NEW Amateur Friday Submission Process: To submit your script for an Amateur Review, send in a PDF of your script, a PDF of the first ten pages of your script, your title, genre, logline, and finally, why I should read your script. Use my submission address please: Carsonreeves3@gmail.com. Your script and “first ten” will be posted. If you’re nervous about the effect of a bad review, feel free to use an alias name and/or title. It’s a good idea to resubmit every couple of weeks so your submission stays near the top.

Genre: Sci-Fi
Premise: (from writer) In the year 3000, the husband and wife survivors of an elite black ops unit are on a mission to infiltrate a rebelling orbital state, resolve a tense hostage situation and avenge their fallen teammates. As the only people admitted Upstairs are kids and their parents, the operatives have to adopt a 13-year old girl as their cover.
About: A year ago, a brave young Scriptshadow reader subjected himself to an Amateur Friday Review that might have been the most infamous ever if not for a certain Trajent Future.  If you don’t feel like reading that review, I’ll boil it down for you.  I laid into the script for not having a plot, structure, or characters.  It felt like it’d been written in a week. Well, Sweden, who took a beating in that review and in the talkback, ingested all that feedback, went back to the drawing board, and approached the story from a whole new angle.  This is his rewrite.
Writer: John Sweden
Details: 99 pages

Instead of doing the intro on this one, I’ll let Mr. Sweden do it himself!  Here was his e-mail to me about why I should read his script: “One year ago in the talkback for my hilariously offensive script “Orbitals” some kind commenter suggested that the concept would be perfect for a PG-rated Disney summer blockbuster. I replied that I’d actually pay to see such a big budget version of my story. “Why don’t you write it yourself? — asked the commenter. — This way you won’t have to pay — you’ll see it at the premiere!” So I spent a year researching, writing and re-writing my own brand of a summer sci-fi adventure movie: as realistic, action-packed and — most of all — human a story as I could possibly imagine. I think it would be fairly interesting to do an anniversary Friday — a sort of “a year in life of an amateur screenwriter” thing.”

Okay then John, let’s see how you did!

Orbitals 2: Orbital War, begins by taking us through many centuries until we get to modern day, which in this story is the year 3000 (I think – more on this in a moment).  During all that time, mankind has sent a ton of satellites and space stations up into space, creating many rings of debris around the planet, similar to Saturn.

There also appears to be a war or two going on.  The first war is happening down on earth (I think – more on this in a moment) between…well, I’ll be honest, I’m not sure who it’s between.  But there’s definitely some sort of war going on!  Actually, that’s not true.  I’m not sure there’s a war going on.  But there are people firing weapons at each other.  That I can tell you with certainty.  I think.  No, I know.  Yeah, I know that for sure.  I think.

So in one of these warring factions/teams is some sort of orphanage – I think.  I say “I think” because I couldn’t figure out why any army would also carry with them a bunch of orphans.  Anyway, in that orphanage is a 13 year old girl named Haley, who’s had a rough life, as indicated by the huge scar on her face.  When the bad guys (I’m assuming they’re bad since the orphanage army has to be good, right?) successfully take down Orphanage Army, two soldiers, Jonathan and his beautiful wife Stellar, light up when they find Haley amongst the wreckage.

That’s because Jonathan and Stellar need a kid if they’re to make it up to Orbital Station, which has a requirement that only full families (with children) are allowed on the premises.  Oh yeah, I almost forgot to tell you about Orbital Station!  Besides these two warring factions, there’s this really evil dude up on this station who’s housing…ALIENS.  Yes, he’s got a couple of aliens on the ship and is using them to threaten earth, even going so far as to ignite a tidal wave that destroys San Francisco.  I’ll be honest, I’m still not sure if he’s affiliated with one of the factions on earth or not.  But after making his Tidal Wave point, he tells the earthlings his demands are….NOTHING.  He doesn’t want anything.  I guess he just wanted to test out his cool tidal wave weapon.

Anyway, Jonathan and Stellar tell Haley she has to pretend to be their child since they want to go up to the Orbital station and blow up the aliens.  Haley shrugs her shoulders – “Sure, why not?”  It’s not like she has anything better to do.  So the trio develop aliases and hop onto the next transport to Orbitsville.  Once there, their cover is blown quickly, and everyone on Orbital wants them dead…..I think.

Okay, John did address one of my main concerns.  His previous script felt like it was whipped up in 3 days after a Reno bender.  This script, however, is bursting with effort.  Remember, readers can tell when a writer isn’t putting in the effort.  In these cases, your script isn’t a script.  It’s Al Qaeda.  And we will do everything in our power to rip it to shreds.  Never EVER waste a reader’s time.

The problem with John’s rewrite is, a lot of this effort is misguided, starting with a really confusing plot.  I mean right from the outset, I was confused.  We start out in the year 2020.  5 paragraphs later we’re in 2312.  Five paragraphs later we’re in 2750.  And five paragraphs after that, we’re in the year 3000.

Now there’s no rule that says you can’t jump through time in your screenplay.  But John doesn’t prepare us for this.  He never informed us that this was going to be a montage.  So we’re just sort of watching these huge chunks of time go by without understanding why.

This is followed by an introduction to a group of characters known as the Archangels.  Cool name.  But what the hell are they?  It’s not clear what their place in the story is.  I actually thought they were like the stars at the beginning of It’s A Wonderful Life, since they start telling us a story.  The story appears to be about the long ago past.  However, later in the script, we’re told that we’re still in the year 3000.  Very confusing.

From there, we’re all of a sudden thrown into this desert with someone named Gareth.  Gareth and his team are preparing to attack an army – drones of some sort (I think).  But we’re just thrust into it with no explanation of what’s going on.  Who’s Gareth?  Why’s he talking to a 13 year old girl?  Why are they in a desert fighting a drone army?  What is the objective here?  Who’s trying to attack what and why?  What do orphans have to do with any of this?

It’s just really damn confusing.  I mean we’ve started out with three segments here – A thousand year montage, an introduction to a strange unexplained group, and a random desert attack.  As if that’s not enough, we then get the president of the Orbital Station destroying San Francisco, claiming he has aliens, then telling the Earth that he has no demands.  So he just wanted to blow something up and brag that he had aliens???  What’s going on???

There are two mistakes here and they’re mistakes I see a lot of beginners make.  Plot complexity and writing clarity.  Sometimes writers simply over-plot their story.  Here we have a thousand years going by.  Some sort of war on earth.  Archangels.  An Orbital Station Maniac.  Aliens.  A military couple who wants to blow up the station but can’t do so without kidnapping an orphan and pretending she’s their daughter.  It just feels like too much.

Then there’s clarity.  John consistently keeps key information from us.  He doesn’t explain why the Orbital Leader destroys San Francisco.  He doesn’t explain why he doesn’t have demands afterwards.  He doesn’t explain why we’re in the desert in the middle of a war.  He doesn’t explain who the sides are.  He doesn’t explain why one side has an orphanage in its possession  He doesn’t explain why Haley appears to be special within this orphanage.  He doesn’t even explain basic logistical things well – like who’s shooting at what.  For example, there’s this big turret gun featured at the beginning of the desert battle.  But I have no idea whose it is or what it’s shooting at.

Both of these issues are big, but when you combine them – plot complexity AND lack of clarity – it’s a script-killer.  There’s no way to recover from it.  ESPECIALLY when you’re writing sci-fi, which requires a lot more from the reader, since they also have to learn your world and memorize the rules and characters that govern it.  So it’s like a trifecta of script-destroying.  And unfortunately that means everything that comes after it – good or bad – is irrelevant.  We can talk about how good Scene 45 was, but what does it matter if we already checked out in Scene 5?

Having said that, this script *is* better than John’s earlier effort.  You can tell right away that he’s put a ton more effort into it.  It’s unfortunate the story is so murky, to be honest, because the universe itself is extensively detailed and pain-stakingly explored.  John didn’t come up with this on a Saturday night after smoking a pound of weed.  He really pushed himself.

But that’s the shitty reality about writing sci-fi (or fantasy).  And it’s a mistake I see writers make all the time – particularly advanced beginners for some reason.  You can create an amazingly detailed Star Wars or Lord Of The Rings-like universe.  But if the story sucks or is confusing, it doesn’t matter one iota.  I don’t care if you know the history of Planet Nebular down to the year of the last ice age if the whole time I’m scratching my head going, “Uhhhh, why the fuck are we on this planet again??”

So I think John’s learned a valuable lesson.  He’s learned how much effort it takes to write a screenplay.   Which is important, because some writers never learn that lesson and keep scribbling out half-assed “final” drafts.  But there are still some huge lessons he must take from this.  Don’t make your plot any more complicated than it has to be – especially sci-fi plots, since you’re already asking a ton of your reader.  Remember, Star Wars, at its core, has a very simple plot.  Bad guys chase good guys.

And then, of course, John must learn the value of clarity.  Stop worrying so much about writing the perfect poetic sentence.  Instead, just convey what’s going on and why it’s going on as clearly as possible.  I don’t care about the way the asteroid vessel gleams in the distant sunlight if I don’t have the slightest clue why the hell we’re focusing on an asteroid vessel in the first place.

This skill unfortunately takes many scripts to master.  It takes most beginning screenwriters forever just to realize they’re not conveying themselves clearly.  There’s a difference between the scene in your head and the scene that’s written.  You must master the language which allows your reader to not only see what you’re seeing, but understand what you’re saying.  One of the best ways to speed this process along is to give your script to a good friend and go through it afterwards, asking them what made sense and what didn’t.  You’ll start to see patterns in where you’re being unclear, lessening the chances you’ll do it again.

I hate to do this to John but this script still isn’t up to “wasn’t for me” standards.  When, as a reader, you’re not even sure what’s happening half the time, that’s a major problem.  So unfortunately, Orbital War still gets the dubious lowest Scriptshadow rating.

Script link: Orbital War  (p.s. If you want to get the Amateur Friday scripts early, e-mail me with subject line: “EARLY”)

What I Learned: Clarity over poetry.  Poetic prose is something advanced beginners obsess over.  They think that if every sentence is perfectly written, the reader will fall in love with the script.  But when a writer favors this approach, it almost always comes at the expense of clarity.  A reader would rather read, “David ducks under Linda’s swing and crushes her nose with a stiff elbow” than, “David’s shirt echoes his acrobatic duck as the clothesline of flesh soars an inch above his head.  His shadow displays a quickness even cheetahs would envy, turning the nose of his victim into a sprinkler of crimson.”  Enough already.  Just tell us what’s f*cking happening!

Genre: Comedy
Premise: (original Twit-Pitch logline) With his favorite fast-food sandwich facing its final week before it’s phased out forever, an obsessed man leads a protest to save it.
About: For those recently joining Scriptshadow, I held a contest a few months back called “Twit-Pitch,” where anyone could pitch me their screenplay on Twitter, as long as it was contained within a single tweet.  I picked my 100 favorite loglines and read the first 10 pages of each (which I live-reviewed on Twitter), and then from those, picked the Top 20, which I’ll read the entire screenplay for.  Yesterday I thought, “What better way to kick off the reads than to review one of the finalists on Scriptshadow?”  So here we are.  Welcome…to the first entry in the Twit-Pitch Top 20!
Writer: Jerry Hernandez.
Details: 103 pages

I met today’s writer, Jerry Hernandez, AND his beautiful wife, at the Scriptshadow meet-up last week (at a bar called The Village Idiot – keep all jokes to yourself please).  Like everyone I met, he was extremely nice and fun to hang out with.  Which of course means I won’t be able to say anything bad about his script.

However, this is a competition, which means not everyone wins the gold medal.  And there were some things that worried me going into a full Gravy Train feast.  I love Jerry’s opening scene, which is why I advanced it.  But the end of the ten pages started to peter out just a little, and it had me wondering: Can Jerry extend this premise out to an entire feature-length film?  Let’s find out.

Rough-around-the-edges Middle School teacher Bronson Matas has one love in his life – Going to his favorite fast food restaurant, DJ’s, and ordering the “Gravy Train.”  Sure, the Gravy Train (a mound of turkey, gravy, bread and grease) is 4000 calories and cuts a month out of your lifespan whenever you eat one.  But dammit, isn’t that the American way?  To be able to physically watch yourself get fatter during a meal in hopes that one day you can be one of those Walmart shoppers riding around in those shopping scooters?

Bronson thinks so.

Unfortunately, DJ’s doesn’t think so.  Lawsuits from overly obese customers who somehow weren’t aware that 4000 calorie meals make you diabetes-ridden Jabba the Hut clones, have destroyed store margins, leaving DJ’s on the brink of bankruptcy.  One of the execs has an idea though.  The Veggie Train.  Not only is it healthy, but it costs 1/4 the budget of the Gravy Train to make!

And so the unthinkable happens.  An announcement is made that The Gravy Train will be phased out.  Well this, like turkeys, just doesn’t fly with Bronson.  The Gravy Train is his f*cking LIFE!  So he grabs his best friend and roommate, Randy (who ironically hates the Gravy Train) and begins a campaign to save the sandwich.

However, things get tricky when PETA clone “Animals Are People Too” come out in droves to make sure the Gravy Train stays dead.  Bronson realizes that if his campaign is going to get noticed, he’ll have to add numbers.  So he launches a Twitter campaign that finds him…well, the exact kind of people you’d expect to find wanting to save a 4000 calorie sandwich (a bunch of losers).  

Concurrently, Bronson is trying to get with his old high school flame, Golda, who’s since gone on to create a Tia Tequila-like empire for herself, singing pop songs as deep as desert puddles.  Bronson and Golda used to make love while eating Gravy Trains, so there’s obviously a personal attachment here.  But when Golda switches allegiances and sides with the Veggie Train, Bronson will have to make the most difficult decision of his life – Love…..or sandwich.

Usually when I go back to a script I liked, I see the flaws more clearly, since I’m more concentrated on the writing than the story.  But surprisingly enough, I actually liked Ridin’ The Gravy Train’s first 10 BETTER the second time around than the first.  It’s my kind of humor.  And there was just an effortlessness to the way Hernandez wrote his pages.  One of the most powerful tools a writer can possess is the ability to make a screenplay not seem like a screenplay, but rather real life happening before our eyes.  And I felt that during those first ten.

But things did start to get bumpy after those initial pages, some of which had to do with the thin premise and some of which had to do with the hero himself.  First of all, I’m not sure we like Bronson.  That’s not to say we NEED to like the lead in a comedy script.  The funnier a character is, the more we’ll put up with.  And Bronson is funny.  But he’s just such a loser and is so selfish and so mean-spirited, I had a hard time rooting for the guy.

In fact, Bronson gets more unlikable as the script goes on.  He becomes more selfish (never once listens to his friends and only looks out for his own interests), more angry (thinks all his students are idiots and treats them like shit) and consistently acts like a loser (his only real goal besides saving the sandwich is getting high).

And I understand it’s a delicate line.  A lot of humor can be mined from anger/cruelty/selfishness.  Look no further than Bill Murray in Groundhog Day.  But I think that character is the exception to the rule.  Most heroes, particularly when they’re not yet embodied by an actor America’s familiar with, need at least one thing to make us like them.  Because if we like them, we want to root for them.  I’m not sure what that trait needs to be with Bronson, but I’m pretty sure he needs it.

Another issue was the structure.  The Gravy Train sandwich is eliminated from the menu about 12 pages into the script.  However, after another 12 pages, it’s put back on the menu, and we go from “Gravy Train is gone” to “Gravy Train is back for a month and gets a farewell tour.”  I don’t think Jerry meant for it to come off this way, but it felt like the plot was stalling.  It was a weak development, since both issues were essentially the same.  Why not have him come in the first time and learn that the Gravy Train is starting its farewell tour?  Then you’re not wasting 12 pages.  It’s not a huge deal, but in a script where people are going in questioning the premises’ legs, it looks bad when you’re already repeating similar plot developments in the first act.

The last couple of issues I had were motivation-based.  I wasn’t sure why the bad guys wanted to eliminate the Gravy Train so badly.  Yeah, there’s the cost-cutting thing, but that was a throwaway line.  These guys are fighting our hero tooth-and-nail throughout the screenplay to eliminate this sandwich.  If I’m not sure why they’re doing it, then the conflict between them and Bronson feels manufactured.  Why not make it so a new evil Vegan CEO takes over the company, and it’s his idea to turn the franchise vegan.  I’m not sure a Vegan villain has been done before, so that could be kind of funny.

The other motivation issue was the road trip.  I’m not sure why we went on it.  Yeah, it was a way to introduce some entertaining set pieces (I particularly liked the Anti-Mexican Infestation Militia – self-proclaimed protectors of the Border), but I wasn’t clear on why the characters didn’t just stay in LA.  It felt like they would’ve gotten a lot more publicity there.  Maybe if, say, they realized they needed to drive to the company headquarters in Omaha to make a real impression, that would’ve made sense.  But the way it came off in the script was, “Let’s go on a road trip.” “Why?” “Because I want to.”

Now all of this might seem like nitpicking, but motivation is actually very important in comedy.  If we’re not convinced that the characters need or desperately want to do what they’re doing, then the situations aren’t nearly as funny.  For example, in Bridesmaids, when Annie and Helen are trying to out-toast each other at the wedding shower, that scene doesn’t work unless we know how deeply each one wants to prove that they’re Lillian’s best friend.  Without that motivation, they’re just two characters on a stage goofing off.  So you want to make sure motivation is always strong in a comedy.

Having said all of that, Jerry’s a good writer and this script has some great moments.  The character of Courtney Langdon, an overtly angry FBI agent who’s torn between his love of the Gravy Train and his duty to the FBI, was a highlight.  In fact, there was never a moment during this read where I didn’t have a smile on my face.  I’m just stuck wondering if there’s enough of a story here to carry an entire movie.  Either way, I’ll be looking forward to Jerry’s next!

Script Link: Ridin The Gravy Train

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

What I Learned: The title of Jerry’s document is “RTGTNicholl,” which I assume means this is his Nicholl draft.  Here’s a tip folks.  Never submit a comedy to Nicholl unless you’re doing something TOTALLY ORIGINAL with the script.  Tell your story backwards, out of sequence, in a made-up language, in the first person, whatever.  But I have never, in all the years Nicholl’s been running, seen a traditional comedy win.  They’re just not comedy-friendly over there.

It’s hard, because of what I do, not to know at least something about the script I’m reading.  But every once in awhile I open a screenplay where I literally know nothing about it, such as today.  The only thing I have to go on with Leaving Pete is the title.  Who’s Pete?  Why is someone leaving him?  I sorta wanna know.  So crack open a can of Blood Orange San Pelligrino and join me.  Let’s find out if this Pete character deserves getting left.

Paul is a typical nerdy adorable rom-com protagonist.  In fact, Paul is an appropriate name, as I’m pretty sure the writers were thinking of Paul Rudd.  And if you’re worried about the hero being yet another lovable loser…well, be worried.  Cause he is.  BUT, the writers seem to know that this is a problem for certain readers, and have made Paul a little more active and take-charge than your typical loser-ish Seth Rogan-type. Paul is writing a book (about an obscure Civil War hero) and wants to do good in the world.  He’s just…a little slow.  But hey, aren’t we all slow?  Don’t we all finish drafts a little later than we mean to?

Paul’s idea of fun is hanging out with his pals Murph (think a younger Jack Black) and Dean (think a younger Jason Bateman).  Murph’s the kind of guy who hits on every girl, gets turned down every time, but doesn’t give a shit.  Dean’s the kind of guy who’s married, lives vicariously through his single friends, and does give a shit.  The three spend their guy’s night out every week at a bar playing a cheesy Bar Quiz game where the winner gets a free pitcher of beer.  Not exactly a giant stuffed bear (now THAT’S a prize) but each wackily-named team (Murph came up with their name: “Taking Care Of Quizness.”) takes it very seriously.

It’s on one of these nights that we learn Paul’s been riding solo since his wife, Jane, left his ass.  As far as Dean and Murph are concerned, that’s good news.  Cause Jane was a bit of a bitch.  Without the “bit of a” part.  Naturally, then, they’re skeptical when they hear Paul’s meeting her for lunch tomorrow.  Paul’s still in that delusional state we’ve all been in where he thinks he’s over his ex yet secretly hopes she’s meeting him to get back together.

Which, of course, is not even close to reality.  Jane actually shows up with a lawyer, who’s there to inform Paul that Jane’s written a book about leaving losers, based on him, titled “Leaving Pete.”  Guess that rules out a sympathy screw.

But it gets worse.  The book becomes a smash-hit!  Like Da Vinci Code sales.  Without the boring movie adaptation.  Pretty soon Jane is on Oprah touting her catch phrase (“Go it alone”) and every woman out there is making sure their man isn’t a “Pete” (a “Paul”), someone who’s lazy and clips their woman’s wings.  Of course, Paul wasn’t any of these things.  He was nice and sweet and super-supportive of Jane, so he has no idea where any of this is coming from.  In the meantime, Paul’s inadvertently become the poster child for “Men you shouldn’t be with.”

Even retreating into his man cave for months does’t work (this is us guys’ GO-TO MOVE when we encounter trouble – retreat to the man cave for two months.  It’s where problems magically disappear!).  Except books that sweep the nation never disappear.  This is one virus Paul can’t wait out.

But then salvation arrives in the form of Abby, a beautiful barroom quiz nut who answers those pitcher-chasing questions faster than Paul can process them.  Paul’s wowed by her intelligence and after that night’s game, the two are off to Umani Burger to have the time of their lives (okay, they don’t go to Umani Burger.  That’s where I’d go with a girl for the time of my life.  But you get the idea).

Everything’s going swimmingly, in fact, until Paul learns that Abby, gasp, works as an assistant at the publishing company that publishes Jane’s book!  Luckily for him, she hasn’t read it yet (she assumes it’s trash).  Still, Paul’s the most popular anonymous book character in the world, and everywhere they go, it seems like he’s one slip-up away from Abby finding out his not-so-secret persona.

Obviously, the longer this secret goes on, the more precarious Paul’s situation gets.  There’s that delicate point in a relationship where you can’t disclose certain secrets afterwards less you want to be lynched by your significant other.  Paul crosses that line ten times over.  And since this is a movie, we know it’s going to blow up in his face.  Which is where all the fun is…for us at least!

Finally!  A good script!  Finally!  Good writing!  This was mostly great.  Not only are these writers hilarious, but they nail the beats every romantic comedy must have.  First, the characters have to be likable.  I dare you not to like Paul, Murph, Dean, or Abby.  It’s impossible not to like someone who gets screwed over by a bitch.  It’s impossible not to like the most supportive friends ever.  And it’s hard not to like a girl who falls in love with our hero, warts and all.

Next, the dialogue here is great/hilarious.  This is a MUST for any comedy/romantic comedy writer, and it’s where talent comes into play most as a screenwriter.  Any writer can learn structure and conflict and character construction with time and determination.  But only those special few can consistently write funny dialogue.  Some of the most painful scripts to read are comedy scripts where the writer can’t write anything beyond average dialogue.  And believe it or not, that’s about 90% of the comedy scripts I read!

These girls, however, tear it up.   Here’s an early sequence where the friends are playing the “Celebrity Jeopardy”-like bar quiz game in which Paul is his team’s only chance at winning. HOST: “Next question.: Uxoricide is the killing of one’s what?” Paul’s stumped. DEAN: “Why aren’t you buzzing?  You’re supposed to be buzzing.” PAUL: “I don’t know this one.” MURPH: “OH, COME ON!” Becca N Friendz buzzes in. BECCA: “Uxor?” HOST: “No it is not the killing of one’s uxor, but Becca, I would love to know what you think an uxor is.” Becca looks disappointed.  She thought she had that.

MURPH: “We can figure this out.  Uxor sounds like Luxor, we stayed at the Luxor in Vegas last year…(suddenly excited)…remember that waitress who was into me?!” PAUL/DEAN: “No.” Terry (the annoying player who always wins) buzzes. TERRY: “Wife.  It’s the killing of one’s wife.”  HOST: “Correct.”  Unphased by his victory, Terry casually takes a sip of beer.

Later in the scene — MURPH: “THAT’S what your book was about?  Why don’t you write something commercial like a zombie soap opera?”  PAUL: “Because I’d hate myself.” MURPH: “You already hate yourself.” PAUL: “By the way, I started writing again.” DEAN: “Wow. That’s great, man.” PAUL: “I feel good about it.  I think I’m in a good place.  I’m finally over Jane.  Last week I even went to the gym.” DEAN: “You went to the gym?” PAUL: “I walked past the gym. I saw a guy on the treadmill in the window.  He smiled.  I smiled back…the wheels are in motion.”  DEAN: “It’s nice to see you happy again.” PAUL: “Thanks.” MURPH: “You only sucked for a year.” DEAN: “Give him a break. Divorce is hard. I read an article once that break-ups are more painful for people than a death in the family.”  PAUL: “Yeah, cuz when your mom dies you don’t  imagine her fucking all your friends.”

And it goes on like this.  The dialogue between the characters is always lively and entertaining.  And it looks so damn easy when someone does it right, even though it’s so damn hard!  I envy writers who are able to pull this off.

But the script’s real power comes from its…big screenplay term here: DRAMATIC IRONY. That’s right.  Weeee know something a key character does not.  We know that Paul is lying to Abby, which means every single scene where Paul and Abby are together contains a secret.  And when you have a secret like that, it creates subtext, which makes all of the scenes waaaaay more interesting.

For example, when Paul and Abby are going to Dean’s place for a couple’s dinner, we know that one slip-up could lead to Abby finding out who Paul is.  Mundane conversations become suspenseful and terrifying.  If Dean’s wife accidentally says the wrong thing, Paul’s secret is out, and he’s lost the love of his life forever.  That’s how to make scenes come alive!

Finally, there just wasn’t any fat here.  The script comes in at a lean 100 pages, which is exactly where this genre should be, and that’s an indictor that these writers know what they’re doing.  I see too many comedy (or romantic comedy) scripts coming in at 115-120 pages, with writers swearing they need every cubic square inch of those pages, and there being 8-10 scenes that could be cut instantly.  Not the case here.  Every scene pushes the story forward.  Nothing is included that doesn’t need to be included.  This skill is one of the easiest ways to identify a pro writer.  Amateur writers always include stuff they shouldn’t (so remember guys – ONLY write scenes that PUSH THE STORY FORWARD!!!).

So as far as I’m concerned, Leaving Pete leaves the Scriptshadow arena a winner.  ALMOST got an impressive.  Thank you for finally giving me a good screenplay to read Screenwriting Gods!

What I Learned: Substitute an inevitable disaster for a goal.  I talk about goals all the time on this site.  If you give your main character a goal, we’ll want to stick around to see if he/she achieves it or not.  But lots of romantic comedies don’t have goals.  Which means you need to substitute something to keep us interested – to keep us turning the pages.  A great alternative, then, is to create an inevitable disaster, usually brought on by a secret one character is keeping from another.  Our need to see what happens when that secret is revealed will work, in a lot of ways, like a goal.  We HAVE to be there when that happens, and therefore, we HAVE to keep reading your screenplay!

What I Learned 2: Subliminal naming!  In a comedy, it might be a good idea to name your character after the name of the actor you want to play the part (just the first name, not last).  Subliminally, this will make the writer think of that actor, which definitely helps the read (it’s easier to imagine lines coming out of a specific actor’s mouth, since every actor has their own unique voice).  I would only do this in comedies though.

Genre: Sci-Fi
Premise: In the near future, a large-scale science experiment on an American space station goes haywire, eliminating earth from space.  The occupants of the space station must then deal with a rogue space shuttle that may have nefarious plans for the crew.
About: Writer Oren Uziel is best known for his somewhat wacky premises.  In his breakthrough screenplay, Shimmer Lake, he told his story backwards.  In his next script, Kitchen Sink, he tackled aliens, zombies and vampires.  The God Particle is his first screenplay that takes a grounded approach to a premise, albeit one steeped in science fiction.
Writer: Oren Uzeil
Details: 110 pages

Oren’s one of my favorite writers.  You’re just never sure what you’re going to get when you open one of his scripts.  And you can’t say that for a lot of writers.  Oren first came to my attention when he won the Austin Film Festival screenwriting contest with his backwards tale, Shimmer Lake.  It was one of the few times I’ve seen that gimmick used in a way that actually helped the story, and wasn’t just a cheap way to get reads.

But that was a small town hick tale.  This is the future.  In outer space.  And it’s the first time Oren’s told a grounded story.  The characters aren’t layered in sarcasm or broader than a 3 Stooges sketch or steeped in tongue-in-cheek dialogue.  Which means Oren has no “special effects” to fall back on.  He has to tell everything straight-up.  And that’s when it gets hard folks – having to create REAL people.  I actually know very few writers who can pull it off consistently.  Does Oren join the club?

The God Particle introduces us to space station “Dandelion,” which consists of Ava Hamilton, an engineer and the de facto captain of the station (I think – that’s never clear), her boyfriend, Evan, the boyish Miika, the pious “Monk,” the shaggy-haired ship screw-up, Mundy, as well as a few others.

This station’s been orbiting earth for a few years, which is probably a good thing because earth isn’t doing so hot.  There’s an escalating war between the U.S. and Europe, with each side sending troops over for a massive offensive.  Not sure what us and Europe would fight over (the metric system maybe?) but apparently things are getting pretty nasty.

The Dandelion was built to house one of those particle accelerator thingys.  A little unclear on the need for one of those puppies up in space (seems kind of expensive doesn’t it?) but maybe it has something to do with that one in Sweden breaking down if you so much as sneeze near it.  Well, if you want to talk about a breakdown, let’s talk about what happens when Dandelion runs its first particle acceleration experiment.  The goddamn earth disappears!!!  Now that is a fireable offense.

After some really pissed off astronauts regroup, they wonder what the hell they’re going to do.    Imagine never being able to go to Chipotle again!   Sooo not okay.  So the station does what orbit-less space stations do best, drift around in nothingness for awhile.  Until – that is – spotting an incoming space shuttle.  But not just any space shuttle – a EUROPEAN space shuttle.  Looks like that century old debate of meters or yards will be solved after all.  Possibly over a game of darts!

After the Europeans convince the stupid Americans to let them board, people start dying.  The first one to go is Hamilton’s boyfriend, Evan, who’s poisoned.  The problem is, Hamilton’s not convinced the Europeans did it.  She thinks it might have been one of her OWN men.  Well by gosh, we just stumbled upon a good old fashioned whodunit, didn’t we?

This is followed by a number of twists and surprises, such as the true nature behind the particle accelerator, and pretty soon it looks like no one’s coming out of this thing alive.  So Hamilton will have to put her best private detective hat on while keeping both crews from each other’s throats, and come up with a solution before humanity as we know it is barbecued.

I don’t know if my standards have gone up in recent weeks or the scripts I’m reading have gone down, but I’m having a hard time endorsing screenplays lately.  The God Particle is okay but I’m just not sure it’s a big enough idea.  I’ve read a half a dozen of these “stuck on a space station – try to get back to earth” scripts, so I’ve pretty much seen it all.  And unfortunately God Particle doesn’t introduce anything new to the equation.

Actually, I shouldn’t say that.  We do have the “whodunnit” aspect, which bookends a nifty little Act 2 sequence.  But I can watch a whodunnit anywhere.  I’m not sure putting it in space adds anything new to the mix.

Also, there were a few unclear plot points which had a fairly significant effect on the read.  For example, I couldn’t figure out if this was some sort of half-ship/half-station or if it was JUST a station.  What confused me is that they kept saying it took them a month to receive signals from earth.  If they’re orbiting earth, why would it take a month to receive radio/television signals?  Wouldn’t it only take, like, a few minutes?

The reason this is a big deal is because at the end of the first act, the earth disappears.  And I was trying to figure out if the earth was a 2 month trip from where they were or just right next to them.  Cause if it was the former, it would be a lot harder to pinpoint earth, increasing the odds that they’d made a mistake.  The point is – it was unnecessarily confusing!  And you can’t have confusion surrounding ANY major plot points.  It’s those key points that, if unclear, can confuse the hell out of a reader and make him give up on the story.

Another issue is the darn characters.  There just weren’t any that stood out.  Hamilton, the lead (I’m still confused about whether she was the engineer or the captain or both) was about as bland as it gets, which is strange, since Oren’s written such interesting characters in the past.  There just didn’t seem to be any conflict going on inside of her, or outside of her for that matter.  Even when her lover was killed early on, she seemed indifferent to it, which was bizarre.

And then we had Monk, the religious character, who was about as on-the-nose as a freckle.  He’s a religious character who’s…religious!  He just talks about God the whole time.  There’s no new angle there, nothing to grab onto or surprise you.  When you’re writing “stereotype” characters, particularly ones with strong ideologies, like religious characters, I always advise adding irony to spice them up!  For example, maybe Monk’s a religious man who’s addicted to a drug or extremely violent or even swears all the time!  You know what I mean?  Just give me something so it’s not so obvious and on-the-nose.

And this issue reared its ugly head in all the characters, none of whom had that necessary trait to make them stand out from the pack (or from previous movies).  And obviously, if the characters are boring, the plot doesn’t matter.  Who cares how cool a plot is if we don’t care about the people in it?

And the unfortunate thing here was, the plot had its moments.  One of my favorite parts (spoiler) was when the Europeans turned out to be military and had successfully tricked the Americans (who they’d always planned on killing).  It was a plot twist with all sorts of potential but, again, because the characters were so bland, we just didn’t care that much.

God Particle is well-written but lacks all those exceptional amenities that make a script stand out.

What I Learned: You need at least one character in your sci-fi script (and really any script) who’s just really fucking unique.  They have to be different from any character you’ve seen before, or else what’s the point?  Look at Riddick from Pitch Black.  He’s blind.  He’s a murderer.  But he’s also a hero.  Look at his adversary, Johns.  He’s a bounty hunter who’s addicted to drugs.  He’s more morally bankrupt than Riddick himself.  You gotta push yourself in this area because if you just create a bunch of “normal” characters and no one stands out, you’re going to have, at best, an average script.

In my rabid attempts to find an apartment, I wasn’t able to get today’s review up before my 4 hour ascension to 30,000 feet.  Which means a late post.  I want to take this time, however, to thank everyone who sent me apartment prospects.  I went through ALL of them.  Unfortunately, I still haven’t found a place.  I think what I’m going to do is come back here August 1st, sublet a place for a month or two, and just become an apartment-hunting Nazi.  From my experience, I’ve learned that you basically need to make apartment-hunting your job if you’re going to find a good place. So, with that said, if you guys find anything amazing in the meantime, send it to me!  I’m still offering a script read and notes to anyone who finds me my place.  — Now hang tight. I’ll have a review up later in the day.  Oh, and no, I didn’t send out this week’s newsletter yet.  Too busy.