One thing I believe I’ve done a fairly good job of on the site is reinforce the value of structure. You guys understand the inciting incident. You understand where the first act turn needs to be. You understand goals, stakes, and urgency. Some of the more advanced writers understand obstacles and conflict. All of these things are going to give you, at the very least, a solid screenplay.

But lately, I’ve been running into a lot of screenplays that do all of these things, yet are still boring.

You’d think that if somebody executed my precious GSU, I’d be preparing a 5 course meal of praise for them. But as wonderful as my darling little GSU is, it can’t make up for a crater-sized emotional void in a screenplay. And there are more craters in these scripts than there are on a full moon. They leave me feeling…empty. They don’t connect in some way.

A while back I wrote an article about the 13 things that every screenplay should have. At the end of that article, I talked about something called the “X-Factor.” The X factor is that indefinable thing that elevates a script above the pile. It’s that special sauce that makes all the pieces melt together. I call it the X-Factor because it’s hard to quantify. Something feels exciting and fresh and charged about the screenplay, but you can’t put your finger on what it is.

I believe I’ve finally figured out what it is.

SOUL.

These well-executed but boring screenplays don’t have any soul. All of the elements are where they’re supposed to be. But it’s the difference between a human being and a robot. You can feel a human being’s presence, the life beating out of them. The robot may look human, may even act human, but he emits no emotion, no love, no SOUL. So as neat as a human-looking robot is, you’ll never be able to connect with him.

So I set about trying to figure out the impossible: How to quantify SOUL. I realized I couldn’t do it in real life. But maybe I could figure it out in the screenplay world. After looking back through some of my favorite movies, I was able to identify a few things. These probably aren’t the only things that add soul to your script. But they’re the big ones. Naturally, most of them revolve around character.

RELATABLE CHARACTERS – Try to make your characters relatable in some way. There has to be something in them that’s identifiable so an audience can say, “Hey, that’s just like me,” Or “Hey, I have a friend going through the exact same thing!” This familiarity creates a connection between you and your audience that you can then use to extract emotion out of them. Because they now have a personal investment in your character, they’re more likely to care about what happens to them. It might be that your character loses someone close to them (Spider-Man), which is something a lot of people can relate to: loss. Or it might be that your character’s underestimated (Avatar), which is something a lot of us have felt in our lives. But make no mistake, if we don’t relate to the character in SOME WAY, chances are we won’t feel the power of your story.

CHARACTER HISTORY – Every day I believe more and more in character history (or character “biography”) and let me tell you why. The most boring characters I read are the most general ones. The characters I’m attracted to, the ones I want to know the most about, are unique in some way. And you can’t find the uniqueness in a person unless you know their history. Oh sure, you can give your character a quirky little habit to set them apart, like being a master harmonica player or something, but if you don’t know how or why he’s a harmonica master, it’ll just feel like a gimmick. The more work you do – the more you find out about who your character is – the more specific you can make them. If you know your character’s sister died in a car accident, for example, you can make them a cautious driver. If you know your character used to be fat, you can give him low self-esteem. If you know your character used to be a football star, he’ll probably always be bragging about the glory days. The more you know about your character, the more specific you can be. So take the time to write out those big character biographies and GET TO KNOW YOUR CHARACTERS.

CHARACTER FLAW – Creating a character flaw is a key part of giving your screenplay soul because it represents the thing about your character that most needs to change. We all have that, that monkey on our backs that won’t go away, that won’t allow us to reach our full potential. For some of us it’s that we’re not aggressive enough. For others it’s that we let ourselves be taken advantage of. For others still it’s that we don’t allow people to get close to us. By giving your character something to struggle with, you invite the audience to participate in whether they’ll overcome that struggle or not. And since we all have flaws ourselves, it’s something we want to see rectified. We believe that if our hero changes, WE CAN CHANGE TOO! It inspires us. It gives us hope. And for that reason, we *feel* something.

RELATIONSHIPS – In addition to addressing your characters individually, you want to address who they are with others. Remember that our entire lives are dictated by our relationships. The people we connect with on a daily basis are our world. So you want to spend a big chunk of your screenplay exploring those relationships. Start by finding relatable issues your characters are going through. Maybe a marriage is in trouble because the husband is a workaholic. Maybe two soul mates meet but it turns out one of them is engaged. You then want to explore the conflict and the issues in those relationships in a way that’s unique to your story. And really *think* about what your characters are going through. Treat them like real people with real problems. Lester Burnham in American Beauty had to come to terms with his wife no longer loving him. It resulted in a very real exploration of a dissolving relationship. Even the most famous action movie of all time, Die Hard, has a strong core relationship at its center – John and his wife. If you’re not exploring relationships as deeply and as obsessively as you can, you’re probably not writing very good screenplays.

THEME – The way I see it – Anybody can write a film with “stuff happening.” Those films can even do well at the box office if they’re targeted to the right demo. We’ve all seen (and quickly forgotten) Transformers. But the screenplays that are trying to say something, that are trying to leave you with something to think about, those are the screenplays readers put down and say, “Man, I have to tell somebody about this.” One of the most effective ways of doing this is to establish a theme in your movie, a “message.” Take a step back and look at your script as a whole. What is it about? What are the things that come up over and over again? Once you figure that out, you can subtly integrate that theme into the rest of your script. The Graduate, for example, is about feeling lost and directionless when you take your first steps into the world. Saving Mr. Banks is about learning how to let go. Screenplays without a theme, without a deeper message, will likely be forgotten hours after they’re finished.

IN SUMMARY
I don’t care if you’re writing a character piece, an action-thriller, a horror film or a coming-of-age movie, your script has to have soul. And it ain’t going to have it with a bunch of set-pieces and snappy dialogue. Those things help, but they mean nothing unless we’re attached to the characters, care about what happens in their relationships, and feel like there’s something deeper being said here. Plot is great. A great plot can take a script a long way. But if you want your script to hit the reader on an emotional level, if you want them to remember your script past tomorrow, you’ll need to inject soul. Hopefully these tips help you do it. Good luck!

For all you child prodigies out there desperate for a movie that conveys your pain, I’ve found just the screenplay for you!

Genre: Drama
Premise: A child prodigy goes to extreme lengths to save his parents’ troubled marriage, which has imploded because of him.
About: This is written by Ed Solomon, who wrote the first Men In Black, and also one of the more underrated screenplays of last year, “Now You See Me.” Really liked that one! His latest finished in the middle of last year’s Black List.
Writer: Ed Solomon (based on the film “Vitus”)
Details: 117 pages (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 love me some child prodigy scripts! Bobby Fischer is one of the best first halves of a movie that eventually turned sucky I’ve ever seen. Right up there with The Beach.

I can’t tell you what our fascination with child prodigies is but there’s something strangely appealing about them. Or maybe “appealing” isn’t the right word. Fascinating? Spooky? Unsettling? I mean they’re basically little mini-adults. And that’s just…weird. Yet I can’t look away!

“Disappear’s” Bobby Fischer is 6 year old Adam. Adam can pick a piano apart faster than a NASCAR pit crew. As the author points out, watching Adam play the piano isn’t just amazing because he’s six years old. It’s amazing because it’s amazing. Adam has this innate ability to learn any song – even ones he’s never heard before – within seconds. Not only that, he can play one song with one hand and another song with another hand. Oh, and just a reminder. He’s 6!

Naturally, parents Tom and Debbie are proud of their son but at the same time, being parents of a prodigy isn’t easy. It’s not easy being the second smartest guy in the room whenever your six year old is around. Tom must deal with that every day. And while Adam is the best piano player in the country, Debbie struggles just to land a seat on the local symphony.

Another thing that comes with the child prodigy territory is the responsibility of cultivating your child’s insane talent. You have to give your son the best teachers in the country. You have to give him the best tools available. You don’t want to be the parents who squandered a rare once-in-a-generation skillset.

But it’s this very obsession that takes a toll on Debbie and Tom. Debbie has to give up her dream of being a cellist in order to carpool Adam around. The strain also contributes to Tom getting fired, forcing the family to scrape by on what the English call, “a pittance.” Their world soon revolves completely around Adam. And it’s killing them, because in the process, they’re forgetting who they are.

And it’s not like Adam doesn’t notice. He understands the pressure as well. And to deal with it, he obsesses over the only thing that gives him comfort – bats. Yeah, I know, a little weird. Most of us obsess over normal things like love and Star Wars action figures. But when you’re a freakish genius mini-adult, you don’t exactly have normal obsessions. So Adam finally gets to the end of his rope, creates a bat costume, goes up to the top of his roof, and jumps off it.

Adam may be smart when it comes to Chopsticks, but he obviously knows very little about Isaac Newton. He lands on his head, giving him a severe concussion. And the next thing you know, Adam is “normal.” He can no longer ace the impossible tests. He can no longer play the piano like Mozart. He’s just like every other kid.

His parents freak out. The thing that’s made them celebrities has vaporized in a big puff of smoke. When your special son is no longer special, who are you? But once Adam starts doing “normal” things and acting like a “normal” little boy, his parents realize they can go on living normal lives, becoming a normal family. In the strangest way, the loss of Adam’s gift ends up saving them. However, there’s one last piece of the puzzle that will throw a wrench into everything – a secret that threatens to turn all the events that have transpired upside-down.

“Disappear” starts off in a unique way. We get thrust into the everyday happenings of this young prodigy family without a warm-up. So much for first acts. It’s just – BAM! – we’re in there watching a genius kid. It was a unique approach, but it did have an effect on the rhythm and structure of the screenplay. It felt like we’d been plopped down into the beginning of the second act. And when you start there, where do you go?

Usually, when you write a screenplay, you have an “inciting incident.” It’s the moment responsible for sending your character on his journey. In Juno, for example, it’s when Juno finds out she’s pregnant. She can’t turn back after that. So her journey begins. It’s a rhythm and structure thing we’re used to. So it’s what we expect when we go to a movie.

We understand after Luke’s Aunt and Uncle die, for example, that he must now help Obi-Wan deliver this message. We understand after Juno gets pregnant that she has to decide what to do with the baby. These incidents “incite” our characters (and at the same time us!) into the central plot of the story.

I didn’t see that here. We’re thrown into the mix of a child prodigy who’s already a child prodigy. There’s no “inciting incident” where we find out, for example, that he’s special. For that reason, it took a lot longer to figure out what the story was about. And I’m not saying this is “wrong.” There’s no such thing as “wrong” when you’re writing. I’m just saying it was a risky choice, one I’m not sure paid off.

But what really pushed me away from this story was Adam. Your hero does not need to be likable. But he does need to have something that makes you want to follow him around for two hours. Adam was petulant, cruel, selfish, disrespectful, annoying, and just an overall asshole. He was one of the most unsympathetic heroes I’ve ever encountered. He did have some interesting things to say about bats, but other than that, he seemed to think he was better than everyone else. I was so alienated by this character that I couldn’t give myself in to the story no matter how hard I tried.

Another interesting choice Solomon made was the inclusion of a love story with the babysitter. Adam has a 13-year-old babysitter when he’s six who decides to break out a bottle of champagne and her and Adam get drunk and she basically tells him they’re going to get married when they’re older. Without going into the oddness of this scene (getting drunk with a 6 year old??), I was miffed that this tiny moment would then become a major subplot.

When Adam reaches 13, he starts pursuing the babysitter. Like, a lot. And it was confusing. I wasn’t sure what pursuing an old flame had to do with the burden of being a genius and ruining your family. It just felt like a totally isolated storyline that never fit.

I like the way Solomon was thinking. You want to give your character a goal – something that keeps him active. Pursuing a girl achieves that. But thematically and story-wise, it didn’t feel right. And so it left me scratching my head.

It’s probably a surprise, then, when I say my favorite character in the script was Jeannie – the babysitter! While I may not have agreed with her storyline, she was beautifully written. She had personality and chutzpah and life. Here dialogue was top-notch, representative of her type (overly positive, quirky) yet never over-the-top, never written to draw attention to itself. It was almost like Solomon was so burdened by the drama he had to explore in Adam’s family, that he needed an outlet. And Jeannie became that outlet. If only her presence was more natural in the story, it would’ve been perfect.

This script is nicely written, but the wavy slow-starting narrative and a main character who was almost impossible to root for doomed it for me. :(

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

What I learned: “Out on an island” subplots. Be careful of subplots that feel like they’re out on their own island – far away from the rest of the story. In other words, you can’t just add a random subplot to fill up screenplay space. It has to tie in closely with the rest of the story, feel like it’s part of the whole. This Jeannie storyline – to me – felt like it was out on an island. If you erased it, very little about the story would change (almost always a bad sign). Every once in awhile, if the writer is skilled and the “Island subplot” is fascinating, it can work. But I’d avoid it if at all possible.

Waiting for Roger to send me this review was like watching paint dry.  The great thing about me, though, is that I don’t wait for paint to dry before painting again. So I was about to start writing a pretend review for a phantom script titled, “Oxley’s Mittens.”  It was going to be about this guy named Oxley who inadvertently purchased some magic mittens that allowed him to control the weather.  He then uses them to thrust Los Angeles into a deep set winter, effectively bringing the town, and the movie business, to a standstill.  Well, I’m glad Roger’s e-mail finally showed up then.  Cause I did not know what happened after the midpoint in Oxley’s Mittens.  Feel free to tell me in the comments section though.  Maybe we can all write a screenplay together!  In the meantime, here’s Diablo Cody’s directing debut. 

Today’s Black List screenplay explores two people falling in love, with one huge problem standing in the way.

Genre: Romantic Dramedy (is that a genre?)
Premise: An alcoholic falls in love with a woman who doesn’t drink. As their relationship intensifies, he must work harder and harder to keep his secret from her.
About: Finished in the middle of last year’s Black List.
Writer: Brandon and Phillip Murphy
Details: Sep 29, 2010 – 111 pages (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).

One of the stranger things about last year’s Black List was that there was not one but TWO scripts about alcoholics. But that’s not the freakiest part. They were both placed RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER on the list. Dew-dew-dew-dew Dew-dew-dew-dew (Twilight Zone score). Is that not bizarre or WHAT??

Okay, it’s not that bizarre at all but just go with it. It’s hard coming up with new angles for every review. Alcoholic cloning cousin scripts felt fresh when I thought of it.

So The Last Drop’s principle cast member is a guy named Clay, a good-looking dude in his 30s. Quite charming. Funny. Can have you laughing for 5 straight hours on the phone if need be. Not only that, but he’s fearless. He can walk up to any woman in a bar and have an 80% conversion rate. But that’s part of the problem. Clay spends nearly every free moment of his life IN bars.

In fact, he works at The New Yorker, one of the most prestigious magazines in the country, and rarely shows up for work. The thing is, he’s such an awesome writer that they let him slide. In fact, they kind of know he’s an alcoholic. But as long as he delivers the goods, they don’t care.

So one day, while casually slurping down a drink that’s probably straight alcohol, he notices a beautiful woman sitting alone at a table. This is the kind of girl that makes a boy forget about all the other girls out there. There’s something behind those eyes that he has to know everything about.

So he downs his drink and approaches this girl we’ll come to know as Holly. Just by the way they’re looking at each other, we know they’ve already fallen. They may not have said it yet, but we know. When love grabs hold of you, it beams off of every skin cell on your body.

Before Clay can reach the second act of his play though, Holly’s lunch date shows up – her father. Talk about the mother of all cockblocks! Luckily, Holly slips him her card before he goes. He’s got her number. SWEEEEET!

Clay celebrates, of course, by getting unabashedly wasted. But as all of us guys know, getting wasted with a new girl’s phone number is a cocktail recipe for disaster. That night, Clay calls and leaves Holly FOURTEEN DRUNK-DIAL VOICEMAILS. I don’t care how much a girl liked your first meeting. 14 drunk-dial voicemails puts you squarely in the category of PSYCHO. Poor Clay realizes that he blew his shot. Ain’t no coming back from that one.

Or is there? When you’re in love, you don’t give up. Even when the odds aren’t in your favor. It turns out Holly runs a bakery – something he finds via a little stalking. Never underestimate a person with too much time on their hands and Google. So Clay decides to write a glowing review of her place in the New Yorker, and it turns her languishing business into the star of New York City. After that, Holly has no choice but to give Clay a second chance.

The two start hanging out, and it’s then when Clay realizes Holly doesn’t drink. And since Clay doesn’t NOT drink, every time they’re together, Clay has to sneak into the bathroom or some other private location to get WASTED. It’s sad but it’s the only way he can operate.

At a certain point, however, Holly begins to suspect something’s up. Clay isn’t always acting…balanced. Naturally, this all ends up in a huge train-wreck of a finale that you just knew was coming. This is the kind of stuff that happens in a whirlwind romance. Feelings and circumstances are so intense that they eventually come to a fiery head. However, it’s what you do after that collision that determines where the relationship goes. Will Clay manage to save his chance at true love?

This was a different kind of script. I’m not sure I’ve ever read a romantic comedy about alcoholism before. That alone makes it unique. But it also makes it a bit of a struggle tonally. Are you supposed to be laughing about the situations Clay finds himself in or are you supposed to be sad? I’m not sure. Because a guy passing out on his front sidewalk after an endless night of drinking is giggle-worthy at 19. Not so much when you’re 30.

There seemed to be something off about the structure as well. When you write a love story, you need that middle section where you sell the two characters falling in love. It’s essential for the rest of the screenplay to work because we have to feel that love in order to care that they get back together in the end.

So what’s weird about this script is that the main character loses the girl right away – immediately after they first meet. This requires the story to focus on Clay trying to get a girl back that he never really had in the first place. And since that takes some time, by the time he does convince her to be with him, the writers are forced to scrunch that “falling in love” section into a tiny portion late in the second act. In fact, I think the extent of their falling in love happens in a montage.

For that reason, the final act, when Clay goes to Holly’s parents, feels a little sudden. We haven’t experienced these two together long enough to mine the most out of this sequence. And it’s too bad, because it has all the makings of a great sequence. A guy meeting a girl’s parents for the first time when he’s absolutely obliterated, yet trying to hide it from them.

The Last Drop was a unique script in more ways than one. One thing that really stuck out to me about it was its montages. I’ve never really liked montages because the idea of a script is to transport the reader into a world where he’s not thinking about the words on the page. Montages are so mechanical (they’re often numbered or listed) that they kill that suspension of disbelief. And yet they’re a necessary evil because sometimes in a screenplay, you need to bridge time.

The Murphys have a very non-invasive way of writing montages. They sort of write these mini-scenes one on top of another so it doesn’t actually feel like you’re reading a montage. It definitely takes up more space but I loved how the events blended into each other as opposed to a feeling like a grocery list. It read more…organic I guess. And organic is a good thing!

In the end, I genuinely wanted to see if Clay was going to get better. I think that’s the reason you keep reading a screenplay like this. Remember that this is a story about characters – specifically a relationship – so it’s not as GSU applicable. Goals are replaced by questions. Such as, will Clay get better? Will Clay and Holly end up together? That’s why we keep reading. We want to know the answers to those questions.

So did I like The Last Drop? Yeah, um-hm. I did. Not only did I like it for the reasons I listed above, but I liked it because it was different. I’ve just never seen this subject matter tackled quite the way it was here. If you’re a reader, you’re always looking for that slightly different fresh angle. This had that.

Check this one out if the subject matter interests you. Oh, and don’t give up on it. It gets better as it goes along. Patience will reward you.

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

What I learned: This script is a great reminder of why structure is so important. If you play with structure too much, you can be stuck trying to do big important things in very small spaces. In this case, because it takes so long to get our characters together, the screenplay has less space to sell their relationship. That’s not to say it can’t be done. It just becomes more difficult because it’s always more difficult to sell important pieces of the story in a small amount of time. So feel free to play around with structure. You never want the structure of your script to feel *too* predictable. But know that if you bend too much, you can put yourself in a position that’s difficult to recover from.

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: Drama/Western/Period/Mystery/Thriller?
Premise: A left-for-dead rancher wakes up in the middle of the desert with no memory of who he is. He goes off in a search to find out what happened.
About: This script came to me via my notes service.
Writer: Ryan Binaco
Details: 104 pages

 

So at the last second, the writer who was having his script reviewed for Amateur Friday e-mailed to tell me that he wanted to rescind his review. Maybe he was afraid of trying to follow Kelly Marcel’s amazing interview, but whatever the case, this was a nightmare scenario for me. You guys can probably tell that I’m overworked as it is. Now I’m reading two scripts for one review.

But it turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I’d just finished giving notes on a script which I thought was really interesting. I told him I didn’t know who to send it to because it doesn’t fit into any particular genre. But at the same time, it’s one of the few scripts I’ve read this year that’s kept me turning each page in anticipation.

So while the script isn’t easily categorizable (word?), there’s something about it where if it found the right person, someone who knew what to do with it, it could be special. And that’s why I decided to review it.

The script has a great opening. The year is 1846. We see the dead body of a rancher in the middle of the desert being pecked away at by buzzards, when all of a sudden his eyes shoot open. He’s still alive. The rancher stumbles up, swatting away at the birds, quickly noticing the huge gash on his head, something that whoever left him here did to him.

If only that was the worst of it. That gash – or the result of it – has left him without any memories. He doesn’t know his name, he doesn’t know how he got here, he doesn’t know anything. All he knows now is that he’s in the middle of the desert, dying of thirst, with no idea where to go.

So he just starts walking, eventually finding a disheveled man living in a cave. Cave Man, Damian, takes him in and shows him how to live off the land, even when the land has little to offer. The problem is that he’s very possessive. Every time the rancher tells him he wants to leave to find out who he is, Damian tells him that it’s a stupid idea. He has a safe place to live and is well fed. Why give that up?

Not only that, but there seems to be some animal/ beast stalking them on the outskirts of the camp. Even if Rancher did decide to ignore Damian and go out on his own, chances are this “thing” would get him.

At a certain point, however, Rancher discovers that Damian has a deep dark secret, one that explains why he doesn’t want Rancher to leave. This forces Rancher to high-step it out of there and, once again, stumble through unfamiliar terrain to find out who he is and where he came from.

Eventually, he makes it out of the desert and comes upon a farm. The farm’s owner, an older man named John, lives there with his daughter, Terry. Initially, John doesn’t believe the rancher’s story and locks him up in his barn. But over time, he loosens up and allows the rancher to stay with them. After a while, he finally decides to take John to town and find out if anyone recognizes him.

When the rancher does discover the truth, it’s not what he had hoped, but this will lead him down a new path, one where he’s accepted into John’s family. However it’s at that home that a dark secret threatens to destroy John, Rancher, and John’s daughter.

At first I didn’t know what to think of this script. Actually, that’s a lie. This script confounded me almost the whole way through. But in a good way. One of the things I’m always preaching to you guys is to take your stories in a different direction – one the reader doesn’t expect. That’s a lot easier said than done because the direction still has to make sense. It still has to feel like a logical story as opposed to a bunch of weird scenes blended together. I actually just read the first ten pages of a script over in Twit-Pitch. I was definitely surprised by the way the pages evolved, but it was too random to make sense of, too unfocused to be coherent.

With Ryan’s script here, we go from a guy stuck in the desert, to a guy being nursed back to health by a strange man, to a guy living on a ranch with an old man and his daughter. Each successive storyline was unpredictable, and yet it all fit together through the prism of this specific mystery our hero had to solve. I was really impressed by that.

Another thing that sticks with you when you read this script is Ryan’s voice. He has an uncanny ability to create atmosphere by finding the beauty (and the darkness) in seemingly mundane things. For example, he’ll highlight the way the shadows dance against the wall via moonlight right before Rancher goes to sleep.

This is another thing where if you do it wrong, it turns into a disaster. It’ll feel like a writer focusing on mundane details that don’t add anything to the screenplay other than a higher page count. But Ryan uses such a sparse writing style to begin with that this attention to detail adds instead of detracts from the story. Where this kind of thing becomes problematic is when writers are writing seven line paragraphs describing a room. Here, Ryan picks and chooses the “atmosphere” moments and keeps them very short. No more than a line or two.

Another thing I loved about the script was the way Ryan dealt with his amnesiac main character. I think when I read the logline about a man waking up in the desert with no idea of how we got there, I was expecting another Buried clone. It was going to be cliché – beginning with an intense first 20 pages, only to peter out quickly after the writer ran out of ideas.

But Ryan seems to be genuinely interested in how amnesia affects his hero. There’s a deep set need for Rancher to find out who he is. It isn’t just a function of the story – a goal without substance. It’s an organic character goal. I don’t often see amateurs caring so much about these things, yet these are the exact things that separate writers from the pack. You need to explore your characters on a deeper level and get into what they want. You have to commit to them.

And I like the little ways Ryan keeps you interested. When you have a “slow” script like this one, you must utilize tools like mystery and suspense and anticipation so that we’ll want to keep watching. Primarily, we’re interested in who the rancher is. But there are also other things that keep our interest. For example, John makes it clear that the one thing the rancher cannot do is look at his daughter in an inappropriate way. If he does, he’ll kill him.

Also, John has a room that he forbids Rancher from going into. It’s a small thing, but in the back of our heads, we can’t stop thinking about that room and what might be in it. By doing this, you don’t have to rush the script along at a breakneck speed. The mystery does the work for you. If we want to know the secret behind something, time will appear to move faster, so even though the script is “slow,” it seems fast.

I did have a few issues with the script, however. The first one was the beast at the beginning. I was never clear what the beast was – was it real or fake? To be honest, it kind of felt like one of those “film school” choices. Like, “Ooooh. Maybe the beast is him!” I don’t know, it didn’t quite fit for me.

But my big issue was the ending. At a certain point, we learn who Rancher is. Yet there were still 30-40 pages left in the script. This is always a dangerous choice. The primary problem you’ve set up at the beginning of the screenplay drives the story. If you answer it – what’s left for the audience to latch onto? Why do they want to keep reading if the main question has been answered?

For this reason, the final act essentially becomes a “wrapping up” of the family story. There is sort of a final twist, but I felt like it was telegraphed too clearly earlier on (it was really the only way for the story to go), so it landed with a whimper. This left the final act to be the weakest of the screenplay, and as we all know, you can’t do that.

But I’ll tell you this. Ryan is definitely a writer to watch out for. I’m not sure how to turn this into a sellable movie, again because the genre is so wishy-washy. But I’m hoping somebody out there “gets” Ryan and helps him maximize his potential. He has a ton of it.

This one is worth the read.

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

What I learned: I’d be wary of answering the question that drives your story too early. It puts you in a bind for your third act because we already found out what we wanted to find out. I know who Rancher is, so I’m done. If you *do* need to answer the big question before the final act, replace it with another equally or bigger question. I think Ryan tried to do this with the mystery of who Damian was. But we already knew who Damian was, so it fell short. For example, maybe Rancher finds out what happened to him and who did it, but he still doesn’t know *why* it happened. And the *why* can be the big final act reveal.