Genre: Thriller
Premise: (from writer) When Chanley Hightower hires an ex-con to kill his cheating wife, he doesn’t count on the ex-con sub-contracting the hit and his old-friend-turned-enemy the Chief of Police taking a sudden interest in the health of his marriage. Hightower’s a capable man, but this is a lot of shit to shovel.
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: Will Alexander
Details: 113 pages

Will has been pushing HARD for me to review his script, making all sorts of claims to its awesomeness, saying it was better than Casablanca and Chinatown combined. He claimed it was going to win him an Oscar and that if I didn’t read it, I would be missing out an opportunity to discover the first classic film of the 21st century.

I’m just kidding around Will. No everyone, Will never said those things. But he definitely had confidence in his script, believing it was at least better than most of the stuff reviewed on Amateur Friday. So let’s take a look and see if he’s right.

Hightower opens up with Johnny Wayne Stubb and Deesa Hightower, both 26 years old, having sex. We pull away to see that this is happening on a closed circuit television which Dessa’s husband, Chanley Hightower, is watching. Needless to say, Hightower isn’t happy with this development, especially since it seems more like lovemaking than fucking. It appears that this relationship is real. And that means he and Deesa are on the outs.

Well, Hightower doesn’t plan on going quietly. In fact, he’s going to take care of this the old fashioned way: hire someone to kill his wife. So he locates some out-of-work stooge, a local named Chigger, to kill his wife for 50 grand. Since Hightower is the richest man in town by a country mile, 50 grand is a drop in the town well.

In the meantime, we meet Police Chief Garrison McElrath, a man who grew up with Hightower and apparently has a bit of history with the millionaire. That history is a complicated one and from their first interaction, we can tell there’s plenty of tension between the two.

In addition to wanting to kill his wife, Hightower also wants to buy some property off her. You see, there’s only one building in the entire town that he doesn’t own, and that property is hers. He ruthlessly attempts to get her to sign a deed transferring the building over to him, but she steadfastly refuses.

Hightower’s hitman, Chigger, also turns out to be a pretty lousy choice. Not only is he prancing around talking WAY too much, but he decides it’d be much safer to have someone ELSE do the hit, and therefore subcontracts the assassination to some drug dealer, who in turn (I believe) subcontracts it out to some druggy. Needless to say, the hit is starting to look less and less like a sure thing.

All this talk makes the chief suspicious and he heads over to the Hightower mansion to ask him what’s up. Once Hightower realizes McElrath is on to him, he makes the snap decision to kill him. And thus begins a mad dash to dispose of the body – not an easy task with the entire town now looking for the missing chief.

In the meantime, Deesa is planning to run away with Johnny Wayne, and we’re wondering if that’s going to happen before whoever the hell ends up as the hitman comes to kill her. And Hightower also has to settle one last secret with the mysterious and sexy Chevelle, a waitress at the local diner who clearly has some tangled past with Daddy Warbucks.

Hightower reminded me of a book in a lot of ways, with its numerous characters and intricate plot. Because of that, Will has created his own biggest hurdle: a complicated story. The more complicated your story is, the better a writer you have to be. We were just talking about this yesterday. We need to be CLEAR about what’s going on in order to stay interested. And the more stuff you PACK IN to your script, the harder it is to stay clear. So I guess the question is, did Will bite off more than he could chew?

Sort of. I say sort of because he ALMOST pulled it off. You see, I hadn’t read this logline in three months (since it was originally sent to me). So all I had to go on was the story as written, not the logline you read above.

And about a third of the way through, Deesa refers to Hightower as “Daddy.” All of a sudden, I was confused. “Wait a minute,” I thought. “Deesa is the daughter of Hightower??” I thought she was his wife. But the more I thought about it, the more it actually made sense. First, they never acted like husband and wife – I mean not even in a “We’re pretending to look like husband-and-wife to the rest of the world,” sort of way. They only saw each other in passing, which indicated more of a father-daughter relationship. There was also the hefty age difference. So I went back and re-read the opening scene to see if I misunderstood it. It clearly said Deesa was his wife. Okay, what’s going on here? Is she the daughter or is she the wife? In the end, I decided that “Daddy” was being used sarcastically. But it took me 15 full minutes to solve that mystery when it could’ve been solved in a second with a simple “sarcastic” in parentheticals or by putting “Daddy” in quotes. I’m willing to accept this as my fault, but remember, when you write extremely intricate plots with lots of characters, you’re going to run into this kind of problem. The reader is tasked with sorting out a lot of information. If you’re not clear on every single piece, they can easily get lost in the forest.

Another thing that confused me was the whole obsession Hightower had with this building he didn’t own. I couldn’t understand why he gave a shit about it or what it had to do with anything. But what really baffled me was why he couldn’t get a building from his own wife. First of all, since they’re married, don’t they both own the property? Once you get married to someone, isn’t all your property split evenly? If not, why wouldn’t his wife have given him the property? Maybe not now but earlier, when they were happy? Either way, there were no clear stakes (as I could tell) to owning this place so I just didn’t care about it.

Also, there was this strange subplot about Hightower fucking high school girls. A fairly large chunk of the story is dedicated to it and yet it had absolutely nothing to do with the plot. If you’re going to write an extremely complicated story, the last thing you want to include is an incidental storyline. The same could be said about the Chevelle subplot. It was more story relevant than the statutory rape stuff, but it ultimately had nothing to do with the present story, and since you already have a ton of more relevant balls you’re juggling, why confuse things by adding another?

Luckily, once Hightower hit the midway point, it started to rebound. Instead of drowning itself in multiple story threads, the script became more about the present and the actions our characters were taking to survive. A particular highlight was Hightower having to get rid of the Sheriff’s body as more and more townspeople closed in on him. It was nice to simply watch a tension-filled sequence unfold instead of having to remember 15 different things at once. A lot of that energy continued through the second half because Will didn’t have to spend any more time setting things up. All of his setups had already been taken care of.

I also thought the dialogue was pretty good here. Here’s an exchange Hightower has with Chigger, after he’s seen him chatting with too many people around town. “I don’t give a merry shit you tell me you “ain’t said nothing;” you’re a crook and a mental deficient. Talking to me, then my wife – IN FRONT OF THE FUCKING CHIEF OF GODDAMN POLICE – tells a story to a man like him regardless of whatever loose stool does or does not spew from that rancid hole in your face. Now, you fuck up again—“ CHIGGER: “—I just seen your truck there, I got some questions about—“ HIGHTOWER: “—I’ll kill you. I will kill you.” Hey man, I know good dialogue is subjective, but I was pretty darned impressed with that, as I was with most of the dialogue here.

I think Hightower is a screenplay worth pursuing. But it needs some work. Strip away the stuff that doesn’t matter. Chevelle adds context but not enough to warrant her inclusion. And please, get rid of the high school stuff unless you can make it more story-relevant. Hope you guys can give Will some more ideas. If I were working at a production company, I’d pass on the script in its current state, but I’d definitely recommend the writer for future submissions.

Script Link: Hightower

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

What I learned: “Kick the dog.” Just like you want to give your hero a “save the cat” moment so we love him, you want to give your villain a “kick the dog” moment so we hate him. But twisting kittens heads off? Come on. Guys, no animal cruelty in your scripts. Nobody likes animal cruelty. Even if you only include it to make us hate your bad guy, we’re still focusing more on you twisting the kitten’s head off than we are getting angry at your villain for doing it. Besides, you can be so much more creative than that.

Readers Rejoice, your Top 25 script (at #16) is getting made.  Seems Mr. Cruise can’t get himself enough Scripthshadow.  “What??!” Tom Cruise is said to have screamed while leaping off his couch.  “Scriptshadow Nation has voted this their 16th favorite script??  What are we waiting for!  Let’s make it!”  Doug Liman is still directing.  I’ve read the script (about a young soldier on an alien planet forced to fight an impossible battle against an alien force every single day as if the previous day didn’t exist. In doing so, he becomes an ultimate warrior) and it’s absolutely INSANE.  I have no idea how the hell they’re going to pull it off. Cruise’s character will be literally battling hundreds (thousands even?) of aliens at a time.  It’s the most ambitious sci-fi movie to be produced in the last decade – even bigger than Avatar I think (if they stick to the script).  And it’s got a fun little catchy hook with each day repeating itself.  Should be a blast. 

So earlier this month I was reading a screenplay and about 30 pages in I just stopped and thought, “I’m bored.” The script itself had quite a few of elements that I preach on the site – a clear goal, high stakes, urgency. But something wasn’t registering. So I decided to take a harder look at that feeling – boredom – since, as a writer, it’s the worst crime you can commit. But what causes it? Is it some invisible force that one has no control over? Or can it be systematically shut out via a carefully designed approach? That’s the question I set out to answer. And as I looked back at the recent scripts I was bored by, I came to a hard truth. The most influential factor in a reader being bored is something that the writer has no control over – subject matter. If somebody hates baseball, you’re probably not going to win them over with your baseball script. On the flip side, if somebody loves slasher movies, you probably have a good shot at entertaining them with yours. However, assuming all else is equal, these are things you absolutely CAN NOT DO in your script, as they almost always lead to a reader being bored out of their mind.

1) Take forever to set up your story – This is just a killer. The writer is using 4-5 scenes to set up their hero when they could’ve done it in two. It takes them 30 pages to get to the inciting incident. The story doesn’t seem to be pushing towards anything – setting anything up. That’s when you know you’ve failed, when you’ve bored your reader before you’ve even hit the main storyline. So set up your story quickly. Move things along faster than you think you have to. Avoid slow burns unless you have a LOT of experience writing and know how to build a story slowly while keeping the audience’s interest.

2) A passive main character – If your main character is spending the majority of the script waiting for things to happen instead of going out there and pushing the story forward himself, it’s easy for us to lose interest in that character and, by association, their story. Whether it’s the guys in The Hangover actively trying to find out where their friend is, Jake Sully actively trying to infiltrate the Na’vi, Edward Asner (Up) trying to make it to South America to keep a promise to his wife, or Colter looking for the bomb in the train in Source Code, readers like characters who go after things (are ACTIVE). Those tend to be the most exciting scripts. Now there are great movies where the main character is reactive. The Hand That Rocks The Cradle is a good example. Our main character isn’t really doing anything. However a lot of things are happening to her, which keeps the movie entertaining. But if you don’t have a scenario like “Cradle” where there’s a lot of conflict and danger affecting your main character, then you probably want your hero to be active.

3) Boring writing – We are taught as screenwriters to give the reader exactly what they need in order to understand the story and nothing more. And that’s good advice. Nobody wants to read six line paragraphs dominated by pretentious thesaurus-laden prose. But if you take that advice too literally, you risk becoming too sparse and boring with your writing. Then by association, WE get bored. An analogy might be a guy telling a story at a party. If that guy’s staring at his shoes and mumbling the whole time, it doesn’t matter how great his story is, it’s going to be boring. But if he’s excited and into it and vocal and looking everybody in the eye, that story’s going to have life. So the trick is, within the confines of a minimalist style, adding flavor and atmosphere to your writing. “Joe walks over to Mandy and looks at her with a mean stare and then walks away, ” is robotic. “Joe charges towards Mandy, rage emanating from every pore. They come face-to-face. Silence. So much unspoken here. He finally shakes his head and pushes past her.” Not Oscar worthy but definitely more visual.

4) Unexciting subject matter or concept – There are certain stories that inherently lack drama or entertainment value. It is your job to avoid telling these stories. I’m talking about spiritual journeys, plot-less stories, characters in a house discussing life. I’m not saying it’s impossible to make these movies work, but it’s the difference between having the Yankees payroll and the Oakland A’s payroll. Theoretically, the Oakland A’s could win the World Series. But with 200 million dollars more, you’re going to have a much better shot with the Yankees. A movie about a mother taking care of her son lacks drama and entertainment value. A movie about an unstable fan who’s imprisoned her favorite author in an isolated house in the mountains (Misery) is an idea jam-packed with drama and entertainment value.

5) Thin characters – You’ve heard this so many times it probably makes your head hurt. But this is probably the most misidentified reason for people being bored while reading a screenplay. That’s because when someone is bored, they tend to look at the immediate issue. This scene is empty. This dialogue is stale. But the reality is, it has nothing to do with either the scene or the dialogue. It has to do with the characters, who were never developed into interesting people in the first place. You’ve given us no reason to sympathize with them. No clear goal they’re going after. They’re not battling any internal conflict or flaw. They don’t have any interesting relationships in their life that need resolving. Their backstory is nonexistent.  Everything about them is empty. Once you’ve made that mistake, it doesn’t matter how good your story is. We won’t care because your thin characters have sent us into a near-vegetative state. So get your character development on. Or else you’ll end up in Boringsville.

6) Scenes that don’t push the story forward. – The more scenes I read that seemingly have nothing to do with your story, the more bored I get. This is why I tell you to have a clear goal for your main character at all times. If you have a clear goal for your hero, then you always know what scenes are necessary and what scenes aren’t. If your character has to deliver a droid to Princess Leia’s father for instance, he’s going to need a way off the planet. So obviously, he’ll need to go to a cantina where a lot of pilots hang out. If your scene isn’t *in some way* pushing towards whatever the current goal for your character is, then it isn’t necessary.

7) Obvious choices – As readers, we read all day. That’s what we do. We read scripts. By the time you finish your script, we’ve probably read 30 to 50 scripts just like yours. That’s your audience – people who read variations of the same thing over and over again. So if all you’re doing is making obvious choices with your scenes, your characters, your plot, your twists, then we’re going to get bored with your story quickly. Your job as a writer is to assess every one of the major choices you make in your screenplay and ask the question, have I seen this before? If you have, consider altering it and making it something that you haven’t seen before. You’re not going to be able to eliminate every cliché in your story. And quite frankly, you don’t want to (we need some sense of status quo to latch onto). But the idea is to constantly push yourself to come up with enough different ideas or spins on old ideas that your script feels fresh.

8) Generic action scenes (especially if they’re endlessly strung together) – This is a common amateur gaffe. Amateur writers tend to mistake “keeping the story moving” for “keeping everything fast.” So they throw action scene after action scene at you, believing that it’s going to keep you interested. But here’s a little secret you should know: The majority of action scenes are actually pretty boring on the page. There aren’t too many ways you can write a car chase or a gun battle that we haven’t seen before. For that reason, all of the bullets and the race scenes and the battling and the fights eventually become one giant blob of generic action. I actually skim through a lot of action sequences because of how predictable they are. What you begin to learn as you get better is that the best action scenes are carefully set up ahead of time. The stakes have been established. The motivations are clear. The dynamics between the characters have been carefully planned out. That way, when we reach the action scene, it’s not so much about the action itself as it is you caring about what’s going to happen to the characters inside of that action. So it’s essential that you’ve set up everything ahead of the action scene instead of focusing on how cool you can make the action scene itself.

9) Lack of clear motivation -This is a huge one. There is nothing more frustrating than losing track of what the hero is trying to do. This happens a lot in plot-heavy stories, since the hero is constantly jumping from new situation to new situation. The second we lose track of what the hero’s role is in these situations – what their objective is – we’re no longer participating in the story. We’re simply trying to figure out what’s going on. And if we’re trying to figure out what’s going on for too long, boredom sets in. So your job is to include “checkup” moments, lines or scenes that remind the audience what we’re doing and why. Imagine, for example, the final Death Star sequence in Star Wars without the “mission breakdown” scene beforehand. X wing fighters would be flying all over the place with us cluelessly wondering what the hell the point of it all was. This is why you get so bored watching sloppily-written movies like Transformers 3 and Pirates Of The Carribean 8. You rarely know what the characters are going after or what they’re doing in a battle. Since we don’t understand what the character’s motivation is, we simply don’t care what’s happening, and that leads to boredom. But this extends far beyond action scenes.  I can go through 50 pages and a dozen scenes sometimes where I’m not clear what the hero’s motivation is.  That’s when a script becomes really boring.

10) Zero surprises/reversals/twists – Never forget the power of the unexpected. Audiences have grown up on TV and movies. They know every trick in the book. So if your story is too predictable for too long, the audience starts to get ahead of you. And if the audience is ahead of you too frequently, they’re probably bored (except for the use of dramatic irony which I won’t get into here because I don’t want to confuse anyone). So your job as a writer is every 15 to 30 pages, depending on the type of story you’re telling, to throw something in there that that we aren’t expecting. Maybe it’s a character dying who we never thought would die. Such as Colter in the first 10 minutes of Source Code. Maybe it’s the introduction of a new dangerous character, like Mila Kunis’ character in Black Swan. Maybe it’s an action from a character that we weren’t expecting, such as the babysitter in Crazy Stupid Love taking naked pictures of herself to send to Steve Carrel’s character. It doesn’t have to be some mind boggling nuclear-level surprise every time out. But you do have to throw things in there every now and then that the audience isn’t expecting in order to keep them honest. If you don’t, they’re going to get way ahead of you, and once they’re ahead of you, the boredom sets in.

So now what you need to do is go back to your latest screenplay and assess if you’re making any of these mistakes, because if you are, you’re boring the reader, and as we’ve established, that’s the worst possible thing you can do as a writer. I’d also love to hear what you bores you guys when you read scripts. Feel free to vent in the comments. :)

Genre: Ghost Story/Light Horror
Premise: After a young man is killed in an apartment building, he becomes a ghost, and must save his family from the same fate.
About: Erik Kripke sold Haunted to Warner Brothers earlier this year and the plan is for him to direct the film as well. Kripke is best known as the creator of the TV show “Supernatural” (also produced at Warner Brothers). Born in Ohio, Kripke graduated from USC’s School of Cinematic Arts in 1996. His first big writing credit was 2005’s “Boogeyman” but he actually had some success many years earlier, in 1997, with his film Truly Committed, which won the Audience Award at Slamdance. Wow, that’s pretty impressive. Having a film at Slamdance the year after you graduate college. It’s also a reminder of how much work and perseverance is required in this business, as he had to wait another 8 years before his first major credit was produced.
Writer: Eric Kripke
Details: 102 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 hope you’re not easily SPOOKED. Because today’s entry is verrrrrryyyyyy spoooooooky. Okay, I’m lying. It’s not spooky at all. But it is an example of a high concept premise that’s executed just well enough to sell to a major studio. A lot of people ask me about that actually. They say, “Carson, you tell us we have to write a perfect screenplay in order to sell. So why do I see all these decent-but-not-great screenplays selling?”

Because of one simple factor. The more high concept/marketable your premise is, the less impressive your execution has to be. That’s because producers have TONS of writers in their rolodex that they know can fix a script. So if they come across an awesome premise but the characters suck, they have a writer in waiting who’s awesome with character that’ll clean it up. But the less marketable your premise is (aka the less it looks like your movie would actually make money), the more impressive the execution has to be to make up for it. And even then, you’re probably just going to become one of those writers that producers call to help fix a script as opposed to one of the writers who actually sell a script. High concept/marketable premises people. Probably the most important factor in your script selling.

Anyway, on to today’s script, Haunted.

Detroit. The happiest place on earth! Errr, not exactly. And especially not exactly at The Rossmore, the apartment complex where our story takes place. It’s here where teenager Max Maitland moves in with his family. Max’s family has money issues, and truth is they’d rather be anywhere but here. But since beggars can’t be choosers, it’s here they will be. And almost immediately, they hate it. Not only is it dingy and depressing. But it’s also kind of…spoooooooky.

It isn’t long before we figure out why. It turns out numerous people have been murdered in this complex, a few of them right here in their apartment. And at the end of the first act, poor Max becomes one of the victims. Yes, our lead character is MURDERED. We later find out he’s been offed by the evil Caleb Grady, a spirit who committed suicide many years ago, blowing his entire jaw off with a shotgun. He now roams the complex, looking for opportunities to eliminate new victims.

After the shock of being a ghost wears off, Max befriends some of the other ghosts in the building, which include a man hanging in the lobby, a girl drowned in a bathtub, and a cute teenage girl named Christina whose fashion sense tells us she probably wasn’t born in this century, or the previous one for that matter. Christina and Max become fast friends, and she helps him with his transition into a ghost, giving him the lay of the land and how Ghostville at the Rossmore works.

Eventually, Max realizes that Caleb Grady is targeting his family for his next kill, and he has to figure out a way to get them out of the complex before it’s too late. But how do you get someone out if they can’t see you? Why, you learn to “haunt” of course. So Max goes through a crash-course in haunting with the other ghosts in a desperate attempt to save his fam. But it might be too late. Grady is already on the prowl.

Haunted is a light haunted house movie that packs just enough of a punch to keep you interested. The twist of having the main character be a ghost was an interesting one, and made for a story you’ve never seen told this way before. I think the biggest issue I had with it was its tone. There were many times where it felt like this script wanted to go DARK, into The Ring and Sixth Sense territory, but would then pull back into PG territory. I’m not even sure what movie I’d compare it to. Some have said Beetlejuice, but it’s been awhile since I saw that film so I couldn’t tell you. Personally, I would lean towards making this darker, but I concede younger audiences may enjoy the “safer” feel of the film.

Despite the subject matter being light, Kripke does a pretty good job exploring the relationship between Max and his father. I liked this idea that his father never listened to him when he was alive, and that ironically, only now when he’s dead, is he truly able to hear him. The problem was Max died so early that the relationship never had time to establish itself. Just as I was getting a feel for the two, Max was murdered. I would’ve liked just a little more setup there.

I also caught Kripke using a little writing trick that a lot of good writers utilize. Use your action description to slip in reminders of your character’s flaws, fears, and weaknesses. After one of the ghosts points out how lonely a lot of the ghosts here are, Kripke writes: “CLOSE ON MAX. Thoughtful. If there’s one thing he understands… it’s loneliness.” Sure, it’s a little bit of a cheat. But sometimes you have to hold the reader’s hand and let them know what it is your character is feeling/fearing. If that can be done in little asides like this, why not take advantage of it?

Throughout the script, I was going back and forth on what I would rate it. It was simply too safe of an execution to get revved up about. But then a nice little twist appears near the end that I never expected (no, it’s not a “Sixth Sense” like twist) that spins the story in a different direction. That twist saved this script in my eyes and made it worth the read. I have to hand it to Kripke. I did not see that coming at all.

So this was good. And I think most people will agree. In fact, everybody I know who’s read it so far has liked it.

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

What I learned: As a testament to writers who have discovered the importance of theme in their work, Kripke looks back at his approach to his show “Supernatural” now as opposed to when he started: “When we started out, we were going to make a horror movie every week. It was about the monsters, and it was about Hook Man and Bloody Mary and the urban legends and the boys, honestly, in the beginning, Sam and Dean, were an engine to get us in and out of different horror movies every week. [Now] for me, the story is about, ‘Can the strength of family overcome destiny and fate, and can family save the world?’ If I had a worldview, and I don’t know if I do, but if I did, it’s one that’s intensely humanistic. [That worldview] is that the only thing that matters is family and personal connection, and that’s the only thing that gives life meaning. Religion and gods and beliefs — for me, it all comes down to your brother. And your brother might be the brother in your family, or it might be the guy next to you in the foxhole — it’s about human connections.” This is the kind of THEMATIC approach that tends to resonate with audiences, that makes your story more than just a forgettable 2 hour slice of entertainment. You can see that in how Kripke explores the relationship between father and son here. You may argue whether he succeeds or not. But it’s certainly a better approach than seeing how many scares or “cool kills” you can pack into 90 minutes.

Genre: Thriller/Drama
Premise: A man inherits a huge piece of land in Montana only to learn that it comes with an enormous price: a longstanding blood feud with the neighbors.
About: This is a 2011 Blood List script that will go into production later this year. Adam Wingard will direct (Pop Skull, A Horrible Way To Die). This is what he had to say after reading the script: “I was instantly attracted to the authentic 70’s style grittiness and the Terrence Malick/Sam Peckinpah feel of the script. It’s got this sweeping scope that takes you in, lifting you up as it explores the beauty and mystery of nature, and then tears it all apart with sheer brutality and violence.”
Writers: Alex and Max Schenker
Details: 102 pages – August 1, 2011 draft (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).

I don’t know what I was expecting when I picked this one up, but it definitely wasn’t what I got. Punchbowl’s about a young man named Dylan Massey, a 24 year old slaughterhouse grunt who’s probably going to be killing cows for the rest of his life. The only light in his life is Savannah King – the beautiful woman who puts up with him. Dylan knows that Savannah’s too good for him. And he knows that the second she realizes it, she’s out the door. Which is why he wants to provide a better life for her. Unfortunately, there aren’t many opportunities for a better life in rural West Texas.

And then Dylan wins the lottery, in a manner of speaking. Dylan’s grandfather just died and in the will left him a 4500 acre estate in Montana. People don’t have 4500 acre estates anymore. That’s like owning your own country. So at first Dylan is skeptical, but is corralled into driving up there by Savannah, his best friend Garrett, and Garret’s girlfriend Isabella.

The place is GORGEOUS. It’s like what the pioneers must have seen when they first travelled across America. And it’s all Dylan’s. He immediately asks Garrett to move up and work with him. They’ll be millionaires, living the life they always dreamed of. The girls are just as excited. It’s all like a dream come true.

Heh heh heh. Or so they think.

Our group gets the first hint that something’s wrong when they head into town. Everybody there is just NOT friendly. Lots of glaring. Lots of avoiding. They eventually run into the Sheriff, who tells them what’s up. There’s been a generations-old feud going on between the Masseys and their neighbors, the Shores. Dozens of Masseys and dozen Shores have been killed over the years. And word on the street is that Dylan’s next.

It’s not surprising then that they get home to see the words “Go away” on their front porch written in pig blood. Everybody’s freaking out, wondering if they should leave. But you don’t voluntarily wake up from a dream. You sleep for as long as you can.

So Dylan gets this crazy idea that he’s going to end the feud. He saunters over to Fallon Shore’s place, the most evil man you can imagine, and says he wants to talk. He’ll agree to give Fallon a few hundred acres if he ends the feud. Fallon wants to know if the acres include a water stream (known as “The Devil’s Punchbowl” because of how much blood has been shed over it). Dylan says “no” and Fallon says he’s sorry, but that means the feud is on. And boy is it ever. That night, these men are going to give a whole new meaning to the word “Hell.”

Man, this was a weird one. It was weird good for the most part, but for everything the Schenker brothers did right, they seemed to drop the ball on something else. The biggest issue with the screenplay for me was how abruptly it ended. So much time is put into the setup here that when we finally got to the actual feud, there were only 30 pages left, and that wasn’t NEARLY enough to tell the story. This is the kind of story that needs time to breath, and it would’ve had that time had it gotten to its story sooner.

This is why you always hear the advice: “Move your story along quickly.” Especially the setup. And especially in a movie like this where the central plot is 1500 miles from where the story begins. We needed to get to Montana sooner, establish the danger sooner, and then we could’ve worked our way through a few escalating skirmishes before we got to the big battle. As it stood, all we had was the big battle, which was sort of like being fed the main course without the drinks, bread, and salad. I kept thinking, “But we don’t even know the Shores yet. We’ve had like, two scenes with them. I’m not ready for a final confrontation.”

Another misguided choice was giving Dylan and Isabella (Garret’s girlfriend) a secret romance. Sometimes we can get so obsessed with adding conflict, that we add it even when the script doesn’t need it. Sure, a Dylan and Isabella affair created conflict and some dramatic irony, but it ultimately had nothing to do with the plot. It was only there to be there. And since the conflict between the families was SO intense, adding a silly affair plot almost seemed annoying, like something we have to put up with in order to get to the good stuff. I’m not saying to never add conflict between the group in movies like this, but if you force it, we’re going to notice, and that’ll kill our suspension of disbelief.

On the plus side there’s something very authentic about the details in this script. I FELT like I was in Texas. I FELT like I was in Montana. I felt like these characters were real people. And on top of that, these brothers can write. There were some great moments in Punchbowl. There’s a creepy scene where a townie approaches Savannah at the grocery store, starts massaging her pregnant belly, and asks her what it’s like to have the devil inside of her (a Massey). There’s also a great dinner scene where Dylan invites the Shores over for a truce talk that is just laced with tension. That’s when Punch Bowl was at its best. That’s where this script really shined.

And boy is Fallon a GREAT bad guy. You work so hard to create memorable villains in your screenplays yet so many of them come off as sloppy copycats of much better villains of past films. Fallon is just a nasty man. But more importantly, you believe in him. And you hate him. And you want to see him go down. If you can create a villain that gets to the audience THAT much, you’ve taken care of 60% of your movie. Just that NEED to see him burn, to breathe his last breath, can power an audience’s interest.

But ultimately this script is a mixed bag. It alienates you at the same time that it pulls you in. For example, there was all this senseless animal violence. And the feud itself was too vague. I mean we’re told that the town is split in its support for the families. But we never meet anybody who supports the Masseys. And then of course, there’s this sudden ending, where it feels like someone accidentally skipped 15 chapters on the DVD and threw us into the final climax. I wanted to see more of a build up there. I wanted to see more conflict between the families. Besides all that though, this is too interesting not to recommend.

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

What I learned: Whenever you have a story that has your hero(es) moving to a new town, you want to get to that town as SOON as possible. That’s because in addition to setting up your character’s CURRENT life, you’re going to have to set up their NEW life (and their new town). That’s two consecutive setup sequences, which is a lot of screenplay real estate. This is why you see most “new town” screenplays STARTING with the characters arriving in the new town. The Karate Kid for example (I know, I know, completely different movie) – we start with them arriving in California. Now in this case, the Schenkers wanted to establish the characters’ shitty lives before they got lucky, which is a choice I support. But we don’t get to Montana until page 35. That’s WAAAAAAY too long. We should be there AT THE LATEST by page 25, and preferably by page 20. Montana is where the meat of the story is so that’s where we need to be.