Genre: Sci-Fi/Western

I remember reading through the first ten pages of this one and thinking…hmmm, now this is different.  Writers are trying to come up with high concept ideas all the time.  But it’s a tough proposition.  I encounter a lot of ideas that seem high concept, or are high concept “on paper,” but there’s something about them that doesn’t scream movie high concept, the kind of true bona fide high concept idea you hear and you say, “Oooh, now that’s a movie I’d check out.”  And it’s usually a tiny unique addition to a tried-and-true idea that does it.  The tried and true idea here is a small group of people fighting off “monsters.”  The unique twist is that they aren’t “monsters,” per se, but rather mech machines designed to kill humans.

And I’ll just be honest.  I’m a sucker for movies where a hero wakes up someplace unfamiliar with no idea how he got there.  I know it’s cliche.  I know it’s been done a billion times over, but I just think it’s such a compelling situation.  That’s why I put this one in the coveted “definite” pile when I first read it. However, the “definite” pile hasn’t exactly been a bastion of quality.  None of the definites so far have even reached “worth the read” status.  Let’s hope today’s script changes that.

John Caan has just woken up in a Mexican pueblo.  He doesn’t know where he is.  He doesn’t know how he got here.  He’s never even been to Mexico.  So why he would be here is beyond him.  But that’s not even on the radar right now.  What is on the radar are the noises coming from outside.

Caan peeks out the window to see the most horrifying most baffling sight he’s ever seen in his life.  Large mech machines, with saws, with machetes, with lasers, with guns, are massacring a bunch of people in the town square.

While this would be too much for any sane man to handle, Caan’s slightly insane.  And he knows exactly what he has to do.  GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE.  So he loads up his gun and heads outside to get the huh-zell out of Dodge.  There are people dying all around him but he doesn’t care.  It isn’t until a small girl is in trouble that he actually does anything.  But after saving her, he slips out and heads through the desert to safety.

Except it’s not that easy.  Far off in the desert he encounters a huge electrically charged fence.  And more MECHS, standing guard, making sure no humans make it past them.  They chase Caan back to the town and it’s time for plan B.

Back in the town we meet a series of other characters – Michael, the almost Alpha-Male, Lily, the mother of the child Caan saved, Petra, a 20-something goth girl, Tom, a 50-something ex-cop, and a few more.  This is Caan’s army.  And they’re all looking to him for leadership.

But Caan’s not interested in being a leader.  He just wants to find a way out of this situation.  Unfortunately, that’ll mean fending these mechs off for a few days while he figures things out.  So he reluctantly rallies the troops and does the best job he can.

The thing is, nothing goes quite as expected.  The weirdness of this situation just keeps getting weirder. For example, sometimes the mechs don’t want to kill them.  They just want to toy with them.  And (spoiler), the group finds a room deep under the town where 9 bodies lie.  A closer look at the bodies show that they’re exact copies of THEM.

So yeah, shit is pretty f*cked up!  Caan not only needs to find out how to get them out of this alive, but also what the hell is going on here.  And boy is it a shocker when he does figure out the truth!

First off, this is superbly written.  The lines are lean.  The prose is bare but descriptive.  This feels like a spec.  It feels like something that deserves to go out wide and vie for producers’ attention.

And it nails a lot of its components as well.  Our anti-hero leader, Caan, is mysterious and dark enough to keep our interest throughout. Dare I say he’s a worthy successor to Mad Max himself with his selfish yet reluctantly compassionate demeanor.

The situation driving the story is so damn weird (human-killing mechs) that you have to keep reading to find out why the hell this is all happening.  And surprisingly enough – while I admit a tad far-fetched and “out there,” the explanation is – it worked for me in regards to the universe Topham created. That’s where these scripts always fall apart.  An outrageous situation to start the script, yet the writer never explains that situation in a satisfactory way.  I don’t know if it’s that Topham is such a good writer that you believed it all despite its weirdness, or if it honestly just felt right, but it made sense to me and I was satisfied.

I liked the nice little twists and turns also.  For example, early on Caan finds a drawing in a school that shows a man shot in the head, the same man he just saw shot in the exact same way minutes ago.  And (spoiler), when the characters find dead versions of themselves in a room…that’s when I really took notice.  I like those “sit up” moments in a script – moments that are so shocking or weird or cool, that you actually readjust yourself and sit up.  That doesn’t happen very often!

The script is always kept moving by the inherent GSU.  The goal is to hold of the mechs and find a way out of here.  The urgency is the constant barrage of mechs that keep coming.  And the stakes are, obviously, their lives.

I liked how Topham always kept his characters active too.  One of the pitfalls of placing your characters in a confined area is that you’ll just have them sitting around doing nothing for long stretches of time.  In order to combat this, you must always give them a plan, always keep them trying to achieve something, never sitting down and talking in safety for too long. I remember I reviewed an Amateur script awhile back called “Zombie Knights,” that had this exact problem.  The characters just got inside the castle grounds and hung out.  Nothing happened for long stretches of time.  That can NEVER be the case in this kind of story or in a spec script period.

The only real issues I had here surrounded Caan.  Even though I liked him (and I’ll go into why in the ‘what I learned’ section), there were times where he tested me.  He was almost too brooding.  And the eventual reveal to his backstory was boring.  It could’ve been a lot better.  And seriously, writers, don’t have your heroes deliberately kill nice animals – EVER.  When Caan kills the dog/coyote in this, I was like, “Really?? Are you trying to make us hate this guy?”  I find that a little bit of dark or gallows humor can quickly up the likability quotient of your anti-hero.  Let’s go that route instead of making him a dog-killer.

Anyway, this one was fun!  And it now takes the lead as THE BEST TWIT-PITCH SCRIPT OF THE CONTEST!  Check it out yourself in the link below!

Script link: Proving Ground (Since the writer didn’t want his contact info on the script, if you like the script and want to get in touch with the writer, e-mail me and I’ll put you in contact).

What I learned: When you have a brooding protagonist, an anti-hero, or a protagonist who doesn’t talk much, it can be hard for the audience to like/sympathize with him.   The lack of talking makes it difficult to identify with or get into the hero’s head.  Therefore, look to make us like your character through action or choice.  Proving Ground does a great job of this early on.  While everyone’s fighting off the mechs, Caan is simply trying to escape.  That moment presents itself when a mech leaves its guard at the gate to go kill a little girl.  Caan has a choice now.  He can slip out the unattended gate or save the girl.  In the end, he chooses to save the girl.  It’s this action, this choice that makes us like him! Oh, and always place these moments EARLY ON.  It’s important that we like our hero right away!

Genre: Drama
Premise: (from IMDB) A Naval veteran arrives home from war unsettled and uncertain of his future – until he is tantalized by The Cause and its charismatic leader.
About: Paul Thomas Anderson (There Will Be Blood, Boogie Nights) had been talking about making this movie for awhile, but backed off it a couple of times before finally committing to it.  The main issue seemed to be that the script was based off of the early days of L Ron Hubbard and his spooky little cult religion, Scientology.  To get around this, Anderson simply states that the movie has nothing to do with Scientology, which it of course does, but keeps him safe from the evil-doer scientists in the aforementioned religion, who have been known to ruin people’s lives who take them on.
Writer: Paul Thomas Anderson

I have seen many movies in my lifetime.  Good movies.  Bad movies.  Fun movies.  Weird movies.  But I don’t think I’ve ever seen a movie as boring as The Master.  A long time ago, Paul Thomas Anderson’s script was floating around and I was wondering if I should read it, but everybody who’d read it said the same thing: “It must be a really early draft because it’s barely readable.  Nothing makes sense.”  I didn’t want to review something that raw so I moved on.  But it looks like that’s the actual draft he shot!  I don’t know if Anderson is getting lazy, if he’s taking too many drugs, or if he just doesn’t care anymore, but this has to be one of the worst scripts I’ve ever seen turned into a film.

One need look no further than The Master’s story to see how little effort was put into the script.  Imagine a first draft, but the kind of first draft where you’re not even trying – where you’re just attempting to find a few good scenes – where your goal is more to get to the end than construct a compelling drama.  That’s The Master.  It’s almost comical when you try to summarize it, because it’s so random, so directionless.  But I’ll try my best.  Here’s my summary of The Master’s plot…

It’s the 50s I think.  And we’re introduced to a soldier named Freddie.  Freddie has some sort of mental condition although we’re never told or given a hint as to what it is.  Like a lot of things in The Master, it’s vague – not on purpose, but because Anderson was too lazy to figure it out.  Anyway, Freddie’s the kind of guy who will masturbate out in the open, in front of everybody.  So yeah, we love this character right away.

In addition to this, Freddie hovers back and forth between a socially awkward weirdo who can barely interact with other human beings and an ultra smooth lathorio who women can’t keep their hands off of.  How is this possible?  I’ll venture to take a guess.  Because Anderson didn’t know anything about the character and made it all up on the fly.

In addition to Freddie being a nerd/ladie’s man, he also has a talent for mixing alchohol in weird and unique ways.  He can whip up a doozy of a drink with a full bar, but sometimes goes too far and adds questionable ingredients, like paint thinner!  This ends up eventually killing people wherever he goes, so he always gets chased out of every group he becomes a part of.  Hmm, a nonsensical alcohol mixing paint thinner backstory.  Riveting.  And totally relevant.

So after bouncing around, Freddie happens upon a strange miniature cult leader/boat enthusiast/author named Lancaster Dodd.  Dodd doesn’t like being on land because…um, because he doesn’t like people approaching him or something??  Dodd likes Freddie for no reasons that are apparent to the audience.  He just likes him because the script needs him to like him.

It is through this weird friendship that Dodd, who is in the process of creating a new religion, decides to make Freddie his main disciple.  His reasoning, according to him, is that Freddie is “fearless.”  But it’s pretty clear that Freddie is just stupid.  And weird.  That’s one of the only consistencies about The Master – that nothing makes sense and everything often contradicts itself.

Unfortuantely for the actors, and the audience, Anderson has no idea where to go with the story from here.  We just sort of stumble along, with the only real hint of a plot being the release of Dodd’s second book.  But even that seems to be forgotten for most of the screenplay and is sprung upon us out of nowhere near the end of the second act (if there even were acts?).  The story here was so formless and random that I remember at one point thinking the film could either end in 5 minutes or 50 minutes. That’s how little purpose or direction it all had.  You just had no idea where the hell it was going!

And that can be fun if there’s an actual story.  But there wasn’t any.  It literally felt like Anderson woke up each day of shooting, asked the actors what they wanted to do, and just played around with a bunch of random scenes until they shot something they liked, logic and story be damned.

I’ll tell you the scene that really did it in for me.  It’s a scene on the ship when Dodd first calls stowaway Freddie into his quarters.  Dodd starts off the scene by scolding Freddie for being a deadbeat drunk, telling him that he’ll never amount to anything because of his dependency on alcohol.  The two then talk for a few minutes and how does the scene end?  By Dodd saying he got wasted on Freddie’s special alcohol mix, loves it, and he desperately wants him to make more so they can get drunk again.

Uhhhhh…what????  “You’re a stupid drunk.  Clean yourself up.  Oh hey, let’s make some more alcohol and get wasted.”  This epitomizes just how nonsensical and high Anderson was when he was writing and shooting this.  Absolutely NOTHING made sense.

And there was no BUILD to this story.  Dodd was at the same place in his career at the end of his movie as he was the beginning.  This would’ve been so much better had we watched Dodd rise up as an unknown nobody into a dominant cult leader with sweeping power and influence, much like Anderson did with There Will Be Blood.  You then pitt people against him, people to call him out, and relish in the sustained conflict that storyline offers.  We almost ALMOST got a hint of this early on, and not surprisingly, it was one of the best scenes in the movie.  At a party where Dodd is explaining his philosophies, a man walks in and challenges him in front of everyone, calling his work a sham.  Dodd is forced to defend his stance, and it’s an intense and riveting standoff.  We needed more scenes LIKE THAT.  Instead,  the conflict amounts to Dodd encountering a series of tiny inconsequential incidents which had no consequences whatsover.  Dodd was never in any danger or trouble.  So who cares?  Even when he goes to jail for…I don’t know, being “cultish” or something, he’s out of there in a day and back to his life.  Where were the stakes????

There was so little here that was thought through.  And it’s a shame.  Because the cinematography was amazing.  The score was great.  The actors came to play.  Hoffman, especially, was great.  But even though Phoenix’s performance was memorable, it was memorable for all the wrong reasons.  Not because it served the story, but because Anderson clearly told him to act however fucking crazy he wanted to, then yelled action. Talk about an uncontrolled and random performance.  Again, I still don’t know if Freddie is a stud or a dork.  I don’t know anything about him.

Obviously, I’m disappointed by this effort.  Paul Thomas Anderson is one of the few truly original voices out there that Hollywood allows to make movies.  He owes it to himself and to us to give everything he can on the script, and not just one-draft it ala prequel George Lucas.  The abysmallness of this script is right up there with Kingdom Of The Crystal Skull.  Just embarrassingly awful.  So upset by this script and film.

What I learned: Laziness in scriptwriting ALWAYS COMES BACK TO BITE YOU.  You can’t hide it.  Readers aren’t stupid.  They will always spot it.  They will always call you out.  And we all know when we’re doing it.  We all know when we’re being lazy.  We all try to talk ourselves into why it’s okay for that specific scene or moment.  DON’T FALL INTO THAT TRAP.  Don’t let a single piece of your script be lazy.  It will come back to bite you, I promise.

Genre: Horror/Procedural
Premise: An allegedly rehabilitated Dr. Jekyll is pulled out of prison to help hunt a new monster who seems to be using an improved version of the Hyde serum.
About: “Hyde” made the 2010 Black List.  While writing Hyde, screenwriter Cole Haddon concurrently wrote the story in graphic novel form for Dark Horse.  That novel is titled “The Strange Case Of Mr. Hyde” and is available on Amazon.  
Writer: Cole Haddon
Details: 114 pages (8-06-10 draft) This is the first draft (the one that made the Black List).

I’m still kind of geeking out after meeting Eddie O’Keefe last night, one half of the writing team of When The Streetlights Go On.  These guys just ignore ALL RULES.  The draft of theirs that made the Black List?  That script was written in SIX WEEKS.  Oh, and did I mention it was their FIRST SCREENPLAY.  Wowzers – that goes against everything history has dictated regarding first scripts.

Eddie talked about how he and his partner, Chris, don’t focus too much on structure, but rather come up with this huge playlist of songs that they feel is appropriate for the material, and just let the music guide their writing and their choices.  Again, this is sooooo NOT the way I’d recommend anyone doing it.  Because believe me, I’ve read stuff from writers who’ve written that way before, and it is NEVER GOOD.  So to see these guys use such an undefined unstructured approach so effectively is both scary and inspiring.

With that said, they DID read all the screenwriting books before they wrote the script.  They do understand things like active characters and act breaks and all that.  So they did have that in the back of their mind when they were writing.  They’ve also written lots of short stories and both attended film school – so it wasn’t like they were going into this screenwriting thing completely unprepared.  Still, I love how that approach works for them, because it’s what makes their work so unique and unpredictable.  Oh, and he told me that in addition to Streetlights and Broadcast, the two have written a script that he feels is EASILY their best work.  It’s just not very well known.  Eddie says he’s going to send that to me and I cannot wait!

What does this have to do with today’s script?  NOTHING!  I just wanted to get my geekery on and this felt like the right place to do it.  However, Eddie and Chris did not write today’s script.  So let’s move away from formless writing to something a little more structured, and surprisingly good!

So as you probably know, back in the day, there was this doctor named Henry Jeckyll.  Dude liked to experiment.  And dangit if he wasn’t such a believer in his work that he’d experiment on himself!  That didn’t turn out so hot, though, since one of his experiments turned him into a monster, a monster who crawled through 1880s London looking for people to mutilate. Eventually, the coppers caught up with him and killed his ass, and the world was forever better.

Or was it?

Five years later, a rash of prostitute killings have started up again, and the crime scenes look like something out of a superhero film.  20 some feet between fleeing footsteps. Blood trails halfway up the sides of buildings.  Whoever’s pulling off these killings is superhuman.

But who could it be?  Hyde was killed five years ago.  At least that’s what everyone was told.  Our resident inspector on the case, the off-putting Thomas Adye, learns that Hyde, in fact, wasn’t killed.  Why would you kill something with that much power when you could study it instead (Paul Riser from Aliens would be proud!)?  So the dual personalities of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde have been kept underground in the interim, locked up in a Hannibal Lector-like cage that only an unprivileged few have access to.  Adye is tasked with going to talk with Dr. Jeckyll to see if he can get a beat on who this monster is and where it might be.

The two don’t hit it off AT ALL and Adye leaves hoping he’ll never never have to see Jeckyll again.  But when he runs into the murderer who shrugs off a few bullets like he’s being tickled by duck feathers, he realizes he’s in way over his head.  If he’s going to take this killer down, he will need the help of the man he despises the most, his underground cell buddy, Dr. Jeckyll.

Away the two go, into the streets, pounding the pavement, talking to anyone who might know who this killer is.  Of course, the scum of the underground don’t like to talk to cops, so it’s hard-going wherever they turn, especially with the mischievous Jeckyll delighting in every little misstep Adye takes.

After a couple of false-positives, the duo finally find out who they’re dealing with (spoiler).  In case you haven’t figured it out yet – yup – our “psycho killer” is none-other than Jack The Ripper.  Yikes.  As if we didn’t have enough problems.  And since Mr. Ripper also seems to have gotten his hands on Dr. Jeckyll’s serum, he’s basically like a serial killing nuclear bomb!

So our mismatched couple will need to put aside their differences to catch the killer before he continues his run.  But it’s starting to look like the only way they’re going to stop him, is if they use some of that infamous serum themselves…

Duh duh duh duhhhhhhh…..

I’m not really a fan of these outdated public domain monsters. I know there’s a reason some of this stuff stands the test of time, but to me I’m always thinking, “Ehhh, isn’t a hundred years enough? Shouldn’t we, maybe, try to come up with new monsters and new stories?”  I know saying such words could get me blackballed from Hollywood, but seriously – let’s create something new, not rekindle something old!

With that said, this is about as good of a job as you can do with this kind of story.  The atmospheric writing (I love the way Haddon describes Jeckyll’s face as “UNEXPECTEDLY HANDSOME, startlingly so…” when it first slams into his jail cell bars, his features clear for the first time after being hidden in shadows the entire scene) and forward-moving story kept things fun throughout.  In these procedurals – these “chase the killer” scripts – it’s all about pushing the story forward, keeping the momentum going, and I thought Haddon did that brilliantly.  There’s never a moment where we’re just sitting around discussing shit.  We’re always AFTER THE KILLER.

The real star of the script though was the relationship between the straight-laced Adye and the mischievous Jeckyll.  This updated (or backdated) take on the buddy-cop dynamic was, dare I say, scrumptious.  It was hilarious to watch Adye obsessed and freaked out by every little detail, contrasted with Jeckyll, who was just thrilled to be out of his cell for a few days.  This was one big field trip for him, and dammit if he wasn’t going to play on everything before the whistle to go back inside blew (God I hated that whistle!).

I (spoiler) thought bringing Jack The Ripper into the mix was also clever, as was giving him access to Jeckyll’s serum, making him super-human.  I mean what’s scarier than a monster version of Jack The Ripper??  Maybe the only thing I was worried about was that this felt a teensy bit similar to the abomination known as Van Helsing. I hope if they make this, they don’t “kids family” it up but stick with the darker more intense approach.  That will definitely hurt opening day grosses, but it will pay off for the film in the long run.

Honestly, the only reason I didn’t rate this higher was because it’s not my thing.  But for what it is, it’s pretty damn enjoyable.

What I learned: A common screenwriting debate is whether you should write dialogue “properly” or if you should add accents and speech imperfections.  Take for instance this line on page 12 from Chief Inspector Newcomen: “Stay away from Hyde, Inspector. ‘E’s like a poison that keeps working at you. A poison, just ask ‘is mate Utterson.”  The way I see it is is this – you can add speech imperfections as long as you don’t overdo it.  As soon as I have to WORK to get through all the accents and deliberate misspellings, I get pissed at the writer, because a reader should never have to work.  So use it sparingly if you REALLY NEED TO, but don’t slaughter your dialogue with it.

Genre: Dark Thriller
Premise: Often told through the point of view of the killer himself, Psycho Killer is about a serial killer who believes he must kill as many people as possible in order to receive preferred status in Hell.
About: Andrew Kevin Walker is, of course, spec sale royalty, as his script “Seven” was one of the most popular spec scripts in Hollywood history.  It eventually went on to be directed by David Fincher, starring Morgan Freeman, Brad Pitt, and Kevin Spacey.  Walker would struggle a bit after that sale, eventually writing and selling another script, 8mm, for 1.25 million dollars.   Unfortunately, the studio deemed that work too dark and encouraged director Joel Schumacher to sanitize it.  The results were so bad that Walker disowned the movie and has refused to watch it since, even to this day.  Psycho Killer is a script he penned four years ago.  Not sure where it stands at this moment.
Writer: Andrew Kevin Walker
Details: 113 pages.  July 4, 2008. This is a SECOND DRAFT.  So take that into consideration.

While Andrew Kevin Walker remains spec sale royalty due to his screenplay masterpiece, Seven, lighting up Hollywood back in the 90s, it still remains unclear how the script sold.  I could’ve sworn  the script was found in a production slush pile.  But people also say Walker gave the script to A-list screenwriter David Koepp, who he reportedly had a friendship with.  Koepp then passed the script on to New Line, who purchased it.  If anyone can clear this up for me, that would be great.  Because hey, the story’s definitely more inspiring to the average writer if the the script was discovered on talent alone, and not through an A-list Hollywood contact.

There’s this sort of unofficial age-old debate that has gone on about which sick dark fucked up movie is better, Seven or Silence Of The Lambs.  Personally, I’ve always been a Lambs guy.  I just thought the character work in that script was a lot better.  Seven wins on atmosphere for sure.  But I just didn’t find the characters as compelling as I did in Lambs.  Of course, that could’ve been due in part to Pitt’s acting. :) Anyway, that’s a nice segue way into today’s script, because what keeps this script from connecting with the reader is a somewhat distant character dynamic.

Psycho Killer has a freaking awesome opening.  Imagine a…um…well Psycho Killer popping out of his car on a highway, walking over to a man who’s changing his tire, bashing his head into smithereens with a sledgehammer, chasing his wife down the highway, seeing a semi baring down on them, hurling the sledgehammer at the truck with all his might.  The sledgehammer goes through the windshield.  The incapacitated driver loses control of his truck, which jackknifes, turning the fleeing woman into road gravy, before finally coming to a stop.  All in a day’s work for our Psycho Killer, who’s in the middle of an 8 state killing spree.

What sets Psycho Killer apart right away is that we take the POV of the killer himself.  So we’re the bad guy for the entire first act.  I thought we were going to be the bad guy for the entire movie, but when Psycho Killer (yes, his name is actually “Psycho Killer”) kills a cop in front of his fellow cop wife (Jane), the POV turns to a traditional third person narrative and we follow Jane as she tries to avenge her hubby’s death.

To me, this was when the script sort of lost its appeal.  Although it was disturbing, what made it unique was watching a killer through a killer’s eyes.  Once it became a straightforward procedural, it didn’t hold up because I didn’t feel anything for the characters.  I guess I should’ve felt something since Jane watched her husband die, but there was just something standard and unexciting about her character.  I don’t know.  She just felt too…normal.

But we do occasionally cut back to Psycho Killer’s life, which seems to be consumed by these nightmares of hell.  Psycho Killer is convinced that he has some higher purpose and will be rewarded in hell, as long as he keeps killing people.  This leads him on a search for a secret group of fellow satan worshippers, who he eventually finds after putting a code message in the New York Times (huh?).

The story finishes with a rather strange choice, sending Psycho Killer on a much larger mission to kill way more people than the inefficient one at a time he kills every day.  I’m not going to spoil it, but I’ll just say the movie turns from a serial killer movie into, basically, a terrorist movie, and that didn’t feel right.

I’ll give Psycho Killer this – it *is* a little bit different.  Just putting us inside the body of a serial killer was creepy enough and made for some great dramatic irony moments.  Remember, dramatic irony is when we know something one of the characters in a scene does not.  So in this case, we knew Psycho Killer was about to kill some poor unsuspecting soul, and that we couldn’t warn that soul.  So that made for some tension-filled scenes, if not some majorly fucked up ones!

And ya gotta love how Walker decided to name his character PSYCHO KILLER.  Lol.  I mean how great is that?

But the rest of the script – and obviously this has something to do with this still being a second draft – feels exploratory.  We have these random dream sequences where Psycho Killer imagines himself in Hell surrounded by demons.  They feel like kick ass scenes for a director to play with but, storywise, they’re glorified film school writing, where every tenth page is yet another “trippy” dream sequence.

I suppose it comes together later when Psycho Killer joins up with some satanists and they talk about Hell taking over earth and all that jazz.  But that was a concert I wasn’t interested in going to, and to be honest, it all felt a might confused, again probably due to the exploratory nature of the second draft.

What bothers me is that I couldn’t figure out why I didn’t care for Jane at all.  Just the other day, with Desperate Hours, I was talking about how effectively loss creates sympathy for a character.  The reason we’re on board with Frank Sullivan right away is because we feel his pain in losing his family to the Spanish flu.  So then why don’t I feel a thing when Jane loses her husband to Psycho Killer?

I can’t figure it out but I suppose part of it is that she just seemed so mechanical.  Her personality was non-specific, basic, and just boring.  It almost felt like she wanted to find Psycho Killer not because she was deeply affected by losing her husband, but because the script needed her to want to find him.  And that’s when a story falls off the rails, when things are happening because the writer needs them to and not because the characters need them to.  I don’t know.  Am I the only one who thought this?

Since I’m obviously not going to root for a Psycho Killer, that meant I had no one to cheer on.  If you don’t have any characters to attach yourself to in a movie, then the movie’s dead to you.  Doesn’t matter how clever the plot or the twists are, I’m not emotionally invested and therefore not interested in the story.

That’s a shame.  I still think Walker is a great screenwriter but I would’ve loved to have had someone to root for here.  I hope Walker’s since fixed this problem.

What i learned – This scene ALWAYS WORKS.  Put your character in a car with something he’s hiding, then have a cop stop him.  It is virtually impossible to screw this scene up.  We see it here when Psycho Killer gets stopped.  We see it in Fargo when the cop stops Carl and Gaear.  Just make sure you milk the suspense.  The audience loves wondering what’s going to happen, so feel free to draw it out as long as you’d like.

Genre: Comedy
Premise: A school guidance counselor who dated pop sensation Lake James back in high school, follows her into rehab in hopes of rekindling their romance.
About: Writer Sam Laybourne is a producer on the cult comedy hit, Cougar Town (which I admit is actually kind of funny, even if all the characters are written in the exact same voice).  He’s also written an episode of another cult fave, Arrested Development.  On top of that, he has an in-development future TV project set up with Michael J. Fox.  Rehab sold early last year I believe.
Writer: Sam Laybourne
Details: May 11, 2009 draft (Writer’s Draft)

It seems like every time I read a comedy these days, I go in thinking it will suck. And that sucks. Because I don’t want it to suck.  Honestly.  But the kind of writers who write comedies are sort of flippant by nature.  They’re willing to do the easy stuff, the setting up and paying off of jokes, but refuse to do the “hard time” work.  The structure.  The story.  The characters.  That’s where you separate the “writers” from the writers – As long as you’re willing to get your hands dirty, you can write a great comedy.

Laybourne’s someone who’s willing to do the dirty work.  How do I know?  Well, because he actually gave a secondary character a goal/dream (the main character’s friend, Touchdown, wants to play in the Arena Football League).  I know if a writer’s focusing on the desires of his secondary characters, that he’s a real writer.  So once we established that, I knew that at the very least, this writer was giving it his all.  How did it work out in the end?  Was Rehab successful?  Or did it fall off the wagon? Read on….

23 year old Abe Yarbow is the cool guidance counselor at his high school, a high school he used to attend himself with none other than Lake James.  Who is Lake James, you ask?  Well, she’s basically the reincarnation of Courtney Love.  She gets drunk.  She gets high.  She parties.  She vomits.  This woman is like a one-person partying crew.  To the point where it *almost* overshadows her amazing career, which consists of one hit single after another.

Anyway, Abe actually went out with Lake James in high school.  For three years!  And he’s kinda maybe partially still infatuated with her.  You see, Lake was discovered right out of a high school play, whisked off to Hollywood, became a megastar, and in the process never officially broke up with Abe.  So in Abe’s mind, they’re still together, and all he needs to do is get in touch with her to restart their romance.

However, this has proven to be harder than you’d think.  He’s gone down every single communication avenue, even going so far as to contact the Lake James Fan Club hotline.  Yes, he is as pathetic as that sounds.  Luckily, there’s one person in his life, the self-nicknamed “Touchdown” (a gym teacher who’s convinced he’ll play professional football someday) who constantly reminds him how pathetic he is for obsessing over this worthless bitch, and is desperate to get him to move on.

But Abe can’t move on.  He’s too in love.  And that’s when a situation arises that will finally allow him to rekindle his romance with Lake.  It turns out the Taco Bell sponsored James drunk-drove right into rival Del Taco in a desperate attempt to fill her belly with some late night Del Taco snacks.  This adventure has dictated that she finally go to rehab, where the straight-laced Abe plans to sneak into and jumpstart their relationship again.

Once inside, Abe tries everything in his power to get Lake to notice him, but she’s not biting on any front.  In the meantime, Abe finds comfort from one of the assistants at the center, someone he’d probably fall in love with if he wasn’t so infatuated with Lake.  So will Abe finally wake up from his whipped life?  Or will he continue down this pathetic path of trying to rekindle something that was never kindling in the first place?

First off, I liked the humor in Rehab.  I was laughing a lot.  Abe’s over the top infatuation with Lake was pitch perfect (I loved how he’d answer every phone call with a hopeful, “Lake?”) and Abe and Touchdown had a nice little back-and-forth banter going on.

Speaking of Touchdown, Laybourne had an interesting naming scheme going on in Rehab.  He’d basically give every other character a nickname.  When I see this in comedy scripts, I almost always recognize a former reader.  Only readers understand how difficult it is to remember all the characters in the script so when they write their own scripts, they’re very conscious of making sure every character is memorable  You can’t really pull off the nickname thing in dramas or thrillers.  But they’re perfect for comedies.

The script was also really well structured.  I liked how Laybourne divided his story into sequences (what’s known as the “Sequence Approach”) and how that approach kept the script moving.  For example, Abe got into rehab, and for about 12 pages, tried to be really nice to Lake to get her back.  That didn’t work.  So he shifts for the next 12 pages into the “bad boy,” and tries to pretend like he doesn’t care.  That approach eventually works and the next 12 pages are about Lake warming up to him.  And then the 12 pages after that are about Lake falling for Abe and pulling him into her twisted dangerous world.

Because each sequence changes up the story just a little bit, it continued to be fresh.  Amateur scripts tend to drop the ball in this area.  There’s never any real change of direction in the screenplay.  It’s just one long string of the same.

I don’t think this script is going to win any awards.  I don’t think it’s going to light the world on fire.  But it’s a nice little twist on a romantic comedy and isn’t that what we’re looking for?  Something the same but different?  In my opinion, this is just different enough to be worthy of hitting the big screen. It’s certainly better than most of the comedies out there now.