Ghostbusters has one of the best comedy movie hooks ever. Dudes. Busting ghosts. It makes me nostalgic for the days of the high concept comedy. Nowadays, we’re inundated with all these low-concept comedies. A guy and a girl having relationship troubles? Welcome to the next big comedy starring Paul Rudd and Reese Witherspoon: THE RELATIONSHIP! I figure it’s only a matter of time before the high concept comedy makes a comeback. So I’ll just deal with it for now. Originally written by Dan Akroyd (eventually Ivan Reitman came on), the original concept for Ghostbusters was much bigger, with the Ghostbusters travelling through time and battling much more ambitious ghosts. But when Akroyd brought the script to Reitman, Reitman noted that it would be way too expensive to make, so Akroyd dialed the story back. Reitman also (wisely) encouraged Akroyd to ground the story in reality. Akroyd originally conceived of a dream cast that included Eddie Murphy, John Candy, and John Belushi. Belushi then died during the writing of the script, and Candy and Murphy weren’t interested. I’d say it turned out okay though, with Bill Murray coming in, and Akroyd and Harold Ramis filling out the roles of the other Ghostbusters. Now, as much as this script thrived due to its special effects and great performances, there are still a few things we can learn from the script itself. Let’s take a look…

1) Introduce MULTIPLE FACETS of your character in their intro scene – The more you can tell us about your character right away, the better. So with Venkman (Bill Murray) performing bogus telepathy tests on a couple of college coeds, we’re not just learning he’s a selfish womanizing jerk, we’re also establishing that he’s involved in the supernatural (telepathy), which is obviously a key element in our story. A lesser writer would’ve established Venkman at a fast food restaurant or in his car. By placing him in his element when we first meet him, we learn a lot more about the guy.

2) It’s okay to state the relationship of your characters in the descriptive text – Oftentimes in scripts, I struggle to understand one character’s relationship to another. The writer knows, but since it’s never been clearly stated, I don’t. Even though it’s technically a cheat, go ahead and DIRECTLY TELL US the relationship in the descriptive text. So here, when Stantz (Dan Akroyd) is introduced, we get this text: He is Venkman’s colleague and best friend. It’s blunt but it saves me a lot of confusion and possible assumption. You want to use this trick sparingly and only for your important relationships. But know that it’s there for you if you need it.

3) Science-Fiction Comedies are one of the most undervalued genres out there – Men In Black, Back To The Future, Ghostbusters, Hancock, Night At The Museum. These movies make tons of money and yet it’s still a genre I don’t see a lot of writers writing in. Take advantage of this niche market if possible.

4) If you don’t have an immediate goal, at least make sure things are moving forward – I’m all about the story goal. But I admit not every story fits perfectly into that model at all times. Like here, the initial goal for the Ghostbusters is vague: “Become paranormal investigators and start earning a living at it.” If that’s the case, just make sure your characters continue to WORK TOWARDS SOMETHING. As long as they’re moving forward, we’ll feel like the story is moving forward. Here, the Ghostbusters get office space, they get a car, they create a commercial. They’re not going after anything specific yet, but they’re still ACTIVE.

5) Comedies are one of the last remaining genres purely for spec writers – All the big fantasy stuff is adapted these days. Period pieces are often derived from books. Dramas as well. The occasional sci-fi spec will get through, but that too, studios prefer to be adapted. The only genres studios are always looking for in the spec market these days are basically comedies and thrillers. Another reason to dust off that comedy spec.

6) As soon as you hit your characters with a huge up, hit them with a huge down – This is a tried and true story device and seems to always work. After the Ghostbusters hit their first breakthrough – seeing a ghost for the first time, they get back to the University to find out they’ve been fired. Audiences love having their emotions ripped from one extreme to another. It’s the theme park equivalent of a roller coaster ride.

7) MID-POINT TWIST ALERT – Ghostbusters has a great mid-point twist. Remember, a mid-point twist should slightly twist the story in a new direction so it doesn’t get stale. Here, it’s when Dana (Sigourney Weaver) and Louis (her neighbor) become possessed. This sets the movie off in a much bigger and more dangerous direction (and as any good mid-point twist should do, it severely ups the stakes!).

8) Don’t tell us in the descriptive text that something is going to happen, then repeat that same information in the dialogue that follows – Ugh, this is such a distracting amateur move! So I was surprised to see it in the Ghostbusters screenplay. Akroyd writes in the description: Stantz is immediately intrigued by the idea but voices his reservations. Then STANTZ says: “I don’t know. That costs money. And the ecto-containment system we have in mind will require a load of bread to capitalize.” Why did you tell us he was voicing his reservations when we just saw him voice his reservations?? Try something like this description instead: Stantz is immediately intrigued by the idea but then— Then cut to the dialogue.

9) To spice up a scene, add an ulterior motive – Rarely are scenes any good when they’re ONLY about what’s going on. Typically, there needs to be something going on underneath the surface as well. An “ulterior motive” is a tried and true tool that automatically ups the entertainment level of a scene. For example, early on, Venkman goes to Dana’s apartment to check out the ghost activity she says she experienced. Alone this scene would’ve been pretty straight-forward. But Akroyd adds Venkman’s ulterior motive of trying to snag Dana, and all of a sudden this scene becomes fun. Take note that the “ulterior motive scene” doesn’t just work for comedy. It works in any genre.

10) Build quirks into your character for better dialogue – Venkman’s a sarcastic smart-ass. So he has fun little smartass comments. “May I see this storage facility?” our villain asks, in reference to the facility holding the captured ghosts. “No, you may not.” “And why not, Mr. Venkman?” “Because you didn’t say the magic word.” That dialogue derives directly from Venkman being a smartass. Spengler (Harold Ramis), on the other hand, is socially inept, unable to process sarcasm. When he’s looking for a ghost in the hotel and encounters a woman in her room wearing a towel, he asks, “Were you recently in the bathroom?” “What on earth gave you that idea?” she retorts sarcastically. “The wet towels, residual moisture on your lower limbs and hair, the redness in your cheeks.” Build those little quirks into your character from the get go and they’ll feed you good dialogue without you having to work for it.

BONUS TIP: Ellipses indicate a pause. Dashes indicate a character being cut off. – Elipses at the end of dialogue (…) are meant to indicate a pause. Dashes (–) at the end of dialogue are meant to show someone being cut off. I see these getting mixed up all the time and since they basically mean the opposite of each other, getting it wrong can really hurt your screenplay.

These are 10 tips from the movie “Ghostbusters.” To get 500 more screenwriting tips from movies as varied as “Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind,” “Pulp Fiction,” and “The Hangover,” check out my book, Scriptshadow Secrets, on Amazon!

Oz’s big box office take was a bit of a surprise. Let’s see if we can’t figure out why it did well.

Genre: Fantasy/Adventure
Premise: (from IMDB) A small-time magician arrives in an enchanted land and is forced to decide if he will be a good man or a great one.
About: “Oz The Great and Powerful” just slayed the box office for a second weekend in a row. It has now earned 145 million domestically. Joe Roth originally wanted to pursue the project for Disney because, while at the company, he’d always struggled to find a fairy tale that revolved around a male protagonist. This was the first time a legitimate option presented itself. The studio went out to Robert Downey Jr. first, who declined, and then Depp (of course – it’s Disney), who declined as well. Eventually, Franco scooped up the slop and signed on the dotted line for a cool 7 million.
Writers: Mitchell Kapner and David Lindsay-Abaire (based on the novel “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” by Frank L. Baum)
Details: 130 minutes long

I’m so torn when it comes to Hollywood. The idealistic part of me wishes the system would change. The realist in me realizes that’s not happening anytime soon. To that end, we need to keep studying what Hollywood looks for. We need to understand what they celebrate and why so we can best position ourselves to break in. Does that mean we shouldn’t put our own twist on things? Our own voice? Of course not. But it doesn’t hurt to understand the system when writing for the system.

“Oz The Great And Powerful” is that bread and butter movie Hollywood makes in order to fill their coffers with money. It’s what they make so they can make more movies. So they can keep their parent companies happy. So those companies can keep their shareholders happy. It’s big. It’s the kind of “event” movie you have to see in the theater. It caters to just about every demographic. And it can turn into a franchise – the most desirable of all Hollywood products.

But it also brings up some interesting questions, such as, “How come THIS Hollywood movie was a success ($80 million opening weekend)? And Jack The Giant Slayer, which I saw a couple of weeks ago, was a bomb ($27 million opening weekend)?” They’re both catering to the same audiences. They’re both 3-D. They’re both event pictures you need to see in the theaters. They’re both based on pre-existing properties (both within the public domain I believe). How come one became a mega-hit and the other a smudge on the box office sidewalk?

And don’t give me this nonsense that The Wizard Of Oz was a bigger property. They’ve made TONS of Wizard of Oz related movies/series since the original and almost all of them have been disasters (“Tin Man,” “Return to Oz,” “The Wiz.”). I actually thought “Oz The Great and Powerful” was going to bomb big time. I thought an early draft of the script was troubled. I thought the previews were too shiny and CGI-ey. I didn’t think James Franco could front a movie of this magnitude (Am I the only one who thinks he’s never not been stoned during a performance?). I just thought the whole thing was a miscalculation. Then it did well, catching me off guard. And I thought, “Damn, now I have to figure out why.”

So I guess the first question is, was the movie any different from the draft of the script I read? Yes. The big problem I had with the script was that Oz’s flaw wasn’t defined. It was wishy-washy. I couldn’t figure out if he was good at what he did or not, if he was a moron or a genius illusionist. This was a HUGE deal since the entire movie was about Oz and his journey. If we didn’t see a clear flaw in him that needed to be rectified, then we were watching a man for 120 minutes that we had no emotional attachment to.

The movie makes Oz’s character much clearer. He isn’t perfect, but for example, we know after those opening scenes that Oz is actually good at what he does – fooling people. There’s a great moment in his opening magic act where he’s doing the cliché “floating covered body” trick. Someone from the back of the crowd screams that they “spot a wire.” Indeed, we see wires clearly holding up the body. We think Oz is screwed. But then he whips out some scissors and cuts all the wires down. The body still floats! He planned for this, telling us that this guy is good at what he does, even if what he does is sleazy. That stuff was way too muddled in the script.

His flaw, it turns out (which is so much clearer in the movie), is that he’ll sacrifice anything or anyone for a woman or a piece of gold. He’s selfish. He’s all about himself. This is the defining characteristic that’s driving his inner journey.

We see this early on when he selfishly screws over a couple of women. And that turned out to be a smart move as it better sets up our anticipation of how he’s going to screw over Theodora. As she grows to love him on their initial journey to the Emerald City, it’s clear he only sees her as a one-night stand. We then feel that tension in their dialogue from his side. Their dialogue basically starts working from a dramatic irony standpoint. WE know he’s going to screw her over later. SHE does not. It was little things like this that I didn’t see in the script because the effort hadn’t yet been put into solidifying Oz’s flaw.

Once we get to Oz, I thought the film moved much better than the script. It looks like they really hammered out the plot points. In the script, it felt like we were stumbling around with no purpose. Here, it’s always made clear where we’re going and why. For example, Theodora needs to bring Oz back to the city so he can meet her sister and start preparing to take down the Wicked Witch. A clear goal! After they get to Oz, Evanora (Theodora’s sister) sends Oz to go kill the Wicked Witch. Again, a clear goal. Just the other day, we were discussing the sequencing method. This film/script is a good example of how to use that approach to keep a complex story focused.

Another thing they did a really good job with was the climax. Structuring an ending that big with that many characters is REALLY HARD. You have to figure out a believable way to get all of your characters exactly where they need to be at specific times. For example, they needed a way to have the witches capture Glinda so they could use her as bait against Oz, all while the main battle and several different subplots were going on. I thought the writers got through this section very smoothly, which is rarely the case.

But more importantly, I loved that OZ’S FLAW WAS DRIVING THE CLIMAX. This is something that wasn’t there in the script. Remember, we, the audience, care about the CHARACTERS FIRST. We have to want to follow them. We have to want to see them improve – get better – learn. The third act is the showcase act to do this. And when Franco used his specific skills to come up with a plan to defeat the witches, we were into it. And when he had a chance to leave (spoilers), we were hoping he wouldn’t go. And when he did, we were devastated. And when he came back, we were thrilled. None of that works without all that preparation that happened in the opening act establishing Oz’s character. And that stuff simply wasn’t there in the draft that I read. Which is why, while this battle is relatively the same as it was in the script, I cared much more in the movie. Because this time, I got to see the hero transforming.

Unfortunately, everything listed above only answers why the final script for Oz was better. It doesn’t explain the 53 million dollar difference in box office take on opening weekend between it and “Jack The Giant Slayer.” That’s what screenwriters have to study. That’s what they must understand.

I do think the pre-existing property helped. Who doesn’t know about “The Wizard of Oz?” So you have that going for you. But the big answer here actually lies in something determined by the screenwriter (as well as the director): Creativity. Imagination. When you watch the trailers of “Oz” and “Giant Slayer” back to back, you see more imagination in “Oz.” I’ll never forget one of the first pieces of advice an agent gave me when I arrived in LA. “These are tent pole movies. You gotta give the audience something they’ve never seen before.” Oz The Great and Powerful was giving us more stuff we hadn’t seen before. Jack the Giant Slayer, in retrospect, looked a bit familiar. It’s no different from how a movie like Alice In Wonderland (a dreadful execution of the story if there ever was one) made a billion dollars. It looked so damn imaginative. It gave you a ton of stuff you’d never seen before.

And it’s why a movie like The Lone Ranger should be worried that it might take in 50 million on its opening weekend as opposed to the 90 it wants. Do we see anything different, new, imaginative, original, in The Long Ranger trailers? I don’t think so. Maybe their future trailers will show that imagination and they’ll make a last second rally. But right now, it’s looking pretty standard.

I’m not going to say that Oz is a classic or anything ridiculous like that. But it was a fun movie that achieved exactly what it set out to do. It gave us a big world and a big story centered around a complex character who learned to be a better person by the end. That’s how you write a blockbuster, folks.

[ ] what the hell did I just watch? Kill me now.
[ ] wasn’t for me
[xx] worth the price of admission
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: In scenes/relationships driven by dramatic irony, you want to raise the stakes with the person not in on the secret. So once Oz spends the night with Theodora, she thinks they’re getting married, that they’re going to become king and queen. He, on the other hand, is thinking he’s going to ditch her once they get to the Emerald City. Notice, then, how the writers showcase how much Theodora likes him. She talks about how she can’t wait to rule with him, how much she likes him, etc. etc. With every stakes-raising declaration, the dramatic irony behind the dialogue becomes more and more intense (we’re thinking – oh my god, she’s going to be PISSED when she finds out he’s not interested in her).

Here we go again! Welcome to Amateur Offerings Weekend :)

This is your chance to discuss the week’s amateur scripts, offered originally in the Scriptshadow newsletter. The primary goal for this discussion is to find out which script(s) is the best candidate for a future Amateur Friday review. The secondary goal is to keep things positive in the comments with constructive criticism.

Below are the scripts up for review, along with the download links. Want to receive the scripts early? Head over to the Contact page, e-mail us, and “Opt In” to the newsletter.

Happy reading!

TITLE: THE PHOENIX PROJECT
GENRE: Action-Adventure Tentpole
LOGLINE: When a self-righteous madman plans to destroy humanity and selectively rebuild mankind, seven twenty-somethings learn they are clones of famous historical figures who have been created to save the world.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: The writers won one of the monthly $20,000 Amazon prices with their screenplay, “I Think My Facebook Friend Is Dead.”

TITLE: Goodbye Gene
GENRE: (very) Dark Comedy
LOGLINE: A demented 14 year old girl strikes up a weird relationship with a convicted sex offender. Shit gets crazy when they embark on a twisted road trip in a “rape van.”
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: “Goodbye Gene has recently been named a semi-finalist in the BlueCat Screenplay Competion. My evaluation from the readers said “it wasn’t overwritten, but still incredibly telling.” They also said some kick-ass things about my character development. PS — it’s in the BlueCat Competition as The Repairable Brightness of Gene. Not everybody gets the Milan Kundera reference, which is understandable. So I simplified it.”

TITLE: Heavy Gravity
GENRE: SciFi/Action
LOGLINE: Street-wise orphans help a fugitive, anti-gravity “sky-runner” survive the planet’s deadly slums long enough to destroy the cyborg leader who framed him for mass murder.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: Finalist – Pulsar Sci-Fi Screenplay Contest, Finalist – Story Pros International Screenplay Contest

TITLE: After Ares
GENRE: Sci-Fi, Thriller
LOGLINE: After the disastrous Ares 7 mission to Mars, American astronaut Jack Connors takes refuge on a space station above a warmongering Earth. His role on the Ares and actions of his station crew determine the fate of all mankind when a Russian peace envoy comes to visit.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: Recently awarded for Best Sci-Fi/Horror Feature Screenplay at the 2013 Berlin Independent Film Festival.

TITLE: Bad Review
GENRE: Comedy
LOGLINE: A guy is tormented by the inventor of a product after he writes a review online that causes its downfall.

I remember first hearing about the Sequence Method. I was appalled. It sounded like a math equation. And since art should never be boiled down to a set of variables, I was insulted. In order for art to be successful, it needs to come from that subconscious place from within – that place that emotes, that expresses – that thing you can’t quantify via numbers.

However, as time passed and I read more scripts, I began to realize that unlike other art forms, screenwriting was heavily dependent on structure. The screenplay was originally created as a blueprint for a film, and that little fact had me rethinking everything I knew. Blueprints are all about measurements and space. And when you look at a script, you see exactly that. A script isn’t like a novel. Things need to be where they need to be. The courier font with spacing between paragraphs was used specifically so that each page would approximate 1 minute of screen time. I began to realize that there was more math going on here than I was originally willing to admit.

So what is The Sequence Method? Well, in order to understand it, you must first understand the importance of the character goal. Ideally, you’d like to establish a central goal for your story’s hero early on. The movie, then, is about your hero’s pursuit of that goal. Movies tend to work best when the hero is active all the time. And by placing a goal in front of your hero, something he’s pursuing, he’s basically forced to be active. Not all movies will have a clear overarching goal, but most will (Indiana must find the Ark, John McClane must save his wife). Either way, as long as you understand the importance of the character goal and why you would or wouldn’t use it, you’re in good shape.

The Sequence Method basically says this: If our main character is only pursuing one goal, the audience will become bored. That’s because today’s audiences are impatient. They don’t like waiting 2 full hours to see if their character wins or not. They need something in the meantime. The solution to this is dividing your screenplay into 8 little mini-movies, each with their own immediate character goals. This is called “sequencing.”

A big reason why this works is because audiences love constantly being rewarded. They like to feel like they’re achieving something as the movie/script progresses. We might not find out if Indy gets the Ark until the very end. But we find out if he gets that Gold Monkey out of the cave. We find out if he gets the headpiece for the Staff of Ra from Marion.

Each of these mini-movies, then, establishes their own little character goal. Goal – Get the monkey out of the cave. Goal – Get the Staff of Ra headpiece. It’s beautifully simple, yet surprisingly effective. So why are there 8 of these sequences? Well, you don’t have to use 8. You can use 6. You can use 4. But 8 gives you about 12-15 pages for each sequence, and 12-15 minutes of movie time is the perfect amount to create a little mini-movie, the ideal wait time for an audience to be rewarded.

Now I can’t get into all the specifics of sequencing because there’s too much to cover. But so you don’t get confused, let me remind you of one more important thing. It isn’t always the main character who has the goal that’s driving the sequence. For example, Darth Vader is driving the opening sequence of Star wars – he’s trying to get his hands on those Death Star plans. C-3PO and R2-D2 are driving the next sequence, as they’re trying to find Obi-Wan Kenobi. A sequence can be driven by any character with a goal, yet most often is driven by either the hero or the villain.

Once I began to understand the Sequencing Method, I realized how genius it was. You see, one of the biggest problems with amateur screenplays is that they wander. They get into that middle area and completely lose themselves, mainly because character goals are murky and the writer isn’t really sure where everything’s going. The Sequencing Method breaks the story down into more manageable pieces. No longer do we have to figure out how to fill up 110 pages. We only have to fill up 12-15 pages to see if our character reaches his current goal. And then fill up the next 15. And the next 15 after that. I’m not saying that using the Sequence Method guarantees a good script. But there’s no question that sequenced scripts are more focused and easy to follow.

This brings me to the point of this article. The Sequence Method has one giant flaw. It’s TOO STRUCTURED. It FEELS too sequence-y. True, eight 15 minute mini-movies are going to keep the script focused, but if those mini-movies feel too individualized, too “now this sequence happens and then THIS sequence happens and then THIS sequence happens,” you lose that organic feel that helps a story feel effortless. For this reason, ironically, once you’ve mastered the Sequence Method, you must learn how to make it feel like you haven’t used the Sequence Method.

Introduce – layering.

Layering occurs when you take storylines, mysteries or secondary character goals and expand them over numerous sequences. Because you’ve layered these story threads over the sequence breaks, the audience is less likely to realize that a break has happened. Without layering, it feels like you’ve created 8 completely separate movies. Now I’m not going to lie. This is really advanced stuff. You have to learn how to sequence before you can layer. But let me give you a few examples so you can see how the technique works.

In Star Wars, the first sequence is Darth Vader trying to get back the Death Star plans. He fails when C-3PO and R2-D2 escape. End of sequence. The second sequence is C-3PO and R2-D2 trying to find civilization, presumably so R2 can deliver this “message” to its recipient. This sequence ends when Luke buys them from the Jawas. The third sequence is Luke trying to figure out what this message is about. It ends when he finally locates Obi-Wan. Each time, a goal is put forth in front of a major character, and that character goes after it.

The layering here occurs with the mystery of Princess Leia’s message. It’s set up in the first sequence, when she places the message inside R2. It’s discussed in the second sequence, when R2 stubbornly looks for the recipient of the message (Obi-Wan). And then, of course, it sets Luke off to find Obi-Wan when he sees the message himself. Think of layering as a series of bridges between sequences. If there’s nothing crossing over those bridges from sequence to sequence, then your sequences are too isolated. Here, the mystery of this message crosses over two bridges.

Bad sequencing would’ve shown Princess Leia physically record the entire message into R2-D2 in that first sequence on the ship. We then would have already known what she was saying, what was going on, and therefore there’s no mystery crossing over.

In Back To The Future, the third sequence in the movie (once Marty arrives in the past) is finding Doc. The fourth sequence is Doc and Marty figuring out how to get him home. And the fifth sequence is Marty trying to get his dad to ask his mom out to the dance. In sequences 3 and 5, we see Biff Tannen targeting George (Marty’s dad) and Marty himself. Biff, our villain, then becomes the layering. His goal isn’t isolated to a single sequence. His subplot of trying to take Marty down expands over several sequences.

Another layer is Marty needing to tell Doc that Doc dies in the future – killed by the terrorists. He tries to tell him first in sequence 4 (but Doc tells him he can’t know anything about the future), struggles with telling him during the “jump back” demonstration, and then tries to tell him as Doc’s setting up the electrical equipment at the clock tower. Ditto the famous “disappearing siblings” picture. This is used in multiple sequences to show that bit by bit, Marty’s family is disappearing. You layer these little storylines over multiple sequences, sometimes 2 or 3 at a time, and your script stops feeling so segmented.

So the first question is, do you want to sequence? Do you believe in sequencing? If so, it’s pretty easy to learn how to do it. Buy the book, The Sequence Approach, and you should have a pretty solid idea of how to create sequences after a single read. From there, you have to learn how to layer. They teach The Sequence Method at USC Film School. The thing I’ve repeatedly heard from readers, though, is that they know when they’re reading a “USC script,” because of the blatant use of sequencing. I think a big reason for the tell is the lack of layering. The writers are so focused on each individual sequence, they don’t focus on creating enough threads that cross over those sequences.

If you can master this technique, you’ll become a very dangerous screenwriter. That’s because the Sequence Method is the best weapon to rein in that dreaded endless second act. And the layering makes your use of it invisible, leaving others to wonder how you wrote such a focused screenplay that feels so effortless. What do you guys think? Do you think screenwriting should be broken down into terms this structured? Or do you think it’s all bullshit and writers should let their story be dictated solely by imagination and whatever they come up with next?  Share your views in the comments below.

Today we take a look at a script from the man responsible for the darker, edgier Daredevil reboot. Not surprisingly, the script is a bit of a daredevil itself.

Genre: Drama
Premise: A story that follows a dozen different seedy characters in New York City during one of its sleaziest decades, the 1980s.
About: This script made the 2006 Black List. I don’t know much about it but the writer, Caleb Kane, had been a Broadway actor for a long time and has appeared in a lot of popular TV shows. He segued into writing and wrote a few episodes of Fringe. He wrote a draft for the reboot of Daredevil, but hasn’t had that big breakout writing moment yet. These City Walls appears to be his writing sample.
Writer: Caleb Kane
Details: 165 pages!!! (1/06 Draft)

Denzel for Mr. Man?

I love me some 165 page screenplays. As in, “I hate me some 165 page screenplays!” I mean seriously? 165 pages? Do you really think you’re THAT good that you can completely ignore what every reader and producer in town finds acceptable? I guess so. And I guess it worked since enough people liked it to get it on the Black List (to a degree – I don’t think it finished very high). But seriously, I have never seen a 160 page script that couldn’t be sliced to pieces.

I’m actually glad this came along on the heels of the Fight Club post, as it, too, is a non-traditional screenplay. We’re jumping around between multiple characters. We’re taking our time getting in the plot. We’re not entirely sure who the main character is. There is an experimental vibe to the script, and I’m sure something can be learned from that.

Maybe the first is: Beware the ULTRA AMBITIOUS SCREENPLAY. Jaw-dropping page counts, murky plots, lots of characters. I know I just wrote an article telling you how to approach these types of scripts, but that doesn’t mean I think you should write them. Besides the fact that it’s just really hard to wrangle together a story of this enormity, readers aren’t really trained to understand scripts like this. They’re looking for clear narratives, clean goals – a story that moves forward quickly and with purpose. These anti-structure screenplays are hard to define so even when a reader likes something about them, they’re reluctant to say so, since they can’t really pinpoint (in industry terms) why they feel that way. It’s safer, then, for a reader not to support a script like this. Something to keep in mind.

It’s winter in New York City. 1983. 20 year-old Ruben has worked his way up the ranks for Mr. Man, a local pimp who’s keen on expanding his business. But before he can do that, he needs the perfect girl. Someone new. A fresh face. If Ruben can find him that face, he can get in on the ground floor of Mr. Man’s new business venture.

Ruben does just that, finding a homeless 17 year old girl named Noel trolling the streets with her boyfriend. Mr. Man slyly gets the boyfriend hooked on heroin so he can remove him from the picture, and turns Noel into one of his top girls. Everything’s going according to plan until Ruben starts falling for Noel, and wants to get her out of New York City. Mr. Man notices something growing between the two and doesn’t like it. He tells Ruben that he better mind his own business. The girl is his.

In the meantime, Mr. Man blackmails one of his richer clients with pictures of him doing some really nasty stuff with one of his girls. Mr. Man classes up his women and uses the client’s access to a high rolling clientele, and soon he’s not slumming it on the streets anymore. Unbeknownst to him, however, Ruben has saved a bunch of dough and is planning for Noel’s escape. Mr. Man can’t have that, which means we’re going to get a stand-off between the two. And it’s very likely only one of them is coming out alive.

That is a REALLY simplified synopsis of the screenplay. I should probably get an award for that actually, as I make it sound like a pretty focused little story. The reality is, there are a lot more characters and way too many subplots here. I see this problem a lot in these screenplays – where writers are trying to be super-ambitious. They write a bunch of storylines, thinking it will add complexity and grandiosity to their story, making it more “respectable,” but many of those storylines either a) don’t push the narrative forward or b) aren’t very good.

I mean, we have this subplot where a drug-addict named “Boo” is trying to kidnap his son back from his ex so he can place him in a child porn magazine and make some easy dough. Boo had next to nothing to do with any of the other characters. Plus his storyline just wasn’t very interesting. Since that accounted for 15-20 pages, Kane could’ve easily cut the subplot and got this down to 145 pages. Do the same for another unnecessary subplot or two, and you’re down to 120 in a jiffy, a page number where readers don’t actively hate you within 2 seconds of opening your screenplay.

These City Walls DOES have some stuff going for it though. I WAS curious enough to keep reading and I think that’s because a lot of the characters popped. I don’t know if I’d say they were great because there wasn’t any traditional character development here. We weren’t getting into their pasts or arching them. But they all had personalities, and I think that’s something a lot of writers forget to add. You can include all the depth in the world when it comes to character, but if there isn’t a personality there, we’re probably going to be bored by them.

There’s plenty of personality to go around here. Mr. Man was a part any actor would want to play. Despite Boo being unnecessary, his drug-addicted rantings and mumblings made him stick out. Noel was delightfully naïve. Ma Love stuck out as the aging prostitute. Blackmailed client Milton Klein wore the nervous screwed businessman part well. I don’t remember a lot of characters when I read scripts. I remembered almost all of them here. And that’s saying something.

I thought the dialogue was pretty good at first. It felt authentic. Lines like, “Motherfuckin’ outlaw, man. Bet. Just gotta keep movin’ on that one big sting, though, you know? Get my game straight.” – they put me in that time and place. Impressed me. However, as the script went on, pretty much EVERYONE started talking like this so the effect lost its luster. Literally 8 different characters could’ve said that line, they all spoke so similarly. When you’re writing dialogue, you HAVE to distinguish your characters so that they all talk uniquely. If they’re all talking alike, the dialogue (no matter how good) becomes stale and tiresome, like it did here.

I hate to beat a dead horse, but I think the fixes here are pretty obvious. Get rid of the unneeded time-sucking subplots, and build the story around Mr. Man’s ascension into high class escorting. In other words, give him a CLEAR GOAL. Make this like a prostitute version of Scarface. With that goal driving the story, everything will be more focused, and you still get to explore most of the seedy characters from this draft, just in a more plot-heavy setting. Right now we don’t get to Mr. Man’s first high-class prostitute party until, like, page 110. GIVE ME A BREAK! That should’ve been on page 45 at the latest.

Anyway, this had some nice flashes, but it was too messy to recommend. Too bad. I was hoping to find a lost gem. ☹

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

What I learned: “Writing samples” are scripts that highlight a writer’s biggest strength. They typically aren’t marketable enough to be made. So if you’re great with dialogue, write a script that centers around dialogue. You then get a lot of meetings from people who need dialogue punch-ups and hopefully start making some dough. If a writer gets big enough or a big enough actor falls in love with one of the roles in the script, a “writing sample” will occasionally get made.

What I learned 2: OTMSS (one too many subplots syndrome). A lot of time, when a writer is told to cut out pages from their script, they do so via little pieces here and there. A line of dialogue, a description, the tail end of a scene. If you REALLY want to cut pages, cut out unnecessary subplots. These are subplots that you convince yourself are necessary because you like what they add to the characters, but that don’t move the story forward in any interesting way. Get rid of one of these and you can make 10 pages disappear like THAT. It’s one of the easiest ways to cut a bunch of pages.