Genre: Indie Drama
Premise: A young man with Marfan’s Syndrome, a disease that makes it difficult for your body’s organs to stay together, must battle the everyday challenges of the disease as he approaches a life-threatening operation.
About: This script was one of the five winning screenplays of the prestigious Nicholl Contest in 2008. It also received six mentions on that year’s Black List. The writer, Eric Nazarian, was inspired to write the story while waiting in the ICU while his brother underwent open heart surgery. Nazarian received his Bachelors from USC where he also studied directing. He used to go to the library there and read the scripts of all his favorite movies. Not long after the Nicholl, he made a feature film called “Blue Hour,” which was a 66 page script with only 4 pages of dialogue, pushing himself to focus more on the visual and aural power of cinema. Budd Schulberg’s “On The Waterfront” is his favorite screenplay of all time.
Writer: Eric Nazarian
Details: 120 pages (2008 draft)

Nazarian on the set of “Blue Hour”

Giants is a script I’ve known about for awhile, has been recommended to me numerous times, but is just something I couldn’t force myself to read. Whenever you have a script that deals with some kind of “syndrome,” you have to be in a certain type of mood to commit to it. And I’m rarely in that mood. Was I in that mood today? No, but one of our readers listed the screenplay as his favorite in his “Reader Faves” list, and after having a conversation with him about it, I decided to give it a chance.

Monty has Marfan’s Syndrome, which is a genetic disorder of the connective tissue. It revolves around Chromosome 15, which is basically the “glue” that keeps your organs together. As you get older, your organs expand and drift apart, “kind of like the earth before the seven continents,” as Monty puts it. Those with the condition are usually tall with long limbs and have a laundry list of health issues, such as detached retinas, lower back problems, and an endless supply of heart aneurysms, which forces them to be on a cocktail of drugs so strong it makes your local street addict look like he’s popping vitamin C pills.

Because the barely 20 year old Monty’s been through so much hell, he’s become an irritable and angry soul, which he usually takes out on his overprotective single mother, Annabeth. As someone who already lost one child, Monty’s sister, to the war in Iraq, Annabeth is desperate to keep her second one around, and therefore rarely leaves his side.

The problem is, everything points to Monty not being around much longer. He’s just had another aneurysm that requires major heart surgery. And between the stingy insurance company, the indifferent doctors, and the non-stop cycle of ER visits, he’s losing that all important fighting spirit.

While we speed towards the big operation, Monty’s deadbeat dad comes back into the picture, trying to make amends with a wife and son he deserted, only to be repeatedly pushed away. Monty hangs out with anyone who can handle his sarcastic nihilistic views, including his community college professor, his main doctor, and his only friend, the drug-supplying Gothy Lizzy. As the operation approaches, Monty finally begins to let go a little, and enjoy what may be the last days of his life.

So yeah, this is heavy stuff. But it’s good heavy stuff. We like Monty and we want to see what’s going to happen to him. And as a screenplay, this is one of the more compelling elements to dissect because Monty does everything in his power to make you NOT like him. And in a medium where the reader has to like *something* about your main character, it’s pertinent to ask why Monty is different. What does he do to get us on his side?

I thought about this and I’ll tell you when it happened for me. But first I have to bring up Seinfeld (yes, “Seinfeld”). Does anybody remember an episode in the second season where Jerry is standing in his apartment and the phone rings and he answers it and it’s a telemarketer and Jerry says, “Actually, I’m busy right now. Can you give me your home phone number and I’ll call you back later?” We hear the telemarketer say no. “Oh, so you don’t like to be bothered in the privacy of your own home?” No. “Well now you know how I feel.” And he hangs up. And in that moment, we love Jerry Seinfeld, because he just fought back a very familiar and annoying situation.

There’s a moment early on in Giants where Monty is having what feels like a heart attack and he’s rushed to the ER. He’s placed in a holding room where a minimum wage nurse asks him questions like, “So on a scale of 1 to 10, how bad would you say the pain is?” as Monty is writhing in unbearable pain. And after a bunch of these questions and some back and forth about why his situation isn’t being taken more seriously, he looks at the nurse and says, “[Livelihood] for a Marfan’s patient are the seconds he or she has to get to the hospital so that hopefully there will be at least one competent nurse or doctor to immediately assess the situation and have a fraction of a brain to realize that there is a leak in my heart and that every second is a countdown to either plugging the leak so I don’t die or scribbling in your notebook, asking these stupid fucking questions to justify your paycheck while I bleed to death without one red fucking drop on your cheapass linoleum floor!!” For anybody who’s ever had to deal with the ER in any capacity, you know how incompetent these people and their procedures are. And how many times you’ve wanted to scream at them and say, “What the hell are you doing? Somebody’s dying here!” It was a great little lesson, because I realized that by making a character fight back in a situation that we’re normally beat down by in our daily lives, they become a bit of a hero to us, and that naturally makes them someone we root for.

Now this script isn’t perfect. Essentially it’s about a guy who potentially has seven days to live, and how he lets go and tries to make those seven days count. But I never felt like he truly stepped out of his comfort zone and took advantage of that freedom. The “big moments” could’ve been bigger. There’s also a sub-plot between the father and his family that could’ve benefited from some more complexity and/or revelations. It was pleasant but a tad obvious. I wanted more.

But for the most part this is powerful affecting screenplay and worth the read.

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

What I learned: Ironic characters are compelling characters. A “handicapped” person like Monty isn’t supposed to be an “asshole.” He’s supposed to be nice and cuddly and agreeable. By turning that stereotype on its head, we create an interesting character. Look for this opportunity in your screenplays. If you your character is a romantic, make him a divorce lawyer. If your character is a CEO, make him a slacker. If your character is a priest, make him a drug-addict. Not only are these characters compelling to watch, but actors love to play them.

Genre: Thriller
Premise: A New York novelist gets hold of a rare underground wonder-drug that turns his life upside-down.
About: Starring Robert De Niro and Bradley Cooper, this film originally had Shia LaBeouf in the lead role, but that ended when he got in his infamous car wreck and destroyed his hand (which is, if I understand correctly, not a hand anymore, but reconstructed from bone fragments in other parts of his body – no jokes here please). The film will be directed by Neil Burger, who directed the identity-starved “The Lucky Ones,” (still not sure what that movie was about) and the underappreciated Ed Norton flick, “The Illusionist” (one of my favorite films of 2006). This is quite a departure for screenwriter Leslie Dixon, who’s written such movies as “Hairspray,” “Pay It Forward,” and “Mrs. Doubtfire.” The closest she’s come to writing something like “The Dark Fields,” is the remake of “The Thomas Crowne Affair.” Incidentally, I believe this is the best thing she’s ever written.
Writer: Leslie Dixon (based on the novel by Alan Glynn)
Details: 124 pages (July 12, 2006 draft)

 The Dark Fields gets it right.

All that voice over stuff we were (I was) complaining about the other day? This is how you do it. Get inside a character’s head and give us information we can’t get otherwise, all while pushing the story forward, and present it in a manner whereby it feels like a natural extension of the tone and style.

This script is funky, yet not so funky as to make it inaccessible. It showcases its mean streak, but never becomes cruel, giving it that elusive hard edge that can still be enjoyed by a mainstream audience.

It’s about a guy named Eddie Spinola, a slovenly writer who’d rather eat a box of Twinkies than get any actual writing done (uh hello…who wouldn’t??). And even when he does churn out pages, they’re about as good as a chapter from “Installing Rugs For Dummies.” His editor keeps him around out of habit, his ex-girlfriend is about to become his ex-everything friend, and his paycheck-to-paycheck lifestyle is threatening to make the nut vending profession a viable option.

In short, Eddie’s a nobody going nohwere.

But then Eddie has a chance encounter with an ex brother-in-law (he used to be married) who’s got a hot new drug called MDT-48. A recovering cocaine-addict, Eddie’s not keen on downing a mystery pill, but the brother-in-law says this is some once-in-a-lifetime shit. Eddie figures “what the hell” and pops it.


Ten minutes later, everything changes.

MDT is a “genius” drug. That big doughy mess inside your head becomes a finely tuned network of protons and neurons. Everything in the world makes sense and Eddie takes advantage. He races home, effortlessly bangs out 90 pages of his next novel, turns it in the following day, and realizes just how powerful this pill is. His boss doesn’t just think the pages are good. He thinks they’re J.D. Fucking Salinger good. He wants to ink a new deal with Eddie. Turn the novel into a series. Now now now. Eddie’s entry into the hot commodity market is more instant than pop-tarts.

But Eddie’s already coming down from MDT. He’s already becoming dumber again. He needs more pills. So he goes back to the brother-in-law, only to find a little round hole in his head and a ransacked apartment. The indication is clear. Somebody else was looking for the MDT. The question is, did they find it? Eddie goes searching through all the remaining hiding spots, and in a fit of luck, finds them. 500 pills. Five hundred MDT pills. He pops another one. Snap crackle pop. He’s a genius again.

With his newfound intelligence, Eddie says “fuck the publishing world.” He wants money, and lots of it. He visits a day trader, someone who skims 500 bucks a trade off fractional fluctuations in the market, a skill that takes years to learn. Eddie learns in ten minutes. He borrows money from a Russian loan shark and starts trading, turning 20,000 bucks into 1.2 million in six days. He’s hot, and getting hotter.


He manages to get the attention of one of the richest men in town, who’s putting together a multi-billion dollar merger. He wants Eddie’s help, and if Eddie can make it happen, he’ll pay him a 50 million dollar fee. As long as he’s on the MDT, all of this is cake. But then, things start happening. Bad things.

(Spoilerville) Time starts skipping. Eddie finds himself in one place, then a second later in another place halfway across town. In the minutes between MDT highs, he’s getting intense headaches, and his normal state is starting to feel vegetative, incapable of even the most basic functions. MDT is doing something to him. But what? He starts doing research. Learns there are others on MDT. Or were. Most of them are dead now. On MDT, you have a fighting chance. But if you stop taking it? Things start going wrong. To make matters worse, whoever raided his brother-in-law’s apartment has found him, and they’re chasing him. And Eddie’s running out of pills. What does he do?

The Dark Fields is a super-intense ride that gets all of the thriller elements right. And most importantly, it has a great main character. I’m not surprised at all that one of the hottest actors in town, who pretty much has the pick of the litter, chose to play this part. Eddie’s multi-layered (he goes from zero to hero), he’s flawed (he’s only smart because he cheats) and he’s fun (he spouts out voice over detailing the inner workings of his ongoing genius). In fact, in many ways, this feels like an adult super hero film – his super-power being that he becomes super smart. This is a great script to study when trying to determine what type of character attracts an A-list actor.

It’s also a great example of how to approach the end of your second act/beginning of your third. Everything that can go wrong for your character, should go wrong, problems and issues and obstacles piling up on top of each other, making it impossible (or seemingly impossible) for your hero to achieve his goal. And Dark Fields hits Eddie hard (running out of pills, gotta close the merger, chased by the Russian, chased by pill manufacturers). The deeper a hole our character is in, the more captivated we become as we wonder how he’s going to get out.

My only knock on the script is that it feels too much like one of my favorite scripts, “Passengers.” That script is famous for being written in the first person (which is why it hasn’t been made) and this script almost feels like someone realized if they tweaked that story and told it in the third person, that it could be a great movie. Therefore it wasn’t original enough to me personally to give it that breakaway recommendation. But it’s still great. Oh, and one other minor thing is that I didn’t dig the mini-twist ending. Kinda hard to buy. But it wasn’t a big enough part of the movie to matter.

What matters is that this is a damn good script. So what are you waiting for?

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

What I learned: For every “power” or “advantage” you give your protagonist, there must be consequences to that power. It’s not interesting otherwise. Once consequences enter the equation, your protagonist is forced to make a choice, and it’s when our heroes are faced with difficult choices that they become the most interesting. i.e. Take the pill to become smarter to escape the bad guy, but increase the chances that you’ll turn into a vegetable. We love guessing and wondering and hoping what our protag will do. To really take advantage of this tool, as the story progresses, keep making those consequences worse so that your hero’s choices become more and more difficult.

Over to the right side there, you can see the Top 25 Reader Favorite list. The problem is, it’s been 5 months since we made that list, and I want to update it. So here’s how this works. You can either send in your Top 10 list to me at Carsonreeves1@gmail.com, or leave it right here in the comments section. Please number your favorites from 1-10 as the voting works on a point system. A number 1 script receives 10 points. A number 2 script 9 points. A number 3, 8 points, etc. all the way down to 1 point for a tenth place script.

Now if you only have, say, 5 favorites, that’s fine. Send me your top 5. Or even send me your Top 3. The way the votes are counted, it doesn’t matter. Now the idea here isn’t to come up with a Top 10 that’s different from your previous Top 10. If your Top 10 favorites are exactly the same as last time, then keep it that way. But if something you’ve read these past 5 months has slipped onto the list, then by God throw it in there. The only criteria is that the script hasn’t had a release yet. So as long as it hasn’t hit the big screen, you can vote for it.

A couple of final things. If you’re voting for “Passengers,” make sure to differentiate between the G.J. Pruss Passengers (first person script) and the Spaiths Passengers (The Keanu Reeves project) or else it won’t be counted. Also, don’t try to double vote. I’m checking and cross-checking IP addresses so please only vote with one Top 10. If you want to know more about the previous list, check out the Reader Faves original post.

The results will be announced TWO WEEKS from today, so you will have two weeks to vote. Looking forward to seeing how this pans out. :)

Michael Stark is here for the sequel of, “Ten Books That Need To Be Turned Into Movies.” His taste gives the list a distinct new flavor. Because there’s so much script-book crossover reading, I’m wondering if I shouldn’t start putting up some book reviews on the site. Any book fans out there that would like to write some reviews for the site? Maybe you could submit something to me. In the meantime, get those lists ready cause tomorrow (Wednesday) at noon, I’m putting up the “Reader Script Faves” post. Get your top 10 scripts lists ready. :) Here’s Michael Stark…

That ever-so-polite-and-gracious Roger Balfour neglected to tell you faithful readers who gave him the idea for his little book report a few weeks back. It generated a ton of discussions (that’s what Script Shadow lives for) and a few other fringe benefits for good old Rog.

After his alter ego got all that brainy, literary, cyber tail, here I am in the internet bookstore I run out of my house, lonely, unappreciated, looking through my dusty tomes for a few suggestions for part deux.

Here are my ten:

1. High Rise by J.G. Ballard

“As he sat on his balcony eating the dog, Dr Robert Laing reflected on the unusual events that had taken place within this huge apartment building during the previous three months.”


Think The Lord of the Flies set in The Towering Inferno.

Now, this is by the guy who wrote Crash. Not the Academy Award winning, Paul Haggis, real life in LA, multi-culti/multi-cast/multi-storied Crash, but the Crash about Symphorophiliac sickos who can only get off by getting themselves into sensational, limb-losing car accidents.

Yup, that Crash. Ballard is kinda the English Gentleman version of Chuck Palahniuk.

High Rise is pretty sick too. Probably would need David Cronenberg directing to pull it off. I think the nightmares I got after reading it is what got me off the concrete island of Manhattan and into a nice, little house in rural Georgia.

Written in 1975, the social relevance is timeless. Cram too many people in a fabulous high-rise apartment complex with all the amenities and modern conveniences (gym, shops, pool, high-speed elevators, an Urban Outfitters, etc) that you pretty much never have to leave …

And, then, let the building go to total shit …

And, then, watch what happens to the inhabitants.

It’s like the Tipping point. Once the building starts breaking down, society starts breaking down too. Class systems emerge and begin warring against each other. Floors vs. Floor.

Eventually, none of the condo owners are going to work or even stepping foot outside the building. They remain inside to fight and protect their turf. When food sources start to dwindle, the annoying barking dog across the hall suddenly becomes fair game. And, perhaps, a few weeks later, the gal who snubbed you in the laundromat.

It’s George Romero directing an episode of Big Brother.

Okay, I’m not the only freaky fan who wants to see this on film. Producer, Jeremy Thomson, has owned the rights for nearly thirty years! Someone, please, help the guy out!!!

2. THE TOMB by F. Paul Wilson

“The Tomb is one of the best all-out adventure stories I’ve read in years.” – Stephen King (President of the Repairman Jack fan club)


Nuff said. Who can argue with Uncle Stevie?

Repairman Jack isn’t the fix it guy you call when your old Norge is on the fritz or the john is overflowing, but he’ll definitely crawl through some pretty serious shit for a client. It’s like hiring Burn Notice’s Michael Westen and getting all the Ghost Busters along for the ride.

The Tomb was the first of a planned 15-book cycle (not including some short stories and young adult novels) featuring Jack, the Manhattan Mercenary for the Little Guy that can’t help but take cases that are gonna veer mid-way through off into the supernatural.

Jack, not unlike Lee Child’s Jack Reacher, lives pretty much off the grid. He doesn’t have a last name, vote, pay taxes or talk to census-takers. Unlike most action/adventure heroes, he’s pretty much an average guy without super powers or military training. He’s just naturally good at bashing bad guys whenever the Joe Franklin Show isn’t on.

In The Tomb, Repairman Jack is asked to retrieve a stolen necklace. Of course, his client neglects to tell him about the ancient curse it carries and the Bengali demons it’ll ultimately unleash. And, that said demons – the Rakoshi — would be going after the adorable daughter of Jack’s extremely hot ex-girlfriend.

Chicago may have hosted the Night Stalker and Harry Dresden, but NYC and the Boroughs are the perfect stomping grounds for Jack and “The Otherness” monsters he keeps finding himself pitted against.

Jack has been able to get himself out of a lot of tough scrapes, but hasn’t been able to budge from development hell. According to Wilson, six screenwriters have had at this potential franchise over the past 12 years.

Possible solution: Episodic TV ala the Dresden Files? I’m just saying…

3. Let it Blurt by Jim DeRogatis

“The only true currency in this bankrupt world is what you share with someone else when you’re uncool.” — Lester Bangs


A lot of people got introduced to the wisdom of Lester Bangs when Philip Seymour Hoffman played the world-weary bear of a rock critic in Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous.

I grew up reading Lester’s rants in Creem magazine, back in the early 80s, when music really, really, really sucked. And, this wonderful, wonderful man introduced me to an exciting, new type of soundz that was only a 45-minute train ride away from my nice, safe Long Island home. He changed my life. Changed millions of others too.

He wasn’t just a rock critic. He was the Hunter S. Thompson of the music world. I mean, Lord, the guy could write a 30,000 word screed of a record review that talked to your soul. So, why isn’t he in the Hall of Fame? Bangs pretty much championed heavy metal and punk when Rock n Roll seemed to be on its last legs.

I know they’ve been trying to develop Please Kill Me, the Oral History of Punk into a movie for the longest time. I’ll help you guys out. If you suits wanna make a flick about the time period when punk rock broke, ya do it by focusing on the man who coined the fucking term. You shoot it through his eyes and ears.

Bio pics ain’t easy. And, movies about writers seem to be the ultimate taboo in Hollywood. But, the life of Bangs is the exception. He partied faster and louder than any of the rock stars he wrote about. Growing up with a fervent Jehovah’s Witness of a mother, Lester would grow up to evangelize just as hard and passionately about the Devil’s music she despised.

The book starts out with Bangs jamming onstage with the J. Geils band in a packed out arena, the critic, playing what else? — An electric typewriter! TAT TAT TAT along with the noize. Now, if that ain’t a great opening sequence, I don’t know what is.

Ya got his ongoing battle against the corporate suits making shitty albums, his longstanding feud with Lou Reed and a cast of supporting characters that include Alice Cooper, Patti Smith, Iggy Pop, The Ramones and the Clash. Who the hell wouldn’t want to be in this movie, playing their favorite rock icon?!! Who wouldn’t want to play Lou Reed? Who wouldn’t wanna be Bangs?

4. The Travis McGee novels by John D. MacDonald.


“ John D. MacDonald … the great entertainer of our age, and a mesmerizing storyteller.” — Stephen King


Again, you gonna argue with Uncle Stevie?

Some of you kids will know John D. Macdonald for penning the book that would become Cape Fear. But, Man, the prolific sonofagun penned 78 freaking books! Most of them extremely worthy of your time.

Travis appeared in 21 of them. Ask any mystery fan. This is the guy they most want turned into a celluloid hero.

And, yeah, they tried before. And, failed. First in 1970 with Rod Taylor. Then, again, in 1983 with Sam Elliot, for a failed TV pilot. The first clue that they fucked it all to hell was when they moved the famed local from Fort Lauderdale to Southern California. Sheesh!

Unlike other detectives, McGee is neither a cop nor a gum shoe. He’s a “salvage consultant” who recovers your lost or stolen property for half their value. He is a tough guy, knight-errant, beach bum, sex therapist and philosopher. Like Carl Hiaasen many years later, MacDonald uses his character to make comment on the corruption and trashing of his home state.

McGee lives on a houseboat, “The Busted Flush”, that he won in a poker game and drives a custom Rolls Royce, Miss Agnes, that has been transformed into a pick-up truck. His best friend is Meyer, a hairy economist who often provides the Holmesian deduction skills to solve their cases. Ha! His boat is called The John Maynard Keynes.

Fiercely independent, McGee would retire after every case. Then take on a new client only after the money had run out -– or if the client was an old friend (the man had honor) or was exceptionally hot (the man was also pretty horny). Each case had enough corrupt businessmen and sadistic killers to keep things interesting.

McGee is also a product of his times. Half paternal figure and half Hugh Hefner. I guess he’s the fictional character most of us bookworms wish we could be. I’d live on a houseboat too if it weren’t for my blasted allergies!

A rumor has it that Leo is damned close to playing him. YEA!!!! Wish fulfillment. Just keep it in Florida, dudes. Or a lot of librarians are gonna be after you.

5. Carter Beats the Devil by Glen David Gold.

Remember how much Script Shadow raved about the unproduced script, Smoke and Mirrors? Well, who the hell doesn’t love period pieces with magicians?

If Captain Carson would’ve let me, I probably could have populated this entire list with tomes and bios about showmen, tricksters and prestidigitators.

That’s my thing. I love magic. My first paying job as a tween was doing kiddie magic shows.

So, Carter edged out Robertson Davies’ Fifth Business for the conjuring book I most want to see on the big screen. Good job, Mr. Gold. Beating out the Canadian Gabriel Garcia Marquez is a pretty freaking impressive feat.

And, it’s his first freaking novel too.

I’m enamored … and fucking jealous.

Early 20th Century San Francisco. Famed illusionist Charles Carter, has to flee the country after the President, Warren G. Harding, mysteriously dies after volunteering for one of his tricks.

In his act, in front of a sold out crowd, he had chopped the president into little pieces, cut off his head and fed him to a lion, before restoring him to prefect health.

Now, that’s a tough act to follow. Try that David Blaine!

This book has got every trick in the book. Sideshows, handsome FBI agents, beautiful blind chicks, impossible escapes, The Marx brothers, caged beasts, fast motorcycles, the invention of television and plenty of schemes and scoundrels with devastating secrets.

How does it end? Pretty much in the show to beat all shows. Carter must indeed beat the devil to save the ones he loves.

Shit. The whole book is just that magical.

From what I’ve read, Magic-loving Tom Cruise (He had Mandrake, Houdini and Blackstone pics in development too) still has the rights to the book.

Thus, unless Robert Towne starts waving a magic wand soon, escape from development hell looks hopeless.

6. Secret Dead Men by Duane Swierczynski.

“Learning how to operate a soul figures to take time.” – Timothy Leary


A few weeks ago, Roger put Swierczynski’s Severance Package on his list of adaptations he’d most like to see.

Yup, I’d love to see that one get made too, but Secret Dead Men is my fave. It’s the one they’re gonna have to reunite Spike Jonez and Charlie Kaufman to pull off. It’s one of the most surreal, metaphysical novels I’ve ever read.

And, it’s framed as a detective thriller.

Del Farmer ain’t your ordinary hardboiled, private dick. Instead of collecting fingerprints, he collects the souls of the recently departed to help his investigation of the Association, a mob outfit right out of Richard Stark’s Point Blank.

Farmer keeps all these souls in his” brain hotel” and if a particular skill set is required, he’d let the right dead man for the job control his bod to get it done.

Quel perverse! Sartre meets Sam Spade.

See, some years back, journalist Del was murdered by the Association. So, he has some motivation to see this case through. He had been picked up by a soul collector who, when he decided to walk towards the light, handed the keys to the brain hotel over to him.

The idea may be a tad too unique for mainstream audiences. But, the budget doesn’t have to be too big. An Indie perhaps? A Dexter styled series? Who knows, maybe the French will pick it up.

They are a country of philosophy majors.

7. Vixen by Ken Bruen

“Ask any modern crime writer who they’re paying attention to in the world of crime fiction, and they’ll all point their fingers across the Atlantic at Ken Bruen.” – Roger Balfour, Script Shadow Review


I’m a big time Bruen fan. Hell, I love noir. But, this guy serves it up nice and lean for a change. And, I sure as hell don’t wanna see the knife he used to do it with.

Here’s a Whitman Sampler from Vixen:

A loud bang went off in Doyle’s ear and he instinctively pushed the phone away. When the noise had subsided he asked:

‘Was that it?’

He heard a low chuckle, then:

‘Whoops, the timing was a little off but we’ll be working on that. What you have to work on is getting three hundred grand together to make sure we don’t bomb again. I mean, that’s not a huge amount, is it? So you get started on that and we’ll try not to blow up anything else in the meantime. We’ll give you a bell tomorrow and see how you’re progressing. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, the movie playing at the Paradise was a Tom Cruise piece of shit so we kind of did the public a service. You be good now.’

Sold yet?

Then read the fooking book. This ain’t a fooking library.

Vixen is U.K. Noir with the sexiest, ruthless, female serial killer/ bombmaking/blackmailer that ever plagued England!

Trying to capture her is London’s gritty answer to Ed McBain’s 87th Precinct, the bent (in all the various definitions of the word) coppers led by the amicably amoral Inspector Brant.

Unfortunately, one of his bent coppers, Elizabeth Falls, gets into a bit of a far too unhealthy relationship with the witchy woman they’re pursuing.

Thus, we have two great, demented female roles up for grabs.

Thankfully, Hollywood has already sat up and noticed Bruen. His London Boulevard has started filming with The Departed scribe, William Monahan, directing Colin Farrell and Keira Knightley.

The script for Blitz, currently in pre-production, has been reviewed here on Script Shadow. Worth the search, Mate.

8. Positively 4th Street by David Hajdu

“We should start a whole new genre. Poetry set to music. Poetry you can dance to. Boogie poetry! “ – Richard Farina to Bob Dylan


Imagine Next Stop, Greenwich Village mixed with Bound For Glory.

Uh, not really, but writing ten book reports in a row is starting to get awfully hard! It’s showing right?!! Damned slave driver, Carson. I told him six books. Six fucking books. But, No…….!!!!

Okay, where was I?

Yup, I’m pitching another music bio. But, this time, it’s a four way street.

For you youngsters who have no clue about the title, 4th street chronicles the 60s folk music scene with Bob Dylan, Joan Baez and Richard and Mimi Farina going from playing tiny coffee houses to inspiring an entire generation of young lefties like me.

You’d think it would be Dylan, but the most fascinating and filmable character in this bio pic is Richard Farina, the bohemian poet who often got lost in own web of roguish tall tales. He married Joan’s sister, Mimi, the haunting beauty when she was just seventeen. He, like Dylan, had of course, courted both sisters.

With my mental moviola, I can shut my eyes and imagine the scene where he has to talk his jealous, teenaged bride out of shooting him with his own pistol.

Or the scene of Baez, barefoot in the rain, debuting at the Newport Folk Festival and becoming an overnight sensation.

Or the ones of Dylan playing his headgames on the fragile Joan would just make great cinema.

Four fucking great roles. There’s more then enough talent, egos and love triangles to work with. To get a small taste how charismatic and magnetic Farina was, please click here.

9. The Catcher Was A Spy by Nicholas Dawidoff

Think The Pride of The Yankees meets The Tailor of Panama.

Sports and Spies. Now, that’s a doubleheader.

Moe Berg was neither an exceptional ball player nor an exceptional operative, but this story would have made a nice project for the Coen Brothers. Hell, it’s pretty much Burn After Reading with the Yiddishisms of A Serious Man.

Berg was definitely the smartest guy ever on the ball field. He graduated from Princeton and Columbia Law School. He claimed to read ten newspapers a day and was fluent in a dozen languages. Guess he had the time, as he spent most of his major league career for the Dodgers and the Sox on the bench.

But, baseball brought Berg to Japan and after Pearl Harbor, his home movies of that trip landed him some intelligence gigs for the OSS. A nice, Jewish ballplayer working for Wild Bill Donovan, trying to capture Nazis seems pretty irresistible. No?

So, the catcher parachutes into Yugolsavia and would hop around Europe on assignment to kidnap any scientists he could find.

He apparently didn’t catch any.

And, when the Cold War heated up, he sold the same Schtick to the CIA, to bring over Russian scientists.

He apparently came up short there too. Both times, however, he stuck the taxpayers with some rather hefty expenses.

After baseball and the spy game, Berg spent the rest of his life, pretty much freeloading off friends and family. Trading these great stories for meals and a night on the couch.

Berg turned out to be a charming guy who talked a dammed good game, but was pretty much a flake and a fraud.

Or was he?

His big fish boastings (real, imagined or just a wee bit embellished) would be a hoot to watch. Unfortunately, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind might have killed any hope of this bio ever getting to the silver screen.

Cause, how many movies about entertainers with a secret spy life can they make?

10. A Confederacy Of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole

“When a true genius appears in the world, you may know him by this sign, that the dunces are all in confederacy against him.” – Jonathan Swift


They’re probably gonna screw it up. They’re probably gonna screw it up. They’re probably gonna screw it up. They’re probably gonna screw it up.

But, what the Hell? Ya might as well try, try try.

No pressure, Suits. You’ll just piss off a loyal legion of fans and the whole city of New Orleans if you do screw it up.

Many have tried and failed. From Harold Ramis to direct John Belushi in the 80s. And Brit wit, Stephen Fry, taking a whack at the screenplay in the 90s. Both John Candy and Chris Farley have also been cast at various times, making the project seem positively cursed.

Last I heard, things were all set to shoot with a Soderbergh script, David Gordon Green directing and Will Ferrell to wear the famous green, flapped hunting cap.

He’s gonna have to pack on a few pounds to properly play the role. Cause, it’s a huge role in sooooo many aspects.

Dunces is not only a cult classic comedy but considered a true cannon of Southern Lit. It also comes with a rather tragic backstory. The manuscript was literally fished out of the garbage by Toole’s mom after the author had committed suicide. It took 11 years to get it published, championed by writer Walker Percy (One must read the moving forward he wrote for the book) and would then go on to posthumously win the Pulitzer Prize.

All without the help of Oprah.

Thus, sans Oprah, the movie can now simply be titled: Dunces – Not, Dunces: Based on The Novel, A Confederacy of Dunces By John Kennedy Toole.

Damned mouthful, Oprah.

Okay, I digressed. Like Catcher in the Rye, this is a lot of folk’s all time favorite read. Something you can return to year after year and still end up smiling and laughing out loud.

It’s set during the swinging sixties in New Orleans, a place that has known a lot about swinging since its foundation. All hell breaks loose when Ignatius Jacques Reilly goes with his mom to the department store to buy a string for his lute.

His hysterical run in with the store’s policeman starts this picaresque adventure as Reilly travels further down New Orleans’ underbelly in search of a job, meeting some of the most colorful characters this side of the Catalogue of Cool.

Percy describes Ignatius as a “slob extraordinary, a mad Oliver Hardy. a fat Don Quixote, a perverse Thomas Aquinas rolled into one.” He is the most stubborn, misanthropic, intestinally challenged, pop-culture loathing anti-hero literature has ever seen.

So, who the hell is good enough to be able to play that? Cast your votes here.

Zach Galifianakis? He is a southerner after all.

Guys, if you do manage to pull off this adaptation, we’re gonna sell a ton of green, flapped, hunting caps this Halloween.

Guys. Get those script lists ready! Wednesday is the official 2010 cast your votes for your favorite scripts so we can update the Reader Favorites list day. This week will have a couple of odd script reviews, one which I thought was really good, yet reminded me a little too much of something else on my Top 25 list, and another for a movie that’s being released this weekend. Don’t forget to get here early in case the links go down. Right now, here’s Roger with a Black List script review.

Genre: Crime, Thriller
Premise: Three redneck brothers get in over their heads when they agree to help a woman kidnap her son back from his seemingly evil father.
About: The actors-turned-writers met in 2004 when they were cast in a project together. In 2006 they made and starred in a short film called Mr. Extion, which screened at over 40 festivals and went on to win 14 awards. In 2008 they were invited to the Delray Beach Film Festival’s Script-to-Reel Challenge where they won the competition with The Baytown Disco. They are represented by Elevate Entertainment and the Agency for the Performing Arts.
Writers: Barry Battles & Griffin Hood
Details: October 24, 2008 draft

I was scrolling through the 2009 Black List, looking for something crime-flavored when I saw the logline to The Baytown Disco. There were three words that hooked me: redneck, kidnap, and evil. Yep, sometimes that’s all it takes to hook Roger Balfour.

As a Georgia boy, I was delighted to discover that this was a tale about Southern antiheroes, a trio of fellas as mean as rattlesnakes who agree to kidnap a child only to find themselves contending with all manner of bounty hunter and assassin available between El Paso, Texas and Montgomery, Alabama.
Imagine a movie where The Brothers Tremor from Joe Carnahan’s Smokin’ Aces are the heroes, and you’ve got the gist.
But Rog, what sets these antiheroes apart from The Tremor Brothers and The Boondock Saints?
Folks, meet The Oodie Brothers.
The progeny of Jonathan Warren Oodie, or Johnny Boy for short. Johnny Boy is a figure out of a Prohibition folktale, a mountain man who comes from one of the biggest shine running families east of the Mississippi. Johnny Boy is notorious for taking control of his local Klan chapter while he was still in his twenties, eventually going out in a blaze of glory during a federal drug raid, leaving behind his three boys.
There’s Brick, the leader of the bunch, a dude who wears a tanktop fashioned out of a Confederate flag and leather pants. He openly wears a holster that contains a sawed-off scatter gun like he’s some kind of hillbilly Mad Max.
There’s McQueen, the baby of the brood, who was approached by a modeling agent once. It turns out McQueen ain’t above almost beating another human being to death, even if it’s a woman. Even if the woman was the modeling agent who complimented him. See, McQueen ain’t that smart. He thought she was thinking “he was a fag”.
Then, there’s Lincoln. The Mohawked mute. Standing at 6’5″ and weighing in at 250 pounds, Lincoln wears a Speak-n-Spell (such a great character detail!) around his neck. For, you know, whenever he needs to say something. Which isn’t much, as he’s the impregnable muscle of our outlaw triumvirate.
When we meet them, they’re stepping out of their 1976 Ford Maverick, which might as well be a character itself. Finding themselves in the projects of Montgomery, McQueen exclaims, “Hot as hell down here in ole Mexico.” Of course, the Hispanic men nearby take offense, but quickly walk the other way when Lincoln climbs out of the car.
The brothers, in true scorched earth-fashion, shoot their way into a den of gangbangers, killing everyone in their way. They even flush some of them out of a kitchen using a dummy grenade. To a man bleeding to death on the floor, Brick says, “I figure since you can’t speak my language you can’t hear my language none either, but just so you know, the Latin Kings paid us to come make all this mess.”
When Brick finally shoots the man in the face, silencing him, McQueen strolls in with a piece of mail, exclaiming, “You ain’t gonna believe this. We got the wrong house.”
No matter.
Back in the car, Lincoln does a line of coke off his Speak-n-Spell and makes it say, “This yayo is good sheet.” Appropriately coked out of their minds, the Oodies make their way to an Irish pub called O’Houlihan’s. To them, this Irish bar is an odd architectural anomaly in the middle of God’s Country, and they dutifully begin to insult its patrons by telling racist jokes.
“What’s two miles long and has an IQ of forty?”
“A Saint Patty’s Day parade.”
“What happened when the Irish woman bought a vibrator?”
“She smashed all her teeth out.”
Then we’re treated to a good ol’fashioned bar brawl.
Sure, bar brawls are fun to write and fun to watch, but how do they move the story along? How do they reveal character?
Don’t worry, ol’Balfour here found a subtext. The bar brawl scene reminded me of something out of The Boondock Saints. But in this case, it was truly entertaining. Written with an intelligence and Southern charm that kept me interested with a minimal rolling of eyes. It’s like the writers took note of everything I don’t like about Quentin Tarantino fan-fiction and were eager to prove that they were the real deal.
It’s a helluva gesture, like the writers are bitchslapping Troy Duffy and his antihero creations. If, as an audience, I’m to understand that there exists a pissing contest between The Baytown Disco and The Boondock Saints, then I guess I’m here to report that this Black List script wins by a pungent deluge.
The difference?
Battles and Hood are better writers.
So what’s the plot?
It’s that classic crime genre staple: A simple snatch and grab job gone awry.
You see, a gorgeous little chica named Celeste Martin has been following our men. She approaches the Oodies with a proposition, “I want to hire you and your brothers to kidnap my son back from my ex-husband.” That ain’t exactly what these guys do, but when she offers to pay them fifty thousand dollars, we soon find our guys in El Paso.
Of course, they take a detour along the way to see some sights, such as a visit to the football stadium used in Friday Night Lights at the behest of fanboy McQueen.
“You think all the cool stuff in movies is really just boring in real life?”
“I bet if an asteroid crashed into your damn home, or Chuck Norris kicked your door in you wouldn’t be too bored.”
Amen, brothers Oodie.
It’s these quirky little character gestures that make these white-trash, socially hell-bent characters likeable.
Anyways, it’s not long before our countrified trinity arrive in El Paso, kill another household full of unsavory characters, and not so unsavory (they kill a maid), and whisk off their kidnap victim.
Rob has cerebral palsy and is confined to a wheelchair, which shocks our guys, but it’s not long before McQueen is being berated by Brick for suggesting that Rob is a retard.
Of course, Lincoln sort of imprints with Rob and it’s kinda nice to see such a murderous brute tote the little boy around on his shoulders, as if the authors are referencing the young adult classic, Freak the Mighty.
But that’s getting ahead of ourselves.
The raid incites the ire of Carlos, Celeste’s husband, who is not a very nice guy. When we meet him, he’s literally butchering a victim while he’s lamenting about how fast a movie can go from theater to DVD, “Now days if you don’t go see something immediately, it’s gone from the theaters.”
Now this is where the movie kicks in.
Carlos contacts some interesting people to go on a hunting expedition to retrieve the child back. In effect, he’s unleashing the hounds of hell or the four horsemen of the apocalypse to kill our antiheroes.
Who are the hunters?
There’s Eve, the madam of a brothel of whore assassins, a female biker gang called the Flamebangers.
If that’s not enough, there’s the Hood Pirates, a gang of Road Warrior-esque villains who control a treacherous state of highway with a flatbed truck that’s been modified to look like a sailing vessel called The Nubian Princess. It even has gun ports and eleven-foot tall crow’s nest.
That particular sequence is pretty fucking awesome. It’s just so goddamn comical and tense. The policemen in a cop car who witness the mayhem bicker on whether they should get involved or not, “Now I don’t know about you, but my pension plan don’t cover shit like that.”
There’s The Nation, a band of Mississippi Choctaw Indians that kill with tomahawks.
And of course, there are the killers arriving from the North, sent by the crime syndicate that may or may not have something to do with Rob’s true identity.
Sounds fun. How does it all play out?
There’s some fun double-crossing and twists which involve Carlos and Celeste, and the two Alabama detectives tracking the Oodie’s breadcrumb trail of chaos across the highways and bi-ways of the American South.
And although this script is written with a mature gravitas, there’s one particular novice glitch involving the introduction of some key characters late in the game that lends to a finale that’s a tad deus ex.
There’s also some character elements that require a better structure and planting to make the payoffs smoother.
But you know, that’s all stuff easily fixed in a rewrite and polish.
There’s a lawlessness to the The Baytown Disco that reminds me of Robert Rodriguez’ Mariachi trilogy, the work of Walter Hill, and (I mean this in the best way possible) that crazy cult classic, the legendary Road House. Just men bypassing the normal avenues of social control to resolve their conflicts the Western way, which is through violence.
Hell, man, someone give Battles and Hood a chance. Let ’em smooth out some of the structural issues, fine-tune the characters, and you’ll have a script that the next Robert Rodriguez can direct on the cheap and on the fly. It’s Christopher McQuarrie’s The Way of the Gun meets George Miller’s The Road Warrior. Seriously.

Who wouldn’t want to see that?

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

What I learned: One of the strengths of this script is the dialogue, and I wasn’t surprised when I learned that both Barry Battles and Griffin Hood are actors that hail from Birmingham. There’s a twang to the vulgar vernacular that ratchets between gruff good ol’ boy charm to the buzzsaw of angry Alabama cicadas. You wanna talk about voice? This script has a Tennessee Williams by way of Joe R. Lansdale feel to it that I just love.
But, how do you that? How do you write good dialogue? I think you’ve either got the ear or you don’t, but one thing you can do is read the dialogue aloud. How does it sound? Are you tripping over words? Are the sentences too long? Is the dialogue saying what you want it to say? Are you using it to obscure or reveal character? Is it witty? Is it exposition heavy? Have other people read it. Are they entertained and charmed? Or is it lacking a spark? Polish it up, make the exchanges flow. Know when to cut to the next scene. Sometimes the worst thing you can do to the flow of a script is let a scene run too long, thus burying an effective exchange and obscuring what it was supposed to do in the first place.