Genre: Romantic Comedy
Premise: Two friends angry at Jane Austen for creating unrealistic romantic expectations among women today get sent back in time to the 19th century. The only way for them to return home is for one of them to get Jane Austen to fall in love and sleep with him.
About: This script finished with five votes on the 2010 black list. It appears that Blake has been at this for a while, at least since 2005, when he was making short films. But this is the first script he’s written that’s gotten any play.
Writer: Blake Bruns
Details: 106 pages – April 24, 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).
A while back a writer came to me with a sob story that, as screenwriters, I’m sure we’ve all experienced before. He had written a screenplay he thought was a totally original idea about a couple of slackers who become convinced that Jane Austen had created unrealistic expectations for men, and therefore they decided to go back in time and kill her.
I have to admit, that’s pretty original. However, the writer and his partner were stunned when that year’s Black List came out and they heard of another Jane Austen script about, well, a couple of slackers who were convinced that Jane Austen had created unrealistic expectations for men and therefore go back in time to eliminate the problem. Now this isn’t one of those stories where the writers claim that somebody stole their idea. They know that Hollywood is a big place and no matter how original your idea is, there’s a good chance somebody else out there already came up with it.
But the writer proposed a challenge to me. He said he had read the other script and was pretty confident that his script was better. If I had a penny for every time an amateur screenwriter told me his script was better than the professional screenplays out there, I’d currently be flying off to tropical islands with Richard Branson every other weekend. And the thing is? They’re always wrong. The scripts are never as good. But I thought it would be an interesting challenge. So I decided to review the two scripts back to back. Today I’ll be reviewing the professional script, the one that made the Black List, and tomorrow I’ll be reviewing the amateur version. Let’s find out which one is better.
20-something Hallmark Greeting Card employee Doug Gracy is having trouble with the ladies. In particular, his sexual escapades with his girlfriend have dissolved into her giving him manual like instructions as to how to give her an orgasm. When he’s unable to do the job, his not so better half informs him that she’s splitting the whole.
But that’s not the only person who’s breaking up with Doug. Hopper, his wily roommate and best friend, is moving out so he can take the next step with his girlfriend. This leaves the already depressed Doug with a rent budget he can no longer afford.
Somewhere around here, Doug becomes convinced that this is all Jane Austen’s fault. I have to admit I’m not sure why, and what a girl getting mad at a guy for not bringing her to orgasm has to do with Jane Austen, but then again, I’ve never actually read a Jane Austen novel.
So anyway a few nights later, Hopper convinces Doug to go out with him to a strip club so he can forget about all his worries, but after getting really drunk, Doug becomes convinced that if Jane Austen had really lousy sex with a man like him, she wouldn’t have spent the rest of her life writing about all this love gobbledygook. So when a stripper comes along and asks them what they want, Doug says he wishes he could make love to Jane Austen.
That turns out to be a mistake because when the stripper takes them back to the private room, she quickly turns into an old hairy wench and the next thing you know they’re no longer in a modern-day strip club, but a brothel back in the 1700s.
Needless to say they’re shocked and confused but they quickly become convinced that the way to get back to the future is for Doug to complete his wish and have sex with Jane Austen. So they find out where Jane lives, pose as a couple of well-to-do types, and Doug starts a courtship of Jane.
Of course, after he gets to know Jane, he begins to like her, and starts having some moral issues with going through with it all. But since the 18th century is full of things like scurvy and polio and leprosy, Doug doesn’t really have any choice. The question is, what’s going to happen with Jane when he leaves?
Structure is a screenwriter’s best friend. If the story doesn’t have structure, it’s just a random series of events that eventually spins out of control. To that end, F*cking Jane Austen is probably one of the best structured comedies I’ve read in a long time. I mean, every single beat is hit exactly when it’s supposed to be hit, and you never once believe that the writer isn’t in control of his story.
Unfortunately, that’s also the script’s biggest weakness. One of the dangers of becoming so proficient at structure is that you can write something that’s too predictable. The reader or the audience never becomes fully engaged because they always feel like they know what’s coming next, sort of like a ride at the carnival you’ve already been on.
The way to combat this problem is to throw two or three big unexpected moments into your screenplay. If you do something unexpected early on, it goes a long way towards disturbing the reader’s story radar. If you look at another romantic comedy, Notting Hill, we’re never quite sure how that story is going to play out. Julia Roberts comes in, she hangs out for a few days, she has to go back out and work, some tabloid pictures surface, she has to come back to him. Then she has a movie to film. While we understand the general direction of the story, the specifics aren’t clear, and I think that’s really important when you’re writing movies that are steeped in formula, such as romantic comedies. You have to find moments to be unpredictable.
My other big problem with the script was that the “Jane Austen reasoning” wasn’t explained enough. Not having read any Jane Austen myself, all I had to go on was what the script told me. And from what I could gather, Jane Austen’s big contribution to the world was a belief in romance and love. Presumably then, what Doug was so frustrated with, was that the modern day woman had adapted an unrealistic expectation of love and romance, and the modern-day man couldn’t live up to those expectations.
Why then, do we start off this screenplay with Doug having to mechanically follow orders from his girlfriend on how to give him an orgasm? That would seem to be the worst example of a woman who was obsessed with love and romance. Furthermore, I don’t know how Doug, after experiencing that, would come to the conclusion that women are infatuated with romance. If anything, he probably would have concluded the opposite, that women didn’t care about romance anymore.
So when you’re ramping up to your inciting incident, make sure that your main character has actually experienced something that that inciting incident relates to. For example, if the opening scene had a girl who was obsessed with making sure Doug opened every door she went through, and pulled out every chair she approached, and ordered food appropriately, and treated her like a lady, and Doug couldn’t live up to those expectations, then I would believe his theory that Jane Austen had created unrealistic expectations in women. It may be harder to find the funny in that kind of scenario, but that’s what you’re paid to do as a screenwriter. Anybody can come up with a crazy sex scene to open a film. But if that scene doesn’t relate to the theme and premise of your movie, it’s not going to make sense.
Unfortunately, those two issues so dominated my reading experience, that I could never get past them. Doug and Hopper are kind of funny and there are definitely some funny scenes (one of my favorites by far was the “pimps and hoes” party), but as I’ve stated a million times on the site before, I’m not really laughing at anything unless I’m invested in the characters and I believe the story, and because of those two issues above, that never happened.
Definitely a cool premise but, in my opinion, these things would need to be addressed to get this script cracking. But how does it compare to Friday’s similarly-premised amateur offering? Tune in tomorrow to find out.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: Avoid double-explaining things in a script. For example, on page 48, Doug is forced into talking about what he does for a living and starts rambling incessantly.
DOUG
I do a lot, to be honest. Some business, philosophy, engineering, pre-law. I’m kind of a Jack of all trades.
(Changing subjects)
That’s a lovely piano, by the way.
He deflects attention to the pianoforte in the corner.
The fact that Doug is referring to a piano here in his dialogue means we already know there’s a piano. So there’s no need to write an action line pointing out that there’s a piano. This is by no means a huge issue. But scripts are supposed to be lean and to the point. So you don’t want to write out anything in an action line if it’s already implied.
p.s. It’s a travel day so if your comments don’t go up right away, they will come up later.
Genre: Horror/Family/Comedy
Premise: A recently downsized father moves his family into a dying town, only to find out that it’s infested with killer mutated insects.
About: This script made the lower third of the 2009 black list. It sold to Paramount earlier that year. The writer, Marc Haimes, used to be an executive at DreamWorks. He also produced The Legend of Zorro and Hotel for Dogs.
Writer: Marc Haimes
Details: 103 pages – October 2009 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).
Get ready as I plan to fully contradict myself, only to make excuses as to why I’m fully justified in doing so. You see, one of the elements I’ve been trumpeting nonstop on the site – urgency – is a huge part of this screenplay. However, the excessive reliance on this tool brings up an important question. Is it possible to add too much urgency to your script? It’s a strange question because so rarely is it actually a problem. 99.9% of the time, when there’s a pacing issue, it’s that the script is too slow. But the answer is yes, you can push things along too quickly, and Jitters is an example of that. I’ll explain in a second but let’s find out what this is about first.
Off in Nowheresville, USA, some scientist-types have been working on breeding genetically modified bugs. At first it’s just to help some nearby plant life. But the results prove that the potential for these bugs is much bigger. In fact, it becomes clear that some of these insects could be constructed for…duh duh duhhhhhh, military purposes. So they invite some government dudes in to show them (we have moths that can camouflage themselves, tarantulas that can fly, ladybugs that can…think?) and let’s just say a few of the insects get out of their cages and bug these men to death.
A couple of weeks later Walt Hatcher and his family ride into town ready to start their new lives. Besides the wife and baby, Walt has a 13-year-old daughter Kate, who believes every passed minute is a minute you could have been spending saving the world, and a 15-year-old son Jackson, a selfish smart-alec whose number one priority is to make his sister miserable.
As soon as they roll in, they notice that this isn’t going to be like life in the burbs. You see, Walt had a nice job and a nice life but all that went to hell with the economy. Unfortunately, the only jobs left were in the middle of crappy dying towns like this one.
Well, maybe “dying” is a strong word. The insect population around here seems to be doing just fine. In fact, the bug problem is so intense that the entire bug spray shelf at the local hardware store has been cleaned out.
Almost as soon as they get to the house, everybody is off to do their own thing – mainly explore this crapola “town.” Kate runs off to spy on a couple of nerdy kids who build remote control mini-robots and Jackson goes after the hot girl who lives next door. But when Walt realizes that the insects are out for blood (courtesy of the town’s lone homeless man who has uncovered the giant insect conspiracy) he must round up his family and get them the hell out of here before they all become bug food.
I have to give it to Jitters. I was laughing a lot more than I expected to. All the characters here are really funny, especially Jackson. There’s a line he gives early on that perfectly encapsulates his character. A mosquito is caught in the car and everybody’s bickering about whether to kill it or not. Kate, of course, is begging to save it while Jackson nonchalantly offers, “We must kill it. It’s the only way it will learn.”
It’s actually a perfect early scene and one of the classic ways to introduce characters. You present a problem to a group of people and use everybody’s differing reactions to tell us what kind of characters they are. So it’s in this scene that we learn that Katie is the “all life is precious” save the world girl, and that Jackson could care less about anyone.
There’s also a funny scene right afterwards where Jackson follows a hot girl in a white tank top to the freezer section of a convenience store, trying to discreetly tape her on his camera phone while pretending to talk to someone. It’s juvenile and silly and yet it’s something I totally would’ve done when I was 14 so I loved it. In fact, all the character stuff here in the first act is top notch.
Where Jitters runs into trouble is that it moves at the speed of some of these flying insects. I’m not sure what the time frame is, but I think the whole thing takes place inside of 12 hours. Now you know me. I’m Mr. Urgency. So why didn’t this work for me? Well, it’s quite simple. If your whole movie is going to take place in a town, it’s important that we get to know that town. And we never get to know or understand or feel the character of this place because we’re off and running before we’ve even settled in.
For example, we meet the hot girl neighbor and geeky robot building twins, but since we’ve only known them for a few hours, when they find themselves in danger, we don’t care. Had we gone to school with them for a few days or had more than one scene to get to know them, I’m sure we would’ve found ourselves rooting for them because they’re actually solid characters.
I also thought the theme of trying to keep the family together could’ve been better executed. There are times when you’re reading a script and you get to that final act and all of a sudden the characters start spouting out universal themes that up until this point have never even sniffed the story (i.e. “Seize the day.” “It’s better to have loved and lost than never loved at all.”) And you’re asking yourself, “Where is this coming from?” It’s coming from the writer feeling the need to make up for the fact that he hasn’t tried to say anything with his story so far. So he has no choice but to wrap everything up in a bow before it all ends.
I feel a lot of that going on here. When Walt starts talking about how family is the most important thing in the world and that’s why he needs to save the day, I’m sitting there going, when exactly did this become important? I never got the impression that Walt didn’t care about his family at all. And I think the reason for that is, we never spend any time settling into the town. Had we settled into the town, we could’ve showed Walt being more obsessed with work than he was with his family. But since things move so fast, we never get that opportunity.
On the plus side, you don’t really have time to think about all that stuff. The urgency masks a lot of the deficiencies and you find yourself simply trying to keep up with the pace. On top of that, this script is just packed with fun moments. One of my favorites was when the hot girl neighbor tricked Jackson into believing he was being attacked by a giant spider. After she leaves, a real giant spider arrives, and Jackson “isn’t buying it this time” and begins messing with the “fake” giant spider, going into this whole routine of petting it and taunting it. Needless to say, it doesn’t end well.
That’s the true strength of this script. It has this fun lighthearted vibe to it that reminds you of movies like Tremors and Gremlins. It never quite reaches the heights of those films but I can still see this being a really fun silly time at the movies.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: I’m going to take a few steps back here. While I’ve been touting the importance of urgency a lot lately, this script reminded me that you first need to build up to that urgency. For thrillers like Buried and Source Code, yeah, you want to sprint right out of the gate. But certain stories, such as this one, require that set up time to pull the audience in. Only then do you want to start upping the urgency with ticking time bombs and chases. Jitters never took the time to settle its characters in and I think that’s why the script feels too fast for its own good.
Genre: Horror/Thriller
Premise: A man slowly comes to discover his girlfriend is literally working for the devil and has to find a way to escape.
About: Underling finished in the lower third of the 2009 Black List. I believe this is the writing team’s first screenplay together. One of the writers, Ben Shiffrin, is currently working with another partner bringing the animated comic “Dirty Pair” to life. Shiffin also wrote a spec script a couple of years back called Heartstopper with another writer that made some noise but ultimately didn’t sell.
Writers: Dave Stoller and Ben Shiffrin
Details: 110 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).
I have to admit that I made a huge mistake when I picked this one up. I thought the logline was, “A man slowly comes to discover his girlfriend is the devil and has to find a way to escape.” Now I don’t know about you, but that’s a movie I would love to see. Had I read the logline a little more closely and realized it was about the girlfriend’s boss being the devil, I never would’ve read it. Mainly because I’ve already seen that movie (The Devil’s Advocate).
So as the story unfolded and I began to realize that the girlfriend wasn’t the devil, I was kinda disappointed. Still, I tried to refocus and give the script a shot. What I found was a strange screenplay with a vacillating tone and a subject matter that was probably more ambitious than the writers realized.
22-year-old East coaster Tamara Stevens has just gotten a kick ass music management job in Los Angeles. She’s going to be working for one of the best managers in the business, the ultra-intimidating Kyle Barrington, described as “Bruce Wayne meets Gordon Gekko.”
Somewhat reluctantly dragged along is Tamara’s boyfriend and our main character, 22-year-old shaggy haired Alex Jacobs. Alex doesn’t really have a lot to do in Los Angeles but he’s a very supportive boyfriend and if his better half is moving across the country for her career, he’s going to be her number one cheerleader.
They get to Los Angeles and Tamara immediately gets to work. But on one of the first nights out at a club, Alex thinks he sees a man kill a woman in the bathroom. The cloaked-in-shadows man must have seen Terminator 2 too many times because he chases them in their car in almost the exact same manner as the T 1000.
Later on, Alex finds some evidence to suggest that the man he saw is his girlfriend’s boss. When he finally gets the courage to tell her, she of course thinks he’s crazy. So he does a little digging, and that turns out to be a lousy idea. Kyle finds out and he sicks a bunch of his deadly assistant minions on Alex to warn him off.
In the meantime, Tamara is working later and later at work and she’s acting a lot stranger back home. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she’s under Kyle’s spell.
Eventually, Alex is able to turn one of Kyle’s minions against him, and she’s able to educate him about his weaknesses. So Alex must channel up his strength and try to save his girlfriend from the clutches of a man who very well may be the devil himself.
This was one of the odder reading experiences I’ve had in a while. Despite my misinterpretation of the logline, I still think this script needs to be re-examined. There’s something here, but I’m not sure the writers respect the complexity of the subject matter they’ve chosen.
Let’s start with the main character. I always get nervous when the main character isn’t the most active character in the screenplay. The reason for this is simply because audiences like active characters. They like it when their heroes are the ones making the decisions and pushing the story forward.
The person making all the decisions and being the most active in this story is Tamara. She’s the one driving off to LA for a job. She’s the one who’s working 16 hours a day. Our main character is essentially this slacker being dragged along for the ride. As a result, he feels weak and unimportant.
This inactive follower mentality continues throughout the story. Alex doesn’t even have a job as far as I can tell. His only actions revolve around checking up on his girlfriend. And that gets old quickly. This is exactly why The Devil’s Advocate worked so much better, because our main character wasn’t some secondary hanger-on. He was Tamara’s character, the one in the trenches who had the actual job dealing with the antagonist.
It’s also why I liked my initial “mistake premise” better (A man finds out that his girlfriend is the devil) because, again, our main character is directly interacting with the antagonist. Wherever there’s danger in your story, you want to put your main character as close to it as possible, and that doesn’t happen here. There’s this detached quality to the narrative because we’re always experiencing the danger second hand. By far, this is the biggest problem with the script. You need to have your main character be more active and in direct contact with the dangerous situation. Keeping Alex so far away from the meat of the problem is killing this script.
Now this next opinion is going to ruffle some feathers so I want to make sure I convey it delicately. Whenever all of the characters in the story are really young – in this case around 22 – it’s easy to conclude that the writers are also young. Now this doesn’t matter if you’re writing something that takes place in a younger universe (“Friends With Benefits” “Friday the 13th”). But if you’re trying to tackle subject matter or a storyline that requires a little more sophistication, it can often feel like a couple of teenagers who read about war in their history books trying to write Apocalypse Now. It just doesn’t feel like they’re up to the task.
Let me give you an example of what I mean. Because the screenwriters are so young (or at least, I’m assuming they are), they make the main characters boyfriend and girlfriend. Why? Because that’s all they know. That’s the current world they live in. However, while that relationship might work fine in the movies I listed above, when you’re trying to tackle something with more gravitas, boyfriends and girlfriends are too lightweight. Most relationships at the age of 22 have what? A four month lifespan? At best? If these characters were older and married however, there would be so much more at stake. Alex wouldn’t just be trying to save some girlfriend he’s probably going to break up with in two months anyway. He’d be trying to save the love of his life. (Remember people: stakes!)
I’m not saying you’re a doomed screenwriter until you turn 28. But I am saying that in order to mask your lack of life experience when dealing with sophisticated subject matter, you should match the ages of your characters to the situation they’re in and not just make them 22 because you’re 22. Then you have to do the research and make sure those older characters act like they’re older. That might mean giving your script to a 35-year-old and asking them, “Does this character really act like a 35-year-old?” If you look at Kyle, for example, he doesn’t act like a 35-year-old at all. He’s petulant and immature and thinks the world revolves around him. This character is supposed to be one of the oldest entities in all of time, and he never acts older than 23 years old. If all of this sounds too complicated, then just write characters and subject matter that you’re extensively familiar with and you should be fine.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that readers expect young writers to be sloppy. So if you give them clues that you’re a young writer, and they pick up on some sloppiness, they’re going to make a connection between the two and dismiss you because of it, however unfair that is. So mix up the ages in your screenplay and then do your homework on the older characters to make them honest. You have parents and uncles and aunts. Ask them questions. Ask them if they’d really react the way the older characters in your screenplay reacts. It’s your job as a writer to create the most honest believable world possible, no matter how extraordinary the story you’re telling is.
Anyway, I’m rambling and I’m making this sound like a terrible screenplay, which it really isn’t. It’s just too unfocused and shoots further than what the writers are willing to commit to. I’m not saying they aren’t capable of getting there. But I would’ve loved more depth to this story. It was too all over the place for my taste.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: One of the easier ways to spot a young writer is tone. Whether we’re talking about humor that’s too broad for the subject matter or repeatedly jumping between genres or inconsistent characters, it can be confusing for a reader trying to grasp what kind of story you’re trying to tell if the writer is jumping all over the place. For example, if you read the first 10 pages of this script, you’d probably think it was a romantic comedy. If you read the last 20 pages, you’d think it was torture-porn in the vein of Hostel. You can’t just jump back and forth between those kinds of extremes and expect the reader to stay with you unless your name is Quentin Tarantino. And unfortunately, there’s only one Quentin Tarantino.
Genre: Drama
Premise: A young emergency response driver with Tourette’s syndrome falls in love for the first time.
About: If this sounds familiar, it’s because it’s one of the winners of last year’s Nickel (sic) competition. Yes, we have a real live winner here.
Writer: Andrew Lanham
Details: 108 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).
First earthquakes. Now hurricanes. How are you East coasters handling all this? Speaking of the East Coast, today’s script takes place in Maine (see how I did that?). Not only that, but it won the most prestigious screenplay competition in the world!
I figure screenplay competitions have been getting a lot of discussion on the site lately, so why not show you what a big winner looks like? Who’s the big winner?! Mikey’s the big winner! The thing is, if you want to win this contest, the granddaddy of them all, you’re probably going to need a couple of things, and a good projectile vomit joke isn’t one of them.
You’re going to need a profound/interesting theme and/or a compelling nontraditional main character. The competition skews towards meaning. They want you to say something bigger about the world and the people in it. It’s screenwriting at its purest. You have to remember that the contest is affiliated with the Academy, and as we all know, the Academy likes to reward films that have a little more going on behind the bread basket.
To that end, I’d say it’s the best outlet for writers who are interested in writing non-commercial fare. If you’re someone who loves to dig into characters rather than imagine how a marketing department will sell your film, this competition is probably for you.
25-year-old Oliver James is a paramedic with Tourette’s syndrome. Now most of you know Tourette’s syndrome as the thing that makes people swear uncontrollably. But as Oliver tells us , Tourette’s syndrome can give you a multitude of tics, not just an excuse to swear a lot. Oliver, for instance, uncontrollably jumps. He uncontrollably honks. He uncontrollably licks things. If he concentrates really really hard, he can prevent himself from doing these things. But he’s usually helpless against them.
One day, while off duty, Oliver hears about a single mother whose eight-year-old daughter is having a seizure. He races to the house and saves the daughter’s life. Afterwards, the mother, Allison, approaches him, and we find out that there’s actually a history between the two. Allison was Oliver’s sister’s best friend before she died eight years ago, and Oliver has been infatuated with her ever since.
In fact, Oliver has pretty much been stalking Allison for eight years (hence why he was able to get to the house so fast). A little bit dangerous and emotionally distant, the newly single Allison starts hanging out with Oliver, and he falls for her at light speed. But his physical tics start becoming emotional tics and the regular complications of a relationship are compounded by Oliver just trying to be “normal” enough to be around her. Other complications arise, from both the past and the present, and Oliver will have to overcome them in order to finally get what he’s been searching for – a true “normal” connection with another human being.
I can understand why Jumper of Maine won. You’re exploring a type of character that movies don’t typically explore. The script also has an interesting rhythm to it. It starts off exploring the origins of Tourette’s syndrome before segueing into a narrative that occasionally likes to jump (just like it’s main character!) into the past, always keeping things a little off kilter so you never get too comfortable.
Jumping around in time takes a certain level of skill. The writer has to understand when and where to make those insertions so they don’t feel clumsy and Lanham knows what he’s doing in that regard. If I have a problem with the script, it’s that it’s so heavy-handed. For example, I’m not sure we needed the dead sister backstory stuff. We’re already dealing with some pretty complicated subject matter here. To throw another layer of noodles on an already jampacked screenplay lasagna might’ve stacked things too high.
Don’t get me wrong. I like characters with substance and backstory, but I think sometimes writers can get carried away. Every character is so complicated in this story that sometimes it detracts from the point of it all. For example, can’t the mom, who has a total of one page of screen time, just be a mom? Does she have to be a mom with Alzheimer’s? (For the record, Alzheimer’s has become a huge crutch for protagonists’ parents in many of the recent screenplays I’ve been reading. Think twice before using it).
The other talking point here is the Tourette’s syndrome. Whenever you create a character with a disability or a disease, you’re walking a fine line. On the one hand there’s something honest and important about exploring a person who’s suffering from something the average person doesn’t understand. But on the other, it can look like you’re pining for the reader’s sympathy. If the reader senses that they’re expected to feel a certain way, you can bet they’re going to feel the opposite.
Having said that, I’d still recommend this script.
Why?
Because it’s different.
One of the things you learn by reading thousands of scripts is that most people are writing the same kinds of stories. Comedies with a couple of bumbling slackers at the helm. Thrillers in a contained environment with time running out. A group of characters trapped in a scary location. Romantic comedies with two opposite main characters. And I’m by no means saying you can’t turn any of those scenarios into a good screenplay. A good writer can find unique avenues in any story.
But it is nice, every once in a while, to read about characters or read about a situation that nobody else writes about. And that’s what we have here. This is a relationship we don’t have a lot of context for, so every story beat is a little unfamiliar.
That’s not to say I liked all the choices here. On the Melodrama Richter Scale, I’d probably rate this one above the recent East Coast quake. I thought the script went overboard with the sister getting yanked out to sea. I can’t see how that doesn’t feel forced and manipulative on the big screen. I would get rid of the Alzheimer’s stuff. We have plenty of other issues to work through here. And the stuff with Oliver and Allison is so good that you don’t need it. I might even get the ex-husband more involved. As it stands, he’s not a real obstacle for Oliver. But if Allison still had feelings for him and at some point he wanted to try again, that could really add some conflict to Oliver’s pursuit.
All in all I’d say this was an interesting screenplay. It’s far from perfect but it gives us a glimpse into a world we’re not familiar with and does so with a high degree of skill. For that reason, it’s worth checking out.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: There’s been a lot of discussion recently about the importance (or lack thereof) of screenplay competitions. Here are my thoughts. I think competitions are great. The reason I think they’re great is because screenwriting is a very lonely profession. You might go three years before getting a script in front of somebody who matters. That’s a long time to wait for gratification. What screenplay competitions do is they give you that gratification now. Even if you don’t place, there’s something satisfying about sending your script out into the world. There is a feeling of achievement, and that feeling is essential in a profession that doesn’t have many opportunities to feel that way. The truth is, you’re probably never going to win one of these things unless you’ve been writing for seven or eight years or you have an extensive background in other types of writing. But my experience has been that good screenplays usually advance. And getting to the quarterfinals or the semifinals – while not winning – may give you the confidence to finally send that script out to that big contact or add that final polish that’s going to put your opus over-the-top. I think without deadlines or checkpoints, it’s too easy to get lost in this process. It’s too easy to believe that’s it’s all for nothing. Screenplay competitions are a great way to keep you focused and on track. So pick a few of the better competitions out there (this one, Austin, Zoetrope, Page, Bluecat) and don’t use them to try and get that impossible win. Use them to keep yourself writing.
Genre: Thriller
Premise: (from writer) A humanitarian army nurse conscripted against her will uncovers secrets surrounding the government’s classified Manhattan Project and risks her life to stop the impending holocaust at Hiroshima.
About: King’s script has made the quarterfinals of this year’s Nicholl competition and is still in play to keep advancing. — 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: Vanessa King & Mike Palmisciano (story by Vanessa King) (rewrites by Vanessa King)
Details: 115 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).
What the hell is going on in this world? I go to sleep for eight hours and the next thing you know Jim Carrey is proposing to Emma Stone via really strange YouTube videos. Despite the obvious here when did everyone become so obsessed with Emma Stone? I mean she’s an okay actress. But how did she become the next big thing? I’ll never figure this town out.
Anyway, today’s script is a Nicholl quarterfinalist. A lot of people have asked me, “What does that mean?” “What do you have to do to get to the Nicholl quarterfinals?” My experience has been that if you have something interesting going on in your premise, and you can put together a cohesive story, you should make it to the Nicholl quarterfinals. I think where a lot of writers go wrong is that even though they can put together a cohesive story, they choose a really boring premise. For example, if you wrote something like Garden State, it probably wouldn’t make it to the quarterfinals because it’s just a normal guy meets girl story.
But what Nicholl really goes gaga over is strong thematic pieces that are trying to say something bigger about the world or that are tackling their characters in a profound way. Does Eden do that? Will this script advance to the next round? Read on to find out.
It’s 1945. Hitler has surrendered. But the Japanese have not. 30-something Annie is an average housewife who’s having a bit of trouble in her marriage. Her husband, Wilfred, has been distant lately. He comes home. He doesn’t say much. And Annie is really beginning to think that something is wrong.
The only person Wilfred seems to talk to, in fact, is his friend Sam, who has fallen on hard times and therefore lives in their basement. One day, while the men are gone, Annie curiously heads downstairs only to find some strange documents involving her husband.
Soon after, Annie and her best friend Thelma, both nurses at a local hospital, are chased by some men in trench coats. They’re eventually captured and brought to a mysterious building where they meet Sam again. Sam informs them that the files they looked through were top-secret and therefore they had no choice but to quarantine them.
Eventually we find out that they’re now inside the Manhattan Project. The Manhattan Project was a top secret government project where they built the atom bomb (that they eventually dropped on Hiroshima). The project was so big that the government created an entire city of 150,000 people to work on it.
But the news is about to get worse. Annie learns that her husband has died, and when she digs into it, she finds out that the death was due to radiation poisoning, something that wasn’t well understood at the time. Annie goes on a mission to find out more, and soon finds out what our country plans to do to Japan. Her goal becomes to locate evidence, escape, and let the world know what the US is about to do.
Once More Eden has the makings of a really good movie. There are a lot of exciting story friendly elements here. We have conspiracy. Death. Trauma. Thrills. Suspense. We have a high profile controversial project. And the script takes the unique angle of putting a woman in the middle of it all. So I can see why it would do well at the Nicholl.
However, I had some pretty big issues with the screenplay, starting with the premise itself. We talk a lot about dramatic irony here on the site. Again, dramatic irony is when the reader is in a superior position to the characters. The most common example is two characters talking at a table, and we know that a bomb is ticking underneath. Our superior knowledge to the characters creates tension and anticipation, as we hope that they’ll find out about the bomb before it goes off.
However, I find that while dramatic irony is one of the most powerful tools in storytelling, sometimes it just makes the story boring, and I haven’t figured out why. My superior knowledge of knowing that Annie would not succeed in her mission (we know the bombs will be dropped), left me feeling like there was no point in telling the story. If I already know she’s going to fail, why should I be interested?
I instantly thought back to another movie with a similar use of dramatic irony – Titanic. Just like Once More Eden, we know that this will end in catastrophe. We know the ship sinks. So I was trying to figure out why that worked for me and this didn’t. One of the reasons was that the characters in the story were physically at the event, whereas in Eden, our heroine was 10,000 miles away from the event. If she had somehow been in Hiroshima and not known what was going to happen, the dramatic irony would have been way more effective, even though that would have been a completely different movie.
Yet I guess, just like Titanic, we don’t know what happens to our main character, and therefore should still be interested. But I wasn’t, and I’m still trying to figure out why.
Maybe it was because I never latched on to our main character. How you introduce your character is so important in a screenplay because that’s when we form our opinion. We don’t form our opinion halfway through the movie. We decide if we like this person within 5 minutes. Once More Eden starts with our main character kind of moping around and playing the “woe is me” card in regards to her marriage.
Then she goes to work and we get this really weird scene that feels like something out of Three’s Company, where Annie sneaks into a male doctor’s changing room to steal a uniform and pretends to be a doctor to one of her crazy patients. Combined with her less than impressive entrance at home, I decided early on that I didn’t like her.
And this is why that’s important. If your reader isn’t connected to your main character, it doesn’t matter if you create the most intriguing well plotted mysterious captivating story in the world. If we don’t care about the person taking us through that plot, we’re not going to care about the story.
The thing is, Eden runs into even more problems in that it becomes really hard to buy that this nobody housewife is evading a city full of top government officials. The ease in which Annie is able to simply dash in and out of danger stretched the plausibility factor to the limit. That’s why most of these movies end up making their protagonist a government official or a cop or a spy or anything to indicate that it would be believable that they could consistently evade high level authority.
Finally, the ending was way too melodramatic. This idea of trying to get across the official country line into Canada, and coming a couple of inches short, just felt too hokey. I mean if the US government is trying to protect a plan to kill hundreds of thousands of people, I don’t think an imaginary line on the ground is going to stop them.
How you would fix all this I unfortunately don’t know. You would need to find a way to make the dramatic irony work for you as opposed to against you. The thing is you do have some stuff that feels like a movie here. I like being in the Manhattan Project. I like the female hero. And I liked how Vanessa created a secondary mystery inside the base. But you’d have to rethink this character and find a way to put people we knew in harm’s way – (possibly over in Hiroshima — maybe the husband is over there doing reconnaissance and they speed up the timetable without telling him? So Annie becomes aware that her husband is going to be there when they drop the bomb?). That way we’d be racing to protect someone we actually knew and cared about.
An interesting script that I enjoyed dissecting but it wasn’t for me.
Script link: Once More Eden
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I haven’t learned: Staying with today’s theme of dramatic irony, I had the same problem with Valkyrie (the movie about trying to assassinate Hitler ) that I had with Once More Eden. We know they’re not going to succeed, so what’s the point? I guess the point is we’re supposed to care about what happens to our main character, but for whatever reason I couldn’t in either case. So I wanted to open it up to you guys and ask why dramatic irony sometimes works and sometimes doesn’t. I’m still a little stumped about how to execute it properly.
What I learned: Most of the people who matter in Hollywood don’t know anything about screenplay competitions beyond the Nicholl. You’ll find some agents and managers who’ve heard of the next three or four biggest competitions, but if you’ve placed fourth in the McGillicuddy Macaroon Screenplay Shootout, it’s probably a good idea to keep that information to yourself. Doing well at the Nicholl is all you need to say. I also wouldn’t put your achievements on your title page as it just looks a wee bit desperate.
