News – Nicholl Finalists Announced!

Posted on September 28, 2010 | by admin

A big congratulations goes out to all the Nicholl finalists.  It looks like two comedies have made their way into the Top 10 (Drunk-Dialing and Nicky Flyn Finally Gets A Life), a genre that traditionally doesn’t fare well at Nicholl, so double-congratulations to those guys.  Nicholl tends to get a lot of crap these days and while I do think they lean a little too harshly towards the heavier period fare, it’s still the biggest contest out there and usually leads to writing careers for its winners.  30 grand is some nice pocket change too.  I used to be against contests but what I learned is that they really keep writers focused and working towards a deadline.  As we all know, if we’re left to our own devices (no ticking time bomb!) we just end up drifting away, working on a script for years.  I’d be curious to know if any of these finalists are Scriptshadow readers.  If so, please chime in and tell us a little about your script, how long you’ve been writing, etc.  And I wouldn’t mind anyone sending me these screenplays either.  I’m sure there are a few good ones in the bunch.

The finalists are…

Sage Vanden Heuvel, Ann Arbor, Mich., “Inner Earth”
Tim Macy, Kansas City, Mo., “The Last Queen”
Destin Daniel Cretton, San Diego, Calif., “Short Term 12”
Art Corriveau, Santa Fe, New Mexico, “Nicky Flynn Finally Gets a Life”
Micah Ranum, Beverly Hills, Calif., “A Good Hunter”
Sebastian Davis, Los Angeles, Calif., “Drunk-Dialing”
Logan Steiner, Redondo Beach, Calif., “The Promise of Spring”
Andrew Lanham, Austin, Texas, “The Jumper of Maine”
Marvin Krueger, North Hollywood, Calif., “And Handled with a Chain”
Cinthea Stahl, North Hollywood, Calif., “Identifying Marks”

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The King’s Speech

Posted on September 28, 2010 | by admin

Genre: Period/Biopic
Premise: On the precipice of World War 2, the son of King George V, who has an embarrassing speech impediment, is tasked with giving one of the most important speeches of the 20th century.
About: The King’s Speech just won the Audience Award at the Toronto Film Festival. The film stars Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush, and Helena Botham Carter. For those of you writers getting long in the tooth and afraid that Hollywood ageism is conspiring against you, David Seidler, the writer of The King’s Speech, is 73 years old and just signed with UTA! Talk about paying your dues, huh? This script should prove to many that your best work is usually your most personal. Seidler had a terrible stuttering problem when he was growing up and was inspired by Bertie’s (King George VI) story. He’s been trying to get the film made for over 20 years. The script was finally made because it got into the hands of Tom Hooper’s parents (the director). They gave it to their son, who was shooting John Adams for HBO. He showed up at Seidler’s door, waving the script, calling it the best script he’d ever read in his life. In classic Hollywood fashion, they then proceeded to write 50 more drafts!
Writer: David Seidler
Details: 115 pages – Sept. 17, 2008 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 remember last year around this time when An Education debuted and people were talking about it as an Oscar contender. I didn’t personally see anything Oscar-contention-worthy about the script, so while I know a lot of people liked it, I wasn’t surprised to see it disappear off the radar. I still don’t know why you’d make a movie about an inappropriate relationship where nobody in the movie cares that the relationship is inappropriate! But alas, I’m not here to complain about An Education.

I’m here to look for some weightier scripts. Last week’s half-hearted attempts at screenwriting left me cold so when I heard that, once again, companies were marching out their Oscar contenders, I perked up. You figure, at the very least, the scripts have to be decent, and this is what led me to The King’s Speech, the movie that came out of Toronto with the most attention.

I’m by no means an expert on British royalty so you’ll have to excuse me if I get some facts wrong. The King’s Speech is about Albert, or “Bertie” as he’s known, The Duke of York and second son of King George V. It’s the 1930s and some lunatic named Hitler is wreaking havoc up and down Europe. With King George on his last legs, a new king will have to reign soon, and that king’s voice will be one of the most important voices in the world, as it will convey to every country what Britain’s stance is on the dictator.

Enter Bertie, who has a colossal stuttering problem, so much so that his own wife, Elizabeth, is embarrassed by him. Lucky for Bertie, his older brother David, the Prince of Wales, will be taking over the throne, not him. David is a media darling and extremely popular, however he falls in love with a common woman, and is therefore scandeled out of the throne, forcing Bertie into the role he thought he was free and clear of, that of The King.

During this time, radio was becoming huge. For you youngsters, think 3-D times a thousand. Actually, 3-D’s not a good example, since it will be gone in a year. Let’s see. Like the internet! Yes, like the internet. Radio was like the internet back in the 1930s. Except there was no e-mail in radio. Or web. Or Twitter or Facebook. This reminds me, did you guys hear about that college that experimented for one week with no cell phones, texting, or internet? I guess the whole college grinded to a halt because nobody knew how to operate.

Anyway, the point I was making was that radio was huge, and more leaders were required to give public addresses. In particular, the world was awaiting the most important country in the world’s response to Hitler. Enter Bertie, a man who stuttered so bad he couldn’t find his way out of a sentence with a map.

So terrible is his problem that his wife actually seeks a speech therapist outside the royal circle. She finds a man with a great reputation, an Aussie named Lionel Logue. Lionel is of course brash, unconventional, and inappropriate, sort of like a 1930s Mr. Miagi with more attitude. Bertie hates him immediately. But after a clever first session in which he proves to Bertie that he can speak without stuttering, Bertie has no choice but to continue the therapy.

This is where the script really takes off, when these two are clashing against each other. The pitch-perfect conflict, one steeped in convention, the other dripping with disrespect, makes for some fun back and forth. Characters who buck convention and live by their own set of rules are always good, and when I heard that they got Geoffrey Rush to play this part, I knew they’d hit the jackpot.

Unfortunately, for some reason, the script deviates from the Lionel-Bertie storyline in the later half of the second act, focusing instead on in-family political issues and some nonsense with the prime minister that we don’t really care about. While I understand why so many writers get lost in this part of the script (I think it’s the hardest part of a screenplay to get right), this seemed like a pretty obvious mistake. Why go away from the best part of your story?

While it could be characterized as a hoighty-toity period piece, The King’s Speech uses the simplest most classic story structure there is. Man has problem. Man tries to fix problem. Believe it or not, it’s not that different from a script like Bad Teacher, the Cameron Diaz comedy I reviewed earlier this year. In that script, woman has problem (she needs bigger boobs so she can find a sugar daddy) and woman tries to fix problem (Steals money from the school she’s employed at).

What makes The King’s Speech so successful at this format, however, is first, irony is built straight into the concept. A man who can’t speak is tasked with making the biggest speech ever! What a great premise. Next, the stakes are extremely high (possibly the freedom of the world). There’s a natural ticking time bomb (the speech), and our character is super sympathetic. He’s an underdog! As I’ve pointed out before, there’s no character we root more for than an underdog. Put all these things together and you have a winning formula.

Now that doesn’t mean the structure is foolproof. One of the problems you run into with such simple stories is deciding how complex to make them, namely how many subplots to add and what to do with those subplots. This is a critical decision. If your subplots are too few or too thin, the story feels empty. If they’re too many or too complex, they create deep chasms of screenplay real estate that bore the audience to death. This is what I was referring to above. When we move away from Lionel and start concerning ourselves with Bertie’s brother, he’s just not tied into Bertie’s issue enough to make him interesting. Or, at least, not in the way they chose to include him.

Finally, I have to mention the dialogue in this script, specifically between Bertie and Lionel. Once again, it proves that the SITUATION is the most important factor in creating great dialogue. The dialogue here comes because you have an uptight man who demands respect working with a selfish man who respects no one. Before you’ve even written a word, the conflict you’ve created by placing these two characters in the same room is going to lead to great dialogue no matter how inexperienced you are.

It’s really too bad that the dreaded late second act blues hit this script because it was shaping up to be an impressive. Still, this was an enjoyable read and I’m not surprised it’s playing so well to audiences.

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

What I learned: Failed period pieces often try to cover too much territory. It’s as if the writer feels he/she must live up to the weightiness of the time and the material by exploring as many different aspects of the subject matter as possible. Instead, the next time you write a period piece, consider telling a simple yet powerful story that audiences can understand and relate to, like The King’s Speech.

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The High Lonesome (Roger Review)

Posted on September 26, 2010 | by admin

First thing’s first.  If you want to complain about the new look of the site, I’ve created a forum for you!  A lot of people have said to just go back to the old look but unfortunately that’s one thing I can assure you isn’t happening.  I’ve always despised the look of the site and while I’m clearly not an esteemed member of the design club, I’ll keep tweaking it until it’s acceptable.  If you’re a graphic design master and want to shoot me some tips, feel free to!  

You’ll also notice there are now ads on the site.  People have called me a moron for not monetizing the blog earlier and I guess you can say I finally came to my senses.  My adsenses.  Heh heh.  If you’ve spent countless hours here and always wished you could help out somehow, support the site when you see something that interests you. :)  It will definitely be appreciated.  

This week Roger starts us off with a Western.  I then review scripts for two movies that played over at Toronto, both of which are getting some early Oscar buzz (Oscar buzz?  In September??).  I’ll also review an enormous super-thriller that’s been kicking around development for awhile. And for those freaking out because I didn’t do Amateur Friday last week, fear not as I am doing one this Friday.  In my world, Friday is September 31st.  Now, here’s Roger with a review of a Richard Donner project.  Enjoy!  

Genre: Western
Premise: A deaf gunslinger running from his past finds his destiny in Cheyenne, Wyoming, where he becomes embroiled in a war between rival railroad companies.
About: The only information I can find is the sentence that was attached to the script, “All Richard Donner will say on the project, a Western, is: ‘It’s got an incredible character in it that makes it unique.’” If, for some insane reason, you don’t know who Donner is, he’s the director responsible for such classics as Superman, The Goonies, and Lethal Weapon. Brian Helgeland (A Knight’s Tale, L.A. Confidential, Mystic River) is the screenwriter telling Donner’s tale.
Writers: Story by Richard Donner; Screenplay by Brian Helgeland
Details: Draft dated October 30, 2000
Brian Helgeland is the guy most likely to rewrite your screenplay should a) you manage to sell it, and b) it’s greenlighted with either Scott Free Productions or The Donner’s Company as producers. Richard Donner is the guy that convinced everyone to go the straight route on a Superman movie, and for his efforts created a modern classic that all geeks favorably point to when arguing about the cinema of superheroes. His name is associated with the zeitgeist of popular 80s flicks, The Goonies and Lethal Weapon, and although he’s directed a ton of movies and television episodes, he’s only been attached to two Westerns, Maverick and the 60s tv show, Wanted: Dead or Alive.
So, my interest was immediately piqued when this script made it into my hands with the note, “All Richard Donner will say on the project, a Western, is: ‘It’s got an incredible character in it that makes it unique.’
Who is this incredible character, Rog?
John Bowman Young is in love with a girl.
When we meet him, he’s one of the Union soldiers at war with the Confederates at Gettysburg. He’s scared and fighting for his life, and in the midst of all the chaos, he tenderly takes a moment to place a Bible under a dying friend’s head in an attempt to comfort him during his last moments.
If you’ve ever asked the question, ‘Why does Brian Helgeland get to rewrite everyone’s work?’, then this script will help tell you why. There’s both powerful and economic storytelling here, and during this war sequence we flash back to visions John is having of his circumstances in Boston before the war.
As John defends his dying friend, we meet the gal he’s in love with, Mary Deacon Powell. We’re told everything we need to know about them. How he first saw her during a downpour on a cobblestoned street in Boston, how he escorted her home to her mansion through the rain. How, at a Boston Society Ball, he watched her dance with the rich Alfred Roebling, the son of railroad tycoon, Temple Roebling.
Although John dreams of marrying her, he knows that this ambition doesn’t match his wallet. Temple has a proposition for John. He offers the young man four thousand in gold to serve as a draft replacement for his son, Alfred, “Money which would be worth ten times as much by war’s end.”
Mary protests, says that the only thing she wants is for him not to go. Says that the only thing she wants is him. John ignores her, and all she can do is give him a keepsake, a locket containing a lock of her hair.
And, the war ends.
But, before it does, he holds onto the locket as he’s charged by bayonet-wielding Rebels, accepting his death, but as he drops to his knees, a cannon unleashes hell just above John’s head, cutting down his attackers.
The cannon saves him, but at the price of his hearing.
John Bowman Young returns home from the war, deaf.
There’s a brilliant scene of John making the trek back to Boston, always moving against the grain of crowds of people, and he’s walking away from Lincoln delivering the Gettysburg Address on a military platform.
He stares, and of course, he hears nothing.
What happens back in Boston?
Heartbreaking stuff.
John makes his way to the bank and discovers that there’s no money waiting for him in his name. Zilch. Apparently, Temple duped him. Regardless, John sets out to find Mary.
Only to find her with Temple’s son, Alfred. He follows them on a busy street, and to all appearances, it looks like they’re a bonafide couple. In actuality, Mary is telling Alfred she misses John, but to a man who can’t hear, he can only react off the visual cues. When a woman screams because John is almost hit by a carriage, Mary spins around to see John, but John flees.
Mary recognizes him and screams, “I –“ but the ‘love you’ is silent in John’s world, and he leaves Boston despondent, full of despair. It’s a tragic case of Shakespearean miscommunication, with John assuming the worst and acting off of his perception of events, not the reality.
Where does John go?
He heads West, full of grief, hoping to find peace as a homesteader in the great move to settle the land. He can’t really stand being around people anymore, so instead of joining the Manifest Destiny caravan, he travels alone on foot. He acquires a best friend, a starving redbone coonhound named Moocher. They scavenge wagon train camps for food on their journey, and one day, he sees his reflection in a pool of dirty war. He hates seeing what he’s become.
He silently screams and howls, catching the attention of some Pawnee Indians led by a man named Six Killer. Six Killer allows John to stay within eyesight of them as they all travel, convinced that the crazy are good luck. The Indians call John, “Screams Alone”. He validates his presence when he saves the Indians from a buffalo stampede during a thunderstorm because he hears their approach when no one else can.
He’s sort of inducted as an honorary member of the tribe, but he’s forced to part ways with Six Killer when they decide to head to Canada. In an emotional scene, the band of Indians all start to scream and holler, but John doesn’t understand because he can’t hear them. “They just want you to know, you no longer scream alone! We scream with you.”
In Kansas, John learns that the Independence Mercantile Bank is refusing his loan to become a homesteader because he’s deaf.
So, in an act of desperation, he uses all the money he has to purchase a gun and one bullet. Hey, it’s all he can afford.
And, he attempts to rob the bank.
How the hell is a deaf man going to rob a bank with one bullet?
With the help of T.Z. Spaulding, of course. See, John is in the middle of trying to rob the bank when another robber arrives, and realizes what’s going on. Spaulding is quite entertained by the scenario, and he decides to help John rob the bank.
Which they do.
And the first half of the Act Two is about Spaulding and John’s relationship. You see, Spaulding is a famous gunslinger, outlaw and bank robbery. He’s the Wizard of the Pistol. He teaches John everything he needs to know about being an outlaw and thief. He’s a great raconteur, and in fact, he’s even writing a book about himself, “And you’re making an appearance in chapter ten.
“Deaf bank robber with one bullet and no horse.”
This section of the script is great fun, and a nice break from all the grief and sadness that permeates the first act. They rob trains and banks and John learns a thing or two about himself. But, good times can’t last forever and it’s not long before a posse is sent to hunt these two down.
Things don’t end well for Spaulding, and John sort of picks up his mantle, and through the book his mentor was writing before he died, he learns the intricacies and theory of becoming a gunslinger.
John becomes adept with all kinds of guns and tricks and flourishes, and he sets out to get revenge on the outlaw that tried to kill Spaulding, and in the process, took his thumb. John learns how to kill when it’s required, and he develops a reputation that brings him all sorts of trouble.
So, what happens?
John arrives in Cheyenne, Wyoming, a hotbed for the war being waged between two railway companies, Union Pacific and Great Northern. Two Union Pacific detectives arrive in town to recruit John as a hired gun, but they end up becoming his enemies. Each day, more men arrive, Pinkertons, outlaws looking to make a name for themselves, and a mysterious Man in Black, all taking sides in the battle to control the railway lines.
The situation is simmering, but really starts to boil when Alfred Roebling arrives in town, the scion of the Great Northern company, with his son and wife who is…you guessed it…Mary.
Farragut and Sunday, the Union Pacific detectives, conspire to assassinate Roebling, but of course, they’re going to have to get through John, first.
To complicate matters, John is in love with a prostitute named Liza, and our hero is forced to face all the demons of his past whilst trying to protect the people he cares about and get out of all the expectant violence alive.
Does it work?
Oh, man, does it.
This is a great script about a grief-stricken man trying to cling to hope and find peace and redemption. There were several times where I teared up because of the things said about loneliness, love lost, and hope. I mean, this is a Western that’s really about the characters and relationships and the hurt we hold inside us.
But, don’t get me wrong, the action and gunplay is awesome as well. It’s great to see how John deals with several life-threatening situations, compensating with cleverness and his other senses for his lack of hearing.
You know how we always talk about fully exploiting your concepts? Well, the concept of a deaf gunslinger is explored in exciting and painstaking detail, and it’s such a good journey. There are some cool gun rigs John wisely comes up with, and you can imagine all the duels and confrontations playing out awesomely on screen.
None of it is boring.
“The High Lonesome” is an emotional page-turner that feels like a great Western. It’s hard not to envision something special here, a deaf gunslinger looking for peace against the backdrop of the Civil War and Manifest Destiny, a man attempting to cling to hope in the throes of despair. It’s one of those journeys that you can’t forget, and you feel like you’re along for the ride every step of the way. What the story says about friendship and healing is powerful stuff, expressed in T.Z. Spaulding’s words to his friend and confidante, “…just remember hope, the patient medicine for disease, disaster and despair.”
Indeed, this is a journey of hope.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[x] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: There’s a current trend with pacing that tends to rush a story. I can see people reading this script and saying, “Wait, all the stuff in the logline and Cheyenne doesn’t begin to happen until the mid-point. Is there any way you can tighten things up and get it to start at the beginning of the 2nd Act?” I don’t know when or how this Haphazardly Rushed Sense of Urgency started, but sometimes people are so eager to make their plot move fast that they neuter their characters, sense of pace and overall story. Stories are journeys that unfold, and not all require the plot events of the logline to take place as soon as fucking possible, especially when the character stuff is so rich and required. “The High Lonesome” wouldn’t have worked without John’s journey and transformation, which all happens before his arrival in Cheyenne. Without it, the events in the third act wouldn’t pack the emotional punch they do. Sometimes, people just need to slow down and let their story unfold. Ignore the cookie cutter beats and let character be the engine that drives the story.
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Playing with some new looks for the blog.

Posted on September 25, 2010 | by admin

The style of the blog will be changing periodically throughout the week until I figure out what I want it to look like.  Sorry for the inconvenience.  At least we’ll still be updating!

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Man On A Ledge

Posted on September 24, 2010 | by admin

Genre: Thriller
Premise: A suicide jumper is secretly orchestrating a jewel heist in order to clear himself of a crime he didn’t commit.
About: It should be noted that this isn’t the draft that got the movie moving. Hot scribes Erich and Jon Hoeber, who wrote the upcoming Geek-tasmogoric “Red,” starring Bruce Willis and Morgan Freeman, have done a rewrite, and that rewrite is what secured Sam Worthington, Amy Adams, Jamie Bell, and Elizabeth Banks. Pablo Fenjves, the original writer, has just taken a huge step forward in his career. Up until this point, he’s written movies only for TV. Chris Gorak, who did revisions, is still listed as director on one of my favorite scripts, the crab-fisherman thriller, “Dead Loss.”
Writer: Pablo Fenjves (revisions by Chris Gorak)
Details: 115 pages – May 16, 2009 draft (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).


Is there such thing as the purity of the viewing experience anymore? I ask this because nobody in this day and age goes into a movie without already knowing what’s going to happen. At the very least, they know the hook, and the hook occurs one-fourth of the way into the movie, which means the first 30 minutes might as well have been watched at home. In a sense, marketing has become the first 30 minutes of every film, in many cases extending to the first 60 minutes, and even 90. That’s why I love reading scripts. It’s the last form of entertainment where I can have no idea what’s going to happen next. But I’ve managed to destroy this purity, as my reading options are many and my time is little, requiring me to know as much as possible about each script ahead of time so I can pick something I’ll have a reasonably good chance of liking. What I find fascinating, however, is how different a script reads when you truly know nothing about it, not even a logline, because the script doesn’t have the advantage of knowing that you know what it’s about. If Man On A Ledge is any indication, first acts become way more boring, because writers have come to depend on the the drama in the act depending on your anticipation of the story’s hook, and I didn’t know the hook to Man on A Ledge. So for a good 40 pages I was going, “What the hell is this movie about?”

What is this movie about? Well, 30 year old Nick Cassidy is a broken down man who’s serving time for something we’ll find out later he didn’t do. Luckily Nick’s father dies because prison law states that a man is allowed to attend his father’s funeral. So Nick goes to the funeral where he runs into his younger brother, Joey. The two clearly don’t get along, and after some pushing and shoving, things escalate into a full blown smackdown. Now if I were working this job and I saw a prisoner get into a fight with his brother, I’d probably check the prisoner afterwards. But these guards don’t subscribe to that theory and of course pay the price for it. The fight was a ruse, Joey slipped Nick a knife, Nick slips out of his cuffs and drives away to freedom.


A few weeks (months?) later, Nick walks out on a ledge 21 stories above Manhattan and threatens to jump. For reasons that remain unclear Nick has a very specific jumper psychologist he wants handling his attempted suicide – Lydia Anderson. Lydia is famous for NOT being able to talk down some kid on the Brooklyn Bridge a few weeks ago. Her failure was caught on Youtube and so she’s become a bit of an internet anti-celebrity .

While Nick’s on the ledge, Joey (his brother) and his girlfriend break into a jeweler’s shop. Eventually we learn that that shop is in the building across the street, and that Nick is secretly communicating with Joey. Ahh, this is all a setup! But a setup for what? Well, Nick used to be a policeman, and was tasked with escorting a man with a very expensive diamond from one place to another. The diamond later went missing, and the man, billionaire David Englander, blamed Nick for stealing it, so Nick was sent to jail for 30 years!


Nick is staging this faux-suicide so his brother can nab the diamond Nick supposedly stole and show it to the millions of cameras and policeman who are standing by, thus clearing his name in the court of public opinion, and we assume, the real court as well.

Once all the gears of this giant piece of machinery start grinding, the story comes alive. However I assume I’m not the only one who thinks there are too many gears grinding and that too many of these gears are grinding unnecessarily. For example, it’s entertaining that Joey’s stealing the diamond at the exact same time Nick’s pretending to be suicidal, but is it realistic? Wouldn’t it make way more sense to get the diamond on a Sunday night when no one’s around? I mean I suppose doing it right now “proves” that they weren’t holding the diamond all along, but who’s to say they weren’t holding it all along? Who’s to say Joey didn’t just “pretend” to break in and steal it right now? I don’t know. All the theatrics seemed more in tune with making an exciting movie that they did real-world logic.

Another thing that bothered me was the plethora of uninspired and/or lazy choices in the script. We’ve seen the fake fight stuff in order to pass weapons off in plenty of prison movies before. We have mirrors placed in rooms to trick security cameras and characters looping those images so they can walk around freely. We’ve, of course, seen that dozens of times before. We even have a car chase where one car is trying to ditch another…. by beating a train across the tracks!!! With a little more effort, each one of these moments could’ve been infinitely more inventive, but for some reason only the most obvious option was used.


Man On A Ledge hits a sweet spot around page 60 where we’re jumping back and forth between the ledge and the jewelry store. Lydia is starting to suspect something with Nick and cops are on the heels of Joey and his girlfriend and it feels like it’s all going to go to hell in one disastrous yet delicious finale. At this moment, the story feels most like the film it’s obviously inspired by, Dog Day Afternoon. But that glow dims quickly and there isn’t much left to grab onto.

I’d be interested to see what the brothers Hoeber changed to make this so appealing to everyone involved. In this draft, it’s a bunch of ideas stuffed together searching for the sharp complex thriller it wants to be.

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

What I learned: The outrunning the train scene really bothered me. Look, everything’s been done before. I know that. It’s impossible to be 100% original. But when you come across conventions, at least try to put a new spin on them, even if it’s a minor one. Let me go on record as saying Date Night is one of the worst movies I’ve seen this year. But in it, there’s a big car chase sequence. How many car chases have we seen? 100,000? 200,000? It would be really easy then to throw together yet another forgettable chase, right? Well instead, the writers have two cars locked onto each others’ front bumpers, so the drivers in each car are facing each other, with our heroes having to escape a third car. Now the cars have to cooperate, in a sense, in order to escape that third car. That’s what I mean by giving a convention a new spin. If Date Night, of all movies, can come up with something new in a 100 year old medium, so can you.

Why Worthington attached himself: This role is pretty complex. Worthington gets to play a suicidal man. A deep and emotional challenge for any actor. But in actuality he’s playing a man who’s pretending to be suicidal, which actually makes it even more challenging. He also spends the majority of the movie in one spot (on a ledge), so everything is a series of close-ups for the actor to do what actors like to do best: ACT! On top of all this, he’s secretly orchestrating a plan to prove his innocence. So it’s a part that obviously has a lot going on and obviously allows an actor to stretch his muscles. Not surprised at all that Worthington chose to do the movie.

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