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A couple of weeks ago I sat down with screenwriter (and actor, and director) Leah McKendrick on a rainy LA morning at my favorite coffee spot, Sightglass Coffee, just off of LaBrea. It’s this big open space with a lot of creatives working there and I always enjoy the energy. If anyone wants to come by and say hi, I’m there three times a week.  I’m usually working on an ipad with a white keyboard.

I wanted to catch up with Leah because she’s got a new romantic comedy called Scrambled, about a woman in her 30s who, because she doesn’t have a partner, has decided to freeze her eggs. It turns out to be an emotionally frustrating experience balanced out by a lot of humor, brought on by characters who seem utterly flummoxed by this choice of hers.

Our conversation was long and winding and while I originally planned on editing it down, I ultimately decided to keep it all because there’s some really great stuff here. Stuff about agents, dialogue, struggle, how to stay motivated, how to take your career into your own hands. I’m a huge fan of how Leah makes things happen in an industry that doesn’t want anything to happen. I’m going to pick things up BEFORE we started talking Scrambled. While waiting for Leah’s croissant (“I just got off the actress diet so I need carbs before we start.” “What’s the actress diet?” “When you don’t eat anything.”), Leah mentioned that she had developed a show at HBO before it fell through. So I asked her what it was like working with HBO…

LM: Yeah, I don’t know how it compares to other networks. I will say, all of the notes that I received were really smart. And really fair.

CR: Who was giving you notes from HBO? They assign you to a specific person there?

LH: Yes. Exactly. And that person’s team. But you have a point person you talk to. And that’s what’s really hard I think about making studio shows or studio films. There’s always another “box” higher up. Until it reaches the top. You’re never working with “the top.” So even if your point person absolutely loves what you guys are creating together, it still needs to work its way up the ladder. And if that top person changes for one of these 8 million reasons that top-people-changes happen, your project’s done. Because they don’t have any deep connections with your project. They weren’t a part of moulding it.

So that’s been something that’s been really hard for me is that I can be working with the studio very closely and they could be loving it and we could be really vibing but if their boss or their boss’s boss doesn’t get it? Like, “We gave it our best shot!” But I don’t view it that way. I view it like, “This is my blood sweat and tears. This is my baby.” But that’s just how this business works. Unless you’re getting to work with Nathan Kahane himself at Lionsgate. Like, it’s still got to make its way to Nathan and he’s still got to sign off on it. Thank god on Scrambled (laughs) Nathan signed off on it. There’s a good chance that Nathan could’ve been like, “No,” and Scrambled wouldn’t have been a Lionsgate movie. It still would’ve been made. But it wouldn’t have been a Lionsgate movie.

CR: So let’s talk about Scrambled because it feels like it’s the best example ever of “Write what you know.” Is that how this script came about? You thought, “I’m going through this. I need to write a script about it.”

LM: Yes. I was pissed off that I had to spend 14 grand (on freezing my eggs). So I was like, “I’ll use it as research and I’ll write a movie about it.” And I don’t even know how strong that urge was because more than anything I was like “I just have to get through this and freeze my eggs.” And I thought I wouldn’t write during that time because the pandemic was going on and that complicated things. But then out of curiosity, I started googling fertility films. And I realized there was no film about egg-freezing. It was always about the other methods. But those methods were about getting pregnant. And I was trying to do the opposite. I was trying *not* to get pregnant. Cause I didn’t have a guy. I was trying to buy more time. And that’s just so isolating and alienating for women. So I started writing down notes. And I just didn’t feel creative in that moment at all. And then as soon as I was done with my egg-freezing it was back to work. I had deadlines on other movies so I didn’t do anything with it until a year later after they killed Summer Loving (a Grease prequel Leah was working on) and they killed my directorial debut (another movie) and I was like, “I am not doing this anymore.” So I was like “I’m going to write my… give me three weeks, I will write my film about egg-freezing.”

CR: Is this something you ever discuss with your agent and management teams?

LM: (laughs) No. My team is the best. They know that I always go rogue.

CR: So then you guys never sit down together and they lay out a career game plan, such as, “Here’s what we think you should write? These types of movies are doing well so maybe you write one of them. This trend over here is hot so maybe write that?”

LM: Good question (thinks about it). No. In the beginning of my career they did. They tried to get me to chase moving targets. Nowadays no. And I would really advise writers away from that. “Knives Out did well so now go write a murder mystery.” Unless you LOVE murder mysteries, dope, go write it. But I know what I have, which is a pretty limited toolbox of things that I’m good at. So that’s what I write.

CR: You know your lane.

LM: Mm-hmm. I know my handful of lanes, I should say.

CR: Are you in the left lane or the right lane?

LM: Both at once, at all times.

Carson and Leah crack up.

LM: I’m in all the lanes at once which is what I should really say. But no, nowadays my team doesn’t try to get me to write in a genre or a specific type of film. They will say to me, “This project which you mentioned a year ago. What if we brought that one back?” Or, “You’re getting offered a lot of these types of genres. Do you want to do one of them?”

CR: So they’re coming to you with offers?

LM: Mm-hmm.

CR: And you consider that because it’s a paying job.

LM: Very rarely but at one point I did.

CR: Now, not so much?

LM: No, now (facetiously) I’m drunk with power. (Laughs). Now I don’t want to do anything that anybody wants me to do. Now I just want to build my own shit from the ground up and die on that hill. After they killed my TV show and they killed my two films, I just felt like I had done everything right. I’d played by the rules. I had been a good little soldier. And for what? You just killed everything.

CR: That seems to have had a big effect on you.

LM: A BIG effect on me. People feel like I should feel so much triumph because I made Scrambled and I do. But I’m so heartbroken. I will always be heartbroken because I worked so hard… here’s what I’m trying to explain because it’s not just my creativity. Because us artists have unlimited creativity. The more we sew, the more we reap. The more we create, the more we will create, the more that comes to us. BUT. That’s YEARS of my life. That’s what isn’t limitless. Is the days and the months and the years that I invested in building what they told me to. And then they didn’t even make it. So why would I continue to invest my one precious life into what you’re telling me to make if you’re not actually going to make it? So I was like, “The only way I have seen a way that has PROVEN ITSELF to be worthwhile and that has actually led to movies is when I was the one behind it. And I was the one who was saying this is when we’re shooting and this is how we’re going to get the money.

CR: So you wrote, starred, and directed in this movie.

LM: Yes.

CR: How did you do that? That’s hard.

LM: It was hard. But like I said, I was clean out of f$&%s. I was like, I’m not handing over my script. I’m not selling my script. Why would I go into development for three years? Regime change. More development. And another regime change. You kill it five years later. I don’t even own it anymore. It was an inefficient system that I could not subscribe to.

CR: One of the things that amateur screenwriters struggle with is a little bit of what you’re talking about but they feel even less power. They work on something and they don’t even know if an agent is going to pay them any attention. So that’s why a lot of them give up. They go through that process four times. Each time takes a year out of their life. They get rejected each time. And they finally say, “What’s the point?” But you seem immune to that. You continue to be more motivated than anyone I know.

LM: Yes.

CR: Where does that come from and how do you generate it?

LM: We’re going to get really deep for a second because it’s a sad answer. But that comes from the fact that my whole life I’ve felt behind. I have felt like I have failed. And it’s because I thought I was going to be Britney Spears at 16 years old. I was so frustrated as a kid. I had no interest in playing. I wanted to work. I don’t know where that comes from because my parents were not like, “You need to work.” But when you have had huge dreams your whole life and nothing has happened on the timeline that you wanted it to, it makes you quite desperate. It makes you feel like no one is getting it.

CR: I didn’t know you did singing.

LM: Oh yeah. I would make my own costumes and hire dancers with my allowance money when I was in high school.

CR: See, THAT. Right there. You went further than the average person would go. And this was technically before you were “behind” in life, right?

LM: Even then I felt behind. I wanted to be a Disney kid. I wanted to be Miley Cyrus and be on a Disney show. My parents were not into that. I was resentful. Cause I read about all these other kids whose parents would move with them to Hollywood and when I brought that up to my parents, they looked at me like… “We don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

Carson laughs.

CR: Let’s talk about Hollywood for a second and the pursuit of one’s dreams. Because there seems to be two ways to approach it. The first way is a negative one. You put your stuff out there and you think, “It’s probably going to be a no.” And the other way is positive. You put your stuff out there and, in spite of the no’s, you continue staying optimistic. You keep going. How do you keep that optimism having been through these numerous failures? How do you keep pushing no matter what?

LM: I think the thing that fed me and gave me that stamina all those years was that blind optimism of “I’m meant to be what I dream of becoming.“ Therefore, if I just reach the right people, they will see that I’m meant to do this and when that was proven wrong, it was a huge destruction of a worldview for me. Since then, what I think has happened, and this is a way I’ve evolved, and this is kind of sad also to be honest. Is that I’m not…….. good enough to be up there so I will have to make up for that in hard work. And that is why I decided that I had to write, and direct, and produce, and star, and finance (laughs). I will have to do EVERYTHING in order to make movies. I don’t believe anymore that I will reach the mountaintop. That I will reach the emperor and that he or she will tell me that I “made it.”

CR: (laughs) That moment never comes for anybody.

LM: (laughs) Exactly.

CR: Okay, so what I want to talk about is dialogue. You know I’m a fan of your dialogue. We talked about dialogue last time. This movie is very dialogue-driven. Have you learned anything new on the dialogue front since we last talked?

LM: Funny thing. Since we set up this interview, I’ve been waking up in a cold sweat in anticipation of this question. Cause I felt like last time I wasn’t prepared for it and I didn’t give a very good answer. That’s because a lot of it is instinctual to me.

CR: Yeah, that seems to be a common response from writers who are good at dialogue. They don’t have the best dialogue tips because they don’t have to think about it.

LM: Yeah.

CR: Well I have good news for you. I have it on good authority that if you give me a good answer, the Hollywood god will finally tell you you’ve made it.

LM: (laughs) I have one bit of advice I can give…

Quick Context Break: Both myself and Leah are big fans of the reality show 90 Day Fiancé. I have spared you from our conversation about the show in this interview. Don’t judge. Ryan Gosling is also a fan. Earlier, we were discussing one of the couples on the show. Their names are Geno and Jasmine. In the most recent episode, they got married. This is the context for Leah’s answer.

LM: On 90 Day Fiancé Geno and Jasmine were getting married and they were exchanging vows. So Geno’s giving his speech. His vows are what I would call “platitudinous.” They were enough for Jasmine and I love that. He’s not a writer by any means. And it was from the heart. But I forgot everything he said the minute he said it. Because everything that he said has been said a million times before. And I think that I am more interested in characters saying the wrong thing, or the semi-wrong thing, or going in a weird direction where you’re like, “ooh, this feels a little cringe.” And then coming around at the end and having one line that is so heartfelt. At least I will remember that moment and I will remember that writer who wrote that moment. Because if you’re going to sit up there and your vows are, “You complete me” and “I wasn’t myself until I met you” and “I’m going to love you forever.” No one remembers any of that.

So my boyfriend’s aunt was telling me a moment in my movie that really spoke to her and it’s this moment where a character is talking about their lost pregnancy. A miscarriage. And they had written a letter to their lost child. And they’re listing all these things that they wish they could’ve done together and one of them was, “I had all these plans to teach you how to not pluck your eyebrows, how to drive, and how to cook a chicken.” And she said the part about cooking a chicken just got her. And it’s like, “Why? Why is that?” Cause I don’t always know when I’m writing what’s going to hit, what is going to resonate. She said she couldn’t even explain what it was. Then we talked about it for a minute. And my thing was, as a Nicaraguan woman (my mom is from Nicaragua), it’s a big right of passage to pass on these skills. And one of those is roasting/cooking a chicken. And so I was just thinking about it in those terms. You know, when your kid graduates from high school and you’re sending them off to college, there are some skills that you want them to have. Right? You want them to know how to fold a fitted sheet. You want them to know how to cook at least something. Can you scramble an egg? So I was trying to come up with these basic go-tos of parenting. But the chicken really struck her, I think, because it’s visual. Because it’s specific. I think because it’s a rite of passage that only a mother would really know.

My larger point about dialogue is, the more general you get, the more forgettable it is. And the more specific you get, even if it’s the wrong thing, the more memorable it will be. And I would advise writers to use their own lives…. Like if you were going to teach your kid five things, what would those five things be? Get really specific. Because I promise you they wouldn’t be, “Oh, how to love.” (Laughs) You know? I don’t think that us as humans if we’re really in it or really honest, the more general it is, it means you’re not really trying. You’re not really thinking about it. It doesn’t matter how sweet your vows are. If they’re too general, they are in one ear and out the other.

CR: I like that answer because I deal with platitudes a lot and it’s a problem. More so in loglines lately. Wait, do you still have to write loglines as a working writer?

LM: I still write loglines. Yeah.

CR: Yeah, a big problem in the logline universe is general phrases that mean nothing. And for some reason, it’s hard for writers to understand that when I tell them not to do it. I don’t know why that is.

LM: You know what I think it is? And I mean no disrespect because I did it too. Sometimes we are *performing screenwriting.*

CR: What do you mean by that?

LM: You’ve seen so many movies your whole life. You’re like, “Oh, that’s what a movie is. That’s what movie dialogue is.” Which leads to imitation movie dialogue. As opposed to “I’m not imitating movies. I’m imitating real life.” And also, in some ways NOT imitating real life. Because real life can be quite boring. And like Geno saying his vows, real life vows are not always great. For some reason, I keep thinking of Jerry Maguire. That speech, “You complete me.” Yes you can say that that “hits” because… Tom Cruise. But I actually think it hits because he has not been that person for the entire film. The entire film he’s so self-involved. It’s all about him. It’s all about, “Who’s coming with me to help me because of who I’m supposed to be.”

CR: Jerry Maguire sounds like 16 year old you.

LM: (laughs) True. Yeah, he’s like who’s going to help me start my business, I’ve got to write this manifesto, I gotta get clients. Dorothy’s just on the sidelines. And there’s this big reversal in this final moment where he realizes I’m nothing without you. And they were able to encapsulate that moment through dialogue.

CR: Would you have written that line?

LM: (spends the longest time thinking about the question of any moment in the interview) I think… I think I would’ve written something along those lines. I don’t know if it would’ve been fucking epic.

Carson laughs.

LH: But I can feel in my heart as a screenwriter that that’s his journey. That his journey informed the line. And that’s why I get frustrated sometimes by studio notes is that, sometimes we’re so afraid of characters not being likable, that their arcs are (Leah visually mimics a flat line path with her hand) Wah-wahhh. And I’m like, “People will want to be on a ride and if somebody is… if you’re struggling to like them… that’s okay. As long as you give them that moment in the end. But I’m personally more comfortable having somebody be a little more self-involved, a little bit of a dick, a little selfish.

CR: What is your character in Scrambled like? Is she unlikable? What’s her flaw?

LM: No, I think people really like her. The flaw is, I would say, that there’s some arrested development there. She’s struggling to grow up.

CR: Now, you’re basing her on yourself, right? So you have to do some pretty intense self-reflection to write that.

LM: I mean, I think I’m still struggling to quote-unquote “grow up.” But I would point a finger at society telling me that growing up is being a mom. And I’m going, I don’t think that’s true. I think I’ve grown up in a lot of ways. And I am an adult in a lot of ways even though I don’t have a picket fence and a husband and 2.5 kids and an “acceptable” job. So yes, in some ways it’s her reckoning with society’s standards of what an adult woman should look like. But also the ways in which she herself has been infantilizing herself is a rebellion against that. And I think that’s totally me. I have a hard time with a lot of this stuff. I feel like I have worked my ass off and I have a career in the toughest industry in the world. Why isn’t that recognized as “adult?” Why isn’t that recognized as a huge triumph for me?

CR: Sounds pretty good to me.

LM: Well thank you. But you get it. Because you’re here. People who aren’t… have always been so curious about my love life. Always so worried about my age.

CR: What is that like for you? When you get that question? And are these moments in the movie?

LM: The whole movie is moments like that. I will tell you in one instance…I had just been hired for a big screenwriting job. I was very excited. It was early on in my writing career where I wasn’t getting offered big jobs and I had fought for this one. And I was telling a friend. I was so excited. I was feeling really good. And her question was, “Aren’t you worried about having kids cause you don’t have a boyfriend?” It felt so out of left field. And it kind of kept me up at night.

CR: What did that have to do with you getting the job?

LM: Excellent question. I think she may have been projecting some of her own fears on me. She was seeing me successful and wondering why she hadn’t been able to figure out that side of life yet. But I confronted her about it later and we worked it out.

CR: Is that in the movie?

LM: Not specifically but the whole movie is this specific conflict. How you shouldn’t measure a woman’s life achievements by these metrics. Husband. Baby. House. And when I did buy my house, it did feel like this moment where I was like, “Well I don’t have a husband. But I bought my house from this money that I made from my dreams. Every dollar that bought this house was from my acting and my writing. So fuck you. Cause I still got here. And I still have a house in the exact area that I wanted to get a house (in the Hollywood Hills) and it may just be alone but I’m not behind. And that was what was really hurtful. That everybody made me feel that I’d chosen my career over having a family and I had ruined my life because I had chosen my career. That’s what the film’s about.

CR: Random question. Was buying that house stressful?

LM: Super stressful.

CR: Could be a future screenplay. The struggles of buying a house.

LM: (laughs) It’s funny because when you start making money you become a bit existential about it. “What is this money I’m getting? What does it even mean?” But when you buy that house and you’re sitting in your chair looking out your window in the exact type of home you’ve always wanted in the exact area that you’ve always wanted, that’s when you realize what the money is for. That piece of mind and that safety. There’e something tangible I can point at. I had nothing when I moved here. My parents had cut me off because they said, “You have to do this on your own.” And now I have a house in the hills. And I achieved that by doing all the things that people told me not to do. So that’s my little arc.

CR: So when can we see Scrambled!

LM: It’s coming out March 1st on streaming! Apple, Amazon, and On Demand services. Oh and by the way, I just wanted to give a shout out to your site because last time I did an interview I was terrified to check the comments because I never check the comments cause they’re always mean. But the people on your site are so positive and supportive. It was really cool.

CR: Yeah, outside of a few outliers in the comments section, 99% of the people are very positive in their discussion about screenwriting.

LM: Oh, I wanted to say one more thing before we stop. We were talking earlier about screenwriters giving up. And whenever I hear that, it hurts my soul. Cause think of all the incredible scripts and stories that will never be written or made because of that. And regarding what I’m about to say, if this is not you and this is not in your heart, that’s fine, I understand that. But if you have this amazing story and nobody’s giving you the time of day, consider putting on that producer hat. Stop thinking that others passing on your screenplay is where it ends. I don’t care if you’ve written Citizen Kane. It doesn’t go anywhere without you. I’m of the Duplass brothers school of making movies. Which is, “How inexpensive can you make it?” “Is there a version you can do for 100 grand, 200 grand?” I know we would all love 5 million dollars to make our first movie. I know! But they’re not handing that shit out. I’m such a big believer that if you want to be making movies you have to be making movies.

So many people in this town don’t want to read your script. Like people send me their script and want me to read it – I DON’T EVEN READ. I’m trying to change that but we’re all busy, you know? It’s so hard to get people to read your script. But they *will* watch your movie. Making something small. Even if it’s a dope ass scene. Or even if it’s a teaser. I just feel like the thing that has done more for me in my career than anything else is making my own work. Taking my scripts and getting friends, raising a little bit of money, going to the festivals trying to turn it into something bigger, that has been my trajectory. And I know that it can be disguised by the fact that I’ve been writing studio films. And look, I’m grateful that I have a house like I talked about. But that didn’t get me Scrambled. The way that I got Scrambled is by saying I’m *not* doing that anymore. I am going to make this. I’m going to direct it. I’m going to star in it. I’m not taking no for an answer. And they try to dissuade you. A lot of companies offered me money if I wouldn’t act. Or I wouldn’t direct. They always do that. And it makes you feel sh&%$y. But my point is I wish that screenwriters also saw themselves as filmmakers, also saw themselves as producers. Because that will make all the difference in your life.

CR: Do you think you would be successful if you only wrote scripts to sell them?

LH: 100% no. 100,000% absolutely not. I think there are better writers who have smaller careers than me. The way that I got a screenwriting career was by making MFA (her first film about a campus rape). And I’ll be honest. I reread that script not that long ago and I was like, (laughs) “This is not good.” I thought it was the best shit ever when I wrote it. I thought I was Aaron Sorkin. I really did. But at the time it was the best that I could do. Truly. The beauty of it: it was a decent script, it was a better film. Because my director and main actress knocked it out of the park. And then it went to South by Southwest because South-by just f&%$ing gets it. And they can see… ideas. Even if they’re not fully formed. And it came out the week of the Weinstein scandal and the birth of #metoo. So there was some luck there.

But that happened and I had a screenwriting career. And then I was selling scripts right and left. And then I was getting called for adaptations. That would not have happened with the script alone. I’m telling you. The script was not that good. But the beauty of it is that I took my script and held it tight and I was like, “I’m muscling my way to the finish, eyes closed with or without any of you people.”

So I would just say, writers, I promise you, probably 90-95% of you are more talented than I am (laughs). But I’m very very very tenacious. And hard-working. And my secret to producing is just, I’m good at asking for things that I have no business asking for. I’m good at calling up everyone I know and going, “Have you ever thought of investing in film? Have you ever wanted to be in a movie? Can I use your house to shoot in? Can I use the campus to shoot in?” I’m good at that. I’m good at calling up SAG and saying, “This isn’t fair. You gotta let me star in my own film and not be creating all this red tape for me to rehearse. I’m good at calling everyone up and being like, “I need to get this done.” And the smaller the project, the more miracles will happen. That’s how it is. The bigger the project, the more bullshit will happen (laughs). The smaller and scrappier your film is, the more times you’ll have someone say, “Eh, all right, you can shoot in my backyard. All right, you can have free parking.” You know, I put every penny I had ever saved up in my life at the time into that film? 10,000 dollars. It was my hail mary. I didn’t have a plan B.

CR: Leah, you are the Katt Williams to my Shannon Sharpe. You held nothing back today. Thank you for coming out on this uncharacteristically rainy LA morning. Any last words?

LH: Go watch Scrambled!

Week 9 of the “2 Scripts in 2024” Challenge

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

Every Thursday, for the first six months of 2024, Scriptshadow is guiding you through the process of writing a screenplay. In June, you’ll be able to enter this screenplay in the Mega Screenplay Showdown. The best 10 loglines, then the first ten pages of the top five of those loglines, will be in play as they compete for the top prize.

Why is this such a great challenge? Because IT’S SO DARN EASY! What other screenwriting teacher out there asks for just 45 minutes a day? 45 minutes a day! And, at the end of this, you have a finished screenplay! Pretty sure there’s not a better deal on the internet.

But this week things get tough because page 45 is a deep crack in the screenplay’s crust. It is the official end of the “fun and games” section and the beginning of what, I call, “the real screenplay.” There is a rope bridge that takes you to the other side, aka the rest of the script. But it is so run-down that, any wrong move and you could plunge into the endless abyss between the two sides.

To understand this, you have to understand that the second act is an act that separates the professional screenwriter from the aspiring screenwriter.  The professional screenwriter understands why the second act is there and what needs to be done during it. Whereas the aspiring screenwriter fakes the second act. They don’t understand what the directive is or how to navigate it. So they write a bunch of scenes that vaguely push the story, grasping at straws all the way until they get to the climax.

The reason screenplays fall apart here as opposed to immediately in the second act is because the “fun and games” section (first 12-15 pages of the second act that we discussed last week) provides them a grace period. The audience is so excited to be off on the adventure that they’re easily entertained. It’s hard to show up in Oz and not marvel at all of the wackiness surrounding us.

But once that excitement wears off, you actually have to entertain us. To do so, you have to understand what the second act is. The best way I’ve been able to define it is: It’s the “Conflict Act.” This is the act where your hero starts pursuing their goal (kill Thanos, find the Ark, build the atomic bomb, start a chocolate store, get through therapy a la Good Will Hunting) and encounters a lot of obstacles along the way.

You create obstacles not just for conflict but because you want your hero’s journey to be difficult. Nobody’s interested in an easy journey. They want it to be hard. When it’s hard, it creates drama. And it’s the drama that pulls us in. The second Willy Wonka shows up in Paris and announces he wants to buy a chocolate shop, the other three chocolatiers immediately conspire against him. They will provide a series of obstacles that Willy must overcome, starting with buying off the local police chief and telling him to arrest Willy at every turn.

That’s the general idea of what you want to do. But it doesn’t give us a blueprint we can follow this week. In order to do that, I need to tell you about the Sequence Approach. The idea with the Sequence Approach is that a movie has 3 acts and, within those acts, a series of sequences. In the first act, there are two sequences, about 12-15 pages long each. In the second act, there are four sequences, 12-15 pages long. And in the third act, there are two sequences, 12-15 pages long. That’s 8 sequences in total.

Because we’re on pages 40-50 this week, we’ve already written our first three sequences. We are now on the fourth sequence. All a sequence is, is its own little mini-movie. The reason the approach is valuable is because it takes the giant chasm of space known as the second act and it turns it into smaller, more manageable, chunks of real estate that provide a clear start and end point.

All you have to do in a sequence is create a little “mini-movie” that has its own beginning, middle, and end, that lasts around 12-15 pages.

This is something I worked extensively with Elad on in the tennis loop script we worked on, “Court 17,” which made the Black List last year (the script follows a character who gets stuck in a loop playing the same U.S. Open first round match over and over again getting destroyed by a much better player – he thinks that the only way to get out of the loop is to win the match).

Before we had sequences on that script, we were lost. A loop movie is particularly susceptible to structural issues because you’re writing the same day over and over again. How do you make each scene feel different if you’re stuck on the same court in the same match all the time?

You make it different with sequences! We broke the script down into eight sequences. Sequence 1 is the character’s day before the loop, going into and losing the match. Sequence 2 was the first day in the loop, the confusion and fear that went along with what had happened to him. Sequence 3 had him start to formulate a plan to get out of the loop by using the repetition of the match and a series of different strategies to beat his opponent. After endless failed attempts at winning, Sequence 4 had him giving up and, instead, focusing on winning his estranged wife back (who lived in the city). Sequence 5, he placed his focus on his opponent – studying him and meeting with him in an attempt to learn what made him tick in order to gain an edge in the match. And so on and so forth.

Once you have a sequence, you have a game plan. And, as long as you’re writing via the tenets of good storytelling, you’ll be in good shape: At the beginning of each sequence, give your character a goal. Have them go after that goal. Have them encounter obstacles that they must overcome. And, because it’s early in the movie, have them fail, fail, fail, and fail again. Of course they’ll have little victories along the way. But failure should dominate the second act.

I had never put as much emphasis on the sequence approach as I did in the writing of Court 17 and I learned something in the process. A sequence doesn’t have to be self-contained. In other words, if you have a subplot with Character Y that doesn’t perfectly fit the theme of the sequence, you can still include a scene with that character. Just as you can cut to other subplots with other characters during a sequence. As long as the majority of the sequence is your hero pushing towards the goal of that sequence, the sequence will work.

But if you’re just using your second act to randomly jump from this scene to that thread to that subplot back to this scene and you don’t have a plan for it all, that’s when second acts get messy. That’s when it starts to feel like the writer doesn’t know what they’re doing. And it’s not even that we, the reader, will think, “This writer clearly doesn’t know what they’re doing.” But we will think, “I’m bored.” That’s all it takes for a reader to give up on you. “I’m bored.” The Sequence Approach is the best approach I’ve found for preventing boredom in the second act.

If you’re confused about page starting points for the Sequence Approach, here’s what they look like…

100 page script
1-12 First Sequence
13-25 – Second Sequence
26-38 – Third Sequence
39-50 – Fourth Sequence <— you are here
51-62 – Fifth Sequence
63-75 – Sixth Sequence
76-88 – Seventh Sequence
89-100 – Eighth Sequence

110 page script
1-13 First Sequence
14-27 – Second Sequence
28-42 – Third Sequence
43-55 – Fourth Sequence <— you are here
56-70 – Fifth Sequence
71-84 – Sixth Sequence
85-98- Seventh Sequence
99-110 – Eighth Sequence

120 page script
1-15 First Sequence
16-30 – Second Sequence
31-45 – Third Sequence
46-60 – Fourth Sequence <— you are here
61-75 – Fifth Sequence
76-90 – Sixth Sequence
91-105- Seventh Sequence
106-120 – Eighth Sequence

Your assignment this week…
Friday = write 1 scene (last scene in the fun-and-games section)
Saturday = write 1 scene (Construct a sequence for this section)
Sunday = write 1 scene (moving towards the sequence goal)
Monday = write 1 scene (moving towards the sequence goal)
Tuesday = write 1 scene (possibly a subplot scene)
Wednesday = go back and correct any issues with your five scenes
Thursday = go back and correct any issues with your five scenes

Genre: Zombie Thriller
Premise: When a zombie disaster overtakes the city out of nowhere, a family is trapped in their high-rise Miami hotel. With danger closing in fast, they’re left with only one way to go: Up.
About: This script finished with 11 votes on last year’s Black List. The writer, Aaron Sala, wrote a spec sale script called “Beast” years ago that I really liked. But it’s not anywhere online cause it was a newsletter review. Yes, Beast (The lone survivor of a plane crash finds her way to a small island where a monstrous beast lives and becomes intent on killing her) is similar to that other script that got made about a beast on an island. But this was the good version. It wasn’t the bad one that got made.
Writer: Aaron W. Sala
Details: 106 pages

Yesterday’s post had more plot in it than Arlington National Cemetery. Yes, I just made a cemetery plot joke. Welcome to Wednesday on Scriptshadow.

Wait, what is that you have under you, Carson? Is that a… soap box? Indeed it is fellow readers. And it’s here to allow me to say a little something about the nature of screenwriting. Make sure your tray tables are up and your belongings are stashed away because I’m mixing metaphors and this landing is going to get bumpy.

You see, the scripts that do best on the spec market – and when I say spec market, I’m not talking about selling so much as I am getting managers and agents or producers interested in you – are the ones that have easy-to-follow plots. Like today’s script! You read today’s logline and you say, “I understand that. That sounds fun. I’m in.” It’s very simple.

If you want to add complexity, do so on the character end. Make your characters weird or unconventional or wild or deep or have an odd relationship with another character.

If you still have a TON of plot, consider writing a TV show. Cause a TV show will allow you to expand that plot out over 10 to 20 to even 40 hours. That way, all those plot points won’t be crammed up against each other. You might only deal with one of them per episode.

After yesterday’s disaster of over-information, I need some script detox. I need something I can easily follow. I need something to thrill my a-s-s off. Will The Last Tower be that thing? Grab your hotel key cards and hold the elevator for me so we can find out!

Harold, Angela, and daughter Zelda (13) are flying into Miami for a rare vacation. It’s rare because Mommy Angela is always working. Her job is that of a corporate fixer. When the excrement hits the fan, she’s the one who stays calm, grabs a spoon and some paper towels, and meticulously picks said excrement out of the fan.

The fam gets to their snazzy Die Hard-like hotel, which is a whopping 70 stories, and no sooner do they settle in than they see a giant cruise ship crash into the beach right in front of their hotel. Not long after, people with yellow-green gunk on their faces stumble out of the cruise ship and, news flash, they ain’t walking normally.

Barely any time passes before giant swarms of people are attacking everyone in Miami. Angela and Zelda, who are down by the pool, recognize that they need to get away from here ASAP. Before they know it, a swarm of crazed people are attacking others in the lobby. The two run for the nearest elevator and get in it after only a few stories.

They maneuver off the stuck elevator by manually opening the doors and get up a few floors where they find some people giving shelter in their room. Once inside, Angela realizes the truth she cannot yet tell her daughter – that her father is likely dead.

Staying cool as a cucumber per her training, Angela starts figuring out her next move. She realizes that downstairs = death and upstairs = a chance at life. She has no idea if help is ever coming. She just knows that the further she and her daughter are from the insanity of downstairs, the better.

They’re able to get a room a few floors higher with another group waiting things out. But when the zombie hoard start banging on that door, they need to find another way up. The only other way up is outside. Xavier, a bellhop, is three stories up and they’re able to communicate with him the old tied-together-sheets-rope move. One by one, they have to climb up the makeshift rope.

The next challenge is the fact that the upper floors of the building, where the private residences are, can only be accessed via a special elevator with a special key. Xavier has to find that key so they can create some real distance between themselves and the zombie hoard. Naturally, things go wrong. And it becomes clear that, no matter what they do, they’re probably not getting out of this alive.

Unpopular opinion: Starting a script in Antarctica always works.

Try it. Start your script in Antarctica and I guarantee it begins better than if you didn’t start in Antarctica. In The Last Tower, a bunch of richies took a cruise to Antarctica and a kid ate some tainted snow. Snow laced with an alien microbe!!!! Hence the craziness. Let this be a lesson to kids everywhere. Stay away from alien microbe-laced Antarctic snow. I feel like this should be obvious but, apparently, idiot children are still making the mistake.

The Last Tower is one of those concepts that’s going to work no matter what. No matter how loose and soggy the execution is. It’s the special power that a good concept gives you. It creates an imaginative state in the reader where, even when the writing stinks, they can IMAGINE the good version of that scene. Or that another writer is going to come in and fix the scene once it’s officially slated for production.

The Last Tower only messes up in a couple of places. The first is that the set pieces are too expected. A stopped elevator scene where they open the door and they’re split between two floors and people have to jump out hoping to god that the elevator doesn’t decide to start up again all of a sudden, slicing your body in half.

Remember, you always want to envision the “average” screenwriter writing your script and ask yourself, “Would Average Screenwriter write this set piece?” If Average Screenwriter would, that’s a good indication you need to do better. Average Screenwriter would definitely write a stopped elevator split between two floors escape scene. So it’s not the best way to go.

The sheet-rope one is better because, even though it’s familiar, it creates a genuinely tension-filled sequence. But it still felt like a top-tier screenwriter – one of these studs hired by the studios to come in and knock out a final better draft 3 weeks before shooting – would come up with something more original than this. Or at least add something new to the set piece to make it unique.

Since we dinged our Logline Showdown winner on the site a few weeks ago with his island zombies, how do I feel about the zombies in The Last Tower? Well, the zombies were not original. They’re basically the same type of zombies used in 28 Hours Later. They seem to be stronger, which allows them to knock down doors that protect our heroes. So that was good. They also swarm together, which was kind of a twist. But they weren’t special.

However, it didn’t matter that much because the ascent up the hotel to escape them created a “combo” strange attractor. Sure, I would’ve been mad about the familiar zombies if our characters were running around on the streets of Miami. But because we’re doing something more specific and interesting – painstakingly moving up this skyscraper – it does feel different from your average zombie movie.

The bigger mistake the writer made was not executing this in real-time. That was a really poor creative choice. When we’re at the midpoint and, already, 24 hours has passed?… that’s screenwriting malpractice right there.

Think about it. What is your script’s most valuable asset? It’s these relentless zombies that don’t stop coming up after you. If they stop? If our protagonists have time to catch their breath? You’ve just killed ALL THE MOMENTUM in your story. You can’t do that, man. This concept is screaming for a real-time story, giving you a capital “U” (for Urgency) in your GSU.

Despite this, the concept’s fun-factor overrides the negatives. This is definitely a movie. And, unlike yesterday’s script, it’s actually enjoyable to read.

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

What I learned: A “fear flaw” doesn’t work when the situation overwhelms that flaw. In this movie, Zelda is afraid of heights. It’s established heavily throughout the first act. Now, on a basic writing level, this seems like a good idea. You have characters who are going to be up high. Why not give one of them a fear of heights? Well, here’s the thing. If this movie was about a serial killer chasing Zelda and her mom through the building, placing Zelda in a situation where she would need to traverse over something when she was way up in the air, that would work well. But when you have a zombie swarm that has just killed 3 million people, who the f$%# cares about your fear of heights? You’ve got way bigger fish to fry. Nobody’s looking at the 20-story high metal beam they have to tightrope-walk across to get to safety, then looking back at the vicious zombie hoard who you just saw rip up 70 people in less than 30 seconds and saying, “You know what? Fear of heights wins today. I’d rather just let the zombies turn me into cornmeal mush.”

Genre: Spy Thriller
Logline: No idea.
About: Only thing I know about this script is that one half of the writing team wrote Adam Sandler’s “Hustle.”
Writers: Taylor Materne and Jacob Rubin (story by Damian Chezelle)
Details: 120 pages

We’re going old-school Scriptshadow today, back to the days when I’d have no idea what I was about to read. I’d get a script, see the title, shrug my shoulders, and off to the races I went. These reads have the potential to be the most rewarding when the script turns out great. But they also have the potential to be complete and utter wastes of time. In the ultra-niche screenplay reading world, the stakes are high.

However, it’s a nice reminder that, as unknown screenwriting entities, this is what all of you are facing as well. You are sending a script to someone who has no idea who you are and you are saying, “Please read this.” Think about that for a second. When have you ever read something from someone you’ve never heard of before and a script that you have zero context for? Probably never. So why would you expect someone else to do the same for you?

The only way is if your concept sounds really good to them. Then, and only then, will they be willing to take a chance on your script.  It’s not because of some noble reason – that they feel like they owe it to their moral conscience to give people a chance. lol. Not even close. They will read your script if, and only if, they think it will make them money down the road. That’s because 90 minutes of their time is 90 minutes that they could be spending on something else that makes them money. That’s why it’s so important to have a strong concept.

There’s a bonus round to this. If they don’t like your script, but they like you as a writer, then they can still make money off you, which means they’ll sign you or hire you to write another project. But, again, they can’t find out you’re a good writer if they don’t read your script. And they won’t read your script if you send them some dull logline (“An Alabama fisherman tries to keep his fishing business afloat while confronting old demons.”). Which is why you always want to be working with loglines that have some bite to them – the kind of logline where if you saw it floating around, you’d say, “I need to read that script!”

While it’s true that you can write a low-concept script and run into an industry person who ALSO happens to like that subject matter (lo and behold, the manager you sent it to is an Alabaman who loves fishing!) resulting in them requesting a read, you’re still putting yourself in what I call “the screenplay lottery.”

Putting yourself in the screenplay lottery is the act of writing a script that doesn’t have a strong concept. Of course it’s possible to sell that script. It’s possible to sell a script about anything. But the tamer your concept, the more you’re depending on that random lucky serendipitous connection. If you’re armed with a strong concept, you skip that line and go straight to the front, where you’re competing with a way smaller pool of scripts.

Long intro for this script! Let’s see what it’s about.

Diego Agen is what’s called a “language officer.” To be honest, I was never entirely sure what that was, but I think it’s a type of secret agent for the French government who specializes in knowing a lot of languages. If you’re confused, just do what I did. I imagined Diego as earth’s version of C-3PO.

Diego works a desk job, which he’s perfectly content with considering he’s got a wife and young child. But his world is disrupted when an old friend from the agency, Telander, tells him he’s got a field job for him. Diego doesn’t want to do it which pisssssssses Telander off. He talked this guy up to his superiors and now Diego is dissing him? So Telander says if he doesn’t do the job, he’ll demote him. Diego has no choice. He’s in.

Diego flies to Marseille where he must get in close with a woman named Saveria, a local kingpin. Her assistant was killed recently, which has led to more crime in the area (I guess the assistant used to curtail crime) and that means French citizens are getting killed. The government doesn’t want that so they want Diego to get in there and patch things up somehow (no, I don’t know how).

First, Diego must befriend a local night club promoter named Paulu. Paulu will take him to meet a tough dude named Roccu. Roccu is the son of Saveria, the head honcho he needs to meet. But within 24 hours, Roccu kidnaps Diego and says that Paulu stepped out on him. He gives Diego a gun and tells him to kill Paulu. If you don’t kill Paulu, we kill you. So Diego has no choice. The desk agent brutally murders Paulu.

This gets Diego in with Saveria, who tells him about her murdered assistant. She thinks this dude named Walid did it. So she needs him to get close to Walid. Diego uses his lawyer skills (I guess he’s a lawyer as well?) to win Walid an important court case, so now Walid is his buddy. Walid even introduces Diego to his hot sister, giving him his blessing to have sex with her. All this happens by page 60 by the way. Yeah, to say this script is filled with plot is the understatement of the millennium.

Diego eventually learns that Walid is the killer (of the original assistant) but that Roccu ordered him to do it and didn’t tell his Gangster mama. This means the mom and her son both wanted the opposite result. Eventually, though, a Godfather-like war erupts and many people are killed. Did our boy Diego survive? Unfortunately, you’ll never find out unless they adapt this into a TV show cause I can promise you nobody’s ever going to make this film (he lives).

This is the kind of script that if your mind drifts for even a second, you’re lost. For that reason, readers hate these scripts. Let me rephrase that. If the script is really good, readers love these scripts. But if you’re requiring 5x the attention from us as the average script and you don’t deliver something awesome, we will get very very mad at you.

I mean consider this. A guy is hired to go on a job. The job is to get close to this woman. But before he gets close to the woman, he must meet up with a local connection. The connection then connects him with the son of this woman he’s trying to get close to. He must do a job for the son and that allows him to be introduced to the mom. The mom says we had this guy working for us and someone killed him. We think it’s this guy. So go get close to him (are you following this – we got close to a guy to get close to a woman to get close to another guy).

Now, Diego is something called a language officer. But when he gets to the guy connected to the woman connected to the guy, he’s all of a sudden a lawyer. Like, a real live lawyer. We see him win a case in order to win the trust of the 3rd guy (Walid). Did he just happen to luckily also be a lawyer? Or was this all in the plan from the get go? Cause how would he have known that the guy he was introduced to from the woman introduced to him from the guy who introduced her would’ve needed a lawyer?

Confused? Yeah, welcome to how it was reading this script.

In the writers’ defense, I don’t want to work to understand this story. Some readers love spy films and they love the 15 dots they must connect in order to understand a plot point so if they’re confused, they’ll go back in there and re-read everything until they figure it out. My mom is one of those people. Maybe she should’ve reviewed this script. She watched all five seasons of Fauda and somehow understood all of it. But for me, I don’t want to do the work unless the story surrounding the work is amazing. And, in this case, it is not.

It’s not bad. But as I like to remind writers, the goal is not to write a “not bad” script. It’s not even to write a “good” script. Both those scripts will be rejected. Takes me back to that old screenwriting book, “Liked it Didn’t Love it.” A producer wrote that book to remind writers that readers need to LOVE something in order to do something with it. “Like” doesn’t cut it.

And by the way, I’m not saying these writers aren’t trying to write something we’ll love. We’re all trying to write something great. I’m just reminding you that this is the reason you can never half-ass anything. Cause even when you try your best, you’ll still, most likely, write something average. Any level of effort less than that? You’re guaranteed to write something bad.

The script has its moments and is best when it’s pushing the envelope. There’s a scene where Diego is forced to kill his connection in Marseilles that’s intense as hell. The best scene in the script by far. And then Diego also ends up sleeping with and getting involved with Walid’s sister, which is a choice that 99% of writers wouldn’t have made (due to Diego having a wife and newborn). Writers are terrified of making their hero unlikable and will do anything to avoid it.

I also liked that the writers took their time setting up Diego. A lot of writers would’ve sent Diego off to Marseilles the second Telander asked him. But by staying with Diego longer – seeing him at home with his wife and kid – it helped him feel a lot more relatable and real. It also made those later moments, like sleeping with Walid’s sister, more impactful.

Unfortunately, the script has enough plot for – I’m not even exaggerating here – 10 seasons of TV. The story takes place over 14 months! So much for the “U” in GSU. At a certain point I was like, “Stop. Stop making me memorize 6000 things to enjoy your story!” For that reason, it wasn’t for me.

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

What I learned: This is not a one-size fits all lesson but I have found a definite correlation between broader titles and weak scripts. Usually, if you don’t know what your script is about – if you don’t have a clear story you’re telling, you become unsure what your title is. You start to pull up higher and higher until your title is so macro that it’s borderline generic. “Marseille.” If I told you only that title and nothing else, would you be able to imagine this movie? My guess is no. Using yesterday’s movies as a baseline, Mean Girls, The Beekeeper, and Anyone but You all have titles that more specifically reference their stories.

You may not know this but the box office whispers to us. Sometimes it whispers softly. Sometimes it whispers loudly. But it’s always trying to tell us something. As I scrolled down through this year’s releases, I could feel the list massaging new thoughts and opinions directly into my abgudala-medula. The first two months of the box office has given us four main successes and four main failures. They are…

Successes
1. Anyone But You ($88 million)
2. Mean Girls ($71 million)
3. The Beekeeper ($63 million)
4. One Love ($71 million)

Failures
1. Madame Web ($37 million)
2. Argylle ($35 million)
3. Lisa Frankenstein ($9 million)
4. Drive Away Dolls ($3 million)

What is the box office telling us with these movies? Well, first of all, let’s make something clear. Just because a movie bombs doesn’t mean that all movies that are like that movie will also bomb. That’s because there’s still something called “execution” in play. Your execution can be bad or it can be good, and that will obviously play into how much audiences want to see your movie. Air and Jerry Maguire are very comparable movies. But while Jerry Maguire hit a grand slam, Air hit a double. It didn’t have that sizzle-factor you want when you see a trailer.

I bring this up because Madame Web will end up being one of the biggest box office failures for a superhero film ever. And while I pointed out the other week that it was plagued by an all-female cast at a time when audiences are starting to rebel against that casting approach, the more likely reason for its failure is that it simply doesn’t look good. Going by the trailer, it literally brought nothing new to the table. And if there’s any theme to this list, it’s the act of RISK. You have to put something on the line if you want audiences to show up. Madame Web put nothing on the line.

Ironically, Sydney Sweeney, who has a part in Madame Web, also stars in the biggest hit on this list, Anything But You. Anything But You is about as old school a concept as it gets. It’s an assembly line romantic comedy. Ah, but here’s the irony: studio released romantic comedies are so rare these days that Anything But You IS a risk. The last 20 studio rom-coms failed. The prevailing thinking was you could only release these on streamers these days and you had to skew super young with the casting. Apparently not.

By the way, side note. Sydney Sweeney promotes the hell out of everything she’s in. All she did for Madame Web was show up at the premiere. That shows you her people were trying to distance her as far away from the movie as possible. But hey, some moviegoers are saying this film is in the ‘so bad it’s good’ category, a la Showgirls. I *will* check it out when it hits streaming. Which, at this rate, will probably be by the time I finish writing this post.

Mean Girls is the biggest anomaly on this list, a wild card if I’ve ever seen one. The film is a sequel, a remake, and an adaptation, all wrapped into one, whose genre (musical) was purposefully hidden in the marketing. Huh?? Chalk this one up to passionate fans who just wanted some nostalgia. Steven Spielberg once said, “The only sure thing in Hollywood is a sequel. Everything else is a gamble.” He may want to add “nostalgia” to the sure-thing list.

Okay, prepare for some box office logic hoop-jumping cause we’re about to discuss Argylle. Argylle is a super-bomb. Depending on who you talk to, it cost around 150 million to make, and it’s only brought in 35 million. Now, if we’re going off our previous talking point – RISK – Argylle is pretty darn risky. It’s a weird action-comedy combo that seems to be based around a cat. So, Carson, you said risk was good, right? Why was it not good for Argylle?

Well, unfortunatley, risk doesn’t only have positive outcomes. It has negative outcomes as well. That’s the risk. And from everything I’ve heard, this is a baaaaad movie. It’s a movie built around fun that isn’t fun. But I think the biggest reason for its poor (first weekend) box office was the fact that, when you watched that trailer, you didn’t get the plot. All you got was that there was a crazy cat in a backpack. True, you’re focusing on the element of your movie that’s the most unique. But if we don’t understand the plot, it doesn’t matter. Check out Sandra Bullock’s The Lost City, which had a similar premise. Their marketing did a way better job conveying the premise (which is a fun premise!).

The reason I harp on this stuff is because clarity is one of the most overlooked elements in screenwriting. Writing that isn’t clear, characters who aren’t clear, plots that aren’t clear, scenes that aren’t clear. Loglines that aren’t clear. We can’t enjoy stories if we don’t know what’s going on. That extends to marketing as well.

The Beekeeper’s success is more complex than a block long honeycomb. Here’s what shocked me about The Beekeeper. Late last year, Expendables 4 came out. Jason Statham was in that movie as well. That movie has a long list of famous older action stars (wait a minute, did this just turn into the botox office report?) as well as being part of a franchise. You know how much money that movie made? 17 million. Not even a third of this film. Why is that? I know some of you hate to hear this but I’m going to argue it comes down to simplicity. The Beekeeper has a simple easy to understand concept with a simple easy to understand plot. Expendables is big and unwieldy and there’s a thousand different things going on. The Beekeper is clean. Throw in just enough of a twist on the secret agent trope – the bee stuff – and you have that requisite “risk” you need.

That’s another trend I noticed with these eight films. Three of the four successes (Anything But You, The Beekeeper, One Love) are easy-to-identify genres that audiences clearly understand. The stories are simple. Even Mean Girls was marketed as a simple genre (teen comedy), despite the fact that it was secretly a musical. With the busts, Argylle exists as some weird action-comedy hybrid that’s hard to categorize. It’s also big and unwieldy with a lot going on. Lisa Frankenstein exists in a genre that’s an incredibly tough sell (horror-dark comedy). Has there been a successful horror-comedy since Zombieland? Drive Away Dolls is a black comedy lesbian road trip? It’s completely out of the purview of mainstream audiences (good script though!). And Madame Web… it has too many issues to count.

So the lesson I’m getting here is: Pick a genre that audiences are familiar with. Try to find just enough of a spin to make it different. And then write a simple story. If you want to add complexity, add it to your characters, not the plot. Hmm, interesting. This is the same advice I’ve been giving you for TEN YEARS!

What else has been going on out there? The Iron Claw ($32 million) has slowly creeped up to a respectable cume. These dark dramas are touuuuuughhh sells and one of them getting to 30 million is the equivalent of a romantic comedy in 2024 getting to 100 million. It’s a huge accomplishment. A couple of people have told me it’s great but I’m just not in the headspace for depressing movies these days.

Next week we’ve got Dune 2. Guys, I really want to be a Dune-Head. I promise you I do. But that 35 minute scene with Timothee Chalemet and his mom in the tent in Dune 1 broke me. I’ve had better experiences at the DMV. Maybe if every single person who sees the movie says it’s the greatest movie they’ve ever seen, I’ll go see it. But I’m guessing nobody here wants to spend next Monday hearing me complain about how boring Dune is. That’s the thing about Dune. It’s not bad in a “make fun of it” way. It’s just boring.

March 21 is Roadhouse and Freezy McTicklebottoms (Ghostbusters). Apparently Doug Liman is furrrrrrrrrrious that Roadhouse isn’t coming out in theaters. I’m right with him. That movie would pull in 50 million easy. It’s got nostalgia oozing out of its booze-soaked pores. The movie I’m most curious about, however, is Civil War. I love Alex Garland but I admit his movies are inaccessible to those outside the industry. Will this be the movie that breaks him out as a director? It’s a realistic look at how a civil war in the United States might go down. It may hit that sweet spot of being both politically charged AND entertaining. The latter is most important though. That goes for everyone. I don’t care how important your message is. Your script must be entertaining first!

What are you guys looking forward to?