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.

Genre: Comedy/Romantic Comedy
Premise: Told in the first person, a disgruntled screenwriter falls in love with a taken woman, and decides to do anything in his power to get her.
About: This is one of this year’s (2011) Nicholl finalists. The Nicholl Fellowship is the biggest screenwriting competition in the world.
Writers: Chris Shafer & Paul Vicknair
Details: 104 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).

Where do I start with this one? Let’s see. I’ll begin by giving these guys a couple of gold brads. This script is unique. As someone who’s read upwards of 50 screenplays in a single week, I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to read the same stories told the same way over and over again. You’re not going to get that here. A Many Splintered Thing differentiates itself right away by telling its story in the first person. On top of that, it’s a self-referential feast. We’ve seen this kind of thing before (Passengers for first-person and Balls Out for self-reference), but never together. On top of that, these guys are actually good writers. If this were attempted by some hack, it wouldn’t work. But you can tell these guys have been around the block.

So then, why didn’t I like it? I’ll get to that in a bit. First, let’s break down the story.

The main character in Splintered is Me. Not “me” me. But you. Actually, no. You’re the main character, which is me. Wait. I’m the main character. Hold on. The main character doesn’t have a name. So he’s referred throughout the screenplay as me. Or I. Because the story is told in the first person. There you go. I think that’s right.

We are a writer. We have an agent. We’re asked to write the kind of screenplays we hate. So we’re frustrated with our job. We also have sex with a lot of women. We don’t believe in love because love sucks. We say this a lot. Love really sucks.

We spend most of our time hanging out with our writers group and because we have a new form of attention deficit disorder that only allows us to pay attention for 3 seconds at a time, in order to make it through these sessions, we insert ourselves into our writer group friends’ stories. So for example, if someone starts telling us about their new Korean immigrant script, we imagine ourselves as that Korean immigrant, and experience the story as them.

Still with me?

Anyway, we eventually meet a beautiful girl at a charity event. This is the first time we’ve ever actually liked a girl. But it turns out she has a boyfriend. So when we go our separate ways, we’re really bummed out because all we can think about is this girl. But then we realize that if this girl was at one charity event, she may be at more. So we start crashing every charity event in town, pretending to be some big time philanthropist (our specialty is saving a very rare form of frog). We eventually run into this girl again (hooray!), and she’s impressed by how much we care about charity, so soon we’re spending time together -as friends.

Of course, there’s that whole pesky boyfriend thing getting in the way, and when the friendship starts to approach the make or break point, we’re not sure what we want to do. Because we hate love, we’re leaning towards ditch city, but then there’s that feeling we have that we haven’t had before, pulling us back into her arms. So will we get her in the end? Will we finally learn that love is good? That is the question.

As you can see, the story itself is pretty basic, which was probably a good idea, since we need some sanity amidst all the storytelling chaos. Now back to the question. Why didn’t I love this?

As I’ve stated over and over again, what I care about most is story. I want to be transported into another world. I want to believe in the characters. I want to believe in the situations. I crave that suspension of disbelief. I still find it fascinating that I can read something that’s completely made up inside somebody’s imagination, and believe it. It’s bizarre isn’t it? I mean you watch movies and all they are is a group of people getting together in front of a big camera, reading lines. Yet you believe it. You actually believe that Luke Skywalker is destroying the Death Star.

So if everything is a joke – if everything is designed to rip me out of that false reality – it’s hard for me to care. And I’m not saying that’s the case for everyone. Some people appreciate goofy self-referential nods, the purposeful flipping of clichés. That can be fun. But I’m looking for the screenplay that moves me, that takes me to another place. A great example of a script that took a similar approach (told in the first person) but was able to bring me into its world was Passengers. The difference was, they used the first-person to put you in the mind of the main character as he gradually went insane. So the first-person had a story purpose. It wasn’t a gimmick.

I had a few other issues as well. The problem when you’re trying to be different all the time is that sooner or later those “different” moments start feeling artificially manufactured. It’s like you’ve set this impossible bar for yourself because you want everything to be something that the audience has never seen before. But you just can’t do that for an entire screenplay, so moments like the Korean mini movie, while cute, end up coming off as “writerly.”

Then there’s the whole “I hate love” stuff. Not believing in love is actually a solid inner conflict. The problem is, this trait isn’t shown visually in Splintered. It’s just beaten into our heads via dialogue, mostly from the main character. It was almost like the writers kept getting the note – “Not feeling the main character’s hatred of love enough,” so they simply added more scenes where the main character would say, “I hate love.”

But remember, one great “show” moment is worth a dozen “tell” moments. Had they just shown him hating love, it would have been enough. For example, if you want to convey that a character is a cheater, you don’t write 13 scenes of him saying how much he loves cheating. You show him meet a hot girl at a bar, and when she looks the other way, discreetly slip his wedding ring into his pocket.

Also, after a while, this screenplay hit a predictable rhythm. We’d get a scene where our main character pursued the girl, then a scene where he’d talk about it with his writers group. Then another scene with the girl. Then another scene with the writers group. It was almost like an episode of Seinfeld, where you have the event, and then the recollection of the event. Except it went on for two hours instead of 23 minutes.  They should probably fix this because the first-person writing style doesn’t work nearly as well once the novelty has worn off. So the second half of the script is tougher to get through. If they changed up the rhythm a bit, made the story a tad more unpredictable, we wouldn’t be focusing so much on that writing because we’d be into the story.

But I have a feeling a lot of people are going to like this. Not everybody is Snobby Carson who’s read a billion screenplays and finds something to complain about with all of them (except Drive of course). No matter which way you slice it, this script is unique. It’s sort of like the illegitimate stepchild of Sequels Remakes and Adaptations, Passengers, 500 Days Of Summer, Balls Out and The F Word. If you liked those screenplays, you’ll definitely want to check this out. Despite it not being my thing, I probably would’ve put it in the Nicholl finals as well.

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

What I learned: Cut your script down via diet and exercise, not pills. — Guys, don’t cheat. It comes back to bite you one way or another. As I was reading Splintered, I was getting frustrated by how long it was taking me so to get through it. It was confusing because it wasn’t like the script was badly written, which is the usual reason scripts drag, but it was taking way longer than it should have. Afterwards, a Scriptshadow Nation reader brought to my attention that the writers had formatted their script to 66 lines per page instead of 55 (the standard). This allowed them to “save” 20 pages on the page count. Sure, that looks good on the surface, but if you think that’s not affecting the read, you are wrong my screenplay loving friend. Anything that slows down your script, whether it’s hidden or not, is going to hurt our enjoyment of it, as was evidenced by my frustration. So don’t try to cut pages by cheating (pills). Cut them the old-fashioned way (diet and exercise). Get rid of characters you don’t need. Get rid of scenes you don’t need. Kill those scenes you love that have nothing to do with your story. Pare down your description. I know it’s hard work but in the end it will pay off. I promise you.

Genre: Crime/Thriller
Premise: After being left for dead, a man plots his revenge against the Chicago mob family who killed his wife.
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: Erik Fredsell
Details: 104 pages

I have a feeling that this script is going to generate some interesting discussion. This is what Erik, the writer, wrote in his query letter: “I’ve asked you to review this script before-about a year ago. I thought it was the most erudite piece of writing that has ever been produced in the history of screenplay writing…I was wrong. I was forced to go back and take a look at it because a producer contacted me about it. The screenplay was filled with superfluous scenes that ate up pages and pages. The dialogue was far too pretentious, and the narrative structure was pedestrian. I spent months redrafting the script. I’ve brought it down to 104 pages from 139.”

First of all, I want to applaud Erik for making these changes. This tends to be one of the more monumental steps amateur screenwriters make in their journey. We all start off believing our scripts are worthy of being 130, 140, and 150 pages. The second we realize that we don’t need all those extra pages, all those extra scenes, and all that extraneous dialogue, is the second we become better storytellers. The problem here is that, even at 104 pages, I’m still seeing a lot of those same problems. There are still extraneous scenes. There is still extraneous dialogue. And there are still traces of pretentiousness. So while I’m guessing this is way better than the previous draft, some pretty significant changes still need to be made.

I know this because, normally, it’s easy for me to summarize a story. But when I have to stop, think about how I’m going to convey things, stumble through the points I need to make, and am constantly trying to remember the plot, that’s an indication that the story was too confusing or too muddled. I’m still not exactly sure what happens in Manchester Black, but I’m going to give it my best shot.

Michael, our main character, is mistaken for somebody involved with the mob – I believe somebody who was supposed to deliver something called a “mandori box.” So the mob takes him and his wife, tortures them to find out where the box is, but since Michael doesn’t know what they’re talking about, they end up killing his wife and leaving him for dead.

We then follow Michael through four very torturous years where he rehabilitates his body, all in preparation to get his revenge on the people who did this. The thing is, we don’t go about this linearly. Nor do we always stay with our protagonist. In fact, the movie starts with us seeing our protagonist enact his revenge, and then we go back in time, bit by bit, to see why he enacted his revenge.

I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that Erik is a huge Quentin Tarantino fan, and I have a strong feeling that he’s going to get bashed by the commenters for it. I mean we have influences from Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction, and Kill Bill blanketing the script at almost every turn. You have to be careful when paying homage to icons, because if you do so too blatantly, you’re seen as a copycat, and people are just pissed that they have to trudge through a not-as-good version of a far better movie. That’s not to say this is straight Tarantino. I found this script to be darker and less forgiving than Tarantino’s work, sort of Tarantino by way of William Monahan. So Erik does have his own voice. But I’m not sure it shines bright enough to outweigh the clear influences in the screenplay.

Getting back on track, once Michael takes out some of the key men responsible for killing his wife, their mob boss, Vincenzo, orders some of his top hit men to take Michael out. We intermittently cut to these groups of hit men, sometimes on their way to kill Michael, and sometimes just hanging out shooting the shit. Eventually, they all fail, and Vincenzo will have to do the deed himself. Theoretically, this should be easy. He’s one of the top mob bosses is in the city. But Michael has something going for him that none of these men can touch – the desire to avenge his wife’s death.

I have so many things to say about this script, I don’t even know where to start. First of all, I already know what commenters are going to say. They’ll start with the script being overwritten. And they’re right. Here is one of the very first sentences in the screenplay: “Michael, draped in an exanimate black suit, inexorably walks past the eponymously embossed window, towards three thuggish men sitting at a table.” I’m not even sure what half of those words mean.

The reason overwriting is a problem is that it takes the reader’s focus off the screenplay and places it on the writing. Screenplays aren’t a writing contest. They’re a storytelling contest. Outside of Scriptshadow, these words will never be published anywhere. So it doesn’t matter if you’re a walking thesaurus. The goal of writing a story is to bring the reader into your world. If you try to be too flashy or too wordy, you’re constantly pushing the reader out of that world. You want to be visual with your writing, yes, but the second it looks like you’re trying too hard, you’re dead. And it feels like the writing is trying way too hard here.

Second is degree of difficulty. Ambition is good. Trying to do something different is good. But tackling a degree of difficulty higher than your ability level is suicide. We have two things here that make telling this story extremely difficult. The first is an endless character count. The more characters you have, the less time you have to develop your main characters, and the more likely you’re going to have a reader who’s confused as hell about who everybody is. I couldn’t remember half the people here, and even worse, I don’t think a quarter of them were necessary. We’d occasionally jump to characters who didn’t have anything to do with the story. They’d just talk. So that led to a lot of confusion.

The second problem is all the time jumping. Manipulating time is one of the coolest things film allows you to do. But conveying it on the page is way more difficult than conveying it onscreen, and if you don’t know what you’re doing, you’re going to confuse the hell out of the reader. It took me about 40 pages, for example, to figure out what was going on. A big part of the problem was, I didn’t understand why we were telling this story out of order. I kept thinking to myself, would this lose anything if it were told linearly? It might be more predictable, but it’d certainly be less confusing. So the jumping around felt like a cheap manipulative trick just to make the story different. It’s a better idea to have your time jumping motivated in some way. Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind is a perfect example. We jump around in time there in order to take advantage of the characters’ memory loss. Stories always work better when choices are motivated.

The thing is, I can understand a guy like Erik’s frustration. There is some serious talent on display here. I’m not an authority on mob flicks, but the dialogue here was pretty damn good. When these guys spoke, I felt like they were really those people – and I don’t often see that in screenplays. Also, he’s well read and intelligent. You can see that intelligence on every page. So here’s this guy, with all this talent, looking out there and seeing scripts like the dumbed down “Nonstop” sell, and wondering, how the hell are these guys making a living at this and I’m not??

Here’s the reason. Because the story has to come before everything. You have to display storytelling skills and not an ability to write random monologues, or crazy characters, or jump around in time a lot. I don’t care how well you describe that stuff, or how different you can be. If it’s not serving the story, if it’s not easy to follow, if it isn’t building the stakes, etc., etc., then it won’t matter. There are pieces of this story that are really good. There are scenes in this story that are really good. But on the whole, it’s a garbled mess. It’s too difficult to follow and has too many unnecessary tangents. Say what you will about Nonstop, but the storyline is always clear, the stakes are always clear, and you can see it as a movie. With Manchester Black, at least in its current form, it’s too hard to follow.

So how would I fix this screenplay? I’d start by cutting the character list by half. It would force you to only use the characters you absolutely needed to tell the story. The next thing I would do is cut out any scene with a monologue in it. I don’t remember a single monologue in this script that was necessary. I’d then focus on the story elements that have the most punch. For example, this mandori box sounds interesting. But it’s essentially treated like the suitcase in Pulp Fiction (another reference people are going to kill you for). Let’s make that box a bigger part of the story. Finally, continue to focus on the components that bring out the most emotion – avenging his wife’s death for example. You do that well here. So I’d continued to feature it in the next draft. Once you strip the movie down, and we don’t have to keep track of so many people, the time jumping should be easier to follow. I’d still like it to be motivated, but I could see it working a lot better if your script were streamlined.

And finally, don’t end your mob movie at a warehouse. That’s where every mob movie ends! :-)

Script link: Manchester Black

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

What I learned: I’m gonna say this again. A scene where all that’s happening is one person giving another person their theory on life is a scene of death. Here’s a monologue from one of the characters on page 49. It happens as two characters we don’t know very well are randomly driving their car somewhere: “You’re talking about evil like it has any inherit meaning beyond its limited definition. My view is that if God is truly omniscient, he can see things from all perspectives. He knows why I do what I do just as well I do. And what is evil but perspective. It isn’t tangible, and there’s always a reason behind it, even if it can’t be seen. Look at it with total honesty-this whole argument. How do we weigh a man’s actions? He provides for his family, gives to charities, volunteers, but one day he murders his wife. You don’t even need to examine his reasoning. Just look at it like this: He built up a lifetime of goodwill, and does one moment negate all he has done throughout his life and make him evil? Same thing goes for terrorists. They’re freedom fighters and liberators to many people. Serial killers-sufferers from severe psychosis. Child molesters, rapists-an outgrowth from years of sexual abuse. There is no evil my friend just perspective.” Well-written? Sure. Does the story lose anything if the scene is erased? No. And that’s the problem. If the scene can be erased and absolutely nothing is lost, you don’t need the scene. Does that mean you should never have a monologue in your screenplay? No. Of course not. But you have to find a way to weave them into the story – to make them matter. Now I didn’t love this scene in The Matrix, but it’s adequate enough to make my point. There’s a scene where Agent Smith has Morpheus chained up to a chair and is trying to get him to give him the codes to Zion. He goes on a rather long monologue about how humans are actually a virus. Let’s apply the same test here. Does the story lose anything if the scene is erased? Yes. One character is trying to obtain highly important information from another character before his friends come and save him. Drop the scene and the movie doesn’t make sense. So you can have monologues in your screenplay. They can even contain philosophical meanderings. But they have to be an essential part of the story to work.

So as you know, I was reading Magic Mike earlier this week and I had a big problem with the lack of conflict. Then came The Insane Laws, which also seemed to miss out on a big opportunity for conflict when it made the competing families too chummy with each other. It reminded me that so few writers remember to add a sufficient amount of conflict or even know how to generate enough conflict in the first place.

That’s partly because the definition of conflict as it pertains to storytelling is misunderstood. Many people think it means two people arguing with each other. That’s one form of conflict. But conflict comes in many shapes and sizes. Skepticism is a form of conflict. Secrets are a form of conflict. Passive aggressiveness is a form of conflict. Differing philosophies is a form of conflict. The definition of conflict in the dictionary is “to come into collision or disagreement; be contradictory, at variance, or in opposition; clash.”

I would expand that to include two opposing forces clashing with one another, trying to resolve themselves. The idea then, is to look for as many places in your script as you can to add those clashing forces. There are three areas where you should be focusing. The first is within the character. Every character becomes more interesting if they’re battling something from within. The second is an interpersonal conflict – a conflict going on between the main two characters in the story. The third is external conflict. That would be any conflict pressuring your character from the outside. So what I decided to do was look at 10 movies, and see how they incorporated these types of conflict. Let’s get started.

Movie: Titanic
Inner Conflict: Rose’s inner conflict is that she hates the life she’s living. She feels trapped. She wants out. This conflict is what drives her to Jack, and ultimately what drives her to change.
Interpersonal conflict: There are several layers of conflict in the central relationship here. The first is class. The two characters belong to different classes, which makes being together impossible. This alone would be sufficient enough conflict, but James Cameron doesn’t stop there. The next element is a difference in philosophies. Jack believes in living in the moment. Rose believes in being prudent and careful about her choices. The next element of conflict is that Rose is engaged. She’s getting married and her husband is right there on the ship. This means that every moment the two characters share with each other must be in secret.
External Conflict: Obviously, you have a ship that’s going to sink. You also have the fiancé constantly trying to separate them. And depending on how you look at it, you can also say that class is an external conflict.

Movie: The King’s Speech
Inner Conflict: The King here doesn’t want to be King. He’s scared of it. He doesn’t believe he’s worthy of wearing the crown.
Interpersonal Conflict: Just like Titanic, the first element of conflict is class. Lionel is just a peasant. The King is, well, the King of England. The reason this conflict is so interesting is because the peasant, in this case, is in charge, the exact opposite of the way this relationship would normally work. On top of that, The King is very regimented and uptight whereas Lionel is relaxed and unorthodox. And finally, The King doesn’t trust Lionel’s methods. So the two are constantly butting heads about his teaching philosophy.
External Conflict: The external conflict here is Hitler threatening to wage war on Europe. This is what forces our main character to act. He has to learn how to speak without a stutter, so he can convince his people as well as the rest of the world to stand up to Germany. Also, there’s the ongoing uncertainty about the throne that’s constantly weighing on our hero.

Movie: Drive
Inner Conflict: Driver doesn’t get close to anybody. He always keeps his distance. You can see this just in the way he operates his getaways. He doesn’t get to know the people. He only drives them. And after that, they never talk again. But where this really starts to affect him is when he starts his relationship with Irene. Caring about somebody is not something he’s used to, so he’s constantly waging a battle within himself.
Interpersonal Conflict: The first element of conflict is that Irene is married. As I’ve already mentioned, this is a common and easy way to add conflict to a relationship. Another element of conflict is that she has a kid. This complicates every decision she makes. If she was alone, she could run off with Driver. But she’s forced to be more prudent, and respect the fact that her child has a father.
External Conflict: The central source of external conflict is the mob, specifically once he obtains the money.

Movie: The Social Network
Inner Conflict: Mark has an unhealthy desire to be liked. This is why he gets jealous when Eduardo gets invited into a fraternity. This is why he’s so conflicted about the breakup with his girlfriend. And this is eventually why he starts Facebook.
Interpersonal Conflict: Mark is unpredictable. Eduardo is practical. Mark wants to do something revolutionary. Eduardo wants to experience college and live life. Mark can be mean. Eduardo is nice. Mark doesn’t want to monetize Facebook. Eduardo thinks it’s essential. Eduardo’s money is what’s funding the operation, causing a slow build of tension beneath the relationship (money owed between friends is always a good source of conflict). Mark wants to move the operation to California. Eduardo doesn’t think it’s a good idea. As you can see, there’s a ton of conflict here.
External Conflict: The duo also has to deal with the Winkelvoss twins suing them, Sean Parker coming between them, and the out-of-control growth of the site.

Movie: The Hangover
Inner Conflict: This is really a three headed protagonist but I would say Stu has the most going on. So for him, his inner conflict is one that’s very familiar in comedies. He doesn’t stand up for himself. He always looks for the path of least resistance. So he’s constantly battling that when everything that happens in this movie pulls him in the opposite direction (getting married to a stripper for example).
Interpersonal Conflict: As a straight comedy, it’s practically required that you make all of your characters different in a way where they conflict with one another. So you have Stu, who’s super careful and practical. You have Phil, who’s reckless and has no morals. And you have the wildcard character, Alan, who’s socially unaware to the point where he’s a danger to both characters. This is also a good time to bring up that conflict is one of the most important components for creating good dialogue. So the reason the dialogue is so fun here is that each character’s personality conflicts with the other characters. This makes every conversation a battle – nothing is easy. If the conversation between characters is too easy for too long in any movie, there’s a good chance that that dialogue is boring.
External Conflict: Needing to find their friend in time for his wedding. Trying to escape a killer who they owe money to. Not being able to remember anything.

Movie: Source Code
Inner Conflict: Colter’s inner conflict is trying to find out what’s happened to him. That’s the unresolved issue here. He needs to find out why he’s on this train.
Interpersonal Conflict: The interpersonal conflict here is pretty unique. Colter is inadvertently impersonating someone Christina knows. This means she’s talking to him as if he’s a good friend of hers, whereas he’s talking to her like he’s never seen her in his life. But the cool thing about Source Code is that the conflict keeps changing every time the train sequence resets. For example, in the next round, he might not bother explaining who he is, since it wastes time. That’s why I love this script so much. The relationship is always out of balance due to how Ben Ripley constructed the conflict.
External conflict: They’re on a train that’s going to blow up in 8 minutes. Colter has to find the bomber. He needs to find out what this mysterious chamber he keeps ending up in is. Tons of conflict in this one.

Movie: Avatar
Inner Conflict: Jake is in a constant tug of war with which side he’s on. Is his alliance to the humans or the Na’vi?
Interpersonal Conflict: Jake is lying to the woman he’s falling for, secretly learning about her people to help the Marines attack them. Jake is dumb and takes everything at face value whereas Neytiri is smart and has a deep understanding of the world around her. Jake is attracted to Neytiri but Neytiri is not attracted to him (at first). Jake is a human and Neytiri is a Na’vi. There’s a tribe member who likes Neytiri, and is jealous of her relationship with Jake. Neytiri is only around Jake because she’s ordered to by her mother. This is why this movie rises above your typical summer action fare. There’s a lot going on with the characters.
External Conflict: The impending war between the humans and the Na’vi. The Marines’ constant pressure to speed up the diplomatic approach. And there’s the planet itself, which is quite dangerous.

Movie: Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind
Inner Conflict: Joel has ongoing issues with self-doubt and self-worth.
Interpersonal Conflict: Joel is reserved and rational. Clementine is impulsive and a little nuts. Joel wants a stable relationship. Clementine is terrified of stability. The most interesting element of conflict, though, is the one that’s unique to this premise. That comes when Clementine doesn’t know who Joel is anymore. Or when Joel doesn’t know who Clementine is. Or when they don’t know who each other are. This is why this movie is beloved by so many people. Because of its unique and ever-changing conflict (similar in some ways to the way the conflict keeps changing in Source Code).
External Conflict: The interpersonal conflict bleeds into the external conflict here (which as you can see from other examples, sometimes happens) in that the external conflict is each other. Because they’re trying to forget one another, they’re the main exterior antagonizing force. Then later, their fading memories become the main source of external conflict, as they race through their own experiences to try and remember each other.

Movie: Juno
Inner Conflict: Unless I’m missing something, Juno doesn’t have a very strong inner conflict. There are times when she struggles with what she wants to do with the baby, but for the majority of the film, she knows exactly what she wants to do. Maybe this is why some people don’t like this character, because she’s so simplistic.
Interpersonal Conflict: There are a couple of relationships you could choose from here, but I think the most interesting one is Juno and Mark (Jason Bateman). First of all, he’s married. Second of all, he’s twice her age (not to mention she’s underage). She’s naïve whereas he knows what he’s doing. She wishes she were older. He wishes he were younger. She wishes she had his stability He wishes he didn’t have any responsibility. All these tentacles sort of overlap with one another to create an interesting dynamic between the two.
External conflict: The main external source of conflict comes from being a pregnant teenager. Teenagers aren’t supposed to be pregnant. It forces a child to make an adult decision. And because of that, the entire world judges you. Therefore, Juno encounters conflict at almost every turn, albeit through the quirky harmless sensibilities of Diablo Cody.

Movie: Meet The Parents
Inner Conflict: Most of Greg’s internal struggle revolves around honesty – determining whether to tell the truth or not. It’s funny because no matter which route he takes, he always seems to get into more trouble. And because the man he’s trying to impress puts honesty above everything, the stakes of that inner struggle are extremely high.
Interpersonal Conflict: The main relationship here is Greg and Jack. The biggest element of conflict is that Jack doesn’t think Greg is good enough for his daughter. He will go to any length to prove this. Greg, on the other hand, loves Jack’s daughter more than anything. So he will go to any length to make Jack like him. This is the best way to create conflict in a relationship. You put two forces on opposite ends of the spectrum, then have them go at each other. The more in contrast they are, the more entertaining their relationship tends to be.
External conflict: The external conflict is the wedding. That’s what puts Greg in a variety of situations he doesn’t want to be in, which makes achieving his goal that much more difficult.

What I’ve listed for these films aren’t the only forces of conflict – they’re just the most obvious ones. You can find conflict anywhere. For example, you don’t just look to create conflict in the main relationship. You want to create conflict in every relationship the main character has. In Titanic, for example, Rose has a whole different set of conflicts going on with her fiancé. And I didn’t even get into how each scene should have its own element of conflict. The idea is that whatever situation your characters are put in, there needs to be something that’s unresolved – there needs to be two things that are fighting against each other. If you set that up correctly, we’ll be eager to see that sequence get resolved. In the end, it’s important to remember that conflict is a huge part of what keeps a story interesting. Without it, you don’t have much of a shot at entertaining your audience.

Pulled this quote off of CNN’s piece on him.  It’s advice we should all be following:

“Your work is going to fill a large part of your life, and the only way to be truly satisfied is to do what you believe is great work. And the only way to do great work is to love what you do. If you haven’t found it yet, keep looking. Don’t settle. As with all matters of the heart, you’ll know when you find it. And, like any great relationship, it just gets better and better as the years roll on.”