Genre: Comedy
Premise: A wanton English Lord hires a “hermit” to live in his garden (as was the trend in 18th Century England). An alien from another planet stumbles into this scenario, who the drunk Englishmen consider to be French.
About: On the final Friday of every month, I review a script from the readers of the site. October’s script was pushed back a week, which is why we’re doing an Amateur Review today. If you’re interested in submitting your script for an Amateur Review, send your script in PDF form, your title, genre, logline, and why I should read your script to Carsonreeves3@gmail.com. Keep in mind your script will be posted.
Writer: Stan Evans
Details: 99 pages

As is the tradition on Amateur Fridays, let me explain why I chose this script. First off, I admit I’m paying more attention to scripts that have placed in contests. It’s not a prerequisite by any means. But it just lets me know that there’s some semblance of skill in there – a helpful filter I can fall back on when treading through hundreds of entries. I believe this script was a finalist in the Final Draft Contest.

In addition to that, the premise just sounded bizarre (in a good way). And when the writer wrote, “I guarantee you’ve never read anything like this before,” that definitely piqued my curiosity, because a lot of what I read is similar to everything else that I read so I’m always looking for something that’s different (assuming it’s within my taste range – a Russian fantasy musical about a Mexican dodo bird might be different, but I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like it). And I’m not going to lie – seeing the 99 pages helped. I knew this would be a quick read. So, did it live up to my tempered expectations?

It’s 1761, long before this annoying little country called “America” sprang up, when Lords ruled the roost, and in particular, this roost. Lord Jonathan Ockley of England, a handsome arrogant type, is drinking and partying with the upper crust when he’s told of a new craze sweeping the land – the 1761 equivalent to Justin Beiber if you will – where English Lords are taking on Hermits to live in their caves.

The hermit’s job is simple. Wear rags, bathe in mud, emit a constant flow of incoherent ramblings. And when you have guests over, you take them over to your cave to show them your hermit, which, it is thought, will impress them.

So off Lord Ockley goes to find a hermit. Now in the meantime, an alien named Meenu who’s surveying our planet in order to make a decision on whether his alien race should come and destroy it, accidentally crash lands behind a tree on Lord Ockley’s estate.

What he observes is Lord Ockley bringing back a large simple giant of a man named Percy, who is of course Ockley’s new hermit. Percy is sort of a dumber version of Frankenstein who believes that ripping people’s heads off is “fun time.”

Now the reason Ockley is going through all this trouble is that he’s fallen for a lady, Lady Rose Bodley to be precise, and Lady Rose will be attending a soiree he’s putting together in a few days. He figures if he has the newest latest trend, a real life hermit, that she might be impressed with him and lay in his bed.

Well as you can probably imagine, Lady Bodley (like most women I know) isn’t too impressed with Lord Ockley keeping a slave in his back yard, so she orders him to start treating it like a real person or she’ll never talk to him again. Ockley obliges and invites the dangerous scary Percy to live inside his house.

Around this time, Meenu the Alien reveals himself, leading to a whole new set of problems for Ockley. Eventually, however, he invites Meenu to live inside his quarters as well. Then, for reasons I can’t explain, Ockley goes in search of *another* hermit, who moves into his cave, but when that goes badly, this second hermit moves into the house as well.

Eventually everyone learns that Meenu’s race is going to come here and destroy all of them so if they don’t do something to convince him otherwise, they’ll all be dead.

First I have to give credit where credit is due. Stan was right. I’ve never read anything like this before. But I think Lord Ockley And The Alien suffers from a lot of the same problems yesterday’s script did, Teddy. There’s just not much going on in the story. There’s no ultimate goal, nothing driving the story forward, and as a result, I lost interest.

This is the thing with these kinda “out there” ideas. The “out there-ness” buys you a little extra time. As I was reading this, the weirdness of it all (there’s an alien and a hermit living out in the same yard!) kept me intrigued longer than I would have been otherwise.  But once that shock-factor dies down, the story itself is kind of mundane. I mean this is basically a film where a bunch of people hang around an estate and talk a lot. There isn’t enough action going on.

When I’ve lost interest in a script, the question I always ask is, “Why?” Why is this story not working for me? I answer it by asking another question: “What’s driving the story right now?” Lord Ockley starts off well. What’s driving the story is Ockley’s desire to get his hermit so he can impress Lady Bodley. But once Lady Bodley’s initial visit is over, there are no more goals that our characters want to achieve. If they’re not going after anything, we’re not wondering if they’re going to achieve anything. And if we’re not wondering or caring what will happen with our characters, there’s no real story.

Now my guess is, the relationship between Ockley and Lady Bodley is supposed to be driving the story.  This can work in certain situations.  If the audience wants a couple to get together enough, then they’ll be interested in the story until that question (will they get together?) is answered. But the reason that doesn’t happen here is because Ockley’s kind of a huge asshole, which I’m not saying is a terrible thing. It leads to a lot of funny moments. But it kills our desire to see him and Lady Bodley together. We don’t really care if he succeeds or not because, quite frankly, we know he doesn’t deserve her.  

The story tries to find purpose again through the character of Meenu, but he has some problems as well. First of all, after crash-landing in the opening, Meenu disappears for 45 pages. At one point I said, “What’s the point of even having an alien in your script if you’re not going to use him?” (Yes I occasionally talk to myself when reading a script) When Meenu finally does find his way into the mix, he’s not particularly interesting. He’s just this normal level-headed alien dude. So later on, when the script tries to make something out of the impending doom that Meenu poses, it doesn’t resonate, because a) the character disappeared for half the screenplay and b) when he appeared, he was too tame. I mean if you’re going to have an alien in your comedy, at the very least he should have some personality, right?

I do think there’s some potential in this script. Once the second hermit moved into the house and you had Percy, Meenu, the second hermit, Lord Ockley, and Lady Bodley, I thought, “This could be a great ‘most dysfunctional family in the world’ script” if you came up with the right premise. For example, what if the King of England was coming to Lord Ockley’s for the weekend to potentially award him the title of Duke? Now this crazy fucked up situation he’s in serves a story purpose – to upset the main character’s pursuit of becoming royalty. As it stood, like I mentioned before, it just felt like a bunch of people in a contained area talking to each other, with minor squabbles popping up to affect the status quo.

So I’d read this again after a rewrite, but in its current form, there are too many problems.

Script link: Lord Ockley and The Alien

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

What I learned: When you give your characters goals, it leads to action (In order for one to achieve a goal, one must act). Without goals, the chance for action drops considerably, and when your characters aren’t acting on anything, the only thing left for them is to do is talk. This is how you get screenplays with characters standing around doing nothing but talking. Take my suggestion above, for example. What if the King was visiting for the weekend and, assuming everything goes well, he’s going to award Lord Ockley the title of Duke. Now, the characters are constantly in a state of action, because they’re all working towards pleasing the King until he bestows that title. More action. Less talking. This is what I wanted to see fixed  in Lord Ockley And The Alien.

Genre: Comedy
Premise: 30 years after Mark’s stuffed teddy bear comes to life, the two now live in Boston, where they smoke as much dope and play as many video games as is humanly, and teddy-bearingly, possible. But will Mark’s girlfriend finally put her foot down and make Mark give up the bear?
About: Seth MacFarlane is the creator of Family Guy, American Dad, and The Cleveland Show. At 24 years of age, Fox gave him 50 grand to come up with a pilot, which is when he created Family Guy. MacFarlane said, “I spent about six months with no sleep and no life, just drawing like crazy in my kitchen and doing this pilot.” It would pay off as later Family Guy would become a 1 billion dollar franchise. Recently, he was given a 65 million dollar budget for this project. Teddy will star Mark Wahlberg in the lead and MacFarlane will be the Teddy Bear voice. MacFarlane will be taking care of directing duties as well.
Writer: Seth MacFarlane, Alec Sulkin and Wellesley Wild.
Details: 99 pages – undated; but I think it’s an older 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).

All right, so I guess if I’m going to talk about Seth MacFarlane’s script, “Teddy,” I should let you know how I feel about his sense of humor first. Eight or so years ago, I was channel surfing and landed on some strange new cartoon I had never heard of called “Family Guy.” The scene was in a courtroom and our characters were about to be sentenced to jail when, out of nowhere, for no reason whatsoever, the Kool-Aid man barged through a wall and screamed, “Oh Yeahhhhhh!” Gauging the temperature in the room and realizing people weren’t into it, he tiptoed back out and left. It was so random, so weird, so out-of-left-field, that I laughed for two minutes straight.

Holy shit! I thought. I have a new favorite show!

So in the coming weeks, I made it a priority to watch Family Guy. But as I sat there during the first full episode, I didn’t laugh. That’s okay, every show has off days. So I went back the next week…and didn’t laugh. Following week, no laughing. I NEVER LAUGHED AGAIN at anything I saw in Family Guy. So I gave up on it.

Now that’s not to say it’s not funny. Never heard of a billion comedy franchise that didn’t keep millions of people in stitches, but Family Guy has a very specific kind of humor that people either love or they hate (most of the humor is based on non sequiturs like The Kool-Aid man – but if it’s all non sequiturs, then they’re not really non sequiturs anymore – are they?). The big difference between Family Guy and a lot of other shows is that it doesn’t care about story, plot or character, or at least it didn’t when I watched it. And the formula that’s left is pretty basic….

Make laugh = good.
Not make laugh = bad.
All other stuff = doesn’t matter.

Well, that approach is on full display here in Teddy, so I’m guessing there’s going to be a very “Family Guy” like divided reaction to it. How divided? Well, Fred Savage and Peter Falk appear in the first 10 minutes of Teddy then disappear for the last 90. Welcome to the insane freaking mind of Seth MacFarlane.

Mark Bennett is a Boston kid who had a hell of an interesting childhood. After getting a stuffed bear for Christmas, Mark turns to the bear and asks him to promise that he’ll never ever leave him and that they’ll be best friends forever. His bear (Ted) turns to him and says, “Okay.” Mark’s fucking teddy bear talks!

Now I have to give it to these guys. Whenever this happens in movies, the kid will bring the bear to his parents or friends and say, “Look, it talks,” and of course the stuffed animal just sits there not saying anything. But MacFarlane and crew go the other direction. They ask, “Well what if during that moment, the animal *did* talk?”

That’s right. This is no secret that the two are keeping from the world. Ted talks to mom and dad. Ted talks to neighbors and friends. In fact, news stations worldwide tell the story of the magical teddy bear who came to life. Scientists can’t explain it so eventually everyone just accepts it. There’s a kid in Boston with a magical teddy bear.

Cut to 30 years later and both Mark and Ted are grown up. Mark’s got a lame job as an assistant assistant manager at a car rental place. Ted, on the other hand, just cruises around town with his Southie accent, shooting the shit with the locals like it’s completely normal.

When Mark gets off of work, it’s back to the apartment to hang out with, smoke pot with, and play Xbox with Ted. Here they are, in their 30s, and just like that magical promise, are still the best of friends!

But Mark’s girlfriend, Lori, is starting to get dubious of this relationship and thinks it’s time for Mark to grow up. Yet you’re not gonna grow up if you keep hanging around your childhood teddy bear. Now for those of you who think this might be some deep introspective commentary on life via the porthole of a make-believe animal, i.e. something like The Beaver, think again.

There is no complexity in Teddy. There is no subtlety. There is no story or character development. It’s just (caveman voice): “Try make audience laugh now.”

Now there is a brief attempt at a story, I believe. Lori gives Mark an ultimatum to either give up the teddy bear or lose her, but in one of the quickest non-committals to a storyline I’ve ever seen, Mark’s back playing with Ted one scene after Lori’s ultimatum and she’s completely fine with it. Like I said, there’s no story here. And I don’t think MacFarlane cares that there’s no story here. His goal is to seek out the funniest situations possible and that’s it.

But if you’ve read Scriptshadow for even one day, you know I don’t go for this. I don’t just place story above comedy, I place it *way* above comedy. If we’re not engaged in a story, we’re missing half your laughs because we’re not invested in the characters enough to care about anything they say, much less anything they joke about.

This is the big difference between sitcoms and films, is that you can get away with a lot of that when your medium is only 22 minutes long. Around the time the audience realizes there’s nothing going on in the story, the story’s over.  But if you’re writing for anything that goes past 22 minutes, you need a story to keep the audience involved.  Having said that, I still think the best sitcom episodes are ones that incorporate a story. One of the most famous sitcom episodes of all time, Seinfeld’s “The Contest,” succeeds because of its story. There’s a clear cut goal (see who can last the longest) and we’re invested in seeing which of the characters is going to achieve that goal.

But back to Teddy. I think this could’ve benefited from a whole lot more conflict. I was talking to a Scriptshadow reader who expressed frustration over the fact that nothing happens here. And indeed, it’s a very narrow plot that lacks any substantial conflict at all.

When people say there’s not a lot happening in your story, what they mean a lot of the time (but not all the time) is that there isn’t enoiugh conflict. There isn’t anything getting in our hero’s way. There isn’t any particular danger. The stakes are low. The relationships don’t have enough opposition in them. All of that is on display here in Teddy. Just like I mentioned above, Lori threatens Teddy, but then a scene later we realize her threat doesn’t mean anything because she doesn’t follow through with it. As a result, all conflict and suspense disappear.

Even later on in the script, when the character’s world is most thrown into disarray (Mark loses Lori), it doesn’t feel honest. I see this in a lot of scripts that don’t put an emphasis on story. They drift through the first two acts and then at the end it’s: “Oh shit, it’s almost the end! We have to do something!” So then all this haphazard forced conflict is thrown at the characters at once and it never feels right because it hasn’t been properly set up.

One thing I’ll say in MacFarlane’s defense is that the concept here is really good. I can see the poster, I can see the trailer, I can see Mark Wahlberg in this role (especially after The Other Guys). You throw this one-liner out at a party and your buddies are gonna go, “Fuck yeah, I’d see that.” Especially if they’re drunk. So I see why this movie got a green light and I’m happy for MacFarlane. I’m just hoping they worked on the script in the meantime because it definitely needs a lot of work.

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

What I learned: Even guys like MacFarlane, who have a couple hundred million in the bank, have trouble making the leap into features. So what they do is pitch an idea that’s similar enough to their work that the studio people understand it. MacFarlane has a hit show where babies and animals talk. So when he pitches a feature about a guy and a talking teddy bear, it’s not a stretch to imagine it working. Do you think MacFarlane could’ve had the same success pitching a Roland Emmerich-like “2012”? Of course not. We don’t associate him with that kind of material. I try to encourage writers to have this same mentality. Find the genre you want to have a career in and write a bunch of scripts in that genre. Cause one thing I’ve found is that when an agent/manager/producer likes your Renaissance Era Period Piece and they ask you what else you have and you tell them you have a sci-fi fantasy that takes place on Jorgon 4, there’s always a pause and then a reluctant, “Okay, send it in.” I’m not saying don’t write in other genres, but when you’re starting out, have two or more scripts in the genre you write best.  Trust me, you’ll thank me later.

Genre: Horror/Ghost/Mystery
Premise: A family moves into their dream house in the suburbs, only to find that the house has a horrifying past.
About: David Loucka’s been writing for a long time, penning films as far back as 1989, when he wrote the Michael Keaton starrer, “The Dream Team.” Still, work was pretty erratic until recently, where he’s gone on a tear. In addition to writing Dream House, Loucka is writing the The Ring 3D and The House at The End of The Street. Basically, if there’s a dream or a house in it, Loucka’s writing it. Dream House has already finished production and stars Daniel Craig, Naomi Watts and Rachel Weisz. It’s directed by Jim Sheridan, who wrote and directed, “In The Name Of The Father,” “My Left Foot,” and one of my favorite films, “In America.”
Writer: David Loucka
Details: 116 pages – July 18, 2005 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).

Reading Dream House was like plopping down in front of the TV on Sunday to watch your favorite football team, watching them run back a kickoff for a touchdown on the opening play, then proceed to get massacred over the next 2 hours, only to see them mount an incredible comeback in the last quarter that puts them in position to miraculously win the game. So the question is, did Dream House win the game? You’ll have to read on to find out. But I have to say, this is definitely one of the stranger screenplays I’ve read in awhile.

Will and Libby are a married couple with two daughters who have a few problems in their relationship, not unlike most couples. Will’s a hardcore workaholic, a fiction editor who’s lucky to slump into the house by 10 o’clock. Libby’s a simple housewife who just wants the best for her family.

Our story begins right after Libby threatens to take the girls and leave if Will doesn’t start giving them more time. The realization rocks Will into realizing what’s important, so he agrees to move his business out of city and into the suburbs, where he can be with his family and repair the damage he’s done.

They immediately find a broken down but beautiful house in the middle of a great suburb for an unbelievable price. But after moving in, strange things start to happen. There are weird cubby holes within the house where dead animals are strung up to the ceiling. They hear strange shuffling noises downstairs at night. Peeling away the old wallpaper, they find pentagram signs and horrifying drawings. Something is not right with this house.

But when Will goes back to the real estate agent who sold him the home, she professes to not know who he is. In fact, whoever Will speaks to either looks at him strangely or runs in the other direction. What the hell is going on??

Eventually (and we’re jumping into spoiler territory here), Will finds out that a man shot and killed his family in this house twenty years ago. The house has been abandoned ever since. Even worse, Will finds out that the killer is not in jail. He’s staying at a minimum security mental institution. Technically, he could show up at any second and blow them all to pieces. And then there’s the possibility that the town may have put him in this house on purpose. But why?

It’s hard to discuss Dream House without getting into spoilers but I’ll try and stay as spoiler-lite as possible. Still, be prepared for me to reveal a few plot twists.

Basically, Dream House is two separate stories, and I think that’s what makes the script so unique. The first story is, “What’s going on with this house and what do they do about it?” Normally, this thread would dictate the majority of the plot, a la what they did in Poltergeist. But Will actually solves this mystery pretty early on, and by the midpoint the story is effectively over. While it’s a strange choice, I’m glad he did it, because we start to figure out what’s going on pretty early (major spoiler – let’s just say it’s Shutter Island-esque), and all I kept thinking was, “Oh God, he’s not going to make us sit through another 70 pages of this even though we already know the twist, is he?”

So then this entirely new story starts, where we move from a freaky thriller into a bonafied ghost story. It’s a really strange choice that doesn’t quite work but it doesn’t quite not work either. The radical shift forces you to reevaluate everything you’ve read. And while I understand people throwing up their arms and saying, “Oh, give me a break!” once I committed to it, it actually got pretty good.

That’s because you thought you had it all figured out. As far as you were concerned the ending was a foregone conclusion. So when that ending came a full 60 pages early, it was like being abandoned. “Um, okay…what now?” I mean I challenge anybody to figure out this ending twist before it happens. Now I think Loucka could’ve done a better job setting it up, but this is an old draft, so he very well might have fixed it.

This story presents a myriad of problems for a writer, some of which were addressed well, others which weren’t. The first is logic. This goes back to my Wanderlust review but you have to have characters that think logically in stories. They can’t abide by this mysterious movie logic because “that’s how people act in the movies.”  That route gets you a lot of people throwing popcorn at the screen and calling “Bullshit!” (or at least it did in the 70s.  Now it just gets you more cell phones being turned on). I mean once you start finding Pentagram signs behind wallpaper, dead animals in cubbyholes, that no one’s occupied your house for 20 years because a family was murdered in it, and your realtor is saying she doesn’t know who you are – I mean aren’t you getting the fuck out of that house, like NOW? Logic dictates yes. But movie logic prevails, and as a result we lose faith in the writing. 

Also, you have to be careful with how many “What the fuck is going on?” moments you put in a movie like this. Too many and the audience gets impatient. For example we get about ten scenes with Will wandering around town, asking people what’s going on, only to have them respond, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” and run away. The first couple were creepy and fun. From that point on, it’s like, “Alright already, we get it.  People aren’t helping him.”

As far as why this movie was greenlighted, look no further than my old article on actors attaching themselves to projects. (spoiler) What does Daniel Craig get to play here? Why, a crazy person! And what actor doesn’t looooove playing a crazy person. As cheap as this sounds, if you have a good idea where the main character is crazy, write it. Actors WILL want to play it.

Someone mentioned the other day Blake Snyder’s well-heeded warning of “double jeopardy,” the notion that you can make a movie about aliens, you can make a movie about vampires, but you can’t make a movie about alien vampires. I think there’s some of that going on here, though not as obvious. This is a mystery about a family stuck in a strange house. But then it becomes a ghost story. No doubt there’s something that feels sloppy about it. But I think Loucka just barely manages to tie it all together in the end. I was genuinely interested to see how it was all explained. This script is not without problems.  But it’s just such an odd duck that I have to recommend it. 

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

What I learned: I love writers who can set up characters and relationships and situations efficiently. A lot of writers will set things up by having their characters blab on and on about it until it’s drilled into our heads twenty-fold.  Not recommended.  Here, Loucka needs to get across that Will and Libby have had some recent issues in their relationship. So we start off with Will on the train. Loucka describes him as “There’s a slightly distracted look to him as though he can never leave office problems behind.” Will then gets off the train to meet his wife, daughters, and the realtor, and the first thing the wife says to him isn’t “Hi.” She doesn’t smile at him. She says, “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.” In less than two combined lines of screenplay real estate, Loucka has shown us that Will is a workaholic and that that addiction has severely affected his marriage. It’s great writing.

Genre: Comedy
Premise: An urban couple hit by the recession move into a hippie compound.
About: Co-writer Ken Marino and co-writer/director David Wain are the writers responsible for one of the better comedy screenplays I read in 2008, Role Models.  Their new film, Wanderlust, will be produced by none other than the current Godfather of film comedy, Judd Apatow. The film will star Paul Rudd, Jennifer Aniston, Malin Akerman, Alan Alda, and, I assume, many others. Wain and Marino have been working together for over 15 years, starting on the MTV show “The State.” Before their big studio breakout “Role Models,” they wrote the cult classic “Wet Hot American Summer,” and the more recent The Ten, which consisted of ten shorts based on the Ten Commandments.
Writers: Ken Marino and David Wain
Details: 117 pages – January 21, 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).

Didn’t know much about Wanderlust. Just saw that a pretty interesting cast was being signed up to star in the film and thought I’d give it a shot. Once I realized what it was about, I admit my first thought was, “Doesn’t this sound dated?” Then again, querying the movie memory banks didn’t bring up any similar films so maybe it doesn’t matter. They say the best movie ideas are the ones where you hear them and say, “No, they have to have done that already.” Despite all that, something about the idea didn’t quite sit with me. But I charged ahead and tried to keep an open mind.

George and Linda, two uptight city-dwellers, have finally found their dream condo (all ‘less than 1000 square feet’ of it) in New York. They can’t afford it but like any good American, they don’t let that minor detail get in the way of buying the place.

Now none of us carry a crystal ball around with us but it doesn’t take a crystal ball to know that the newspaper business isn’t on the up-and-up. And unfortunately, that’s where George is employed. Since Georgie didn’t get the memo about the internet, he’s shocked when the company downsizes and he’s fired. Since there’s no way they can afford their place anymore, they’re forced to follow the same path as millions of other Americans and foreclose.

Regrettably, the only place George and Linda can stay is at George’s obnoxious brother’s place in Atlanta. However while driving down there they stop at a Bed and Breakfast for the night and when they wake up, realize it isn’t a Bed and Breakfast at all, but a hippie compound!

Naturally, they’re freaked out, but there was something strangely peaceful about their night there. So when the hippie folk invite them to stay and live with them, the two talk it over and against all reasoning and logic decide to give it a shot. I mean, it’s gotta be better than staying with Brother George, right?

(I don’t know. I know people a lot worse than Brother George, and I’m pretty sure I’d sleep in their damn cellar over sleeping with hippies.)

George and Linda are quickly thrust into the hippie life, complete with bathrooms without doors, an economy that’s run on arts and crafts, and the rule of universal possession (George quickly learns that *his* car is now *everyone’s* car).

But we get down to brass tacks when creepy but good-looking Seth, the leader of the compound, takes a liking to Linda, while the “Wicker Man” like beauty, Eva, becomes infatuated with George. You see, out here in Hippie World, sex is like…free, man. If you want to lay down with a lady, you do it. There are no societal confines. Love thy self and love thy neighbor and love everybody…thy else…who…thy…wants to love…or something. Man.

At first George is thrilled by this amazing opportunity, while Linda isn’t so sure. As they become more entrenched in the way of the Hip, however, it’s Linda who gives in to all the free love, and it’s George who realizes, “What the hell was I thinking by agreeing to stay in this rathole?” If they could construct a device where readers could talk to characters I might have been able to tell him that 50 pages ago and saved him a lot of trouble. However that device hasn’t been invented yet, and therefore there’s a good chance George has now lost his wife to a bunch of freaking hippies.

The first question that pops into your mind when reading Wanderlust is the one which, when answered, will determine the success of this movie: Do you actually buy into this premise? One of the hardest things to navigate when writing comedy is, how convincing do you have to be? A part of you says, “Well this is just a comedy, so anything goes.” But there’s still a level of realism that has to be established before you can let loose with your comedy. Many people refer to this as “grounding” a comedy.

I mean do you really believe a neurotic intelligent city couple are going to spend one night in a compound and think, “Hey, why don’t we live here?” Wain and Marino do a good job setting up the couple’s predicament, but still, “being low on funds” and “being so low on funds that I’m going to live in the middle of a forest and dress in rags” are two different things.

If you look at Apatow’s most successful films, movies like Knocked Up and The 40 Year Old Virgin, even though they’re comedies, there’s a level of believability built into each premise. A woman gets knocked up by a loser on a drunken night out. There’s a part of her that’s going to want him around to help with this baby. The 40 Year Old Virgin, as silly as it gets, is still a plausible situation. Some guys at work realize you’re still a virgin and want to help you get laid.

My feeling is always this when it comes to comedy. The more the plot is tied into a particular story element, the more logical (as opposed to ‘comedic’) that story element needs to be. So in this case, since the story element (choosing to live in a compound) is directly tied into the premise, it has to be convincing.

Of course there’s no science to this stuff. Sometimes if an audience loves a couple enough, they’ll be more forgiving with a hard-to-buy setup. But no matter where I was in this story, I kept coming back to that question, “Would these guys really be here?” And I kept thinking, “No way in a million years.” And I think that’s what prevented me from really getting into this story.

My only other observation is I thought Seth should’ve been more of a phony – more of a villain. It’s not really clear whether Seth believes any of the hippy shit or is just using it as an excuse to bang hippie chicks. The indication, though, is that he believes in it, and I just thought he could’ve been so much more evil and fun if he was a phony, using this opportunity to run his own little mini-cult.

I didn’t think Wanderlust was bad. I just never totally bought into it. I didn’t like how our characters could get up and leave at any moment, yet despite numerous instances where it would make perfect sense for them to do so, they’d stay because the movie needed them to. There’s definitely some funny stuff here, and I’m sure Apatow will be exercising his now famous “improvise everything” technique resulting in an even funnier film. It just wasn’t for me.

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

What I learned: Create your own opportunities. As a 21 year old glorified assistant at MTV, David Wain’s idea for a show was shot down, so he grabbed a camera and some friends and went and shot the show on a Hi-8 camera anyways, bringing it back to the MTV people, who liked it so much they ended up using it. Opportunities are everywhere people. You gotta go grab them.

If you have those Blood List scripts, keep sending them in.  My mailbox definitely isn’t bloody enough.  This week is the week of the amateur as Roger reviews an amateur script today and I review one Friday (Amateur Friday got moved forward a week).  In the middle, we’ll have…some other scripts.  How’s that for a teaser?  Hey, I’m tired.  I just spent the entire day walking back and forth to the front door giving kids candy.  HERE’S ROGER!

Premise: After committing a massacre in an Indian village, a cavalry troop finds their remote fort under siege by vicious flying reptiles seemingly sent to avenge the massacre. Fort Apache meets Aliens.

It’s a genre mash-up I have an affinity for. Something about those big, wide open spaces and shots of vast, rugged terrain framed by doorways seems like a rich setting for scares, thrills and a healthy dose of repulsion. There aren’t many of these suckers. For me, the most notable as of late are JT Petty’s “The Burrowers” and perhaps Antonia Bird’s “Ravenous“. The latter is definitely a Period Piece, but I suppose it can be debated whether or not it’s a Western. In screenplays and literature there’s always Zahler’s “The Brigands of Rattleborge” and McCarthy’s “Blood Meridian“. I guess people attempt to write these genre mash-ups but I rarely come across a script that pulls off this particular brand of alchemy.

What I learned: I’m a firm believer in treating B-material like A-material. Just because something has monsters in it doesn’t mean it can’t have heart or a powerful story. I think the key is creating a protagonist who is looking for something more than just defeating the monster. In Aliens, Ripley wanted to be a mother. She had a hole in her heart for a child. Newt filled that hole. When Newt was endangered, the stakes went through the roof. Create a character who has a void in their heart they yearn to fill, and let the plot become an obstacle to try and prevent them from filling that void. If you do that, I think you’ll find that the theme will rise to the surface as you write and polish and shape your story. That’s my two cents, anyways.