeed. That’s what provides that sense of purpose you need in a story.

If you want to write purely through theme and leave your pacing and purpose up to the powers that be, go right ahead. But don’t be surprised when people look at you sideways after they’ve read your script.

Script link: The Hawkline Monster

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

What I learned: Screenwriting is a mathematical writing medium and is therefore heavily dependent on structure. I know people hate to hear it. But it’s true. Until you see it that way, you’re always going to have a hard time pacing your scripts correctly.

Are you ready for some politics!? Wait. I mean. Are you ready for the Oscars!? The Oscars is still about movie awards, right? I guess we’ll find out tomorrow. Use this thread to make predictions, heap praise upon your favorite films of the year, and wonder out loud why the heck everyone loves that one movie only you seem to know is terrible.

Here is who I’d like to win the major awards (not to be confused with who I think will win the awards)

BEST PICTURE – Three Billboards

LEAD ACTOR – Daniel Day Lewis

LEAD ACTRESS – Francis McDormand

SUPPORTING ACTOR – Sam Rockwell

SUPPORTING ACTRESS – Haven’t seen enough of these to make an educated choice

DIRECTOR – Christopher Nolan for Dunkirk (he won’t win but he definitely did the best job)

ADAPTED SCREENPLAY – Aaron Sorkin for Molly’s Game

ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY – Emily Gordon and Kumail Nanjiani for The Big Sick

Genre: College Rom-Com/Heist
Premise: To get the girl of his dreams, a spoiled momma’s boy enlists the help of a feisty cat burglar who needs help blending in with their elitist law-school classmates, but her criminal antics put both of their careers at risk.
Why You Should Read: I like to combine genres that don’t often appear together, and so American Pie and Ocean’s Eleven collide to form The Cat Burglar. I also like to create stories with two polar opposite main characters who require each other’s help in some sort of symbiotic relationship that forces them both to overcome their flaws, so here we have a spoiled timid young man who is too afraid to talk to the girl he likes, and a stubborn female cat burglar who is trying to blend in with the rich and wealthy and funding that lifestyle by stealing from them. He can help her with her problem and she can help him with his, but because of their contrasting personalities there are fireworks and much needed drama. At least that’s the plan! Right now I’d love to hear the wisdom of the SS community. Thanks in advance.
Writer: Paul Clarke
Details: 100 pages

Naomi Scott for Alice?

The Rom-Com.

Is it dead?

Most seem to think so.

However, if there is a space for it, this is where it would be, in that 16-22 demographic. Either a rom-com set in high school or a rom-com set in college. And maybe that segment just out of college, since there’s some inherent conflict in dating in the real world for the first time.

Paul Clarke won last week’s Amateur Offerings rather handily and continues to be one of the strongest contenders come Amateur Offerings Weekend. It makes me want to have a Super Amateur Offerings Weekend, where we get the perennial AO All-Stars to all submit their latest script on the same weekend. That could be fun. Let me know if that’s something you’d be interested in in the comments and maybe we could set it up. Also, who would be in it?

Anyway, how is Paul’s latest? Let’s find out.

19 year-old George isn’t exactly a loser… eh, check that. He is a loser. The Stanford College freshman still lives at home and spends his days climbing the tree in his backyard and taking pervy pictures of his beautiful neighbor Julie, who he used to go to grade school with. While George’s alpha-male father is trying to prep him for a job at his law firm, George would rather become a nature photographer.

Across town we meet Alice, a fellow student at Stanford who doesn’t have the family financial backing that George has. So, being the entrepreneur that she is, she burglarizes homes. And one day, she burglarizes George’s home, stealing that juicy multi-thousand dollar camera he uses. The one that still has a memory chip in it with pictures of Julie. Uh-oh.

When George recognizes Alice at school (through the sounds she made when she robbed him that night), the two face off. Actually, that’s not accurate. George is such a spineless wimp that he lets Alice dictate the negotiation. It starts off as, “I’ll return your stuff and not tell anyone you’re a peeper if you don’t tell anybody what I do,” but later turns into, “I’ll help you get this Julie girl if you get your dad to hire me as an intern at his law firm.”

Alice holds up her end of the bargain, beating George into submission until he asks Julie out. But George’s evil father is a tough nut to crack. He doesn’t hand out favors easily. So George lies to Alice, telling her she’s got the job, despite that not being the case. Meanwhile, George gets a date with Julie to the ball, and Alice convinces George to help her scope out her last big job, the one that’s going to fund the rest of her college. How is this all going to end? Check out the script to find out!

As is always the case, when you read a Paul Clarke script, you know you’re dealing with someone who understands the craft.

The problem is that Paul’s fighting an invisible demon. And he doesn’t know it.

The single biggest issue with romantic comedies is that their structure is too obvious. We’re going down the same beats we’ve seen time and time again. And that was prevalent here. I remember being 60 pages in and thinking, do I even need to finish this? I already know what’s going to happen.

The only way to fight this is through the characters. If the characters are special, the reader doesn’t care as much about the Save The Cat structure. And when you look back at all of your favorite romantic comedies, that’s what sticks out the most. It’s that you loved those characters.

Which leads us to the obvious question – are the characters in The Cat Burglar special? To answer, I’m going to put each character through the Scriptshadow-Special-O-Meter, which rates character specialness from 1-10. Ready? Beep-beep-boooop-chuckuchuchuchchucah…

George: 3 out of 10
Alice: 5 out of 10

Let’s look at each rating in more detail. My big issue with George was that he was suuuuuccchhh a wimp. He was so spineless and so weak and so afraid to do anything… that I didn’t root for him. I was actually thinking, this guy deserves to fail. I mean he doesn’t do ANYTHING. In one of the biggest moments in the plot – him needing to ask Julie out – he doesn’t do it. It’s done off-screen by Alice.

Now it’s true that you usually have to start your rom-com male lead in a place of weakness so that they can arc to a place of greatness. But they can’t have NOTHING going for them. I’ve found that the best way to make a character like this pop is to MAKE THEM FUNNY. You see it with Ben Stiller in There’s Something About Mary. You see it in all the Judd Apatow rom-coms. If they’re not funny, we feel like we wasted our money.

Alice is a much better character. But Paul doesn’t push her enough, and when measured against similar characters, she seems fairly average. I’ll give you an example from Wednesday’s script – June from The Great Nothing. If you go back and read June’s dialogue and you read Alice’s dialogue here, you’ll notice that June’s dialogue is flashier, more clever, more untamed. Alice has some nice lines and moments, but not enough of them. This character type really needs to stand out. And as written, she dances somewhere between okay and good. “Okay” and “Good” are fine for compliments. Not so much for readers wanting to pass on your work.

Also, this script needs to be more populated. It’s too isolated on Alice and George. These two go to a college and yet we never meet anyone from college (save for a professor – sort of). When you do that – when the bulk of your characters’ lives revolve around one place (college) – and yet we never see them engaging with other people from that place, something feels off. It feels like pages are missing. Combine that with the fact that George lives at home, and it’s almost like the whole college thing is a lie. So I would definitely add more college time and more college characters (students or professors) to this.

Finally, the plot points here were too artificial. Whenever you’re resting on the “Let’s make a deal” plot-forwarding technique, you’re asking for trouble. And it seemed like every 20 pages, the two were striking a new “I’ll help you if you help me” deal. I’ll help you get a date if you get me a job. I’ll help you learn how to dance if you help me scope out this place. It’s too contrived.

So when you add all of that up, the script was pleasant and well-written, but it wasn’t pushing the boundaries in any one area. It needed some unexpected plot turns or some wilder characters or for Alice to be a bigger character (crazier maybe). You know what it is. It’s like Paul doesn’t want to be offensive. He wants to write a safe sanitized rom-com. And I don’t think that’s the right way to go. He mentions American Pie as an inspiration. One of the reasons American Pie was a breakout hit was because it pushed boundaries. It was racy for its time. For a movie about stealing, this felt way too safe.

Script link: The Cat Burglar

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

What I learned: I don’t think enough writers ask themselves the question, “Why would STUNNING MODEL GIRL A want to be with LOSER WEAK PATHETIC MALE CHARACTER A?” Cause if you don’t have an answer to that question, then the only reason the girl goes for the guy is because the writer needs it to happen so his story works. I had no idea why Julie was interested in George at all here. It didn’t feel honest. And in a movie about relationships, you have to be honest with why your characters are doing what they’re doing.