Genre: Biopic/Thriller
Premise: The story of how Alan Turing cracked the impossible “Enigma” code, which helped the Allies win World War 2.
About: If I were to gauge the buzz around all the spec screenplays this year, this one would probably be at the top of the list. In fact, I’m betting this script is going to end up as the number 1 Black List script for 2011. What makes it even more impressive is that it’s from a first-time screenwriter (however, he is a novelist). Strangely, the script sold literally 24 hours after I read it, for a million bucks, to Warner Brothers. Maybe I sent some good screenplay vibes out into the universe. Or maybe it was just that Leonardo DiCaprio attached himself.
Writer: Graham Moore (based on “Alan Turing: The Enigma” By Andrew Hodges)
Details: 126 pages – undated (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).

This script had been burning up the screenplay charts for the last few weeks. People had been talking about it as a surefire Oscar winner for 2012 or 2013. So then why didn’t I read it right away? Simple. Because it was a biopic. We all know how I feel about biopics. They don’t easily fit into the three act structure. They’re more about following a person than they are about a story. They have that wandering mushy feel that I’m not a fan of. Up until this point, I’d probably say my favorite biopic was The Muppet Man. And if you remember my review, I even had a bunch of problems with that one.

Well, a new biopic has taken over that title. And it’s The Imitation Game. Why? Because this script has rewritten the rules of biopics. Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating a bit. But I will say this. This script addressed the biggest problem I have with this genre. How? Read on my friends.

Imitation Game starts in 1951 with Alan Turing having been robbed. When the police come, they see all these chemicals and equations everywhere – a complete mess – along with Alan, who’s evasive and somewhat embarrassed about the break-in. In fact, he tries to convince the cops that it’s nothing. And although they eventually leave, they’re suspicious that Alan isn’t being entirely truthful with them.

We then cut to 1939, where Alan is being recruited to work on a top-secret project for the British, to try and break the code known as “Enigma,” which is what the Germans used to encrypt all of their orders during the war. It’s considered to be the single most impossible code to break in all of history, and this project is seen as a long shot at best. Even the other people working on Enigma are convinced that it’s a waste of time.

But Alan is a different kind of beast. Although it’s never said during the screenplay – it’s evident that Alan has some form of autism. He’s amazing with puzzles and numbers but has absolutely zero social graces. This makes him a huge burden to work with. And as soon as he pops into the group, he’s hated or ignored by everyone.

We also jump back to a third time period – 1927 – when Alan was 15. Obviously, because he was so strange, he often got bullied and beat up. There was one kid, however, who saw beyond what the other kids saw. His name was Christopher and he was tall and striking and cool and nice, the exact kind of person you’d expect to never give Alan the time of day. But the two struck up a close friendship, which would prove to be the most important friendship of Alan’s life.

Anyway, we continue to jump between these three timelines, with the bulk of the time being spent in the Enigma section. And that really is where the meat of the story resides. As one of his superiors points out to Alan, every 10 seconds, eight more people are dead because of this war. So there’s a lot of pressure to figure Enigma out.

Eventually, Alan realizes that the reason they’re unable to crack Enigma is because they’re humans, and Enigma is more like a machine. In order to figure out a machine, he surmises, you have to come up with your own machine. So he starts building this machine, to the doubts of others, and calls it Christopher (which gives you an idea of where that 1927 storyline is heading).

In addition to being about cracking the uncrackable code, The Imitation Game is also about a man who’s unable to connect with others, who only thinks in terms of logic, and must fight endlessly for even the tiniest bits of emotion and connection. It is a battle he will wage war with for the rest of his life. And it will ultimately contribute to his undoing.

All right, it’s time to get into why this biopic is so much better than all the other biopics I read. Probably the most important thing I preach here on the site is the need for a strong narrative. In order for you to achieve that, you need two things. You need a character with a strong goal. And you need that character to desperately want to achieve that goal. You rarely get that in biopics. They’re usually more a collection of life highlights. But The Imitation Game follows a more traditional narrative path in that it gives its character a strong goal (crack Enigma) along with a desperate desire to achieve it (all Alan cares about is cracking Enigma – it’s the only thing he thinks about 24-7).

Why are these things so important? Because almost all good movies have active main characters – characters who drive the story forward by their own actions. And the best way to get that kind of character is to give him a goal and make it a goal he cares about more than anything. If you do that, your hero will always be fighting and pushing and scratching and clawing to achieve that goal. By that very definition, he’ll be active.

But that’s not all it does right. Whenever you write a biopic, the subject of your story has to be fascinating in some way. The best way to achieve this is to insert some sort of inner conflict inside of him that needs to be resolved. Here, Turing’s flaw is his inability to connect with others. He only seems capable of connecting with numbers and equations and codes and puzzles. Try as he might, he can’t connect with humans. And you feel that with every choice he makes.

In effect, he has to learn to work with others if he’s going to figure this out. This is something he’s unable to do – which gives every scene within the Enigma project a ton of conflict.

But I think where this script really elevates itself is when he starts building Christopher. Now I’m going to allude to spoilers here so tread carefully, but there’s something ironic and sad and powerful about a man who’s unable to connect with others, building a machine – the only thing he’s truly able to relate with – to solve his problems, when in effect what he’s really doing is rebuilding the one human being he cared about. That irony hangs over every scene in the second half of the screenplay and it’s really powerful stuff.

I also loved how we didn’t go down the traditional boring “daddy doesn’t approve of my life choices” path that so many of these biopics rely on. I loved that they found a different relationship to affect our main character.

On the downside, a director pointed out to me that this is not a cinematic script at all. And when I thought about it, I realized that almost the entire screenplay is people talking in rooms. Indeed, it’s difficult to make that cinematically exciting. However, the same thing can be said about The Social Network and The Imitation Game’s second cousin, A Beautiful Mind. Plus, we’re talking about World War 2 here so I’m sure they could add some cinematic scenes if they really wanted to. For example, there’s an intense scene later on where our characters have the opportunity to save a boat that’s under siege by the Germans. In the script, we don’t cut to that boat. But that could easily be written in.

I think my biggest problem with this script was the homosexual stuff. One of the secrets Alan keeps is that he’s gay. My issue is that it doesn’t play into the story at all. It just seems to be another quirky attribute of Alan’s. And because it’s unnecessary, it starts to feel like Oscar bait. There’s a precedent for these misunderstood mathematical genius roles to win Oscars. And if you make him a homosexual, well that just beefs up the chances.

The thing is, the one area where it really could’ve helped the story is where it wasn’t used. I’m talking about the relationship between Alan and Christopher. It’s alluded to briefly, but then that’s it. I would’ve loved if they’d explored that relationship more, and shown more of a connection between them, because it really is heartbreaking later when Alan is building the machine. And if I would’ve understood that relationship and that love better, I’m sure it would’ve taken it over the top. But yeah, the whole “present day” stuff about him hiding his homosexuality didn’t work for me. In fact, I would probably ditch all of the 1951 stuff and use that time to explore the 1927 storyline better. More Christopher please. I mean, he is the reason you’re able to read this blog right now (Alan Turing’s machine is what later spawned the computer).

That said, I really liked the screenplay. The strong goal and compelling inner conflict, coupled with the tragic backstory, really packed a punch. And the script was really well written. It’s easily one of the better scripts of the year.

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

What I learned: I’m telling you guys, if you write a biopic, I’m begging you to come up with some sort of clear objective/goal like The Imitation Game. That way, instead of just appealing to the biopic nuts, you’ll also be appealing to the masses, as you’ll be crafting a script with a strong storyline.

Genre: Sci-fi
Premise: On their way to California, a family stops at a truck stop, only to realize it’s inhabited by a strange alien force.
About: Every Friday, I review a script from the readers of the site. If you’re interested in submitting 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.
Writer: Peter Tom Maatta
Details: 97 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 think Peter was a little nervous about throwing his script out there for the world to judge, and since last week got a little nasty in the comments section, I want to remind everyone that the idea behind Amateur Friday is not only to discuss amateur screenplays, but to help the writer make their screenplay better. So the more constructive you can make your comments, the more educational Fridays will be.

That’s not to say I want you guys sugarcoating anything. I think it’s important to let the writer know when something isn’t working, even if it’s the whole damn shebang. If you hated it, say you hated it. But instead of focusing on coming up with the perfect witty Francis-like put down, use that brain power of yours to suggest how to fix the script, even if it’s a minor suggestion. We’re all in this together so let’s be supportive.

Okay, on to Truck Stop. This script fucking sucked.

No, I’m kidding. I’m kidding. That was a joke everyone. Calm down.

In staying with the theme of this week’s selections, this script had a weird vibe to it that isn’t quite like anything you’ve read before. I definitely sensed some David Lynchness to the story, so if you dig the Lynchster, you’ll probably find something here to like.

40-something Kevin Ford and his wife Danielle are taking the kids, 15-year-old Katie and 10-year old Nathan, on a road trip to California. It’s a needed getaway since Kevin recently experienced a home invasion while the family was gone. But this wasn’t any home invasion. He believes he saw creatures break into his house. So his therapist tells him to get out of Dodge, enjoy life a little bit, and that’s what he plans to do.

Oh if it were only that easy. About halfway there, the family stops at a truck stop to get a bite to eat. As we were notified at the beginning of the script, this truck stop had a little reeses pieces phone home experience back in the 50s. So we already know something weird’s going on with this place.

On this night, however, it’s fairly packed, with typical inbred-fare no less. In fact, the clientele is so sketchy that the family starts getting nervous and prepares an exit plan. The problem is that Katie is off talking on her phone and Nathan is off playing hide and seek with himself, so even though Kevin has a really bad feeling about this, he can’t get the family together in time to get out. And boy is he going to regret that.

Up from the basement comes one of the restaurant workers who’s drenched in blood. And outside there’s a large contingent of men in black refusing to let anybody leave the truck stop. Apparently they’re aware that this place has alien activity. And that means the truck stop is quarantined. As things spiral out of control and truck stoppers start dying, Kevin finds himself waking up at the beginning of his vacation, like none of it ever happened.

In fact, he doesn’t remember the truck stop at all. He just has some fleeting moments of déjà vu. So when they get to the truck stop again, he’s trying to figure out why he feels like he’s been here before. Once he does, he tries to get the family out again, but runs into the same problems. Cut to Kevin waking up in his car once again. I think you get the point. This keeps repeating itself as Kevin remembers more and more each time, and has to use that knowledge to try and save his family.

In short, I thought there were some really interesting ideas here. I liked the idea of a strange truck stop in the middle of nowhere with an alien presence. There’s all sorts of things you can do with that and I was curious to see what Peter would come up with. I also liked the family angle. Approaching this from the point of view of a family that has to escape together makes for some good drama. So the core of this story has potential.

Unfortunately, I don’t think the script is ready. It feels like it was rushed out before all of the crazy ideas were molded into something coherent. In fact, coherency is a big problem here, and it starts with the tiniest of details. There were a lot of spelling mistakes and misused words in the script. Just in the first 15 we get “he” instead of “the.” We get “hoping” instead of “hopping.” We get “possible” instead of “possibly.” We get “slowing” instead of “slowly.” On a good day, I can handle a few mistakes, but when they start affecting my enjoyment of the story, it becomes a problem. Plus it just makes it seem like the script was rushed. No reader likes to read a script they feel was slapped onto the page haphazardly.

That sloppiness continued in other places as well. For example, this script started back in the 40s. It then jumped to the 50s. Then it jumped…….. I don’t know when. We just cut to a new scene. I didn’t know if we were still in the 50s, if we had jumped forward another 20 years, or if we were now in the present day. Because it was never stated. Those are important details that need to be conveyed.

This then permeated into the story itself. I couldn’t understand, for example, why this alien in the truck stop had waited to strike for 40 years. Or if it *had* been striking that entire time – killing people left and right – why hadn’t the authorities gone to check it out? And what did Kevin’s previous experience with aliens have to do with his current experience with aliens? I’m thinking the odds of running into an alien are one in a billion. Yet our main character runs into them twice. If there was a connection there somehow, it would be okay, but as far as I could tell, each event was isolated.

And then there were moments like Kevin going over to talk to a weird guy in the diner who’s giving him déjà vu. He has a quick conversation with the man then heads back to his wife, who asks, “Who was that?” And Kevin’s response is, “Just somebody I thought I knew.” And apparently that’s good enough for his wife. Wouldn’t you be curious how your husband would know somebody a thousand miles away from your home at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere? Wouldn’t you ask, “Who would you know out here?” But she doesn’t say a thing. She just rolls with it. It didn’t feel thought through – like Peter was thinking about how the characters would really react to one another. This is something I probably would’ve shrugged off under normal circumstances, but all of the sloppiness I mentioned earlier made it so I didn’t trust the script. Any time something didn’t make sense, my first thought was to blame the author. That’s what a sloppily written script will do to a reader.

The plot itself kind of loops in and out of coolness. I liked the men in black characters hanging out outside and not letting anybody leave. And probably my favorite sequence was when (spoiler) all of time stops and the sky opens up and we see these giant aliens coming down and resetting the truck stop. It was just so trippy and weird I was totally captivated. The problem was that the narrative was so mushy and strange, that these moments were more surprising than they were dramatically compelling. What I mean is, I was never clear on what these moments had to do with the story. I wasn’t even sure what Kevin had to do to get out of the time loop. Even at the end of the script (spoiler) when he makes it out, I wasn’t clear how he had made it out.

My suggestion would be to give this story a different slant. I’d start off by getting rid of the opening flashbacks. It’s not clear why we need a scene of the atom bomb blowing up or even why we need to see the truck stop owner bring the alien into his restaurant. That feels like back story to me and I’d rather just jump into the real story.

I’m also not convinced that the looping time thing is the way to go. We already have a truck stop with a strange alien presence inside. Throwing in a time loop might be one sci-fi additive too many. If we can just get this family to the truck stop and have the alien (or aliens, or MIB) start wreaking havoc on the people, and they have to escape, that could be enough.

For example, maybe the alien arrives and starts killing a few people and somehow the people in the diner are able to kill it. So they think they’re okay. Then these strange men show up to take care of it, and they realize that these men (the men in black) are actually more dangerous than the aliens themselves, and are planning to kill them because they’re a witness to alien activity. Then add some twists and turns (maybe more aliens show up). But at the heart of the story is a family trying to get out of this crazy situation alive.

Originally, I thought that the humans inside this truck stop were actually going to be aliens. That might be cool in itself. The family shows up. Everybody there acts really weird. They can tell something is up. And maybe the family happens to be there right at the moment the men in black have finally figured out that this truck stop is a haven for aliens and have come there to kill them off. So our family is actually collateral damage in the ordeal and must work with the aliens to get out alive. I don’t know, something a little less trippy.

Anyway, I don’t think this was quite ready for consumption, but it had some cool ideas that could be harnessed for future drafts. Thanks, Peter, for letting me read it. :-)

Script link: Truck Stop

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

What I learned: Don’t set up something if you’re not going to pay it off – if you’re not going to explain its connection to the rest of the story. A huge deal is made out of this alien home invasion that happened to Kevin. Yet it’s never explained what that has to do with the alien presence at the truck stop. Were they trying to warn him? Were these the same aliens? What was their intention for breaking in? If you’re gonna set something like that up, you eventually have to connect it to the rest of the story. Otherwise it feels random and sloppy.

Last week we talked about establishing conflict through characters, relationships, and external forces. During the article, I casually mentioned the importance of conflict within scenes as well. Many of you expressed interest in hearing more about that, so I decided to expand my conflict ramblings to a second week.

Indeed, virtually every scene in your screenplay should have some element of conflict if it’s going to entertain an audience. I cannot stress this enough. One of the biggest mistakes I see in screenplays is boring scenes. Scenes that only exist for characters to spout exposition, to reveal backstory, or to wax philosophic. I’ve referred to these scenes before as “scenes of death.” The quickest way to make these scenes interesting is to add conflict.

The basis for all conflict comes from an imbalance – two forces opposed to one another (wanting different things), or even one force wanting something it can’t have. Usually these forces are represented by your characters. But they can be external as well (if our character is racing towards the airport to tell his girlfriend he loves her, the opposing force might be a traffic jam). So when you sit down to write a scene, you’re always looking to create that imbalance, that unresolved issue, to add an entertainment factor to the sequence.

Having said that, it should be noted that in rare circumstances, you can get away with no conflict. For example, in order for the scene in Notting Hill to work where Anna invites William up to her hotel only to find her boyfriend there (a scene heavy with conflict), we needed a few scenes with the two having a great time together. So eliminating the conflict in those previous scenes actually made the conflict stronger in this one. So as long as you have a purpose for not using conflict, it’s okay (however I would always err on the side of adding conflict).

In true Scriptshadow form, I’ve decided to highlight 10 movies and look at how they create conflict within their scenes. This should give you a clearer picture on how to apply conflict to scenes in your own screenplays.

Meet The Parents
Scene: The Dinner Scene
Conflict: The conflict here is simple. Greg wants to impress Jack so he’ll approve of him marrying his daughter. Jack wants to expose Greg as the inadequate choice for his daughter that he is (two opposing forces – a clear imbalance). This is a great reminder that the best conflict has usually been set up beforehand. So we’ve already established in Greg’s earlier scenes how important getting married to Jack’s daughter is (testing his proposal on one of his patients, organizing her preschool class to help him propose). We’ve also established how reluctant Jack is to accept Greg (when he first shows up, Jack disagrees with him on almost everything). This is the most basic application of conflict in a scene, but as you can see, even the most basic conflict can make a scene highly entertaining.

The Sixth Sense
Scene: Malcolm tries to get Cole to talk to him.
Conflict: This is a very understated scene, but the conflict is well-crafted. Malcolm wants Cole to trust him. Cole is resistant to trusting Malcolm. Again, a simple imbalance. One person wants one thing. Another person wants the opposite. Night cleverly draws the scene out by building a game around it – if Malcolm guesses something right about Cole, he has to take a step forward. If he guesses wrong, Cole gets to take a step back. So you actually feel the conflict with every question.

Back To The Future
Scene: Marty asks Doc to get him back to the future.
Conflict: Once Marty convinces 1950s Doc that he’s from the future, Doc lets him inside. Now at this point, the two are on the same page. They both want to get Marty back to the future. So there’s no conflict between the characters. Instead, the conflict comes from the fact that Doc doesn’t believe it’s possible. So again, two forces are colliding with one another and need to be resolved. At the end of the scene, they realize that the lightning can send him back to the future, and the conflict is resolved (sometimes conflict will be resolved by the end of a scene and sometimes not – it depends on the story and what you’re trying to do).

Rocky
Scene: Multiple scenes.
Conflict: One of the reasons Rocky is so great is because almost every single scene is packed with conflict. Whether it’s Rocky trying to get a resistant Adrian to go out with him. Whether it’s Rocky getting kicked out of his gym. Whether it’s Mick begging Rocky to let him coach him. Whether it’s his constant clashes with Paulie (and his destructive behavior). Whether it’s him telling a resistant girl to stop hanging around thugs and do something with her life. If you want to know how to create conflict within scenes, pop this movie in your DVD player right now.

Toy Story
Scene: Birthday scene.
Conflict: In this scene, the army men sneak down to Andy’s birthday to report what the new presents are. The conflict stems from trying to report the presents without getting caught. Remember, if it didn’t matter whether the army men were discovered or not, there would be no conflict (and therefore no drama) in this scene. The conflict comes from the fact that if they’re seen, they’re screwed. This is actually one of the reasons the Toy Story franchise is so successful. Because nearly every scene is built around this imbalance. The toys have to pretend to be inanimate whenever humans are around. That means every scene is packed with conflict.

The Wrestler
Scene: Deli scene
Conflict: In this famous scene, the conflict comes from the fact that everything in The Ram’s life is falling apart – his health, his family, his profession – and the last place he wants to be is at his $10 an hour deli job. So there’s conflict within the character before the scene even begins. But when his boss starts getting on his nerves, when customers start pushing him, when someone recognizes him, he starts losing it. Those multiple forces pushing up against him are the conflict that makes this scene so great. It’s also another reminder that the best conflict is usually set up ahead of time. This scene doesn’t work if it’s the first scene in the movie. It works because we’ve experienced the downfall of this character. We know what he’s been through. Therefore we understand why he doesn’t want to be here.

Pretty Woman
Scene: Vivian comes back to his hotel.
Conflict: In this scene, Edward picks up Vivian on the streets and brings her back to his hotel. I specifically picked this scene because it’s a scene that amateur writers always screw up. What’s the purpose of this scene? The purpose is for these two characters to get to know each other. A very common scene in a romantic comedy or any “guy meets girl” movie. However, bad writers will take this scene and try to fill it with a bunch of clever dialogue, exposition, and backstory. If you go that route, at best you’ll have an average scene, and more likely a terrible one. Here’s the thing. This scene *does* have clever dialogue, exposition, and back story. So then why does it work? Because the writer added an element of conflict. Edward wants to talk whereas Vivian wants to get down to business. He wants to get to know her. She wants to collect her money and run. So there’s this little dance going on during the scene – the two characters wanting different things – that allows the writer to slip in clever dialogue, exposition, and backstory, without us realizing it. We’re so entertained/distracted by that dance, that all the story machinations slip under the radar. This is why conflict is so powerful. The right dose can turn an otherwise boring scene into an entertaining one.

The Other Guys
Scenes: All of them.
Conflict: One of the easiest genres to write conflict in is the buddy comedy. That’s because every single scene will have your characters clashing with each other. This is why The Hangover was so popular. This is why Rush Hour was so big. The conflict is definitely artificial, however because it’s a comedy, it works. The trick with these films is to vary the conflict from scene to scene so we don’t tire of it. For example, in an early scene at the office, Mark Wahlberg yells at Will Ferrell for being a pussy. It’s an intense scene with a lot of conflict. However later on, when Mark has dinner with Will’s wife, the conflict is more subtle. Mark keeps bothering him about the fact that there’s no way this could really be his wife. Not every scene needs to be nuclear charged with conflict. You need to mix it up just like you need to mix up any aspect of your screenplay.

Pulp Fiction
Scene: Jack Rabbit Slims
Conflict: The uninitiated screenwriter will look at this scene between Vincent Vega and Mia Wallace and think it’s just a bunch of cool dialogue. Don’t be fooled. This scene’s awesomeness is based entirely on its conflict. Vincent Vega wants something he can’t have – Mia Wallace. Why? Because Mia Wallace is the wife of his boss. What’s so great about this scene though is how hard Tarantino pushes the conflict. If all that was going on here was Vincent wanting Mia, there would be conflict, but not that much. It’s the fact that Mia is throwing herself at him that’s making this so difficult. The more tempted Vincent is, the more difficult his choice becomes. Another lesson here is that the conflict doesn’t only have to come from the characters inside the scene. It’s not Mia who doesn’t want Vincent here. It’s her husband who’s preventing her from being with Vincent. So the conflict in this scene is a little trickier than normal, but it shows that if you think outside the box, you can find conflict through other avenues.

No Country For Old Men
Scene: Anton and the gas station attendant.
Conflict: In this scene, which is probably one of the best scenes of the last decade, Anton pays for gas but gets annoyed when the attendant makes an offhanded remark about where he’s from. The conflict here comes from two places. The first is through dramatic irony. We know how dangerous Anton is. We know what he’s capable of. So we fear what he’s going to do to this man. Dramatic irony is basically conflict between the character and the audience member. It’s usually us not wanting a character to do something. So the imbalance has actually broken the fourth wall. The other conflict here is basic. Anton refuses to let the attendant off for anything he says. Every sentence is shot back in his face. The longer the conversation goes, the more dangerous (and more conflict filled) the scene becomes.

The idea is you want to look at every scene and ask the question, “Where is the conflict here?” Where are the opposing forces? Where is the imbalance? If everything is too easy for the characters in your screenplay – if everybody agrees on everything or the characters don’t face any resistance – there’s a good chance your scene is boring. There are instances where it’s okay (such as the Notting Hill example) but for the most part, you want some conflict in your scene. So get back to that script you’re working on and start making all those scenes more interesting by adding conflict. Good luck! :-)

Genre: Thriller
Premise: An agent infiltrates a dangerous eco-terrorism unit only to find herself falling for the unit’s leader.
About: This is from Sundance sensation Brit Marling, whose film Another Earth has broken out of indie obscurity into slightly less indie obscurity. Supposedly, Brit would be playing the main character here, but I’ve also heard that Ellen Page would be playing the lead. So I’m not sure what’s going on. Brit is a multi-hyphenate. She writes. She directs. She acts. She bakes cookies. Let’s see Britney Spears do that! Not that innocent my ass! (only on Scriptshadow do you get pop culture references this current).
Writers: Zal Batmanglij and Brit Marling
Details: 113 pages – March 15, 2010 draft – draft 2.0 (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).

While today’s script doesn’t compare in zaniness to the first two scripts of the week, it isn’t exactly chopped liver in the originality department. In fact, on any other week, it would probably be the most original script of the bunch. The subject matter is kooky. The execution is unpredictable. The characters are strange. I can’t remember ever seeing a movie quite like it. But does that mean it’s good?

Hmmmm…

Maybe?

Here’s the thing – and I’ve said it before. Eco-terrorism and movies don’t mix. It’s been attempted over and over again and it just doesn’t work! The main reason for this is that the stakes of an eco-terrorist attack are dramatically lower than real terrorism. I mean how dangerous can a bunch of disgruntled uber-hippies be? Unfortunately not that dangerous. That means lives aren’t at stake. And that means the stakes of stopping them are never high. Teaching a pharmaceutical company a lesson by o.d.’ing them on their own drugs might be an interesting story in real life, but in a movie, it doesn’t have enough drama sauce.

The East follows Sarah Moss, a private agent at a security company that specializes in investigating enemies of major corporations. Kind of like a privatized version of the FBI. One of these corporations – it’s not clear which – hires the company to look into an eco-terrorist unit called “The East.” These aren’t the guys who stand in front of local supermarkets and threaten to drink chemical laced water from polluted lakes. These guys kidnap CEOs and force them to swim in their own chemical created sludge.

The agency decides that Sarah is the best agent for the job, so she transforms herself into a grungy “save the earth” hippie and burrows herself inside the group. Everything about The East is predictably weird and the members are all under mind control by a charming [decidedly less dangerous] Charles Manson-like leader named Benji.

Sarah is scared of Benji at first, but then finds herself attracted to him, something that isn’t going over well with his current girlfriend, Izzy, even though this place is supposed to be about the free love man. On top of that, Sarah has only lived a life for herself. She is selfish to a T, and isn’t used to having feelings for others.

So she must navigate the peculiar dynamics of the group to monitor their upcoming marks, and then report back to the agency, who for some reason she’s still able to visit whenever she wants (I guess she can just come and go as she pleases?). I wouldn’t say that Sarah ever becomes understanding of The East’s ideals, but she does start to like Benji and is torn by whether to take him down or not. However, in the end, that’s exactly the choice she’ll have to make.

Whenever you write an infiltration movie, they are certain mainstays you want to explore. The biggest one is you want your character to be torn. The more that the main character sees the other side’s point of view, the harder her choice becomes. That inner struggle leads to tension and that tension leads to drama, the lifeblood of any screenplay. This is what you see in Avatar for example. Jake Sulley is torn between what the humans stand for and what the Na’vi stand for. I didn’t think The East explored this enough. Sarah never sides with what these guys are doing so there was never a dilemma. Yes, she did start to like Benji, but that development came in way too late, almost like it was discovered on the last pass of the script and then thrown in as an afterthought. Therefore the script didn’t have nearly as much conflict as it could’ve had.

That’s not to say there was no conflict. Just the fact that our character could get caught at any moment created a good deal of drama. But because the cult weren’t killers – just advanced hoaxers – you always felt that if she did get caught, she’d simply be abandoned at the nearest town. Lack of true danger = lack of true drama.

The screenplay also suffered from MSS (Murky Story Syndrome). This is when the story isn’t laid out clearly for the reader – a huge problem in most amateur screenplays I read. I had a hard time figuring out, for example, who the agency was doing this job for and why doing it for them was so important.

I knew Sarah was infiltrating the group to get information on future attacks. But for who? Why does it matter if we don’t know who hired them? Because if I don’t understand the point of the infiltration, I don’t understand the stakes, and if I don’t understand the stakes, nothing else matters, because I won’t care. If I told you a story about how I got a flat tire right before work, and I had to race to put a spare on to get there in time, you probably wouldn’t care. But if I told you that the previous day, my boss said that if I was ever late to work again, he’d fire me, now that story becomes a lot more interesting, because there are actual stakes involved in me succeeding.

There were some things to like. As I said in the beginning, it didn’t feel like anything I’d read before. I was never quite sure where the script was going. I thought some of the stuff inside the cult was creepy. There’s a scene early on where they put Sarah in a straitjacket and tell her to eat some food without her hands. It’s a strange scene that works in a weird way. There’s a scene later on where Sarah sees members of the cult doing a strange Wicker Man-like ritual that’s also pretty spooky. And finally there’s a scene where they cleanse a naked Sarah in the river that gave me the heebie-jeebies. I actually wish they would’ve taken this a step further. The weirder and crazier you make the cult, the more interesting this movie gets. Because right now you don’t have any stakes. It never feels like anybody is truly in danger. But if you created this really whacked out unprecedented cult-like atmosphere, it might be enough to keep us entertained. That’s why The Wicker Man is such a classic – because you never knew what was coming next – you never knew just how wacky the people on this island could get.

So I would try to make this story clearer. I would try to add higher stakes within the cult. I would put more lives at risk. For example, I’d probably add a scene early on where they killed one of their own members for screwing up. That way for the entire rest of the movie we’d be terrified for Sarah – because we know if she got caught she was dead. I guess I just wanted more danger here. I wanted to feel more of an edge. Despite some original twists and turns, the story was too soft for me.

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

What I learned: The East taught me something pretty cool – that you can use specific word phrases as callbacks for later on in the script. They’re kind of like visual setups and payoffs in word form. So early on, the agency headquarters is described like this: “A building you might not notice from the road, but once you do, its design and simplicity haunt you.” Later on, the reemergence of this building becomes a key surprise plot turn. So when we round a corner, the writers describe the building in the exact same way: “A building you might not notice from the road, but once you do, its design and simplicity haunt you.” The payoff is more dramatic because the exact same description is used.

Genre: Comedy/Drama/Musical/Satire/Crazy
Premise: A bitter and frustrated movie blogger becomes obsessed with an award-winning director who he believes stands for everything that is wrong with the industry.
About: This is Charlie Kaufman’s next directing project. It will star Kevin Klein, Steve Carrell, Jack Black and Nicholas cage.
Writer: Charlie Kaufman
Details: 151 pages – May 17, 2010 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).

If yesterday’s script was the meat lovers pizza of wacky screenplays, today’s script adds stuffed crust, double toppings, a gigantic side order of cheese sticks, and instructions on how to bake yourself into your next pizza. Charlie Kaufman is a great big weirdo. But he’s a weirdo with a voice unlike any other screenwriter in the world. We saw that in Eternal Sunshine. We got sucked up in it with Adaptation. And I don’t think anybody has written a screenplay as strange as Being John Malkovich. That is, until today. Charlie Kaufman has outdone himself. He has created one of the most bizarre pieces of screenplay real estate in the history of the United Screenplays of America.

This is life imitating art imitating life imitating art imitating life. I’m 30% sure that Kaufman planned for this script to be reviewed on Scriptshadow. And I’m 16% sure that this review is somehow a part of the movie. I’m also convinced that I’m supposed to record this review in song and sing it to you guys. What am I talking about? I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. God help all of us for the next 5 minutes. Because there’s a good chance you won’t know who you are after this review is over.

Kaufman has opted to tackle one of the most difficult subject matters in screenwriting – the Hollywood satire. Anybody remember “Burn Hollywood Burn?” I do. It was awful. As is pretty much every satire about Hollywood. How do you satirize something that’s already ridiculous in itself? The same thing happened when Paul Weitz tried to satirize American Idol. Why make fun of something that already knows how cheesy it is? In short, you don’t want to satirize Hollywood. Which is exactly why Kaufman decided to do it.

Frank or Francis covers a lot of territory and a lot of characters. There is a disabled 60-year-old film loving woman in a wheelchair. There’s an actor known for his funny fat rolls who is now skinny so nobody cares about him anymore. There’s a director who’s constantly attacked for making lightweight movies (ahem – Michael Bay) who’s decided to write an equation for an Oscar winning screenplay. And of course, there’s a disembodied head. Yes, you heard that correctly. One of the characters is a disembodied head.

But the main storyline centers around Frank, a director who makes serious films that are always up for Oscar contention. When he wins for his latest film, Hapax Legomenon, there’s one person who refuses to accept it. That would be Francis. Francis is a twenty-something blogger (or possibly just a frequent commenter on a blog) who has seen every single movie ever and is furious about the state of film – particularly that hacks like Frank are seen as “auteurs.” As everyone knows, at least according to Francis, there hasn’t been a true auteur since the 1970s.

Francis doesn’t really do anything with his life other than scour the Internet for discussions about film and write out passionate angry discourses about how bad said films are. Even though this character is exaggerated for effect, it’s scary how familiar he is. In fact, I think we’ve seen versions of Francis right here on Scriptshadow.

Anyway, Francis is in love with another blogger named Mimi, who he somehow persuades to come out with him to Frank’s newest film, “You,” for which he’ll be doing a question and answer session afterwards. As the credits roll, Mimi is blown away by the film and believes Frank is the best director in the world. Francis is furious with her and proceeds to ask a long angry question about the half a dozen films Frank ripped off to make “You.” Everybody’s weirded out by Frank’s anger but he seems to think this is normal. Naturally, the question ensures there will be no second date with Mimi.

And then comes the singing. Yes, there’s a whole lot of singing in Frank or Francis. In fact, we get the first musical number in history with two blog commenters trading barbs via song. Trying to imagine a musical number with two people sitting in front of a computer is baffling enough. But to base it around film criticism is hilarious indeed.

Eventually – and I use that term liberally – a kind of story emerges centering around the upcoming Oscars. Frank is hoping to win another Oscar for his film, “You.” And Francis is doing everything in his power to alert the Internet how terrible “You” is. We’re also following 8 to 10 other characters, such as the disembodied head and the fat actor, as they too are gearing towards making an impression at the Oscars.

Let me start by saying, Charlie Kaufman is one of the few writers I don’t feel qualified to critique. Even if I don’t agree with or understand what he’s doing, I know that he’s in a screenwriting universe so far advanced from my own, that it’s probably my fault for not understanding it. That being said, I think Kaufman got a little too nuts here. There’s a moment in the script where, I believe, Francis accuses Frank of just “throwing a bunch of weird shit up on screen” and calling it “deep.” I’m not sure if this script is supposed to be taken seriously, or is one big inside joke where Kaufman decided to do just that — throw a bunch of weird shit up on screen and laugh as everyone around him called it genius.

The other day we were blasting amateur entry Manchester Black for having too many characters. In the spirit of consistency, I would have to lodge the same complaint against Frank or Francis. There are just too many people here and it’s not always clear what they have to do with the story. I’m still trying to figure out what the hell the disembodied head was doing in the script. Was that part of the movie within a movie? Was there a movie within a movie? I’m still not sure.

Nor did I think Jonathan, the Michael Bay-like director who’s trying to be taken seriously, was important enough to garner so much screen time. If a script is 150 pages long, I don’t care what your writing pedigree is, chances are you need to cut some stuff down and cut some people out. There’s no question that some of these characters could’ve been cut out and the story wouldn’t have suffered at all.

Actually, if this would’ve been slimmed down to focus mainly on Frank and Francis, I think it would have been great. There’s something eerily familiar about Francis that anybody who loves film can relate to. The angry anonymity internet commenting card has been done before, but Kaufman takes it to a whole new level, making Francis this obsessive freak who can’t survive unless he’s tearing somebody else down. Again, hearing him say things like he’d easily be able to create a masterpiece if he just had the resources that somebody like Frank had, is about as familiar a real-life claim as they come.

I actually thought Kaufman should’ve spent a lot more time on both characters’ love stories as well (instead of all these random people). The way Francis was so unaware of how his anger turned off Mimi made for an interesting dynamic. Yet they really only had one scene together. Then Frank has this interesting online relationship where he falls for one of his fans pretending to be somebody else. The problem is, it comes into the story so late that it never has time to grow.

So where does that leave us? I’m not sure. It does sort of come together in the end in a wild and unexpected Oscar finale. But as I look back on the script, I felt like I had to work too hard to get there. I had to push through too many characters and subplots that weren’t necessary to experience the good stuff. Kaufman may be a great writer, but it wouldn’t hurt to go back to the basics. Streamline your story. Only tell the parts that need to be told. Don’t fall in love with stuff that doesn’t really matter, because it’s just going to get in the way of telling your story. Frank or Francis is a mess. But at least it’s an ambitious mess. It’ll be interesting to see how it all plays out on the big screen.

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

What I learned: How do you know when you’ve gone too far? When you’ve exited the reservation? You don’t. You can’t know. You’re too close to the material. You need outside eyes to tell you that stuff. Kaufman has stated he doesn’t give his screenplays to anybody before he sends them off to his agent. That’s probably why we have a disembodied head, a few too many unneeded subplots, and a 151 page running time. You need 2-3 people you trust to tell you when you’ve gone too far, ESPECIALLY when you’re writing a comedy or trying something different. Otherwise all that genius of yours is going to be buried underneath a confusing semi-interesting movie.