This is a re-post of the original Disciple Program review that I posted on February 24th because….The Disciple Program just sold! With Mark Wahlberg and Morten Tyldum attached, an awesome new director who directed a film called “Headhunters” (google for the trailer). Congrats to Tyler. I know he had higher offers out there but his goal was to get this movie made so he’s been carefully working with WME packaging the thing so that this is a movie and not just one of the 9 in 10 script sales that never gets made. I’ll be putting together an interview with Tyler soon so we can go over all of the nitty gritty details with you guys. It’s been pretty interesting watching the entire process of a script from that crazy first day to finally selling. Lots of stuff I never knew goes on behind the scenes. So for the weekend, chalk one up to SS and a fellow Scriptshadow reader. We’re on the board!

A review of the screenplay that’s turned into one of the rarer more interesting screenwriting stories in awhile.  And yours truly found himself in the middle of it. :)

Amateur Friday Submission Process: To submit your script for an Amateur Review, send it in PDF form, along with your title, genre, logline, and why I should read your script to Carsonreeves3@gmail.com. Keep in mind your script will be posted in the review (feel free to keep your identity and script title private by providing an alias and fake title). Also, it’s a good idea to resubmit every couple of weeks so that your submission stays near the top of the pile.

Genre: Thriller
Premise: A man begins an investigation into his wife’s mysterious death, only to find that it goes much deeper than he imagined.
About: The first amateur script to ever crack The Scriptshadow Top 10. Tyler was an unsold unrepped writer out of Brooklyn when he sent this to me. After I sent the script out to half a dozen industry contacts on Wednesday, the script has found its way into every agency, management company, and studio in town. Late yesterday, Tyler finally made his decision to go with WME, who will put a package together for the project and go out with it in the near future.
Writer: Tyler Marceca
Details: 114 pages

As the creator of this blog, I dreamt of this moment. I wanted to find a script that nobody else knew about, that no studio or producer or agent or manager knew existed and celebrate it here in front of the world for the first time. I was hoping to do this on a regular basis. But as we’ve found out together over the past three years, good scripts are hard to come by.

Well, I finally found one. And it all happened rather unexpectedly. Tyler contacted me out of nowhere to consult on his latest screenplay. My prices have gone up a bit in recent months so I got the feeling he was reluctant. But in the end, he decided to go for it, and sent me a script called “The Disciple Program.” “Cool title,” I thought to myself, then prepared to note away.

I don’t know what time travel feels like but I’m assuming it feels something like this. I remember starting the script, then looking up and seeing that I was on page 30! *And I hadn’t written a single note down.* Just for reference, I usually have a couple pages of notes by the end of the first act.

Hmm, I thought. That’s odd. This never happens. But a small part of me was still worried. I’ve read a lot of good first acts, only to find a writer who doesn’t know how to navigate a second act. So I kept waiting for the jenga pieces to crumble. Not because I wanted them to. Good God, finding a great script is every reader’s dream. But because that’s what usually happens. I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

But ten more pages passed and it still wasn’t crumbling. Ten MORE pages passed, and it actually *started getting better.* And then the midpoint came and I realized, Holy Shit, this is the real deal.

And when you hit the real deal as a reader, it’s the most exhilarating feeling in the world. The only thing better are those divine moments of inspiration you get as a writer.

So afterwards, naturally, I called up Tyler and said, “Where the f&%* did you come from???” And he said, “Brooklyn.” After talking to him for awhile, I learned that this script had actually started from a contest – The Writer’s Store “Industry Insider Screenwriting Contest.” They do a unique thing where they give you a high concept yet slightly generic logline from a professional screenwriter (in this case it was Robert Mark Kamen – the writer of “Taken”) and then you send them ten pages at a time, for which they provide feedback, and in the end they name the winner. He informed me that he had just won that contest. (I believe their new logline for this year’s contest is out if you want to check it out!).

That didn’t surprise me at all. In fact, Disciple Program looks like a winner from the very first scene. It takes that old screenwriting axiom of “Make your first ten pages great” and crushes it with a thousand megatons of failed screenplays. Great is for amateurs. It goes for amazing.

We meet Jocelyn, a psychiatrist at a mental hospital – that’s gotta be a rewarding job – who’s been tasked with probing the mind of a convicted serial killer. He’s not quite Hannibal Lecter territory. But I’m guessing this guy’s nibbled on his share of human flesh.

At this point I’m musing, “Okay, this might be a cool scene. Scary ass lunatic in a tiny room with a vulnerable woman. Only one guard nearby. I’m digging it.” Well, a few pages later, the man regurgitates a shiv, grabs the guard, stabs him a dozen times before he can blink, then, still handcuffed to the chair, he starts reaching out, desperately trying to do the same to Jocelyn, who’s inches out of his reach.

As long as she stays in this exact spot, he can’t get to her. That is until he starts CUTTING OFF HIS OWN HAND WITH HIS SHIV, desperate to get across that table and kill Jocelyn. Who the fuck is this guy? Is he nuts?? Well, yeah, I guess he is. But this goes beyond “nuts.” It’s like he values killing this woman more than his own life. That can’t be normal, can it? Then, just when it seems like he’s going to succeed, guards race in and save her.

In the meantime, we meet Jocelyn’s husband, Roger, one of those predator drone pilots. He gets to send planes into hostile territory, take the enemy out, fly home, without ever leaving his computer. When Roger hears about the attack on his wife, he hurries over to the hospital. But when he tries to console her, she’s stand-offish, distant. We realize that even a near-death experience can’t repair the issues these two have going on. Roger clearly wants to be closer to his wife. But she’s put up a wall.

So Roger takes Jocelyn home, figuring a little rest will calm them both, and maybe he can deal with this tomorrow morning. But he never gets that opportunity. When he wakes up, he finds Jocelyn dead in their swimming pool.

The coroner calls it an accidental drowning, but Roger has a funny feeling about it. Something’s not right here. So he looks deeper, going so far as to inspect the body himself, and what he finds is shocking. On the back of her neck is a piece of carefully placed synthetic skin, meant to blend in with her real skin. He rips it off to find a small pin prick.

There’s no doubt now. Somebody killed his wife. But who? And why? She’s just a psychiatrist who works at a mental hospital.

That’s where Roger begins the investigation. He wants to talk to Cut-Off-His-Hand Dude. Not surprisingly, the guy isn’t the best conversationalist. But to his credit, it’s looking like his attack and her murder are unrelated. Yet when Roger checks the security tapes, he sees that in the hour leading up to his wife’s attack, every camera in the facility was turned off. Hmm…Strange.

It doesn’t take long for Roger to realize that if someone wanted his wife dead, they probably want anyone looking into her death dead too. As if on cue, a couple of highly trained killers move in, Nurse Kathy and The Arsonist, gas Roger in his home, and take him out to a remote cliff to put an end to his life.

Roger barely squirms out of that one, and when he does, he realizes just how bad this is. While Nurse Kathy and The Arsonist are two of the most lethal killers on the planet, they’re chicken feed compared to the people he just pissed off. These men will stop at nothing – NOTHING – to kill Roger. What they don’t account for, however, is that Roger’s just as determined as they are, and he WILL hold responsible the people who killed his wife.

Where do I start with this one? I basically loved everything about it. Surprise, huh? Seeing as I’ve been tweeting about it every 10 seconds for the last 72 hours. The only thing that sucks about The Disciple Program is figuring out where to start with its awesomeness.

I guess I’ll start with its consistency. Bad amateur scripts have one good scene followed by 10 average scenes. Then another good scene, followed by 6 bad scenes. Tyler made sure EVERY – SINGLE – SCENE was worth reading here. There were no bridge scenes. He didn’t take any scenes off. Every single scene mattered. Every single scene was *dramatized.* That’s what was so cool about The Disciple Program. It never allowed you to NOT like it.

The next thing I noticed was the intelligence. Most bad scripts feel like they were slapped together by someone who keeps “Jackass 3” saved on their Tivo and eats Fruit Loops for dinner. There’s no depth to the writing. There’s nothing about the world they create that you haven’t seen before in other films or TV shows. So it all feels generic. Here, there was a genuine intelligence, uniqueness and understanding of the world in the writing. It was so convincing, in fact, that I called Tyler afterwards and asked him how long he’d been on leave and when he had to go back. He laughed and assured me he’s never been in the military. But I don’t know. I think there’s more to that story.

What really made this stand out though were the characters. Every single character in this script is memorable. I can’t BEGIN to tell you how rare this is. From the wife to Roger to the nurse to “The Arsonist” to the big man in charge, Ambrose, to the military men Ambrose hires (Arroyo and Vickrey) to the even bigger man in charge, Beau. This is the area that really separates the top dogs from the lap dogs. Strong writers know how to make their characters unique. Newbies don’t put any effort into character creation, therefore it’s rare for any of their characters to stand out.

I’ll say it again but they – along with everything else – felt so SPECIFIC. The way Ambrose goes about recruiting a couple of dangerous U.S. soldiers with sordid pasts to help him take down Roger – I’ve never read a scene like that. It was just so convincing. I’m used to writers bullshitting their way through those scenes. I felt that Tyler had either been in that exact same situation himself (yes I REALLY thought that) or he’d researched the shit out of how these conversations typically go down (which is even scarier when you think about it – where do you find people who have been in that kind of situation before?).

And the scene construction here – it’s just SO good. Every single scene BUILDS. There was suspense, conflict, curiosity. It was like each scene had its own story. Each scene stood on its own.

One of my favorite scenes was when Nurse Kathy and The Arsonist gas Roger. He wakes up, paralyzed in a car. He can SEE The Arsonist and Nurse Kathy in front of him, but he CAN’T MOVE. They’ve drugged him. So all he can do is watch helplessly as they set up his fake suicide – a plan that includes manually inserting a liter of whisky into his stomach then pushing his car off a cliff.

It was one of the most intense scenes I’ve ever read. He’s just WATCHING them casually plan his death and there’s nothing he can do about it. All you’re thinking is, “How the hell is he going to get out of this one??”

(spoiler) Then, just as the arrogant gloating Nurse Kathy puts the finishing touches on her Rembrandt, she looks into his eyes, as if to taunt him one last time. And there’s something she sees that’s not quite right. In a brilliant payoff (that’s too complicated to get into here), Roger wasn’t paralyzed at all. He swiftly GRABS her and proceeds to take both her and The Arsonist out, forcing Kathy, in particular, to suffer just as horrible a death as she was planning for him.

And that’s the thing about this character – he was so badass! He was so capable, so clever. Usually, when I read these screenplays, the methods by which the characters get out of situations are entirely dependent on the writer helping them. Here, Tyler writes himself into corners, practically daring himself to find a way out. This forces him to come up with really clever solutions to things. Every time it happened, I would just get this big smile on my face. A smile of, “I fucking never see this in screenplays. This is nuts!”

Another thing I’m always telling you guys to do is to make sure your script builds. Make sure that each challenge in the script is bigger than the last. Most of the scripts I read go in the opposite direction. Writers throw everything into those first 45 pages then don’t know what to do next. So the rest of the script is one long balloon deflating.

We start Disciple with serial killer Edmund, move up to third tier villains The Arsonist and Nurse Kathy. Then we get to Ambrose, who’s just about the coolest most confident villain you’ll ever meet. He hires two military men and goes on a personal vendetta to end Roger’s life. But Ambrose is nothing compared to our final villain, the man above him, Beau. This guy practically runs the CIA with an iron fist. So you really get the sense that our character is going up against bigger and bigger obstacles.

I haven’t even gotten to the dialogue, which was amazing (Go read the scene where Beau and Ambrose are out on their respective building decks with Beau giving Ambrose the business – fucking awesome). This had some of the best monologues I’ve read in a script. There wasn’t a single moment in the story where I didn’t believe what was coming out of a character’s mouth. That NEVER happens when I read a script.

Let’s see…the pace was great. The structure was great. The writing was top-notch. Am I leaving anything out? I mean, when I read a script, I’m charting about 8 things that show a mastery of the craft. They include things like character, structure, dialogue, pacing, conflict, theme, that sort of stuff. Most amateur scripts I read are lucky to have 1. This may be the first script I’ve read to have all 8.

There were really only a couple of things I thought could be improved. There are times when the prose feels a bit overwritten. I discussed this with Tyler and he’s just a guy who likes words. He’s not out to prove that he knows more than you. His inspiration is writers like Brad Ingelsby (The Low Dweller) so that’s just his style. I’d like him to keep it a little simpler but then again, I’m not the one who wrote this great script. So I’ll trust him.

And next, I felt like there was a missed opportunity with the Predator Drone. It pops up late LATE in the script. But I would’ve liked to have seen it featured somewhere. I mean you have this guy who pilots predator drones. That’s got set-piece scene written all over it. I suggested a scene to Tyler of having to access the drone from some ratty old laptop when surrounded in the remote cabin (he’s stuck in a remote cabin near the midpoint) and have to use a really bad internet connection to get the drone out there to kill his assassins before they move in and kill him. Tyler’s response to that idea was about five seconds of silence, lol, so I knew where I stood with that one. I’m just going to leave the writing to him. But I would like a bigger predator drone scene.

A couple of weeks ago, finishing Disciple, I knew I had found something special. I knew that these kinds of moments don’t come around often – finding a really great script from an unknown writer. But I had no idea that it would blow up as big as it did over the past few days. I mean, I had producers calling me saying they’d been forwarded the script by four different people in the last hour. I heard over a dozen producers were flying around trying to put the project together with multiple packages. My phone blew up (I don’t know how – nobody has my number) as I quickly realized I was in a strange sort of interim manager position since Tyler didn’t have any reps. That’s what was so unique about this. Usually when this kind of thing happens, it’s a calculated thing with agents and managers carefully orchestrating the buzz. It’s never really been done like this before so nobody knew – even seasoned producers – where to go or what to do. Including myself!

And it was a little nerve-wracking and fun talking with Tyler during the process, who when I first told him I was going to send the script out to some contacts, expected to field 3 calls, maybe 4 tops. He didn’t expect to be on the phone for 8 straight hours two days in a row. He didn’t expect to have to turn down calls from producers who just days ago he would’ve sold his left arm to talk to. It was insane.

But towards the end of yesterday, when Tyler finally signed with WME, and he finally had a second to just breathe, he said something that really stuck with me. He said, “Carson. I don’t want to deal with any of this stuff. I just wanna write.” And it was a really cool moment because I remembered that all of this craziness was just that – craziness. And what matters most is the writing. To that end, I think Tyler’s set for a long time.

Screenplay Link: The Disciple Program

[ ] Wait for the rewrite
[ ] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[x] impressive (Top 10!!!)
[ ] genius

What I Learned: I have a funny little postscript to this experience. So after I finished The Disciple Program, raced to my phone, called Tyler, and asked him where the hell he came from, we had a couple of laughs and then he casually mentioned that he’d sent me a script 8 months ago for notes. What?? I said. You’ve sent me a script before?? There’s no way I would’ve forgotten a script by this writer. So after the call, I went back through my notes and indeed, found an old script that I covered for him. I quickly remembered it. It was a script with all sorts of talent. But the story itself was all over the place and muddled. And I remember giving him that note. That he needs to focus his story more because the talent is clearly there. And just 8 months later, he came up with this. And I think that should serve as a motivator to every writer out there. You’re going to learn with each script. You’re going to get better with each script. You just have to keep writing. So stay inspired. Your own breakout moment could be a script away. :)

Back when I taught tennis, there was something called a NTRP Rating. To this day I have no idea what NTRP stands for, but its purpose was legitimate. It ranked players on a 7 point scale. So a player with a solid forehand, decent backhand, and consistent serve in the 80s, might be a 4.0, while a player with a high national ranking who could pound groundstrokes consistently deep into the court with heavy topspin, might be a 6.0. This allowed us pros to group players according to their level as well as place them in the right leagues and tournaments.

That always had me thinking: Why don’t they do the same thing for screenwriters? Because I think one of the big problems with screenwriters is they have no idea where they stand. Assuming an imaginary 10 point scale, there are millions of 1s out there who believe that they’re 10s. And that’s because there’s nothing to go by. It’s frustrating not just to see these writers deluding themselves, but if a writer doesn’t know where the checkpoints are, how can they possibly know what they need to do to get better? And hence, the 10-Point Scriptshadow Writer Scale – a detailed breakdown, from 1 (lowest) to 10 (highest) which tells you where you stand. Are you ready to find out your level?

LEVEL 1
If you’re on your first or second screenplay, you’re probably at Level 1 status. Level 1s usually know very little about storytelling. They often start their stories with no idea of what’s going to happen from scene to scene, making everything up as they go along. They’re not yet aware that events must progress in a logical fashion to make sense to a reader, and therefore much of their story bounces around illogically. Characters are often replicas of characters from their favorite movies and therefore display no originality. Dialogue scenes can go on for 10 pages at a time with no point – they’re just people talking. Most Level 1s assume screenwriting is easy and therefore put very little effort into the final product.

LEVEL 2
A level 2 writer has typically read 1 screenwriting book (usually “Save The Cat”) and is therefore aware of the 3 act structure, giving their stories a little more form than a Level 1. The problem is, while they know where the act breaks reside, they have very little idea what to do inside of those acts, particularly the second act. Their dialogue is typically on-the-nose and feels false as a result. Also, the writer hasn’t learned the importance of clarity yet, leaving out key pieces of information that they erroneously assume are obvious. This ensures a lot of head-scratching on the reader’s end, as they’re constantly trying to keep up. For example, the writer may know that their protagonist is a recovering alcoholic, but they don’t tell this to the reader. So when that character falls off the wagon and starts drinking again, it’s supposed to be this big powerful moment, but means nothing to the reader. Many Level 2s believe that since they’ve written a few screenplays, they know everything. They don’t. Not even close.

LEVEL 3
Level 3s are still often writing personal stories with very little market appeal, making it nearly impossible to sell their script or get noticed. Their structure is getting better – particularly the first act – but they still don’t know what to do with their second act, resulting in 60+ filler pages whose only purpose is to get them to that ending. Ironically, their scripts tend to be on the long side, usually 125 pages or more, and they *insist* that they need every single one of those pages, even though more than half the pages are extraneous and/or repeating information. Another problem is that their dialogue scenes are way too long, and usually consist of two characters discussing topics that the author thinks are interesting, even if they have nothing to do with the story.

LEVEL 4
Level 4 is usually where the writer first learns the importance of a strong goal that drives the story. Not only does this give the story a point, but it makes the main character active, since he has to go after something. Because these two things are so important in creating a great story, the jump from Level 3 to Level 4 is one of the most important a writer will go through. Level 4s also write good first acts, since having a character goal makes setting up the story a lot easier. But they still falter when they get to the second act, as even though they know where the protagonist is going, they don’t yet know how to create obstacles, reversals, surprises and interesting relationships, the things that keep the second act entertaining. But if you can make it to Level 4, which can take between 1 and ½ to 2 and ½ years depending on your talent level, you put yourself in a strong position to make it as a screenwriter.

LEVEL 5
Level 5 is when a writer first *really* understands the importance of concept. They’re no longer trying to write Academy Award winning scripts that change the world. They realize that in order to get noticed, you need to write something that appeals to the studios, and a marketable concept is the best way to go. Level 5 is also where writers first typically stress “showing” (tell the story through action/visuals) as opposed to telling (characters explaining through dialogue). They’re also learning to hide their exposition more so that characters aren’t speaking so on the nose. Their story is becoming more invisible. Although they don’t add conflict to every scene, they’ve started to subconsciously pick up on its importance, and therefore have quite a few strong scenes. Level 5s will occasionally place in contests as contest runners will see the potential in their work.

LEVEL 6
Level 6 often signifies a writer who’s in it for the long run. This writer has read a lot of the screenwriting books and has taken the best from all of them to develop his/her own approach. He/she also understands the importance of reading scripts, which they read a lot of. Level 6 is also when character development first starts to become a major focus for the writer. They’re just as interested in developing characters with full arcs as they are plotting their story out. Their scenes are also much better as they understand how to get into scenes late and leave early, giving their scripts a crisp “straight to the point” feel. There’s more conflict (in the plot, in the characters, in the relationships, in the scenes) making a larger chunk of the script entertaining. The thing is, while a Level 6 KNOWS all these things, they haven’t yet perfected them, giving the scripts an unpolished feel. Level 6s will place high in many secondary contests, possibly even winning a few.

LEVEL 7
Level 7 is when a writer really begins to “get it.” They’ve had all these pieces they’ve been perfecting for so long, but now those pieces are finally starting to fit together. It’s one of the more magical times for a writer, as they’ll experience a lot of “Ah ha!” moments. Outside of a strong marketable concept, Level 7s often look to the power of irony (i.e. a lawyer who can’t lie) to make their concepts and stories even juicier. Characters become the primary focus, specifically creating characters who are relatable and who have interesting problems and backstories that need to be resolved by the end of the story. Structure is never an issue with Level 7s. The dialogue is also a lot better since they keep their scenes short and to the point and have done enough character work that their characters speak distinctly and specifically. The problem with Level 7s is that they sometimes stress the craft side of screenwriting so much that their scripts feel a bit mechanical. Everything is where it’s supposed to be. The characters are all going through transformations. And yet there’s something missing that prevents the story from connecting with the reader. The writer hasn’t yet learned how to make all of these things feel natural, feel invisible. Level 7 is usually when writers start to make money off of their work, getting small jobs here and there. A few of them will even get lucky, selling a script if they have a really great concept. This is why you sometimes see so-so professional writers. They’re Level 7s who caught a break.

LEVEL 8
A level 8 writer has almost all of the screenwriting tools at their disposal and is working on perfecting more advanced techniques, such as dramatic irony, invisible set-ups, and thematic consistency. They can easily recognize when a scene or section isn’t working and know how to fix it. This skill is essential for working in the industry since that’s what you’ll be doing most of the time – rewriting your own and other people’s work. Level 8, in my opinion, is also when you first start “moving” readers emotionally with your work. It’s when you first create characters who really resonate with people, who feel real to them. This extends to the story as well. Often when reading a Level 8 writer, the reader isn’t aware that they’re reading a script as they’re too lost in the story. Their dialogue scenes often have subtext and in most scenes, there’s usually more going on than what’s on the surface. Strangely enough, Level 8s still struggle with the second half of the second act and can get overconfident, believing that their writing is good enough that it can overcome a weak premise, ironically putting them back at Square 3 – writing an unmarketable script. Level 8s are making a living off screenwriting, but aren’t yet trolling the 90210 zip code on Trulia for their next home.

LEVEL 9
A level 9 writer has gotten to the point where they can break time-tested screenwriting rules and still get away with it, since they know how to counteract them. Level 9 writers are specifically aware of what the studios and producers want and cater their premises accordingly. They know, for example, that to get a non-book-franchise movie made, you need an A-list actor to play the lead – which means coming up with an intriguing protagonist role with a lot of meat that an A-lister would love to play. Their execution is first rate and they know how to make every single moment interesting – even that damn second half of the second act. Level 9s don’t stop at making their primary characters interesting, but make sure every single character in the script is memorable and changes in some way. These guys are the meat and potatoes of the industry and are responsible for most of the movies you enjoy. They get paid at least 500k per job and are sought after for all the big assignments.

LEVEL 10
Level 10 is master status, Aaron Sorkinville, Academy award winning screenwriter. There are only 20-30 of these writers working and they know EVERYTHING about screenwriting. They know how to manipulate every single button inside of you using conflict, irony, sympathy, character flaws, all to make you laugh, cry, angry – WHATEVER they want you to be! They know every trick in the book to keep you turning the pages as well – anticipation, obstacles, mysteries, dramatic irony. They can write a character who seems like your best friend even though you’ve only known him for a few minutes. They can make you fall in love with a woman even if women aren’t your preference. Every scene has a specific purpose. There is no fat. They can completely ignore rules and still make it work. But what really separates these guys from the rest of the pack is how fast they work. They not only give you a great screenplay, but they can do it in a very short amount of time, something only a coveted few in Hollywood can pull off. Which is why they’re paid so much money. Once you reach Level 10 status, you can quit. Cause you’re at the top of the mountain baby.

Now is the Scriptshadow Writer Scale perfect? No. There are some writers who are naturally gifted with dialogue, for example, who still might be a Level 2 in every other category. But generally speaking, these are the observations I’ve made after reading every type of script from every type of writer under the sun. So how do you accelerate your ascent up the scale? Simple: LEARN AS MUCH AS YOU CAN ABOUT THE CRAFT. Read all the books. Read a ton of scripts. Write! Trade scripts with a screenwriting group. Get constant feedback. Study! It doesn’t mean you have to listen to everything you read. In fact, I encourage writers to perfect their own unique approach to screenwriting. But you can’t perfect something you don’t know anything about. So keep at it. Hopefully this scale gives you an idea of where you stand and where you need to get to. Good luck. :)

Genre: Rom-Com
Premise: A young woman who keeps important items from her previous relationships decides to start a museum featuring those items, turning her into a mini-celebrity.
About: This script finished in the middle of the pack of last year’s Black List.
Writer: Natalie Krinsky
Details: 110 pages – May 17, 2011 draft (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).

I heard mixed things about this one. One person I trust said it was absolutely awful. Another person I trust said it was borderline amazing. It should be noted that the person who didn’t like it was a guy and the person who did was a girl. Maybe this is a gender specific script?

The first thing I’d point out about The Museum of Broken Relationships is that the concept is…ehhh…a little hard to buy into. Building a museum out of old relationship items? I even had issues with someone *preserving* old relationship items in the first place. Nobody actually does that, right? But when I went back to check the writer’s name for this review, I noticed that under the title and her name was this: (based on her own insanity). This implied, of course, that not only does this happen, but that our writer was leading the charge!

Okay, so maybe it does happen. And maybe our writer has something unique to say about it. And you know what? I have to admit, the concept’s at least *different*. This isn’t your typical “been there done that” rom-com premise. So I tried to go into “Museum” with an open mind.

Lucy Gulliver, 28, resides in her “adorable Brooklyn apartment,” cursing like a sailor and falling in love easily. She’s currently a junior curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. She’s also banging her boss, Max Frank, a self-absorbed asshole whose assholish qualities are lost on everyone except for Lucy.

As Lucy gears up for what she believes is going to be the next level of their relationship, Max surprises everyone except for poor Lucy when, at a banquet, he announces that his inspiration – and also new girlfriend – Ameilia, will be getting the new curator position that Lucy so desperately wanted. Ouch.

A World War II battle between Lucy and Max follows and she follows that by quitting, putting her in big financial doo-doo. Luckily her roommates are there to pick her up, going into Break-up Damage Control Mode, something they’re very good at with Lucy breaking up ALL THE TIME.

Afterwards, we find out Lucy creepily keeps tons of items from her previous relationships in her room. And her roommates come clean, telling her in no uncertain terms that she’s a psycho, and that if she’s ever going to have a real relationship, she has to let go of all these relationships by letting go of these items.

But Lucy’s not the type of girl who listens to logic and actually goes in the opposite direction. In a drunken crying Facebook post, she tells everyone to offload their own personal relationship souvenirs on her. She doesn’t think much of it, but the next day, people start leaving these items on her doorstep. Lucy unwittingly becomes the recipient of everyone else finally letting go of their past.

The itemage gets so big that she eventually needs a place for all of it, and that’s when she comes up with the idea to turn it into a museum exhibit.

During this time, she meets the curiously named Nick Friend, a man-whore who usually doesn’t go out with girls long enough to experience breakups. The two are opposites in many ways, which is why they get along great. Nick is actually the one who finds her her museum space.

Eventually, the museum becomes a big hit, and Max comes back into the picture, wanting to affiliate the museum with the Met. He also wants to get back together with Lucy. Despite her success, Lucy’s self-esteem is still low, so she says yes, in the process ensuring her doom. The question is, will she figure that out in time to stop it and realize who she’s really supposed to be with?

The Museum Of Broken Relationships is definitely a “love it or hate it” script. And it’s clear early on why women are going to relate to this script more than men. I’d argue that Krinski doesn’t like men much – something she’s not afraid to show. At one point, describing Nick’s friend playing video games, she writes, “Brady plays Madden or Halo or Call of Duty or one of those lame games that boys play.” Which is kind of funny but at the same time a pretty transparent indication that our writer’s not a fan of us dudes.

But what’s really going to polarize people is the style the script is written in – the dialogue in particular – which is VERY big and showy. It’s the kind of style that’s going to get a script noticed, and certainly makes a script memorable where so many others are forgettable, but it also feels a bit desperate, like a writer waving their hands and screaming, “Look at me!”

I have a problem with that kind of writing for that reason. It makes me forget about the story and concentrate on the writing itself. And anything that pulls the writer out of the story is a dangerous move. Because they’re no longer caught up in the magic of your world. They’re thinking about you the physical writer. Let me give you a couple of examples

When describing a statue in the museum she works at, Lucy says, “Aphrodite is the original gangsta of love. And thusly deserves a place of original gangsta-ness. And that’s final.”

Or, “Cinder-Fella, we’ve got to be at the ball in 15 minutes. The talking ship has sailed.”

Nearly EVERY line of dialogue is like this. Now the funny thing is I talked about elevating your dialogue a few posts ago. But this is what happens when you elevate it too much. You bring attention to it. I’m old school in that sense. I think the writing should be invisible, no matter how “big” it is. Krinsky takes the same approach with the action description.

Max clears his throat uncomfortably then leans in the opposite direction and whispers something in Amelia’s ear. She giggles. Max smiles tightly. Homeboy looks worried.

I don’t know. It just feels like the writer is trying too hard.

As for the story, it’s executed well. Sometimes I’m so focused on what’s not working in a script that I forget to appreciate what is working. Just getting all the pieces where they’re supposed to be is big deal. And everything here is where it’s supposed to be. And I know that because I never checked what page I was on or pulled out of the script because a scene had nothing to do with the story. In an amateur script, I might do that 40 to 50 times. So there’s something to say about Krinsky’s understanding of the craft.

But if I’m being honest, I don’t think this script was written for guys. I think it was written for women and that’s why I identified with so little of it. A female-written script I felt was much better suited to both sexes, and a lot more relatable, was the highly ranked Black List entry, “He’s Fucking Perfect,” which I loved and about everybody else hated (don’t know where those voters of the Black List were to back me up on that review!”). So who knows who’s right? I just felt the showy female-biased vibe was too dominant here. I didn’t dig it.

[ ] Wait for the rewrite
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: Motivate your characters’ actions. You can’t just have characters do things because you want them to. Your characters don’t know they’re in a story. They believe they’re in real life. So if they do something, it has to make sense to them. There’s a moment in the middle of the script where Krinsky needs to accelerate the relationship between Nick and Lucy, who’ve only seen each other out and about. So Krinsky simply has Nick show up at her place. Why? I have no idea. I don’t even know how he knows where she lives. But the relationship needed to get going and this was the easiest way to do it. But it doesn’t make sense so it stands out as an awkward scene. Instead, look for ways to motivate these moments. For example, maybe Nick has heard about Lucy’s broken relationship item collecting and therefore brings over something from his previous relationship. Now his visit is motivated by an act instead of him just showing up. So always look to motivate your character’s actions in your script. If you don’t, we’ll notice.

 Thank you everybody who sent in Llewyn Davis reviews. I had a wonderful time reading them and there were a lot of good ones.  BUT I really liked this one by Alexander Gillies, whose passion for the Coens and knowledge of film history won me over.  Really good review!  I’ll be back with a new review tomorrow.  In the meantime, enjoy! :)