A few weeks ago, a kind reader re-posted something I’d written awhile back about character. Here’s what I/he said:
“You must know how to plot, how to structure a story. But if you really want to make it as a screenwriter, learn character. Learn how to make a character likable. Learn how to make a character interesting. Learn how to arc a character. Learn how to create unresolved backstories for characters. Learn how to create unresolved relationships between characters. Because the truth is, anybody can learn how to plot a script with enough practice. So the pool of competition in that arena is endless. But the number of writers who understand (and I mean TRULY understand) character is far fewer. So if you can master that skill, you will be in very high demand in this town.”
This might seem narcissistic, but the whole time I was reading this, I was nodding my head, going, “Oh my God, that’s sooooo true.” And it is true. Character is what separates the raccoons from the squirrels. Studios can come up with their own concepts. It’s not difficult to say, “How bout Robots versus Monsters?!” They can get great actors. They can add A++ production design. They can market the shit out of anything. They can even cobble together a storyline if need be. But the one thing they can’t do? Come up with compelling characters that an audience cares about. It’s the one thing THEY NEED YOU for. This is why the skill of character creation is so valuable. It really is something that only a tiny percentage of writers can pull off. Want to join that percentage? Join me as I go into each of my five points.
1) Learn how to make a character likable.
It’s one of the first things that you hear when you start your screenwriting journey. “Make your main character likable.” This used to be easier. Have your hero save a cat or toss a hobo a dollar and you were set for the next two hours. But audiences have gotten keen to manipulation. Which means you need to be more sophisticated in your approach. The first step is to stop thinking of characters in terms of “likability” (one-dimensional) and instead, think of them in terms of “sympathy” (three-dimensional). Ask yourself, “How can I make the reader feel sympathy for this character?” One way is to show your character being taken advantage of. Such as in The Force Awakens. That asshole junk dealer would constantly rip Rey off, underpaying her for the immense amount of work she did all day. Who doesn’t feel sympathy for Rey in that moment? And it doesn’t even have to be that straightforward. Ozark gave us a hero who worked above and beyond to provide for his family, only to watch him come home and get ignored or taken for granted by that very family. Why do we sympathize with him? Cause it’s not fair! We want his family to acknowledge everything he does for them. To find out what makes people sympathetic, write down a list of all the people you like, in your personal life and in the public eye, and write down what makes you like those people (“Cause they’re hot” is not an acceptable answer). That’s a great starting point for creating sympathy in your own characters.
2) Learn how to make a character interesting.
Boring people don’t cut it in movies. You’ll notice that even the characters written to be “boring” are interesting in some way. Boring boils down to one thing – generic: A ho-hum individual who does and says the predictable obvious thing. Movies are bigger than real life, so characters need to be exaggerated in some way. That could mean over-the-top energy like Tony Stark or Lloyd Dobler (Say Anything). It could mean an insane drive to succeed (Tom Cruise in The Firm), it could be the exaggeration of a key character trait (Han Solo being selfish), it could be that they’re really passionate about or great at something (Matt Damon is the best botanist in the universe in The Martian, Keanu Reeves a 5-star killer in John Wick). But where most writers get tripped up in the “interesting” department is the main character. Since main characters have to be grounded in some way, it’s tough to make them super-interesting. How do you overcome this? Create conflict WITHIN the character. So Walter White. He wants to do the right thing. Help his family. But he has to do the wrong thing to achieve that (make and sell drugs). This makes a “normal” guy fascinating, since he’s constantly at war with himself. Same thing with Luke Skywalker in Empire and Jedi. Same thing with Michael Corleone in The Godfather. Jason Bourne always seemed to be at odds with what he was capable of. We’ll see it with Jason Bateman’s character in Ozark. It’s not the only way to make your hero interesting, but it’s one of the best ways. So if it fits your story (note: it’s not a given that it will), use it.
3) Learn how to arc a character.
There’s been some debate in recent years about whether arcing a character is necessary or not. “In real life, people don’t change!” is the battle cry against the practice. Yeah, but movies aren’t real life. And seeing a character evolve and change is one of the most powerful things the audience can experience while watching a movie. Because we all want to change. We all want to overcome that thing that holds us back. Think about it. Right now. What’s the thing holding you back from getting the girl, getting the promotion, getting the script sale, succeeding in life? Chances are, you know what it is. And you want to conquer it. But it’s hard. So you struggle with it every day. Well, movies allow you to explore this. And even better, they allow you (or your character) to overcome it. Arcing a character requires you to identify the limiting trait (flaw) within your hero. You then use your story to challenge that trait, and finally, show your hero overcome it in the end. In Inside Out, Joy’s (the yellow character) limiting trait (or “flaw”) is her obsession with everything being happy and perfect and ideal. She has to learn that not everything has to be happy and perfect all the time, and that the darker moments are what make the lighter moments shine brighter. Watching her finally realize this (and CHANGE) was one of the script’s highlights. Not every character will be perfect for arcing. But movies are more emotionally satisfying when you pull a great character arc off.
4) Learn how to create unresolved backstories for characters.
One of the quickest ways to make a character feel one-dimensional is to make him only exist within the two hours of the movie you’ve written. If you make that mistake, we will not connect with the character because we do not see him as a real person who has lived a real life. The way to fix this is to create an unresolved backstory. An unresolved backstory goes beyond traditional backstory because it includes the past in a way where it has to be dealt with in the present. For example, if a character says, “I dated this girl from Europe and it didn’t work out,” that’s normal backstory. Unresolved backstory is, “I was in love with this girl, but she had to move back to Europe after college and I always wondered what would’ve happened if we’d stayed together.” That’s unresolved as it means our character won’t find peace until he addresses this issue. An unresolved backstory can be physical or psychological. Physical is the example I just used. Psychological is something a character must overcome internally. Pixar’s “Up” is a good example of this. Carl Fredrickson (the old man) has to stop mourning for his dead wife. He has to accept her passing so he can start living a fulfilling life again. You’ll see unresolved backstory in a lot of Westerns as well. A man who’s family was killed needs to get revenge on the killer. Also, it doesn’t always have to be a huge thing. In Star Wars, Han Solo skipped on paying Jabba the Hut, and now Jabba has put a bounty out on him. So Han has to deal with Gweedo (Han shot first!) and Jabba himself in the Special Editions.
5) Learn how to create unresolved relationships between characters.
In screenwriting, relationships that are perfect are boring. Read that sentence again. Because if you ever write a relationship (marriage, best friends, brother-sister, work partners) that’s perfect, you are boring the audience to FUCKING DEATH. So, you need to create an issue in the relationship that will serve as the “unresolved” component, which the audience can now observe in the hopes that the characters will fix it by the end of the movie. Inside Out – Joy is always excited. Sadness is always sad. They never see eye to eye as a result. Luke and Han. Luke wants to help others. Han only wants to help himself. Ozark. Marty believes in being fiscally responsible and frugal. His best friend Bruce thinks you should spend your money and have as much fun as possible. Creed. Adonis wants to go go go, fight fight fight. Rocky wants to slow down, learn the basics, crawl before you can walk. You need something that creates a push-pull in the relationship, even if it’s as simple as seeing the world differently.
Beyond everything here, get to know your characters as much as possible. Write huge character bios if you can. A lot of writers will counter, “What’s the point? None of that stuff ends up in the script.” That’s true for the most part. But the more you know about a character, the more details you can add to their story. And readers feel that. They know when a writer knows their character and they know it when they’re bullshitting. Because when you’re bullshitting, your character’s life is consumed by generalities. Instead of a character working at a macaroon shop (unique, detailed) they’ll work at a coffee shop (obvious, generic). The more you know about someone, the more unique you can write them, and that’s going to set your characters apart. So take that knowledge and go give us some characters we’ll never forget!
Genre: Comedy
Premise: A group of moms, sick of having to be perfect, throw the Mom Rulebook out the window and embrace an exciting reckless lifestyle.
About: This one comes from Hangover writers Jon Lucas and Scott Moore, who will be making this their directing debut. It will star Mila Kunis, Kristen Bell and Kathryn Hahn.
Writers: Jon Lucas and Scott Moore
Details: 112 pages – June 9, 2015
Okay, it’s official. There’s a new secret drug in Los Angeles and just one pill elevates your screenwriting skills to Limitless-like levels, and all of this week’s screenwriters know where to find it. It’s the only explanation for the consistently awesome writing this week.
Either that or I’m in a really good mood and like everything I read right now. Kind of like when you’re dabbling around Itunes and you like every song you hear so you buy all of them and then a week later you launch that “Kickass New Music!” playlist you made only to wonder why the hell do you have a song by Ariana Grande and Phillip Phillips?
Amy Mitchell isn’t the perfect mom. But it’s not through lack of trying. She does everything in her power to keep her daughter, 16 year-old over-achiever Jane, and son, 10 year-old lazy-ass Dylan, productive and happy as clams. But as is the plight of the American mother, neither appreciates anything she does.
But the far worse thing about being a mom in this day and age is the way that every other mom judges you. And the queen bee of the judgers is Gwendolyn James, head of the PTA and all-around mom-tator. You either play by Gwendolyn’s rules (3 hour bake sale meetings) or pay the price (your kid mysteriously doesn’t make the basketball team that year).
Amy’s got bigger fish to fry though, such as her husband, who she finds out has been Skype-masturbating with some weird-looking woman for the past 10 months. Then there’s her boss at the trendy organic gluten-free everybody-has-something-to-offer coffee company run by people 10 years younger than her who always seem to be playing ping pong instead of working. Amy’s boss always overworks Amy because she’s from that older generation that actually does shit, refusing to pay her extra because, like, life is free and so are our feelings.
And then one day, Amy is done. She’s tired of trying to be the perfect mom. I mean why should she be? Nobody seems to notice. So she teams up with the already reckless single mom, Carla Dunkler, and the weirdo stay-at-home mom who’s got no friends, Kiki. Her new mantra is: Do Us. And that’s what they do. They start getting drunk, stop going to work, and skip daily errands to watch Channing Tatum matinees.
But when Amy’s newfound recklessness starts bleeding into Gwendolyn’s tight run ship (how dare Amy bring store-bought donut holes to her #1 nationally ranked PTA Bake Sale), Gwendolyn vows to make an example of her. But Amy pushes back, wanting moms to know that being a Gwendolyn clone isn’t realistic. That real moms are imperfect, and the sooner we accept that, the sooner we moms can start being real people again.
Bad Moms may not be reinventing the tire. But it sure added some kick-ass rims. What you realize when you read Bad Moms is how well these two know the craft. They hit all the major story beats (inciting incident, first act turn, lowest point) and yet you don’t notice because the story is so smooth, so natural. That’s one of the signs of a good screenwriter, someone who can hide structure.
Of course, while reading Bad Moms, I couldn’t stop thinking about The Hangover, and how different the two scripts were. That’s something writers don’t talk about enough. Each time you start a new script, you’re embarking on a new unique set of challenges.
Sure, there will be things that are the same (inciting incident, first act turn, lowest point), but the guts of the story will be different from what you’ve done before, and if you don’t know how to navigate those differences (or aren’t patient enough to figure them out), you’re going to be one pissed off over-caffeinated screenwriter.
With The Hangover, there was a goal, and that goal created movement (find Doug – which requires running around Vegas). Bad Moms doesn’t have that. It takes place in a suburb. Nobody has to find anybody. So where does the narrative thrust come from? That’s the first problem you have to solve when you write a movie like this. And that will always be harder. When you have that clear goal, like in The Hangover, the story will pull you along with it. Cause you always know where you have to end up.
Here, you have to manufacture thrust, and Moore and Lucas do it in a non-traditional way, sort of piece-mealing a bunch of engine fragments together. The first section of the script establishes our main character’s life. This section doesn’t necessarily have to have a goal, since there’s interest in getting to know a compelling character (or in this case, characters). We’ll stick with a directionless narrative for 20 pages if people are funny or weird or compelling, and their lives are interesting in some way.
Then, we have the breaking point (the inciting incident). Amy has a particularly horrible mom day and has had enough. This leads us to the fun and games section of the script. This is another section where we don’t necessarily need a goal. Amy and her friends are being bad and stupid and funny – which is the whole reason we paid for the film, to see these scenes. So again, we’ll go with it for awhile.
This is when the first goal arrives (around page 40 or 45 I think?). Amy wants to get laid. Her marriage has been dead for awhile, her husband’s now out of the picture. It fits perfectly with the concept (a bad mom!). This sequence goes for about 12-15 pages.
That’s when Lucas and Moore realize they need something bigger to drive the rest of the story or we’re going to lose interest. So they create this collision of titans – Amy vs. Gwendolyn – that results in Amy running against Gwendolyn for PTA president. I should note that this isn’t the main focus for the rest of the script (Lucas and Moore are still jumping around dealing with Amy’s various unresolved relationships), but it’s enough to frame the second half with some kind of purpose.
If I’m being honest, I didn’t think these goals were amazing. Do we really care if Amy gets laid? Do we really care if she wins PTA president? No. But the engine fragments give the story direction and a destination respectively.
Also, we can’t discount the x-factor here, that Lucas and Moore have an ace in their pocket. They’re funny. Like really funny. And the rule is, as long as the reader is consistently laughing, the plot doesn’t have to be perfect. It’s like being a hot girl. Your looks cover up a lot of your flaws. And the hotter you are, the more crazy or bitchy you can be (Hot Girl: “I really think dolphins are stupid and should be mass-slaughtered.” Environmentalist Guy: “Yeah, totally. They’re like the rats of the sea.”)
With that said, my theory is to always assume you’re not as funny as you think you are and make the story/plot awesome as well. That way, if the jokes are landing fast and furiously, you still have your audience caring about what happens next.
Finally, what Lucas and Moore bring to the table that elevates them above the average comedy screenwriter, is that they realize it isn’t just about laughs. Bad Moms is a stellar character piece. These two really get into the trials and tribulations of what it’s like to be a mom, how that affects your relationships at home, how you’re held to this impossible standard, how you’re being judged on a daily basis by other mothers who think you’re not parenting your kids correctly. I left this script having a better sense of what it’s like to be a mom. And if this was written by an amateur, I’m sure the most I would’ve taken away about moms is several wacky set pieces where moms smoke pot or something.
I’m REALLY worried about this cast. It feels like the B-Team to me. But if we’re only going on the screenplay, these two hit this one out of the park.
[ ] what the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[x] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: In a screenplay, names are faces. I want to stress this cause it’s important. Readers can’t see faces. Therefore, they associate each character with their name. Therefore, the name is the face. Which is why you want to give your character a name that visually personifies what that character looks like. Lucas and Moore did a spectacular job with this.
Kiki – the weird mom
Gwendolyn – the queen bee mom
Amy Mitchell – the all-American mom
Carla Dunkler – The wild mom
To sell my point here, imagine if we changed Gwendolyn’s name to “Norma.” I’m guessing her face and how she looks in general just shifted in your mind, right? That’s the power of a name.
Today’s pilot is the best drama pilot I’ve read since Breaking Bad and will likely turn actor Jason Bateman into the next Walter White.
Genre: TV pilot – 1 hour drama
Series Premise: A family man moves from the city to the Ozarks to begin repaying the money-laundering debt he owes a ruthless drug lord.
About: Today’s pilot is one of Netflix’s big new shows. It’s written by The Judge screenwriter, Bill Dubuque, and it will be directed and starred in by Jason Bateman.
Writer: Bill Dubuque (story by Bill Dubuque & Mark Williams)
Details: 67 pages
Whenever I talk to people “in the know,” they tell me to watch out for screenwriter Bill Dubuque. That he’s the next big thing. Now if you’re like me, you probably respond to that with, “The guy who wrote The Judge??” I remember reading that script and thinking, “There isn’t much here.” Assuming I must’ve missed something, I went to see the movie, and I left thinking, “There still isn’t much here.”
But see while the rest of us peasant folk judge movies on whether they’re good or they do well, Hollywood has another barometer for success, which is if you’re the guy who writes something that attracts a major movie star that propels a movie into production. If you do that, you’re considered a screenwriting superstar.
And Bill Dubuque didn’t nab Downey Jr. with anybody-could’ve-written-it Iron Man 3. He nabbed him with a quirky character piece, which is one of the hardest things in town to pull off. People figure you have God’s private number if you can do that. Which, I presume, is why people are so high on Bill Dubuque. And after reading Ozark? I probably should’ve paid them more attention.
40-something Marty Bird drives a Camry. He’s got two kids in their teens, a boy and a girl, and the perfect wife for almost twenty years. He works as a financial advisor for a two-man firm, along with his best friend, Bruce, the fast-cars and fast-women version of Marty, who can’t stop talking about this new opportunity down in the Ozarks. All the young families are moving and vacationing there. And they all have money.
At first we get the impression that Marty envies Bruce. In fact, as he’s pitching a young couple on his company’s merits, he’s also discreetly watching amateur porn on his desktop, something it seems like old Brucey would do.
But we’re going to realize that problem’s much bigger than we could’ve guessed. When Marty goes home that night, he sees his 15 year-old daughter, who believes he sucks the fun out of anything approaching happiness. And his 13 year-old son, one of those weird kids who can rattle off creepy facts that nobody else knows, like how armadillos are the only animals who can carry leprosy.
Oh, and then we meet Marty’s wife, Wendy, who we realize was the woman in that amateur porn, which wasn’t amateur porn at all. It was a camera Marty’d secretly installed in his bedroom to catch what he’d suspected for awhile, that his wife was cheating on him.
Before we can recover from that surprise, Marty gets an ASAP call from Bruce saying he needs to come to their off-site office immediately. Marty heads over to meet Bruce, Bruce’s fiancé, and some guy named Del, who makes Tuco from Breaking Bad look like Urkle from Family Matters. This is when we learn that Marty and Bruce launder 1 billion dollars a year for one of Mexico’s major drug cartels. And Del’s here because 8 million dollars of that money is missing.
In a harrowing scene, Del figures out that Bruce is the culprit (a total surprise to Marty) and shoots him and his fiancé dead. He then explains, in a very business-like way, that he not only has to kill Marty, but his family as well. Marty begs for his life, and somehow convinces Del that that tourist haven down in the Ozarks will allow him to triple his profits.
Del relents, but only if Marty can get him the 8 million Bruce screwed him out of WITHIN 48 HOURS. And so for the next two days, Marty goes on a harrowing journey to wrangle up 8 million George Washingtons, sell his house, and tell his family that they’re moving. But nothing happens the way you think it’s going to happen in Ozark, and there are many casualties along the way.
I wish I had more time for this review because if there’s any script that deserves it, it’s this one. But I don’t. So you’ll have to excuse the frantic presentation.
I’m going to make a prediction. This is going to be a mega-series that will take America by storm the same way Breaking Bad did. I mean unless the writing takes a nosedive after the pilot. But if we’re going on this pilot alone, this series will be a show-stopper.
Why is it amazing?
The writing is complex. What happens with a lot of new or average writers is that they think very linearly, and they don’t map their story out on expanded levels. They’re only thinking about what comes right before the moment they’re writing and right after. As a result, the story feels very basic – very “and then this happens, and then this happens, and then this happens, and then this happens.” Snore attack.
In comparison, Ozark feels like it was mapped out in 9 dimensions.
Take the opening scene. Marty is trying to sell this new couple on his firm while simultaneously watching porn. So we’re forming these opinions on Marty. He’s a sleaze ball. He doesn’t care about work. But then later, we meet his wife and realize SHE’S THE WOMAN in the video, which means she’s cheating on him, which means this is a camera he installed to catch her. So we do this total about-face, and see Marty in a whole new sympathetic light.
What’s even better? That revelation now adds dramatic irony to the mix. It gives the scenes between Marty and his wife an extra charge since we know that he knows her secret… but she doesn’t know.
That’s a theme here. Dubuque will use one thing, like that twist, to add another dimension to another part of the story.
So for instance, the very tool Dubuque uses to build sympathy for his protagonist, the fact that his wife has been cheating on him, is then used to show how layered Marty is. When Del is about to kill him, and tells Marty that he’s going to kill his wife next, Marty is a thousand times more worried about his wife than himself. The very wife who’s betrayed him is the person he’s trying to protect. That’s complex writing right there.
There are little things as well. One of my favorite moments is when, before Del kills Bruce, he tells everyone in the room a story about how his grandfather once caught his maid stealing money from the till. Before telling everyone how his grandfather handled the situation, he asks everyone what the grandfather should’ve done.
In typical Dubque fashion, this choice will create two great moments instead of one. The first is something countless writers fail to do. Del’s story builds suspense. We know Del is going to kill everyone here. So Dubuque draws it out. Even better, he makes us wonder if their answers might save them. A brilliant use of the device.
So one of the henchmen answers and then Bruce answers, and Del turns to Marty, wanting his answer. Instead of playing along, Marty thinks he’s bluffing. So he calls him on it. He says “You’re intimidating us in the hopes of catching us in something. But we didn’t do jack shit.”
Marty turns out to be wrong which is when Del starts killing. But the great part comes many scenes later, after we’ve forgotten Del’s monologue. Del, once again, is at odds with Marty, and revisits his story, “You never answered the question. What should my grandfather have done?” It’s a simple payoff to a simple setup, but the great part is just how unexpected it is, and how much we realized we wanted Marty’s answer. And what’s great is that Marty gives us an even better answer than we had hoped for.
Again, average writers would’ve wrapped that whole episode up in a single scene (linear and obvious). Dubuque knew he had something good, so extended Del’s monologue/question out beyond the scene. I love that shit.
But the best thing of all about Ozark? What really made it stand out? Is that it kept going where everyone else would’ve stopped. I guarantee 99 out of 100 writers would’ve written the version of this pilot where the Del/Bruce/Marty standoff was the climax of the episode. With Marty saving himself by convincing Del of the Ozark opportunity. CUT TO BLACK.
But Dubuque KEEPS FUCKING GOING. And I thought he was crazy. I was like, “How are you going to top THAT SCENE???” And somehow, HE DOES! Watching Marty scramble for 8 million in 48 hours with his cheating wife dishing Marty’s secret to her lover, putting all sorts of new people at risk, including her own kids… I mean I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough.
If you want to write a drama pilot, FIND THIS SCRIPT NOW. This is writing. This is the standard. This is what you need to live up to. This pilot is a course in pilot-writing. I didn’t even get to half the great things here (like the fact that Dubuque repeatedly did more than one thing with each scene). It’s so freaking good.
[ ] what the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[x] genius
What I learned: Take your story to where everyone else would normally stop, and then go further.
The Deadpool writers are hot again. They give us a new script that asks, “What if the Alien movie scenario happened in real life?”
Genre: Sci-fi
Premise: When the International Space Station team starts studying the first microbe of life from Mars, they quickly learn they’re in for more than they bargained for.
About: Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick are best known for their breakout hit, Zombieland, but they’ll soon be known for a much bigger movie, the first superhero film of the year, Deadpool. This is another project they just set up with Mission Impossible 12 breakout star, Rebecca Ferguson. One of the best things about this project is that it’s, wait for it, an original story. Why is this important? Because if a project like this does well, it reignites the industry’s faith in original material. So let’s set our prayer alarm on level awesome and hope Life delivers.
Writers: Rhett Reese & Paul Wernick
Details: 115 pages – March 6, 2015 draft
Isn’t this town wonderful? Rhett Reese and Paul Wernick became Hollywood darlings when their script, Zombieland, became an unexpected box office hit. For a good half-year, they were the “It” writers in Hollywood. Everyone wanted their next script. Then the two chose to take on G.I. Joe 2 and their heat melted faster than a Snake Eyes action figure under an industrial sized microscope. If it wasn’t for someone throwing up test footage of their long-ago written Deadpool screenplay, they might be writing episodes of The Goldbergs right now (“Hey Gladys! Are we still going to the Duran Duran concert tonight!?” ZOINKS!).
Zombieland is actually a cautionary tale that up-and-coming writers (and directors) should take note of. Everyone associated with that project should’ve ended up becoming huge. Instead, they made critical mistakes that almost cost them their careers (and for director Ruben Fleischer, it may have done just that).
Here’s how it went down. After Zombieland, Reese and Wernick were offered G.I. Joe 2. No doubt they had other logs in the fire, but G.I. Joe was their big paycheck. When that much money comes at you, the temptation to take it is high. The problem is, you just came off of a buzzy over-performing “cool” movie. Moving over to G.I. Joe significantly “uncools” you. Now you’re not the hip guys with the magic touch anymore. You’re the guys who did G.I. Joe. Thank God for Deadpool, as they’re now hot again (this non-IP project of theirs being set up last week is proof-positive of that).
The director, Fleischer, made a different kind of mistake. He fell into the Hollywood Hype Bubble, a unique ecosystem where all the studios are hyping their projects, using any sort of trickery they can find to make their project sound cooler than the next. They have to do this, as they’re all going after the same big names, the same hot directors. Overselling is a necessity. As a result of this, you have tons of “house of cards” projects. Everyone SAYS they’re great. But those people are usually just re-chirping what they heard somewhere else. Rarely has someone checked to see if the project’s, indeed, any good.
I remember when Gangster Squad was the most talked about project in town. I read the script and it was not something that should’ve been talked about. There was no focus, no story. It shouldn’t be suprising then that that’s the criticism the movie got when it came out.
The point here being that you don’t want to sign on to something just because everyone is talking about it. You want to sign onto something because you feel passionate about it. Nowadays, Ruben Fleischer is directing episodes of that NBC Walmart sitcom, Superstore. If he and his writers would’ve stayed within their wheelhouse and taken on something cool and fun, I have no doubt they’d be on a much steadier career path now. Future breakthrough writers beware.
Life starts off FRENZIED. The crew of the International Space Station is running around like test lab rats with their heads cut off because the team back on Mars found a living bacterial organism and has sent it their way via Space Fed Ex. Something malfunctioned though, and the container is going to shoot past them, potentially burning up in earth’s atmosphere. So they come up with some complex maneuver to grab the delivery, barely saving the cargo. Oh, the irony.
Once inside the ship, they place the thing in one of those fancy germ-container lab rooms. By “they” I mean 10 astronauts, the key of whom is Miranda Bragg, a by-the-books representative for the Center for Disease Control. The whole reason they’re studying this Mars bacteria up here instead of down on earth, is in case it should happen to morph into something dangerous and become the next black plague.
Now remember, this cell is supposed to be dormant. So everyone’s shocked when it starts multiplying. Still, they’re more excited that this proof of life on Mars is actually proving its life in front of them. I mean, if they’re anything like the rest of us, it’s been announced to them five million times in the media over the last decade that “There’s water on Mars” and “Life found on Mars!” For once it’s actually TRUE.
Soon this thing morphs into the size of a Frisbee and starts taking interest in the humans observing it. After grabbing one such human and crushing his hand, it gets inside another’s suit and crush-eats him a chunk at a time. Luckily, it’s stuck in that lab. There’s no way out. Oh, except when someone tries to kill it with fire, which triggers the sprinkler system, which provides a small hole in the ceiling for Frisbee Alien to sneak out through. Which now means… IT’S SOMEWHERE IN THE WALLS OF THE STATION.
Shit only gets worse (as you can imagine) as this thing starts stalking them, seemingly understanding that if it doesn’t kill them, they will kill it. This information gets down to good ole planet earth, which decides to enact Order 66 on the station, meaning our occupants are going to need to find a solution fast or join George Clooney as part of earth’s low-gravity memorabilia. It’ll be up to Bragg to find that solution, but it all may be too late.
The first thing that stuck out to me about Life was how badly written the first scene was. And I italicized “written” because despite the scene sucking on the page, I know it’s going to work onscreen.
“Wait a minute, Carson. That makes no sense. Please explain.”
The reason the first scene is a mess is because we’re introduced to 10 people inside of two pages. We obviously don’t know who any of them are yet. And on top of that, it’s an action scene. So while we’re trying to keep track of all of these people, we’re also jumping around from room to room on the run. We have no spatial reference for anything outside of our general knowledge of the ISS. It’s a bunch of empty descriptions mixed with people we don’t know, trying to do something we don’t understand.
The idea behind the scene is sound. Reese and Wernick want us to be pulled in by the mystery of, “what are these people trying to do that’s so important and causing such chaos?” That doesn’t work on the page though since we’re trying to keep up with who’s who and who’s where, and where is where.
The reason this will work onscreen though is because we’d be SEEING all of these things. We’d be SEEING the geography. We’d be SEEING the faces. So we’d be able to put together what was happening rather easily.
This is why writing for producers/directors/studios is different from writing for an unknown reader. The producer knows this scene is going to work onscreen (and it can also be explained to him in person). So you can write something complex without worrying if he’s going to get it. But if you’re sending a spec out to bottom-of-the-barrel tired-ass readers, they’ll throw your script down the second they don’t know what the hell room they’re in.
I guarantee you if Reese and Wernick were writing this as a general spec that had to work its way up through the system, they wouldn’t have started with this scene. Or if they did, they would’ve made it a lot simpler and easier to follow.
The other talking point here is just how similar Life is to “Alien.” They made one change though. They asked, “What would it be like if the Alien scenario REALLY HAPPENED to modern day humanity?” And that’s the premise behind this script. At first, you’re thinking to yourself, “Why should I care about this if it’s 10 times smaller than Alien?” We don’t get a giant monster in this. The thing always stays under the size of a car tire.
But Reese and Wernick use that against us. We underestimate this thing. So when it starts wreaking havoc, we’re pulled in under the table as opposed to on top of it. This allows the two to have more fun with the “attack” scenes, which are much more intricate. One of the highlights of the script is the first time the monster strikes. It’s in one of those glass boxes that have the empty glove inside so you can stick your hand in and manipulate the thing.
Unexpectedly, however, the monster grabs onto the astronaut’s hand and doesn’t let him go. After crushing the man’s hand, it then cleverly finds a way out of the box. That was the moment I was hooked.
I don’t know what the Alien people are going to think of this. But it’s just different enough to invite a fresh take on the “alien organism attacking humans in a contained station” situation. And also, it’s a riveting read.
[ ] what the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[xx] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: Drew Goddard (writer of The Martian) mentioned that you’re always writing scripts (or drafts of scripts) for different people, and you need to know who you’re writing for so you can target that person. If you’re writing to get an actor, you want to focus on giving that actor’s character a lot of great moments. If you’re writing for the production of the film, you’ll got more into detail about the sets and the logistical things that go on in action scenes. But as a spec writer, you’re writing for everyone. And that means you have to write the most entertaining easy-to-read story you can. So you wouldn’t start your script the way Life did here. You might put in a similar scene later, once we know the layout of the station and all the characters better. But since you’re trying to hook readers right away, you’d write an opening that’s a lot easier to grasp. Keep that in mind the next time you write a spec.
This is gonna be fun. We have a comedy favorite returning (which some argued should’ve been the script reviewed the first time it came around). And we also have a guy who’s clearly insane. But in the best way possible. I haven’t laughed that hard all week. I’ll save his submission for last. Read’em and vote for’em everyone!
Remember, you can submit your own script to challenge your peers by sending me an e-mail (carsonreeves3@gmail.com) with your TITLE, GENRE, LOGLINE, WHY YOU THINK IT DESERVES A SHOT, and a PDF of the screenplay. A good review tends to get writers some industry contacts. So who knows, maybe you’ll be the next “The Last Alchemist.” Keep’em coming!
Title: Hair of the Dog
Genre: Horror/Thriller
Logline: After a corpse turns up outside of his college dormitory, a meek Freshman gets sucked into the ensuing mystery by his female neighbor-turned-Nancy Drew and her promiscuous roommate.
Why You Should Read: I had a lot flowing through my mind when coming up with the script, Hair of the Dog – I wanted to write a horror movie but something closer to the slow-burn films I grew up on. I wanted to deliver a fresh take on some of the old monster movie cliches and set it in a contained, familiar environment that is horrifying in its own right – the first year of college. Hair of the Dog unfurls in a (hopefully) quick 102 pages. The script received some solid feedback before its latest draft, but I’d love to see how it fairs in the eyes of the ScriptShadow community. I hope you enjoy Hair of the Dog and any feedback would be tremendously appreciated.
Title: Tammi
Genre: Comedy
Logline: A young man from a strict religious family awakens from a head injury with the personality of a vulgar, slutty party girl.
Why You Should Read: Tammi was included in Amateur Offerings last year, and while it didn’t get picked, I received a lot of positive feedback and thoughtful comments from those that read it. I recently launched a Kickstarter campaign to make the film myself. In a little over three weeks, I’ve raised almost $20,000. I would love to get feedback on the updated draft from you and the SS community before we (potentially) head into production.
Title: House of Voodoo
Genre: Horror/Thrasher
Logline: A history professor and five students embark on a field trip to encounter the legendary voodoo curse of an abandoned slave plantation.
Why You Should Read: It’s been nearly 200 years after the Hamilton massacre. Professor Bennett, history guru and voodoo skeptic, bribes five students to accompany him to the abandoned Hamilton Plantation in effort to encounter the voodoo curse of Mahala, a beautiful slave girl. For the others, it’s an exciting adventure. For Alex, the only living Hamilton blood, it’s an opportunity to confront his nightmarish visions of Mahala. The curse reveals itself as the clan is brutally picked off one by one by a mysterious voodoo man.
Title: The Last Beast of Versailles
Genre: Action / Sci-Fi
Logline: In the most dangerous scavenger hunt in the world, a bitter huntress and a desperate competitor must work together in order to make it out alive, as they battle the most terrifying creatures of myth brought to life.
Why You Should Read: This is quite possibly like nothing you’ve read before. In fact, we have no idea what to compare this script to. I suppose if we had to pick, it’s something like Harry Potter meets The Hunger Games by way of Jurassic Park. It’s a completely different genre for us. Given that the Scriptshadow community is both awesome and various in its feedback, we thought it would be a perfect place to put this script out for critical analysis. It’s pacy and intense with some set pieces you’ve never seen before…but it also comes in under 100 pages!
And the last entry I’m keeping in its original format, since I believe it contributes to the beauty of the submission…
KEPLER 7
In 2150, three black market disease hunters must escape a strange, galactic game that exposes a much darker reality.
About me/wysr: I passed out drunk in a ditch and woke up with this script printed and bound 90’s-style in my hands. Beamed down from crazy aliens? Maybe. It didn’t have the right Acco Solid Brass Fasteners, though. They were 1 1/5th inch when EVERYONE knows it’s supposed to be 1 1/4th inch. So I then did that thing where I go into Staples and go “Hmm, this box of 1 1/4th Acco Brass Brads looks interesting…” (dumps a few on the floor) “…crap some dropped! I’ll pick ’em up…” (only picks two needed) “…nah, these aren’t the ones I need…” (flees crime, saves $3.99). And anyone who denies they’ve ever done the same thing has Kylie Jenner’s app on their phone.
Genre: Sci-Fi
