It’s time for Part 1 of our Tuesday Apocalypse Double-Header. That’s right, you get two apocalypse script reviews for the price of one! The first one I’m reviewing is called “Z for Zachariah.” Roger will review the second one, which should sound familiar to most, as it has a certain Oscar-winning movie star in the lead role.

Genre: Drama/Sci-Fi/Coming-of-Age
Premise: A sixteen-year-old survives in a remote area after a nuclear war. But soon, she receives a visitor.
About: Finished with 11 votes on the 2009 Black List, same as The Sitter and Betty’s Ready. Z for Zachariah is being produced by Iceland-based Zik-Zak Filmworks.
Writer: Nissar Modi (based on the novel by Robert C. O’Brien)
Details: 107 pages (3rd Draft – December 2008)

Well here’s something you don’t see every day. A female coming of age story taking place in the post-apocalyptic countryside! We’ve had 16 year old girls waking up from comas. We’ve had 13 year old girls traveling around looking to build their first itunes playlist. Now we have a 15 year old girl trying to discover herself sexually in the aftermath of a future world war. Hey, why not?

The good news is, you’ve never read anything quite like Z for Zacharia before. Well, unless you read the original book, printed back in 1973. But otherwise, this is a totally unique experience of a young girl trying to find herself under the worst of circumstances. It covers weighty topics such as loneliness and dependency, and does so behind a rare post-apocalyptic persona – the 15 year old girl.

Ann Burden is either lucky or unlucky depending on how you look at it. She and her parents survived the nuclear war by being out in the middle of nowhere. But what world have they survived into? One in which every day is a struggle, one in which society and community are non-existent, one in which they’re all by themselves, with nothing to do but tend to a farm and make it through to the next day.

To make matters worse, Ann’s parents inexplicably ditch her like a pumpkin after Halloween. Outside of her sheep dog, Ann is completely alone, a pulpy mass in a dying container. She copes as best she can, but it’s a challenge no 12 year old should have to endure. The unique situation stunts her intellect and personality, as society’s abrupt halt has put a halt on her growth. Although she’s 15 in the story, she’s still that 12 year old girl the day the war hit.

One day, while scanning the barren wasteland outside her valley, Ann spots a man in a strange skin tight green suit. She observes him from afar, intrigued but skeptical, not daring to call out lest he’s dangerous. The man carries a Geiger counter, and is apparently using it to lead himself to clean air. He hits Ann’s valley and voila, the air is finally pure. He celebrates by whipping off his suit and breathing it all in, the culmination of a long perilous journey.

But the man makes the fatal mistake of bathing in a nearby poisoned stream, and Ann is forced to intervene, telling him to hurry out of the water before it’s too late. She takes him back to the house, where he quickly gets radiation poisoning, and she must slowly nurse him back to health. To Ann, this man is her salvation from loneliness, and she prays to God every night that he will not die, that she’ll have someone to share conversation with, a companion.

The man, who we find out is named Loomis, does survive. Turns out he was a scientist before the war, and was working on mass producing these green suits, as they would protect Americans from the post-radiation fallout of a nuclear war. Needless to say, that didn’t happen. But the suit, which ended up being the only one of its kind, is probably the reason why Loomis is the only person from the war who survived.

The script then shifts gears, turning into a complex and challenging story about a 30-something scientist and a 15 year old girl trying to survive together. There is clearly something off about Loomis, something about his stories that imply a secret past, and yet because he is handsome, older, and the only human contact Ann has had in years, she finds herself attracted to him, hoping that he might see her as more than a little girl.

But be careful what you wiiiiiiiish for. It doesn’t take long for Loomis to move in on Ann, pushing her into a sexual relationship that she both desires and fears. This results in a constantly changing dynamic and a fraying of the lines that throws everything into disarray. This is where the strength of the story lies. These two need each other. The winter is coming and if they don’t work together, the consequences will be dire. But the closer Ann gets to Loomis, the more she realizes he is not the man he pretends to be, and in actuality could be much more dangerous.

What works in Z for Zachariah is its unsettling tone. I noticed myself shifting uncomfortably during several segments in the script. The relationship between Loomis and Ann is both improper yet necessary. All the statutory rape stuff and shit about being a minor is kinda thrown out the window when you’re the last two people on earth. What’s so sinister about Z for Zacharia is that it never allows you to take a side. At one moment, you peg Loomis as a slimy devil, in the next, a lost soul looking for love. Ann has similar reactions. She’s both attracted to Loomis and terrified of him. As a result, we never know who to criminalize, who to victimize, and the script forces you to think across lines you’ve been taught not to cross. It’s challenging stuff.

Yet Z for Zacharia almost lost me early on, when describing Ann’s predicament. Apparently, once the bombs hit, Ann’s parents up and left her to go “look for survivors.” Pardon me for asking a stupid question: But in what ridiculously inane world do parents, who have just experienced the most traumatic unimaginable event in the world’s history, up and leave their 13 year old daughter to fend for herself??? I mean give me a break. If I’m part of the last family in the universe, I’m not going to turn to my kids and say, “Seeya! Good luck!” However since it’s a simple fix, I got over it.

The real problem with Z for Zachariah is its ending. And this goes back to what I was saying the other day about screenplays that are light on plot. When push comes to shove, if your characters aren’t driving towards some obvious plot-related goal, you’re not going to know what to do with the ending. And Z for Zachariah falls squarely in that pitfall. I’m not even going to get into it because its randomness requires more explanation than it’s worth. But the point is, it’s clear they didn’t know how to end the screenplay, and as a result we have a lot of running around and absolutely no direction.

Luckily, the relationship story here between Ann and Loomis is so strong, that that alone outweighs the script’s problems. And I don’t think the fixes are that complicated. This script is worth the read for its engaging and challenging story.

Script link: Can’t post this but it’s part of the Black List package.

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

What I learned: I’m a big fan of goal-oriented writing, which is just a fancy way of giving your characters purpose. In most scripts, there will be an overarching goal, a clear destination for the main character, and that goal will be your script’s plot. In The Terminator, the goal is for the Terminator to kill Sara Conner. In Escape from New York, the goal is to escape…from New York! Z for Zachariah doesn’t take that approach. There is no overarching goal. It’s more a movie where the story emerges as the script goes on. If you do not have a clearly stated overarching goal for your protagonist, it is absolutely essential that you give your characters smaller “mini-goals” along the way. This is never going to be as powerful as having a clear plot, but it will keep your script focused. If you have no overarching goal, and no miniature goals, your story will just sit there, and quite frankly be a boring piece of shit (sorry, have to be harsh here). So let’s take Z for Zachariah as an example. The movie starts out with Ann discovering this strange man invading her land. Her goal? Find out who he is. Once she makes contact with him, he gets sick. Her new goal? To keep him from dying. Once he’s healthy, the goal actually becomes two-fold. One, to get him to see her as a woman. And two, to get the farm up and running again. As you can see, these “mini-goals” keep the story focused, continue to give our characters purpose. So if you’re writing a character-driven film that’s light on plot, the mini-goal approach is your best friend. Use it dammit!

Here’s number 2 in our Tuesday Apocalypse Double-Header. This review originally aired a few months ago but we had to take it down. Now, with Book Of Eli screening, we’re putting it back up! Here’s my quick take on Book of Eli. It’s the perfect way to approach a spec script. You have a high concept easy to understand story with a badass hero and lots of martial arts type mayhem. Where Book of Eli gets bogged down is probably in its ambition. It bites off way more than it can chew and the pieces come spitting out of its mouth all over us. Even its more basic ambitions – like the town sequence, which makes up most of the script – left me wanting more. And don’t get me started on the “twist” ending, which makes absolutely no sense. I had a hard time digesting this. Let’s see what Roger has to say about it.

Genre: Post-apocalyptic action-adventure.
Premise: In a post-apocalyptic world, a lone hero guards the Book of Eli, which provides knowledge that could redeem society. The despot of a small, makeshift town plans to take possession of the book.
About: Produced by Joel Silver. The directorial return of the Hughes brothers, whose last film was 2001’s From Hell. This was a big spec sale in 2008 from Gary Whitta, who hadn’t sold a screenplay before this. So first timers trying to break in, this is your reference point.
Writer: Gary Whitta, former editor-in-chief of PC Gamer. Presumably this script scored him a writing gig on the (now dead) live-action adaptation of the manga-epic, Akira.

Say this mantra with me.

Story is the heart, Story is the soul. Story is the heart-soul of a screenplay.

Now, get ready, because we’re about to…

FADE THE FUCK IN:

Eli backs away, but TWO MORE ARMED BANDITS drop from hiding in the trees behind, cutting off his escape, surrounding him.

BANDIT LEADER
What you got there in your pack?

ELI
Nothing.

BANDIT LEADER
Yeah, that’s what they all say. How about you take it off real slow and tip it out so’s we can take a look.

BANDIT #2 notices the shotgun strapped to the pack.

BANDIT #2
He’s got a gun.

BANDIT LEADER
Shit, it ain’t loaded. They never are. Ain’t that right, old man? (beat) Open the fucking pack or die. ELI I can’t do that.

The bandit leader steps forward aggressively. Now within striking distance of Eli. He grins, teeth filthy and rotten.

BANDIT LEADER
Want us to do it for you? We can get it off real easy after we’ve hacked your fucking arms off.

ELI
No. I mean I can’t die. I’m on a mission from God, and under his divine protection. You stand in my way, you stand in his. And he will strike you down, through me, his faithful instrument.

WOOOOAAAAAH! Who the fuck is this Eli character, and is he really that bad-ass?

They call him the walker. But he is many things. A watcher. A scavenger. A saint. A killer. A samurai. A gunslinger. He’s a mad prophet that wandered out of the Old Testament and armed himself with a shotgun and a samurai sword. He wears threadbare Converse All-Stars he found on a mummified corpse. He never takes his tinted goggles off. He’s a man of few words but when he speaks it’s the Biblical voice emanating from the storm, the fire, the burning bush. He doesn’t start fights. But he finishes them. And the Spirit of God’s Wrath may or may not be hovering over him, brooding over him, infusing him with supernatural combat skills. And his best friend is a pet rat that lives in the folds of his iconic duster. And yes, he is a man on a mission.

What’s the mission?

To travel West. And to never stray from the road, for he is to deliver a book to an unknown destination, but a destination that he believes to exist based solely on faith.

He is the keeper and protector of a book…

So what’s The Book of Eli?

It’s a bible. A King James Bible battered by the elements, worn from wear and tear.

That’s it? Just a Bible? We can walk into a motel room, open the night-stand drawer, and get one of those for free. What’s the big deal?

Oh, did I mention that this is the post-apocalypse? Did I mention that a guy named CARNEGIE is looking for this book? Did I mention that this demented tent-pole-revival-crooked-preacher-faith-healer-like manipulator of men is to be played by Gary Oldman? And did I mention that his First-in-Command and Sergeant-at-Arms, a burly dude named REDRIDGE, to be played by Ray Stevenson, will do anything it takes to retrieve this book once they find out Eli is the owner?

No?

Oh. My bad. Because all this is true. And the conflict between these characters is the palette and brush that’s gonna paint this monochrome tinted world bloodbath-red.
Niiiice. Does it work?

I want it to…I really want it to…

God, I’m torn about this script, guys.

We have all the ingredients to make a smart and epic post-apocalyptic yarn. But…I hate to say it, man I do…but something’s off.

The first 10 pages: I’m all in. I’m invested, alright? Never mind that the writer is taking a risk by having no dialogue in the first four minutes. The first four pages is a quiet character-establishing sequence, a prosaic sequence of world building that seems like it was ripped right out of McCarthy’s “The Road”. I enjoy dry, sepia-toned slugs of description. I’m into that kind of shit. But when the protagonist, whom we just met, proceeds to tell a group of bandits that it’s impossible for him to die because he’s on a mission from God? And when the bandits laugh this off, and attempt to rob him anyways, only to be sliced-and-diced to ribbons by a dude who moves with uncanny, preternatural speed?

Count me the fuck in.

Look, the first act is interesting. We have downtrodden wanderers who are pushing buggies with wobbly wheels along desolate highways in a scorched-earth world, remnants of a lost civilization just trying to survive. Something we’re going to see in another movie come Oscar season, but I digress. It’s still cool. We have Eli watching a man and a woman, presumably husband and wife, from afar. When they get attacked by a motorcycle gang, Eli debates whether he should get involved. When they rape the woman, Eli decides it’s not his concern. He listens to them kill the couple, catches a glimpse of them rifling through the dead couple’s belongings. The obligatory Mad Max in “The Road Warrior” scene.

Keep this image in mind: Eli arrives at a fork in the road. One road continues West. One road leads to a town. The road that leads to a town is a diversion, a rabbit-trail. Which way is he going to go? Which way should he go?

Eli has a dilemma. His ancient iPod has no juice, no power. That’s right. Eli has an iPod. It’s one of his prized possessions. Not as prized as his Bible, but it provides him with moments of peace, moments of joy, moments of hope as he listens to Mozart’s Concerto No. 20 in D Minor. To charge it, he hauls around a car battery in his backpack. The problem is…his car battery is dead.

He thinks the town might have an “engineer” who might be able to help him out and charge the battery.

So…he takes the rabbit-trail.

And when he gets to town, there’s definitely some weird shit going on.

There’s a bizarre, craven and idol-like statue fashioned out of clay erected in the center of the road. There’s a chain-gang of emaciated, blind men and women roped together at the waist, being led to a destination where they will be required to perform some kind of back-breaking work. The kind of work that ostensibly requires lashings from a brutal chain-gang boss.

Enter the world according to Carnegie.

I’m intrigued. What’s the problem?

Dissonance. That bothersome whisper trapped in the hollow of your skull while you’re experiencing story. The further the story goes along, the louder the whisper becomes, “We’ve been led astray.” It’s a domino effect of characters in the story struggling with their Creator like Jacob wrestling the angel. Except the difference is that these characters want to follow the road less travelled. But instead they are forced onto the rabbit-trail, shoved past the road marker that’s labeled “DETOUR”. And soon the Story is submerged, chained to anchors that pull it towards the bottom of an obscure pool.

There are moments where you feel the Story trying to push its way back to the surface.

You can feel the characters wanting to say, “Based upon everything you know about us, we want to make this decision. In fact we would make this decision,” and the characters point at the screenwriter, “but this guy needs us to be in this action sequence over here.”

They might give us other examples:

“He needs us in this house for the Act 2 break, with this cannibalistic couple who look like they crawled out of Grant Wood’s painting, American Gothic.”

SOLARA, Eli’s cub to his lone wolf, might say:

“I know we’re repeating the same note within 15 pages of each other, but there needs to be another cool scene of Eli saving me from bad men. I know, I know. He saved me from Carnegie. Then abandoned me right after. But the writer says we can have another cool scene of Eli slaughtering brigands if he has to save me again.”

Carnegie delivers a lengthy monologue where he reveals why possessing the King James Bible is so important to him. And there’s dissonance, because you wonder if such a monologue is necessary. And if this information is necessary, is a monologue really the best way to communicate it?

Act 2 feels like a labyrinth of rabbit-trails. Decisions made that go round-and-round the heart of the story (and the other more interesting possibilities). And the concentric circles don’t lead to the center, the heart. Instead, they take you farther and farther astray.

Okay, okay. I get the point. Was there any good stuff after the first act?

Holy shit, yes. After emerging from the muck of Act 2 and the beginning of Act 3, I was blindsided by the ending. It was like going zero to sixty, from disappointment to…being drop-kicked by awe.

There’s a sequence tucked into the tail-end of the 3rd Act that felt like a fist was plunging into my soul; God plunging his hand into Adam and plucking out a rib.

No, I’m not talking about the final scene, the epilogue.

I’m talking about the moment Eli completes his pilgrimage and arrives at his destination and enters its walls. I’m talking about the scene audiences are going to be talking about when they walk out of theaters come January.

It’s like the writer laid his head on the stone in the desert, and Jacob’s ladder unfurled out of the heavens and he ascended its rungs, only to return clutching this sequence in his hands like Prometheus stealing fire.

At a recent writing session, I tried to tell one of my co-writers about this script. I was having trouble because my voice kept cracking. But when I finished he said:

“Just hearing about that gave me chills.”

I have a roommate that watches the shit out of Edward Zick’s “Glory”. One of her cherished movies. She wanted to know about the new Denzel joint, and I attempted to tell her about this script. About the ideas behind it. And I was weeping halfway through my attempt, much to her embarrassment and horror. The last time this happened to me was a few years back, and I was reading the novel, “The Kite Runner” and was burning through the last 100 pages when my girlfriend at the time asked me why I was crying like a little bitch, curled up underneath the sheets.

Some things have power.

And there are story elements, themes, and concepts in “The Book of Eli” that have real power. And they need to be woven together like a fine tapestry in order for the denouement, the revelation, the end to work. And I’m sad…because right now…the tapestry needs to be rewoven.

And it only feels like it’s half done.

Some threads aren’t bright enough, aren’t clear enough, are muddled and frayed and need to be taken back to the loom. Given back to the weaver.

There’s a concept that concerns who Eli was before he set out on his mission. And when I first read the detail, I was confused. It wasn’t clear. But then I realized what the writer was trying to convey.

And it’s this: If you look at the Judeo-Christian scriptures, there’s a pattern that emerges. When it comes to divine tasks, God always chooses those who are the least among us to perform these tasks. It’s like taking a beggar and showing him that he is really a King. It’s like taking a prostitute and showing her that she is really a Queen.

It’s much more than…”ordinary guy discovers he’s a hero.”

This is not Neo in the Matrix.

This is the guy you would fuckin’ ignore on the streets if he came up to you asking for change. This is the disabled man working at the local Wal-Mart who helps other people with disabilities to their scooters. This is the guy on your periphery who might as well be an automaton.

When you look at who Eli is at the end of the script, and think about who he might have been before we met him…it has the power of a parable. And it’s heart-wrenching.

But – these moments are not clear. And I don’t mean they’re just subtext, stuff you have to dig for. These are character moments, themes, emotions…the good stuff that makes up Story. And the way they read, the way this story is structured, the choices made for each scene…creates a domino effect that muddles these elements when they should be translucent. There should be no confusion whatsoever. All of this stuff should shine. But sadly, they don’t.
So that’s the damage? It reads like a first draft?

Yep. Look. There’s some great prosaic lines in this thing – “Deadwood filtered through the eye of an apocalypse.” There are lofty ideas: Restoring freedom, hope and joy to a lost, enslaved and downtrodden people. A great tone. Wonderful atmosphere. Cool action. A killer ending.

But, beautiful wordsmithin’ cannot hold up story. Story is the heart. Story is the soul. All the beautiful language in the world cannot camouflage a story that lacks proper cornerstones.

Cool action should not be duct-tape. An audience knows when a house of cards is about to tumble. If it hasn’t been built correctly in the first place, even a fragile whisper can knock the house off its foundation.

Pretend you’re in a fantasy world. What beefs would you address?

The time-line of this story. I might be wrong, but I think the script spans only three days. If that.

This puppy is going to be advertised as an epic journey across a post-apocalyptic America.

Which would be false advertising.

This movie focuses on the final three days of an epic journey. And we don’t travel across America. We travel through a section of California. On foot. So there’s not much mileage traversed in this thing.

And it’s frustrating, because you feel like you’re missing out on tons of cool shit. With this kind of world, with this kind of backdrop, why not open up the timeline? Show us the beginning, the middle, and end of Eli’s two-and-a-half decade trek/adventure. Or, be ballsy, and keeping with the Biblical theme…structure this like the 40 Days of Eli (taking a cue from The 500 Days of Summer).

I’m just day-dreaming here, but there are lines in the prose passages that describe Eli as an avenging angel, and I thought it would be cool if they gave him a preternatural antagonist. An Anti-Eli (forgive me, “Lost” junkie here). Someone who also can’t be killed and is sent by whoever to stop Eli.

The point is, a story like this is brimming with possibilities, and it’s confined by its (chosen) dimensions of narrative time and space.

So…are you glad this thing’s almost in the can?

I’m glad that this script sold and is being made into a movie with great actors…but my hope is that a veteran screenwriter took a look at this thing, diagnosed the symptoms, gutted what needed to be gutted, and put in shiny new parts that makes this thing run like a beautiful, savage beast.

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

What I Learned: You guys wanna know why this script is now going to be a movie with Denzel Washington and Gary Oldman, with Joel Silver as a producer? It’s like what Brian Cox says as Robert McKee in Adaptation: “I’ll tell you a secret. The last act makes a film. Wow them in the end, and you got a hit. You can have flaws, problems, but wow them in the end, and you’ve got a hit. Find an ending, but don’t cheat, and don’t you dare bring in a dues ex machine. Your characters must change, and the change must come from them. Do that, and you’ll be fine.”

Man oh man, to quote “Big Fan,” that’s the last time I ever trust Hawaiians with my pizza. Yesterday’s ham and pineapple surprise has left me swimming and sniffing in a murky haze. So I’ll keep this nice and short. Roger’s going to review The Gunslinger today. Later in the week I have 2010’s first writer interview. There’s also a script I wasn’t liking when I started but somehow it came back from the dead with a vengeance (hey! staying with today’s theme – see below). I also have a script review of an upcoming release whose recent trailers have left fanboys giddy with anticipation (no, it’s not Inception – I’m fairly sure Nolan has snipers perched across the street for if I ever post a review of that script). There’s another review I’m doing for a script that I can’t remember at the moment. That can’t be a good thing. Oh! And we may finally get to post Roger’s review of Book of Eli again, since it’ll be coming out on Friday. As always, here’s Roger with his Monday review...

Genre: Western, Action
Premise: When a Texas Ranger is horrifically tortured and killed, his sharp-shooter older brother, Sam Lee Hensley, plots revenge against the mysterious, sadistic leader of a notorious drug cartel. Sam Lee’s quest for vengeance will cost him seven years in prison, his right hand and one eye. It will imperil his young nephew and wreak havoc on the lives of those who love him. And it will not bring him peace.
About: Nabbed by Warner Brothers with Andrew Lazar (Jonah Hex, Akira) producing through his Mad Chance banner. This is the first feature spec sale for Hlavin, who was once an assistant to Nick Thiel, show-runner of NBC’s Lax. The Gunslinger finished as the 9th highest rated screenplay on the 2009 Black List with 21 votes.
Writer: John Hlavin

Was it wrong of me to think of Roland and The Dark Tower when I first saw this title on the Black List? Was this the first portion of the adaptation by JJ Abrams, Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse?

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

What I learned: “The Gunslinger” has some complicated backstory we have to catch up with. It’s not Byzantine or anything, but I think, as screenwriters, we have to be careful molding our character motivations and our narrative events. There’s a type of Complicated a screenwriter can hit that seems to convolute a story. Unlike television, a feature can’t always devote the necessary time to properly tell (but by tell I mean show) a backstory. Brevity and clarity are required. With limited screen-time, the tendency is for a writer to just try and tell an audience the necessary details. The only problem is, showing is more powerful than telling. When it comes to correlating Point A with Point B in a narrative, you want to make the connection as clear and direct as possible. Subtlety may seem complicated, but an audience catches those subtle moments if they’re paying attention. Subtlety is sometimes best left to the actors. Build an easy-to-follow roadmap for your audience so they can feel the story without having to think too much about it. In short? Simplify your conflict.

Are you plugged into the creative heartbeat of Tinseltown? Do you know which hot new writer just got signed by CAA? Or which writer just landed the juiciest assignment in town? Are you up to date on the development of all the big pictures out there (i.e. Is the latest draft of Green Hornet, turned in last week, any good?). Are you someone who can express this kind of information in an interesting entertaining way? I’m looking to *maybe* start a weekly “creative correspondent” segment, but because of other duties, I don’t have time to do it myself. If you meet the above qualifications and this interests you, please e-mail me at carsonreeves1@gmail.com. There’d be no pay to start (I don’t even get paid dammit!) but potential to make something down the line.

Hmm, some complications resulted in me having to take the “Hungry Rabbit Jumps” (Nicolas Cage and January Jones to star – 5 votes on this year’s black list) review down. In short, I liked it. I’ll work on seeing if I can get it back up. In the meantime, here’s everyone’s favorite incredibly modest but painfully beautiful reviewer , Erica (she reviewed an earlier draft of Black List script “Swingles” here), coming to rescue me. She’s reviewing a tiny script aimed at the “A Walk To Remember” crowd.

Genre: Drama
Premise: After a diving accident, a 16-year-old girl enters a coma for five years. When she comes out of her extended stupor, she finds a crumbling family, but is armed with wisdom and knowledge.
About: Emma Roberts was set to star and Anna Sophia Robb to co-star in this film but the project is not listed anywhere so I’m wondering if it’s fallen apart. Someone will have to revive it if we are to ever see Julia Roberts’ neice in the role.
Writers: Charlie Craig with revisions by Liz W. Garcia and Lisa Barrett.

Emma Roberts looks freakishly like Julia Roberts

I had the urge to stop and check my twitter feed every few pages of this because it’s a story about a wholesome teen girl, presumably aimed at The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants set, a demo I would not fall into at this stage of my life. Or ever. I was never the peppy teen who would, like, try out for stuff. I was the girl who turned down offers to go to the prom three years in a row because I thought the concept of prom was bogus. My favorite teen movie? Carrie.

But that is why I was happy to do this review. It forced me to adjust my cynical lens (or at least try to) to examine how something like this is done. And I felt like I learned (a small technical) something on the first page of this script, literally first scene.

The setting is early morning Nashville at Hennessy Lake. The main character, Bryce Graham, a 16 year old athlete in her prime, appears out of the fog but I wasn’t sure at first if she was … rowing or swimming? Her father is standing on the “prow of a Boston whaler” so I’m picturing her swimming and Dad in a boat, right? Or is she rowing and they’re both in the boat? Only after googling “Boston whaler” (which I only did because I knew I was reviewing this) did I realize that was not the type of boat in which you could row. I vaguely understood that the “prow” was either the front or back but didn’t know which (it’s the front), so my visual on this whole opening scenario was very poor. By the last paragraph it says her arms are “slicing through the water” but throwing a “swim” in there somewhere, or calling her a swimmer instead of athlete, would have made life much easier. Especially since this is the first I’m meeting this chick, I haven’t acclimated myself to this world and in the very next scene, she IS on a rowing machine indoors.

The reason this really struck me is because I’m a novelist and a lot of my script edits are of the “arms slicing through water swims” variety. It’s like a bad habit I’m always trying to kick. I also notice that sometimes a character or scene can be so clear in my mind’s eye that I don’t put some very basic information on the page that the person who knows nothing about the script needs to read. And that’s what I felt happened here. In trying to be evocative, they didn’t lose me at hello but they had me wondering if I had missed my exit. (Or if I was a total idiot, not a good feeling going into this.)

But this same evocative writing drew me in as Bryce rushes off to her high school swim meet, with her proud parents and smart alecky kid sister in tow, then winds up banging her head on the diving board and sinking to the bottom of the pool, blood swirling around her. Bummer.

By page 8, she’s unconscious in the hospital, getting an emergency head shaving, and since we know she’s the star of this show, it’s clear that she’s going to survive but first she’s in for a really, really long nap.

Aaaaaand five years later…

Kid sister, Sydney, is a blue-haired, boundary-testing 17 yr. old, Dad is sleeping in the barn where he used to train his athletically-gifted daughter and Mom is still trying to remain upbeat though shit is clearly not right up in the Graham house. On one of Mom and Dad’s regular visits to the hospital we meet Carter Lynch, a 20-something resident who has the time and the inclination to entertain the comatose patients by playing music or reading Danielle Steele to them. Yes, he really does this. His too saintly-to-not-be-annoying behavior and one-way banter (those comatose patients, not great conversationalists) had me rolling my eyes but I was only on page 17 (OMG, there’s 100 more pages of this?) so I kept rolling with it.

Maybe I’m too hardened by life to connect with “heart monitors beeping softly” or maybe I’m just too impatient to let a story unfold in due course but I was actually hoping a madman would break into the hospital, take Carter hostage and shoot up the place. That didn’t happen.

What did happen: Bryce suddenly wakes up. To the shock and jubilation of the medical staff, her parents and kid sister who is the recipient of Bryce’s first words in half a decade: “You’re…old?”

I liked how they describe her first moments of consciousness after she asks to be alone in her hospital room: the sound of a plane flying overhead makes her duck, a woman scolding her child in a park across the street sounds like screaming in her ears, the sun burning through her retinas. This is where I started to develop a mild interest in knowing what was going to happen next though I was still hoping Carter would have a freak diving accident and spend the next five years in her old bed, listening to an endless loop of Lil Weezy like I had to do when my boyfriend drove me to a book signing in Connecticut last week.

Soon Bryce is up and about, walking tentatively in the physical therapy room, a fascination to the doctors and a ray of hope for the visitors whose loved ones are still unconscious. And now she…knows things she can’t possibly know.

Even though the doctors want to keep her in the hospital for observation, she demands to go home where she mostly hangs with her sister, a bug freak whose cicadas literally accompany her everyfuckingwhere. Though the Graham house doesn’t feel like the homey home Bryce remembers since the stressed-out family has allowed it to fall into disrepair, Mom and Dad are basically living separate lives (Bug Freak suspect Mom may be cheating) and, most tragically, the shimmer of the pool doesn’t reflect on Bryce’s bedroom ceiling anymore because the pool is now empty and filled with leaves. (Maybe she should’ve stayed in the hospital, I thought. They waited on her hand and foot there and the singing doc was always roaming around, taking requests.)

Back at that hospital where she doesn’t want to be, we find out that one of the comatose patients, Sam, is actually Carter’s brother and their father, a depressed unemployed grouch that Carter lives with, won’t even visit the kid anymore. At which point, I started to feel a bit of sympathy for the guitar-strumming resident. A bit.

And it turns out that Bryce doesn’t just know things about her family and friends, she knows every answer on Jeopardy, shit like that. Which is quite upsetting for her though I was wondering why she didn’t just roll to Vegas, Rain-Man style. I mean, it’s been 5 years. She’s 21 now. It’s legal.

But it seems she only knows things that happened in the last 5 years because Carter read all this stuff to her while she was “asleep”. And she’s pretty pissed at him because why does she need to know who won the pennant for the last five years when she doesn’t even like baseball? I know Carter meant well but I sorta felt her on that one. Of course the two are bonded now and their little spat is like adolescent foreplay. In no time she’s swimming again in the lake, with him, and Dr. Do Good seems to have no qualms at all about fooling around with his Sleeping Beauty though this is obviously a MAJOR breach of protocol.

Neither does her family seem to mind that the young doc is now dating Bryce because he’s all up in the family mix like he couldn’t be brought up on charges at any second. I guess they’re all just heady with joy now that they have their daughter back and everyone seems to be figuring out their own problems, thanks to Bryce’s newfound and readily dispensed wisdom.

There are plenty of clues, i.e. the giant tumor spotted on her X-ray, that this good life won’t last. Bryce, inevitably, ends up back in the hospital and once they all know she’s going to die, Carter busts her out and then grants her last wish by popping her cherry by the lake! Don’t expect any of you will be reading this so no need to announce a spoiler alert before I say —> I actually liked that it ended with her diving into the lake, never to be seen again. So long, Mystical Mermaid.

Okay, I’m being very snarky about this script because I thought that would be more amusing for the Script Shadow crowd than simply saying this is movie that will probably kill (oops!) with teen girls, esp. if Carter is played by a cute boy (which we know he will be). I could have done with a few less cicada shout-outs but the cicadas turned out to have some symbolic meaning related to Bryce’s brief awakening, a payoff I felt I was due after enduring them for so long. In terms of telling the story and delivering on the premise, this script did that quite well, IMO. Nothing too interesting or unexpected happened but thirteen year-olds dreaming of their first kiss will probably go see this multiple times. Especially those thirteen year-olds who have already given blow jobs at rainbow parties which probably makes them romanticize that first real kiss from a cute boy that actually cares about them even more. Even the title “Anything but Ordinary” which sounds like it was cranked out of The Generic Generator, therefore making it a kind of titular oxymoron, will probably make teen girls swoon.

No one over the age of 19 would want to see this or should but I have to say I wound up feeling something for Carter once I found out his mother was killed by the drunk driver who put his brother in the hospital and he has fantasies about murdering the guy. Alright Doogie!

And you know what? I could see this being useful for an adult purpose. If your guy had done something that really pissed you off, you could say, “I heard about this really good supernatural thriller called Anything but Ordinary. Got amazing reviews. Friday night, let’s go see that, honey.”

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

What I learned: Set up your premise quickly and efficiently and give yourself room to tell your story. They had this chick in a coma by page 8 and I already had a feel for most of the major characters and relationships.

Know your audience. None of the cynicism or sarcasm that I would want to stick in this script belonged there. Of course, that’s why I wouldn’t write something like this because I know I could never maintain this level of wholesomeness. But good on Charlie Craig for being able to dive into (stupid pun intended – you see I can’t rein in my sarcasm for one last line!) this sappy teen girl world and emerge with something that will have a valued demo texting “OMG, u gotta go c ABO!”