Genre: Musical
Premise: An aspiring musician and an aspiring actress meet and fall in love in LA, only to find that life is rooting against them ending up together.
About: Damien Chazelle is a force to be reckoned with. After landing one of the hottest young actors in Hollywood, Miles Teller, for his previous film, Whiplash, the director secured an Oscar for Teller’s co-star in the film, J.K. Simmons (little-known fact – Simmons has shot 32 films and TV shows since 2014’s Whiplash). Whiplash may not have wowed the masses (it only made 13 million at the box office), but once you win an Oscar for an actor? EVERY ACTOR wants to work with you. Which is how the 30 year-old Chazelle has found himself directing two of the biggest stars in the world for La La Land, Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone.
Writer: Damien Chazelle
Details: 95 pages

Reading a writer-director draft of a musical without any lyrics is sort of like looking at an architect’s notes for his next house. “I want a round window in the bathroom.” “Still wondering if we should open up the living room area.”

Since the director’s writing for himself rather than the reader, you feel a bit like an outsider looking in, trying to decipher what the hell this guy thinks he’s doing. With that said, Quentin Tarantino writes some of the best scripts in the business. So it’s not like it can’t be done. Where it gets complicated with La La Land is that we’re missing out on the make-or-break aspect of the movie – the musical numbers. Say what you will about the power of screenwriting, but there’s no way to convey how a song and dance will feel until you see it on the big screen. The written word cannot compare to music.

Now some of you might ask, “Well then why even review the script?”

Good question. It’s because what’s left is pure story. Stripped of all its bells and whistles, La La Land is pure character and plot. And I’m curious to see if those characters and that plot worked.

Sebastian is a 28 year-old Thelonious Monk wannabe, a guy from another era who shuns the catapult-to-Youtube-fame the current system celebrates. Sebastian wants to suffer for his art in order to find that inspiration to create the kind of greatness Monk used to create on a nightly basis.

27 year-old Mia is also from a bygone era, the kind of girl who will quote Ingrid Bergman over Kim Kardashian, and is trying to use that energy to break into the toughest business in the world – ACTING.

After a failed one-night stand, Mia finds herself looking for a way home, only to drift into a dark club playing some of the most beautiful piano music this side of Sam from Casablanca. And what do you know? It’s Sebastian playing the tune.

The two don’t get along at first, but soon find mutual respect in their unique approaches to their craft. Within a few weeks, they move in together. From there, Mia focuses on writing a one-woman play to raise her acting profile. And she encourages Sebastian to branch out from being the James Dean of jazz and join a band, even if their music is more pop-centric than he’s used to.

That band ends up becoming bigger than expected, and soon women are throwing themselves at Sebastian after his bring-the-house-down solos. Mia begins to wonder, “What have I done?” This leads to friction in the relationship, which leads to them breaking up, and us wondering if they’ll ever get back together.

Oh yeah, and musical numbers are interspersed throughout all of this. The opening scene is probably the best, a giant number on a carmageddon highway with every driver getting out and singing their frustrations. As the movie goes on though, the numbers become more intimate, focusing on Sebastian and Mia’s love.

Here’s the big question with La La Land, though: Is this the next Once? Or is it the next Begin Again?

So yesterday we were talking about voice. Voice consists of the way you see the world based on your life experiences up until this point. Say for instance, two different writers are writing a funeral scene. One of those writers may focus on the faces of the crying family as their loved one is lowered into the ground. The other writer may focus on the beauty of the moment – the way the sunlight hits the tombstone or the way the wife leans down to kiss her infant son. A third writer may find humor in the moment. The drunk priest stumbling over his words or the coffin unexpectedly dropping and slamming into the grave.

How different people see different things is how voice is expressed. And sadly, I don’t line up with Chazelle’s voice. I don’t know what it is but there’s a disconnect somewhere. He went to music school. I went to fuck-around school. I felt it with Grand Piano. I felt it with Whiplash. And I feel it here.

My biggest problem with La La Land is that it all feels so cliché. The pretentious angst-ridden musician who’s too good for pop music. The eager young actress who’s so hip she likes Audrey Hepburn and Janet Leigh over Jennifer Lawrence and Emma Stone.

And when these two hang out, they go to all the well-known places in LA. The Griffith Observatory. The La Brea Tar Pits. The Getty Center. Ironically, it may be me who’s the problem here, as I live here and know these places well. The rest of the world, likely, does not. But still. It always felt to me like Chazelle wasn’t digging deep enough. He always seemed a minute away from setting a scene at Mann’s Chinese Theater.

It looks like he’s banking on the musical element being the “originality” aspect that makes up for all the rest of the unoriginality. And maybe that will be true. We do get a zero-gravity dance number at the Griffith Observatory so it’s not like it’s pure cliché.

But I kept waiting to care about these two and it never happened. Sebastian is self-absorbed. Mia’s SO obvious with her “I only like old actresses” vibe. And it’s safe to say that if I don’t like your male lead and I don’t like your female lead, then I sure as hell don’t care if they get together or not. And since this movie is predicated on us caring about these two getting together, La La Land felt more to me like Hannah Montana than Adele.

In the end, La La Land feels like a movie from someone who’s lived in LA for six months and is basing his story on the surface level version of the city he’s experienced during that time. Los Angeles is actually much deeper and more complex than it’s being made out to be here, and when you couple that with two empty lead characters, the musical numbers are going to have to be off the charts to save this film.

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

What I learned: The 20-something character who idolizes famous dead actors/musicians is a trope that’s been used so much in film that I’d think long and hard before including it in your own screenplay.

What I learned 2: I don’t think this script had a single surprise (outside of Sebastian’s harsh rejection of Mia’s initial advance). Everything was too perfect, too predictable. You HAVE to surprise your reader/audience to keep them on their toes.

O.M.G. Do we have a new contender for the top spot on the 2015 Black List??

Genre: Drama
Premise: A small-town boy goes hunting for a mythical figure known to cheat death in order to save his cancer-stricken mother.
About: This script sold to Disney a few months ago. It’s said to have shades of “Stand by Me” and “E.T.” to it. The writer, Emily Needell, is a first-timer, however she did work in a small capacity as a writer’s assistant before the sale. She also went to NYU film school, no easy feat after growing up on a 750-acre cattle farm. Hey, who says you can’t find screenwriting success living in the middle of nowhere?
Writer: Emily Needell
Details: 99 pages – undated

Disney isn’t exactly known for their spec-script buying prowess. More than any studio, they plant their feet firmly in the IP sector. So when they do buy a spec, it’s a big deal and worth checking out who they made the exception for. It also gives you an idea of what kind of material Disney is looking for tone-wise.

Despite that, I wasn’t expecting much out of The Water Man. I thought the title was bland. In a world where writers have come up with names like Hannibal Lecter and Freddy Krueger, we’re supposed to get excited about someone called, “The Water Man??” The cancer angle also implied this was headed into Melodrama Nation, a destination I had no interest in visiting. Oh how very wrong I was.

10 year-old Gunner Boone lives in the tiny town of Willow Spur, Montana. To say that Gunner isn’t like other kids is the grand poobah of understatements. The boy writes graphic novels, and really good ones at that. His current novel follows a dead detective who’s trying to solve his own murder. Hell, I’d read that book.

But since creativity isn’t exactly celebrated in the 10 year old demographic, the only friends Gunner has are the local plump librarian and his mother, Mary. Even his father, Amos, seems confused by his son’s weird interests. He’d rather Gunner come out hunting with him, which is probably why he gave his son his name in the first place.

But everything changes when Gunner finds out his mother has cancer. Really bad cancer. Gunner being Gunner, though, thinks he can solve the problem by reading enough books, by doing enough research. But the only thing he comes across that gives him hope is the story of Edward Shaal, a local man who died in a flood back in the 1920s and somehow came back to life two days later.

Gunner believes that if he can find Edward, who the locals refer to as “The Water Man,” he can save his mother. So he grabs his father’s rifle and some supplies, and finds the one boy in town who claims to have come in contact with The Water Man, 12 year old Joseph Riley. Riley, not exactly the nicest kid, demands a hundred bucks to take Gunner into the woods where The Water Man lives. Gunner, who doesn’t have many options, agrees and off they go.

As the two head deeper and deeper into the forest, Gunner senses that something is off about Riley’s story. The details of his encounter with The Water Man are non-specific, and he doesn’t really seem to know where he’s going. As Gunner’s mother lies precariously close to death, his trip into the forest becomes more uncertain, and that’s when we come to a horrifying realization, that it may not be a son who’s about to lose a mother, but rather a mother who’s about to lose her son.

So the other day I was reading a script from a good amateur writer – a guy I feel is on the precipice of breaking into the industry. But while his latest script was chock-full of big ideas and spectacle, I finished the script feeling empty, like I watched a bunch of people I didn’t know do some cool stuff. To put it bluntly, the script was missing an EMOTIONAL COMPONENT.

The emotional component is what allows the audience to FEEL SOMETHING DURING A MOVIE. If you don’t include it, they don’t feel. That’s why you watch a movie like Transformers and you think, “Ooh, that was cool,” a few times, and yet the movie evaporates from your mind at a dizzying rate once you leave the theater. It’s because there was nothing to emotionally tie you to what was going on.

The Water Man is the opposite of both that script and that movie. Before it takes you anywhere, it establishes an emotional connection. “So Carson,” you ask, “Are you saying that all I need to do to establish an emotional connection is stick a cancer mom in my script?” Oh if it were only that easy. Sticking cancer people in your script is actually the worst thing you can do to create an emotional connection. Because it’s cliché and melodramatic.

However, if you can build a specific set of circumstances surrounding that cancer, one that feels inventive or different or complex, you’ll find the connection you’re looking for. You see, it isn’t Gunner’s dying mom that gets us reaching for the Kleenex box (although that’s part of it). It’s the fact that Gunner and Amos (Gunner’s dad) don’t have anything in common. Mary knows she’s going to die. Her worry is that she’s the only thing that has kept this family together. Without her, you’ll have a father and son who don’t connect on any level.

The Water Man, then, is about much more than a boy irrationally trying to save his mom. It’s about a son and a father needing to find a connection before it’s too late. I know it’s not easy to categorize what I’m explaining here. But basically, by building a more complex situation around our dying person’s life, the story doesn’t feel cliché. It doesn’t feel melodramatic.

But The Water Man doesn’t stop there. Once on the trip with Joseph Riley, we realize that Riley isn’t the tough kid he presented himself as. He’s got a shitty life back home, enough so that he’s run away. And so even when we move away from the emotion-centric Gunner-Mom storyline, we still have a relationship to explore. This one between two misfits. Watching Riley start off deceiving Gunner, only to eventually come to the conclusion that Gunner is his only friend, was one of the many heartwarming moments in the script.

I also liked how Needell played around with traditional structure. I tell you guys to inject a clear goal into your story. And we have that here. Gunner needs to find The Water Man. But she adds this soft twist to the goal, in that we’re not sure if Riley really knows where The Water Man is. So we’re heading off on this adventure that may be a total farce, which gives us all sorts of anxiety. I mean, how are we going to save mom if our guide is making his entire story up? I guess you could say it was a goal with a twist.

(spoiler) I even loved the way Needell treats the eventual meeting with The Water Man. It’s hard as hell to gear an entire script towards meeting someone and then have that character live up to the build-up. I see writers strike out on this about 90% of the time. But Needell treats this moment with just the right amount of restraint, just the right amount of mystery, and just the right amount of, “Wait a minute, did that really happen or didn’t it?” It was immensely satisfying.

I’m not surprised Disney broke their “no original material” rule for this one. It’s a real gem.

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

What I learned: Use your unique circumstances as a strength, not an excuse. So many people are convinced that because they live in some faraway country or in the middle of nowhere that it’s impossible for them to make it as a screenwriter. You don’t realize how wrong you are. A lot of people in Hollywood come from very privileged middle to upper class upbringings. Unfortunately, that means their scope of real-life experience is limited. By living outside of that scope, you have the power to craft a story that feels unique. Just use your unique surroundings as inspiration. That’s clearly what Needell did here with this small-town story.

What I learned 2: To expand on this, your unique experiences growing up are part of what shapes that elusive “voice” everyone says you need in this craft. So if you’re not tapping into one of the key things in your life that makes you different, you’re not giving us everything you can in your screenplays.

Feel free to share your latest loglines for feedback, ask questions about the craft, or talk about anything screenwriting related. Oh, and tell us what you’re eating tonight.

Guys, I’m too wrapped up in Thanksgiving duties to get anything up these next few days (fully expect to hear some jokes off of that unintentional phrasing). So I’ll leave you with some things to discuss, starting with Max Landis’s baffling decision to keep badmouthing his peers. Landis took to his favorite delivery device, Twitter, to tell the world that The Revenant (my old script review here) sucked, making fun of DiCaprio, Hardy, and Inarritu in the process. Is there anyone out there as confused by this as I am? I think Landis is operating on this belief that he’s “keeping it real.” And I suppose he is to a certain degree. But it’s a bad look when you’re attacking three of the most talented people in the industry while you’re putting out rotten turkeys like American Ultra and Victor Frankenstein. It’s kind of like the bat boy for the Seattle Mariners telling Derek Jeter his swing sucks. Wait til you get a jersey with your name on it before you start taking on the big boys.

There’s a subplot to all this. After Landis’s American Ultra bombed, he went on a Twitter rant (man, this guy likes Twitter) about how his movie failed because the public only wants to see established properties and IP. They refuse to take a chance on something new. So the fact that he’s now writing about one of the most famous characters of the last 100 years, Frankenstein, should warrant an interesting reaction if the movie doesn’t do well, especially in the wake of the movie he’s blasting, which is about as original as a Hollywood film gets.

Moving on, Thanksgiving is usually one of the better moviegoing weeks, as studios try to capitalize on families being in that holiday group-activity spirit. But I can’t say I’m too excited about this week’s offerings. Pixar’s The Good Dinosaur looks to be aimed directly at the Kids Aged 2-4 demographic. And The Danish Girl seems to be less about telling a story and more about winning an Oscar for its lead. The wild card is Creed, with Fruitvale Station director, Ryan Coogler, coming back to direct his star, Michael B. Jordan, again in this Rocky 6.5 vehicle. Deadline had a nice interview about Coogler pitching Stallone on himself as director before he’d even made a film (he would direct Fruitvale later). One of the best things about the interview was Coogler realizing, while shooting, that a key punch in one of the fight scenes didn’t look real enough and the dilemma posed by getting Jordan to take a real punch despite not legally being able to tell him to do so. In today’s Concussion-obsessed world, that turned out to be a risky ass move.

I have a couple of issues with this one though, despite the trailers looking solid. First, Rocky Balboa (or “Rocky 6”) was way overrated. Stallone tried to make it out to be him “correcting his wrong” with Rocky 5, and making something grittier and more in tune with the original film. That’s great. But why the hell would your main fight be an exhibition match?????? One of the first things we’re taught in screenwriting is STAKES. The stakes need to be high for the audience to care. And the climax? The big fight? It has to have the biggest stakes of them all. So why should we care about a freaking exhibition bout? Huge screenwriting fuck-up there. They needed to figure that out before going in front of the camera.

The second issue is that, from the trailers at least, Creed is propped up on a shaky foundation. Jordan plays Adonis Johnson, the son of Apollo Creed, who famously fought Rocky Balboa in the first two films (and was killed by Drago in the fourth!). Somehow, Adonis has never met his father. And grew up in an orphanage or something. So let me get this straight. The son of one of the richest boxers in history didn’t inherit a single dime from him? I’m guessing he’s maybe an illegitimate child then? Hmmm, I’m smelling a fish. Clearly, they know this series works best with an underdog hero. And the entitled son of one of the best boxers in the world isn’t underdog in any sense of the word. This forced them to pull out all the stops to turn someone who would obviously be famous to someone who was unknown, hence the “foster child” angle. Whenever I feel those screenwriting gears straining underneath the page – especially when it’s to keep a franchise alive – I get skeptical.

But hey, I hope I’m wrong. Unlike Landis’s Victor Frankenstein, which is coming in at 13% on Rotten Tomatoes, Creed is trending at 93%, a full 80 points higher.

So, I send the question out to you now. What do you think of all this? And what are you going to watch this weekend (doesn’t have to be anything I’ve mentioned)? Just a warning: I will automatically delete anyone who answers, “Jessica Jones.” (that’s a joke btw – though I will be watching you – oh yes, I will)

Oh, and if all of that bores you, tell me what you think of the new Captain America trailer! Tony’s maaaaa-aaad…

Genre: Noir/Super-hero
Premise: From Marvel – A female private eye with a dark past muscles through her daily routine while trying to overcome her demons.
About: This one has been heavily hyped by Netflix and Marvel the moment it was announced. The series comes to us in all its binge-y glory from the accomplished Melissa Rosenberg, who wrote ALL FIVE Twilight movies. Rosenberg has been trying to get this show on the air since 2010, when she brought it to the networks. It didn’t work out, leading to Netflix finally landing the project. Along with their “Daredevil” and another Marvel show coming later, the plan is to eventually bring all these shows together in one of those Marvel team-up things called, “The Defenders.” Based on what I saw with this show and also the petering second half of Daredevil’s first season, it’s a safe bet that I won’t be onboard for that one.
Creator: Melissa Rosenberg (based on the Marvel comic book series)

We’ve gotten to a dangerous place with TV shows. Nowadays, there are so many shows that the only way to get attention is to declare your show the single greatest show that’s ever existed in the history of television.

Before a single show has aired.

Rotten Tomatoes, with their fatally flawed TV rating system, isn’t helping matters, giving any show that isn’t The Goldbergs a 90% rating or higher.

But here’s the funny thing. Even THAT approach is starting to get old. So now marketers have to find a new way to get viewers interested. Jessica Jones may be the first show to institute a ‘greatest show ever’ declaration…

Before a single frame of film was shot.

I have been hearing about this show for a year now and with the supposed buzz surrounding it, you’d think they’d announced a Lost – Breaking Bad crossover series.

Based on the Marvel comic, Jessica Jones follows a private detective, Jessica Jones, at her job, which mainly consists of busting men cheating on their wives (go girl power!). She’s occasionally hired by a big company to dig up dirt on people – one of the many private detective been-there-done-that tropes that this show embraces.

In the pilot episode, Jessica’s hired by an older couple who believes their adult daughter’s been kidnapped by a cult. Jones looks into it, and realizes that the woman is in an abusive relationship. But not just any abusive relationship. An abusive relationship with JESSICA’S FORMER BOYFRIEND, the delicately named “Kilgrave.”

From here we hint at Jessica’s dark-disturbing past, which included dating Kilgrave, a mind-manipulator or some such. Jessica’s got PTSD from the relationship and realizes that getting this daughter out of the relationship will be near impossible. Because of the mind-control and all.

Meanwhile, we see Jessica occasionally do things like lift cars six inches off the ground, an apparent nod to her being a retired superhero, although you’re not going to get that information from the show. I had to look it up online.

While I only watched two episodes due to their dreadfulness, the show looks to want to build around this mind-manipulator Kilgrave making his way back into Jessica’s life, as well as Jessica’s new love interest, Luke Kage, a local bar owner who also has secret super powers. If you’re into all of this stuff, wonderful. I’ve never been more bored in my life.

Here’s my problem with Jessica Jones. For all the hoopla surrounding this show, it’s pretty freaking standard. You have a private eye (a formulaic staple of TV for 60 years) with a dark past (ooh, haven’t seen that before). The only real difference is that a) she can swear cause this is Netflix, b) they can be edgy cause this is Netflix and c) the superhero angle.

That last part would appear to be the unique draw, but through two episodes, all I’ve seen Jessica do is pick the back of a car up two feet. I guess that makes her a superhero? Strangely, six scenes later she can barely pull a 110-pound woman out of her bed.

Going into this, I had no idea Melissa Rosenberg wrote it. But now that I know, a lot of things make sense. Jessica Jones contains plenty of echoes from the ultra-cheesy Twilight series. A female lead. Tortured and frustrated. Meets a man. Wants him but can’t do anything about it. And while the show trumpets itself as dark and cool, I couldn’t help but feel like it was all smoke and mirrors.

Sure, the cinematography is great. Netflix allows for splashier DPs and more takes with their higher budgets. But how edgy is this show? Whenever Jessica Jones has sex, she’s fully clothed. Yeah, because that’s how people have sex in real life. If you want to play with the big boys who really push the limits – shows like Game of Thrones – you can’t be squeamish about that stuff. It’s those moments that break the suspension of disbelief, since now you have viewers wondering about the actor who plays Jessica Jones’ nudity clause and not, you know, the actual scene!

If you want to see a show that truly takes risks and truly has a unique voice (and doesn’t just announce that it does a year ahead of time) go watch Mr. Robot. It’s not for everyone, but one episode and you realize that you’re watching something different. The cinematography alone is so… odd. It creates that unstable viewing experience that Jessica Jones only wishes it could accomplish.

And now that I think about it, I’d argue CBS’s Supergirl is more inventive than this show. At least that show took a chance and went away from the groupthink trend of dark superheroes. Instead, it went the fun route and while I’ve only seen the extended trailer, it looked like a much better time than this.

I guess my final question with this show is: What’s the big deal? Why are we supposed to like this? What does it bring to the table that’s different besides a high production value? Cause all I see is some angsty chick who’s being angsty for no other reason than that it’s cooler that way. If I wanted Veronica Mars with the lights turned off, I would’ve downloaded it on Itunes. I wouldn’t say I hated this show. But I got close.

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

What I learned: Never write a screenplay or teleplay because you think the show would be “cool.” Write it because you have an idea to explore, characters you want to dig into, a theme you wrestle with daily. The savvy viewer (and almost all the execs out there) can smell something that’s all flash and zero substance. Jessica Jones pretends to have substance, but it’s as thin as the comic book paper it was originally published on.