Genre: Indy Coming-Of-AgePremise: (from IMDB) – A bookstore clerk living in Manhattan discovers a museum run by a strange old man that exists solely for the purpose of studying his life.
About: Written by the Fonz’s son, ayyyyye, Max Winkler, and his writing partner, Matt Spicer, this script landed on the 2007 Black List and also sits as #13 on my Top 25 list. Winkler is currently directing his first feature, Ceremony, about a young man who crashes the wedding of a woman he’s in love with. Spicer and Winkler also wrote one of last year’s biggest spec sales, the million dollar “Adventurer’s Handbook,” with Jonah Hill. The duo of Spicer and Winkler met in a screenwriting class at USC.
Writer: Matt Spicer & Max Winkler
Details: 121 pages (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time of the film’s release. 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).

Hey Wes, you wouldn’t mind directing this movie, would you?

Been meaning to get around to this forever. As you can see, it’s number 13 over there on my Top 25 list. I’m not going to get too into it, but basically this is smack dab in the middle of my happiness zone. I like coming-of-age stories when they’re done well. I love when a slight mystical element is added (Field of Dreams anyone?). I love when a weird idea is fully explored (the writers don’t back down). I love when the comedy complements instead of dominates the story. Before I even opened this script, it had a good shot with me. And even with that advantage, it exceeded my expectations.

Henry Munn is a 33 year old New Yorker who works in a used book store that’s located in the same building as his apartment. He stumbles out of bed every day, heads into the tiny store, listens to his boss drone on about his newest sci-fi manuscript, waits for the clock to tick away, then goes back to his apartment, goes to bed, and starts the whole cycle over again the next morning. What a life!

But today is different. It’s Henry’s birthday. And he’s looking forward to a rare dinner with his older and much more successful brother, Paul (who happens to be a publisher). But when Paul calls and cancels because he has more pressing work issues to deal with, Henry finds himself alone again.

Just when things are looking their worst, Edith Finch shows up. Henry doesn’t know what to make of her at first. She’s got a weird accent, huge glasses, and “appears to have raided her dead grandmother’s wardrobe for her outfit.” Edith is desperately looking for a rare book about birds and this is the last used bookstore in town. Intrigued by the woman and therefore a little out of sorts, Henry does some searching on the laptop and finds the only one left collecting dust in the London equivalent of his own store. He puts a rush on it and eagerly accepts Edith’s number so he can call her when it gets in.

The day gets even stranger though, when a sparrow (speaking of birds) flies through the window with a purple envelope attached to its back addressed to Henry. Henry opens the envelope to find an invitation – an invitation to the grand opening of something called The Museum Of The Ornate Anatomy of Living Things. Totally weirded out, Henry brushes it off. But after a few ill-fated attempts to forget it, he can’t deny that he’s a little curious.

So he heads to the address on the envelope and ducks inside a deceptively large building. The first thing he notices is that George Clooney is narrating the museum’s history over the speaker system. Henry catches a few sound bites about a traveling museum that’s been in existence since the 1800s which shows rare exhibits, such as never-before-categorized insects and “the tiniest airplane ever built” (which requires a microscope to see). In short, the place is Weird Central.

And the further Henry goes into the museum, the weirder it gets. He begins to see Halloween costumes on exhibit and familiar looking black and white pictures. This is when Henry formally meets Clifford Ashby, an older but charming British chap who claims to be the owner of the museum. He hits Henry with a bombshell. Ashby reveals that this place is a museum dedicated exclusively to Henry’s life! And he built it! Those Halloween costumes were the ones he wore as a kid. There are viles filled with germs taken from when Henry had chicken pox. There’s even a full-size replica of his childhood bedroom!

Naturally, Henry is freaked out and gets the hell out of there. And that should be the last of it, except when Henry starts courting Edith, she makes it clear that he’s probably the most uninteresting person she’s ever met. If he can’t give her something interesting to latch onto, there’s no way they can be together. Taking a shot in the dark, Henry reveals that he has a museum dedicated to his life, and Edith is instantly fascinated by it – so much so that she actually starts falling for Henry, which of course forces him to go back and face the museum. The question is, what’s the real reason Clifford built this place? And is it the key to Henry finally finding happiness?

The reason I loved this script so much is because I haven’t read anything quite like it. I mean, who makes their main love interest a South African woman who dresses like a grandma and reads bird books? In fact, I loved all the character work here. The eccentric but always optimistic Clifford Ashby was hilarious. The selfish and heartless older brother, Paul, added emotional depth to the story. Even Henry as the straight man detached from life, a role that’s hard to make interesting, had an affable charm about him, brought about by his choice to steal Edith’s bird book and read it himself before giving it up (passages from the book play in voice over throughout the story).

I’ve heard some knocks on the script, calling it “Kaufman-lite,” and I’m not exactly going to argue against that. The script doesn’t hit the dark areas as ruthlessly as Kaufman but that’s what I liked about it. Kaufman always went a little too far out for my tastes, and I always wished he’d dialed it down. I mean, the seventh and a half floor frserves om Being John Malkovich was kinda cool, but in the end what the hell was the point of it? Winkler and Spicer dial down the darkness here and focus more on the humor, and I think that the story well.

The page Nazis are going to have their day with me though because this is 120 pages, a full 10 pages higher than my ideal 110 page script. It’s hard to tell if cutting those pages would’ve helped or not. It’s such a strange layered world Winkler and Spicer have created that if they took out some of the more eccentric stuff (the voice over reading of the bird book for instance) I’m afraid the story would have lost some of its mood. So in the end, I’m okay with the length.

I know Wes Anderson only directs his own material (cept for that fox movie), but if there was ever a perfect marriage between director and script, this is it. And I think Anderson needs something like this, where he’s not so attached to the writing and he can approach his vision with a more objective/ruthless eye. I mean, he would go effing crazy in that Museum. The giant organ exhibit alone would be like a dream set for him. So if you work for Wes, please pass him this script. I promise he’ll like it.

This is one of my faves. Unique, weird and fun.

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

What I learned: Sometimes you have to make your characters do things that they wouldn’t do. The most obvious example is in scary movies when it would make SO much more sense if the character RAN THE FUCK OUT OF THE HOUSE as opposed to searching through 8 killer-infested dark rooms one by one. While it’s tempting to have your characters do irrational things, readers hate it because it illicits that timeless reaction: “That’s so fake. He’d never do that!” With a little bit of effort, you can address this issue. Take Henry for instance. When he realizes the museum is about him, he freaks out and wants to leave. However, the writers still need to show us other parts of the museum which help set up the story. So they need a way for Henry to stay. They do this by having Clifford Ashby (the old man) explain to Henry that he’ll show him out, but that the fastest way out of the museum is forward. This allows Henry to continue through the museum, see what the writers need him/us to see, and there’s still a level of believability to it. It really irks me when characters do things they’d never do, so try to avoid that in your own script!

Genre: Contained ThrillerPremise: A newly married couple find themselves stuck in an elevator with a strange man.
About: This script was optioned recently by Relativity Media. Russo has spent a lot of time perfecting his craft, writing 8 screenplays before this one was optioned. You can learn more about Greg in an interview he did over at Go Into The Story.
Writer: Greg Russo
Details: 96 pages – revised draft, Feb 29, 2010 (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time of the film’s release. 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 think it’s crossed all our minds at one point or another. What if the elevator stops? What if we get stuck here? It actually happened to me briefly when I was a kid on vacation in Mexico. Luckily, the building was only two stories tall, and as soon as we started yelling, the elevator started back up again. I remember someone who worked there saying afterwards, “Oh, that always happens.” Yeah, uh, okay. Thanks for the tip. I’ll be using the stairs from now on. My story pales in comparison to this guy though…

Talk about a nightmare. He was in some building that hadn’t officially opened yet, and was leaving right before the weekend when the elevator got stuck. There was literally no one in the building and he knew no one would be there for another 48 hours. But he lived! And I heard he got a nice little settlement out of it. So don’t feel too bad for him.

That brings us to today’s script, Down. We’re back in the ultra-competitive “contained thriller” market, and what’s more contained than an elevator?? Well, besides a coffin of course. The question with these scripts is always, can you make it interesting for 90 minutes? That’s the challenge. Because making it interesting for 30 minutes is easy. Every minute after that gets harder and harder. So did Russo do it? Well jump in and we’ll head down to the lobby together.

Kevin is a young unemployed filmmaker who’s about to elope with Kelsie, a cheerful bank teller with rich parents. These two are gaga in love. The kind of love that makes you roll your eyes. The kind of love where every five minutes you hear the words “Get a room.” The kind of love that makes The Bachelor look like Fear Factor.

The two don’t have time for all that ceremony nonsense. They just want to get married and go on their honeymoon. And that’s the plan. They’re going to grab their marriage license downtown, then hurry over to the airport and catch a flight to Tahiti. They’re giggly, they’re bubbly. Things are looking pretty damn good for Kevin and Kelsie. Well, so far that is. Heh heh.

After they get their license, they hurry towards the elevator lobby and just barely make it into the closing doors of one of the elevators. When they squeeze in, they see that there’s already a man inside, a pleasant looking Irish fellow we’ll soon know as Liam. The doors close, and away we go…

How long is a 15 floor elevator trip supposed to take? One minute? 90 seconds? Well, we’ll never find out because a few seconds after the elevator starts, it STOPS. It’s not a pleasant moment no matter who you are, but Kelsie gets panic attacks in ball rooms, and this is a lot smaller than one of those. So she understandably starts freaking the hell out.

In the meantime, Liam is as calm as a 20 year old tabby cat. He politely introduces himself and informs them that he actually works on elevators for a living. He claims that this kind of thing happens all the time. Not to worry.

This was one of my favorite choices in the script. As soon as we realize Liam is an elevator expert, we know something weird is afoot. And even though we’re ahead of the story, that’s what makes it fun. We know this guy is bad news for Kevin and Kelsie, and we can’t wait to see how.

The conversation that follows is that awkward “getting to meet you” conversation you have with people who you have nothing in common with. You latch onto the tiniest common interests like a piranha, and when those nuggets dry up, the awkward silence drives you to do stupid things, like talk about your personal lives. And that’s where the script gets interesting.

It turns out that Kevin is a struggling filmmaker who hasn’t worked in awhile, while Kelsie not only slaves away at a bank job she hates, but her parents are super rich. Liam finds this quite amusing, and while he doesn’t make any direct accusations, he does bring to Kelsie’s attention that a man without a penny to his name and no desire to work just married someone with an unlimited bank account.

Awwwwk-ward.

I think we all know where this is going. Liam isn’t in this elevator by accident. He knew Kelsie and Kevin were going to be here today. He possibly even planned being on this elevator, at this moment, leaving it open as they ran to it. And if Liam has been doing all these things, then Liam must have a really big beef with Kelsie and Kevin. And that beef is exactly what’s going to be Kevin and Kelsie’s “down” fall. heheh.

I know I keep saying that the contained thriller cycle is near the end of its rope, but there’s one thing I keep forgetting. Contained thrillers are cheap to make. Really cheap. So if you come up with a concept that’s compelling enough and you do a good job executing it, I can see companies taking a chance on it because the financial burden is so minimal.

I think what also gives contained thrillers a distinct advantage is that they’re basically the perfect fit for the spec format. In specs you want everything to read fast, you want a low page count, you want a low character count, you don’t want to waste a lot of space describing everything. The very nature of contained thrillers help them meet all this criteria. It’s the peanut butter to the spec format’s jelly.

But even though you eliminate some problems, you add others, and those others can be extremely challenging. Since you don’t have the advantage of jumping from location to location, character to character – since the story is so contained, so minimal – you have no other choice but to litter your script with surprises and revelations. The surprises need to be character based, as the setting usually doesn’t allow many surprises on its own. And this can be challenging, because audiences have pretty much seen it all. Do it right though, and you can get rich. That little twist at the end of Saw where the dead guy gets up and walks away helped spawn five sequels!

I thought Down did a pretty good job in this department. I mean, we know that Liam is bad. So that wasn’t really a surprise. But Russo makes some pretty bold choices here and man are there some surprises I didn’t see coming. Further still, he takes the script into another genre in the last act, and while I may not exactly agree with the choice, I thought it was an interesting one, and it does what it needs to do to keep the contained thriller going. It changes the dynamics. It changes the story. It keeps everything fresh.

I know they’re still working on this so I’m not going to go into a lot of detail, but overall I thought it was pretty good. More importantly, I think it could be even better if they can focus that second half. It got a little wily at the end there. A strong premise, and a pretty good execution made this an interesting read.

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

What I learned: One thing that annoyed me in Down, and I’ve mentioned this issue before, is that the main characters’ names are too similar: Kevin and Kelsie. The problem with this for a reader is that a lot of times in a script, there’s a pause in the conversation, then the same character will start talking again. The reader doesn’t pick up on this right away because of the assumed “his turn then her turn” rhythm of the dialogue. So they end up reading the wrong dialogue for the wrong characters. If characters are named JAMES and OLIVIA, this is easy to spot. But if they’re Kevin and Kelsie, you may read a full page of dialogue before you realize you’ve mixed the two characters up. So it’s always good to make sure your main characters have easily distinguishable names. The only exception is if the sameness in their names plays into the story somehow.

This may sound like a shocking statement, but I believe anybody can be a screenwriter. Everybody in the world has at least one interesting story in them. Life is too crazy not to have an awesome story in the vault. But the reality is, it takes a shitload of time to learn how to *tell* that story in the bastardized format that is a “screenplay.” How long it takes generally depends on how talented you are. For some people it only takes a couple of years. For others, it may take two decades to figure out. So a lot of screenwriting comes down to perseverance and a willingness to learn.

I bring this up because every screenplay is kinda like a final exam. It’s a test of everything you’ve learned *up to that point.* So while you may ace that particular exam, it doesn’t mean you know everything about the subject. I guess an analogy would be, passing the bar proves you know a hell of a lot about the law, but it doesn’t mean you’re ready to try your case in the Supreme Court.

So what I thought I’d do is help you avoid some of the more common misguided screenplay attempts I see amateurs make. I wouldn’t say these scripts are easily avoidable because if they were, I’d see a lot less of them. But at least this way you can ask the question. “Am I about to write this script?” Or “Did I just write this script?” As long as you’re asking the question, you have a chance at salvaging the material. So below are five and a half types of bad amateur screenplays I keep running into. And I consider myself an expert. I’ve written each one of these at least once!

THE TECHNICALLY PERFECT BUT ULTIMATELY BORING SCRIPT
This is a toughie. Even professional writers make this mistake and that’s because the line between technical and natural isn’t always easy to identify. However, these scripts usually come from writers who take the screenwriting books a little too literally and who outline every single beat of their story down to the commas. The main character has a clear goal. The act breaks come at the right time. The character motivations are strong. Twists and turns happen at just the right moments. And yet…and yet there’s something extremely boring about it all. Even if we don’t know what’s going to happen, nothing that happens is ever surprising to us. There’s no heart, no soul, no life in the screenplay. “A+” from Robert McKee and Blake Snyder. “F” from the reader.

How to avoid it: There are two main reasons these kinds of scripts happen. First, like I mentioned above, it happens when writers follow the rulebook too literally. If the reader can feel the beats of the story, if they can see the first act turn coming a mile away, if the midpoint is accompanied by a billboard, you’re not doing your job. Great writers learn that in addition to following the rules, it’s their job to MASK the rules, to cover them up so it all flows naturally. This is usually achieved by rewriting – going back into your story and smoothing out all those obvious technical beats. Second, you still have to make interesting choices. Giving your protagonist a goal is one of the most basic elements of storytelling there is. But that doesn’t mean any goal will work. In fact, 100 writers might come up with 100 different character goals. Your job is to beat out the other 99 writers and come up with the most interesting one. Take a movie like Back To The Future for instance. Imagine if once Marty got back to 1955, he didn’t have to get his mom and dad back together, but instead had to win a rock and roll contest at the high school. That choice would’ve made the movie way worse, right? So don’t just make choices, make bold and interesting choices.

THE FAUX MASTERPIECE
I’m going to give credit for this one to Jim Mercurio. When he spoke of the “faux masterpiece,” he described it like this: “That’s when you try to tackle something huge like a critical piece of history – the Holocaust, slavery, World War II – or try to set an expensive politically-charged love story against that sort of backdrop. You might be a deep thinker and have an unparalleled understanding of the subject, but as a beginning writer, your craft is not going to be able to do the story justice.” I’d expand this definition to include huge Lord of The Rings like fantasy epics, or overlong sci-fi epics like Avatar. These “masterpieces” require so much skill it’s terrifying. They need to be historically accurate on everything from the dialect to the activities people do. It’s hard enough to build a couple of interesting characters into a script. These scripts require dozens of characters, all of whom are usually thin and boring. With these extra characters come extra subplots. Weaving these subplots in and out of the central plot requires a tremendous amount of know-how for even a 100 page screenplay. There may be 10 screenwriters on the planet who know how to do it for a script that’s 150 pages. These scripts also tend to require an inordinately massive goal to keep the story interesting for such a long period of time (i.e. William Wallace’s pursuit of freedom for an entire country in Braveheart; The Marines trying to destroy the Na’vi homeland in Avatar) which amateur writers almost never include. It’s basically everything that’s hard about screenwriting times a thousand. That’s why taking on an epic masterpiece is…well…an epic mistake.

How to avoid it: I honestly wouldn’t touch an epic unless you’ve written at least seven scripts or a few novels.

THE ACCIDENTAL HOMAGE SCRIPT
Oh man, every writer is guilty of this one. The Accidental Homage script is a script where a writer goes out and sees a movie they love, then writes a script on a similar subject matter which ends up being THE EXACT SAME MOVIE. Young writers are the most susceptible to this because they haven’t yet trained themselves to recognize when they’re inadvertently copying material. The ideas flow through their fingertips as naturally as the breeze and they bang out 50 pages in 3 days, citing divine inspiration. They don’t realize that the reason it was so easy was because they were essentially writing a movie they’d already seen. This can happen with your favorite movies as well, although writers tend to be a little more aware when they’re copying those. Here’s the thing: Inspiration – true inspiration – is the best thing a writer can experience. It’s writer crack. But you have to keep an eye on it. You have to be aware of when the inspiration is coming from inside of you, or coming from the euphoric influence of that great movie you just saw.

How to avoid it: My suggestion would be to not write anything that sounds similar to a recent movie you loved. So if you saw District 9, don’t go home and write an alien invasion movie. It’s just too hard to be objective about the subject matter and you’ll inevitably use too much from the film, destroying any chance of your story being original.

THE COMEDY WITHOUT A STORY SCRIPT
Okay, I talk about this one a lot so pardon me if you’re tired of hearing it. This is the script I probably see the most of because the majority of people coming into the spec world start with comedies. It makes sense. Everyone thinks they’re funny. Everyone outside of Hollywood thinks they can write a better movie than the one they saw in the theater. You put those two together and you have a lot of writers crashing Hollywood with comedy specs. Roughly all of these attempts make the same mistake. There’s no story. OR, if there is a story, it’s so neutered as to be nonexistent. Instead, the writers come up with an idea that’s just use an excuse to string a bunch of funny scenes together. Little do they know that the second they decided to do that, any chance of writing a good script died. Why? Well, let’s say you have 10 good-to-great laughs in your script, which is a lot. That means we have to slog through 9 and a half minutes of pointless nothingness to get to that one laugh. Does that sound fun? That’s why I always say: Story first, comedy second. If you have a story, something where we’re actually interested, then those other 9 and a half pages are actually entertaining. They’re something to look forward to.

How to avoid it: When you’re writing your comedy, always put your story (and your characters) before the laughs. The irony is that the script will be funnier for it.

THE NEVER STUDIED STORYTELLING ON ANY LEVEL SCRIPT
Okay, this makes the “Comedy without a story” script look like Shakespeare. It invariably comes from a first timer and someone bold enough to believe they can write a good screenplay without any previous storytelling experience whatsoever. Signs of a NSSOALS? There is no overarching plot/character goal to speak of. The script reads as if the writer is making everything up as he/she goes along (because they are). The script often jumps back and forth between genres. Because the writer hasn’t learned how to build characters yet, the characters contradict themselves constantly (i.e. An introvert will try and get his friends to go out to a party). The writer often makes the mistake of infusing “real life” into the script, and is surprised when the randomness and lengthy dialogue scenes reminiscent of real life are categorized as boring by the reader. Instead of using screenplay real estate to develop already introduced characters, new characters are brought in as if they’re coming out of a clown car, even though they have no real connection to the story and we’ll never see them again. Seemingly important subplots will end lazily or disappear altogether. Characters tend to spend most of the story talking about their situations as opposed to being actively involved in situations. Since there’s no central goal for the main character, the writer rarely knows what to do with the ending (if there’s nothing being pursued, then there’s nothing to conclude). In short, the setup is confusing, the middle has no conflict, and the resolution is unsatisfying.

How to avoid it: Here’s the good news. These scripts are actually okay to write, as long as you don’t show them to anyone else! Your first few scripts should be for you and you only (or maybe a couple of close friends). I’m warning you, you don’t want to burn a potential great contact on one of your first three scripts. Make sure you know what you’re doing first. And hey, before you write anything, there’s nothing wrong with studying the basics of storytelling. There is an art to it that’s been around for hundreds of years. It wouldn’t hurt to study that art. Also read a ton of screenplays, both good and bad. The more you read, the more you’ll be able to spot all those negatives I listed above.

THE SURREALIST TRIBUTE SCRIPT
Finally, here’s a writer friend of mine who’s read twice as many scripts as I have. I told him what I was doing and asked if he wanted to submit any “script types to avoid.” His e-mail was cryptic and I’m still not entirely sure if he was sober, but this was his submission: The “oh-so-clever quasi-surrealist tribute to Bunuel and Fellini with a little Greenaway and a lot of Lynch thrown in amidst reams of dialogue that is nothing more than misquoted monologues taken from whatever novels the author happened to have on his bookshelf in order to impress female guests on Friday nights… and heaven forbid he should take the time to correct typos, grammatical blunders and unclear/incomplete visuals since all three are, of course, part of the ‘art’ of writing one of these brilliant opuses” script.

How to avoid it: I think I know what he’s talking about. These are those purposefully random scripts that are supposed to, like, have higher meaning ‘n stuff. Basically, the scripts are more about the writer proving how smart he is than they are about the story. These scripts invariably bring about a lot of eye-rolling. As always, ask yourself if you’re putting the story first. If not, stop writing.

Genre: Drama/ComedyPremise: An eccentric billionaire Sheikh tries to buck conventional wisdom and transfer 10,000 salmon to a river in the Middle East.
About: This was one of the top “Brit List” (the British version of the Black List) scripts from last year. It’s Simon Beaufoy’s follow-up adaptation to his smash hit, Slumdog Millionaire, which he won an Oscar for. Beaufoy is no stranger to surprise hits. He also wrote “The Full Monty” back in 1997. Recently, Beaufoy finished up an adaptation of one of the more interesting books I’ve read in awhile, the Charlie Kaufman’esque “The Raw Shark Texts.”
Writer: Simon Beaufoy based on the book by Paul Torday
Details: 117 pages – 5/11/08 draft – first draft revised (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time of the film’s release. 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).

Those be salmon.

Before I get into the actual script, I want to discuss Simon Beaufoy’s previous effort, Slumdog Millionaire, because there’s an aspect about the movie that brings up an interesting question. During that film’s historic Oscar campaign, there was an article written (maybe somebody else can find it; I couldn’t with a Google search), about how the film almost went directly to DVD. The company didn’t know how to market it as a theatrical release so they were essentially ready to give up. Eventually, Fox Searchlight stepped in and figured out how to release and market the film, and of course it ended up making over 300 million dollars and winning 8 Oscars.

Now here’s my question. Is marketing so important that it can actually be the difference between a direct to DVD title and a huge worldwide mega-success that wins 8 Oscars and grosses 350 million dollars? I know marketing is important, but the disparity between what Slumdog was and what it supposedly could have been seems ridiculous. I guess another way to look at it is, are there dozens of hidden direct-to-DVD gems on video store shelves that could’ve won Oscars and made hundreds of millions of dollars if only they had the right marketing campaign?

I’ll let you chew on that in the comments. In the meantime, let’s discuss Simon Beaufoy’s follow-up to Slumdog, “Salmon Fishing In The Yemen,” a script I’ve been avoiding forever because, let’s face it, the title makes you want to take a nap.

Fred Jones is a serious man. He’s particularly serious when it comes to fishing, and has a high ranking job at the British Center of Fishing Excellence, which is apparently some sort of government fishing body, where he studies flies and conceives of schematics for future potentially award-winning fishing lures. One day, Fred receives a letter from a woman named Harriet, a “gentle and curvaceous English beauty” who works for a very rich but mysterious Sheikh out of Yemen. The Sheikh is a fishing fanatic, and his dream is to bring salmon to his own personal lake so he can fish there. As is such, he’s asking The Center of Fishing Excellence if he might pay them to bring this outrageous plan to fruition.

Tally-hoooo!

Fred is so put off by even the thought of such a hideous and irresponsible act that he tells Harriet, in the nicest way possible, to fuck off. Problem is, some doofus fighter pilot with bad aim blows up a mosque in Iraq and the press is persecuting Britain for it. Bridget Maxwell, the frigid press officer to the British Prime Minister, thinks that some good press between the West and Middle East might make the public forget about the Mosque. So she pays Fred a visit and tells him, whether he likes it or not, he’s going to get those damn fish to the Yemen.

Now here’s where it gets funny. The logistics of the operation (somehow round up 10,000 salmon, find a way to get them from Britain to the Yemen, put them in an adjacent body of water, and hope they swim up to the Sheikh’s lake) are basically impossible. But Fred’s the only one who knows that. So he figures the only way to get these people off his back is to make up the most ridiculous laborious complicated expensive plan in the history of the world, so they’ll realize the craziness of their idea and give up on it. Except, guess what happens? The Sheikh goes for it and signs a 30 million dollar check to fund the plan. Now Fred finds himself responsible for tens of millions of dollars and the political dependency of his country, all for a plan he basically made up on the spot and is reasonably certain can’t be done.

Fred is forced to work with Harriet (the woman who works for the Sheikh), who’s recently fallen in love with a man who’s run off to the army. Fred himself is in a loveless marriage. He just hasn’t realized it yet. All sorts of problems invade upon these adjacent relationships and the two find themselves bonding over this impossible task and possibly even falling for each other.

Ah, nothing like a movie with a bunch of big sweaty naked men.

Salmon Fishing in the Yemen is like finding a hidden stash of chocolate chip cookies on a Sunday afternoon. I mean who ever thought a script with that title would be so good? Despite taking a little while to get going, the script comes together once the impossible task of achieving this goal is put into motion. If you read the site regularly, you know I love stories about impossible goals. The more improbable the task is, the more exciting it is to see if they can do it.

I also loved the idea of this man who never wanted anything to do with this thing in the first place, being held to a plan that he made up just to get everybody off his back. It provides plenty of conflict, but more importantly, it provides tons of laughs. And I think that’s what I liked most about Salmon Fishing. It’s really fucking funny. I mean it has all this dramatic tension, but every few pages or so you find yourself laughing.

Another aspect I loved about Salmon Fishing was how deftly it balanced its subplots. Weaving subplots in and out of a story is one of the harder aspects of screenwriting. You have to know how many to add, when to step on the gas, when to let up, as well as never allowing them to overshadow your main plot. In Salmon fishing we have quite a few subplots, from Fred’s deteriorating marriage to Harriet’s soldier boyfriend to Fred’s battles with his boss to Bridget’s (press officer) battles with the media to Fred and Harriet’s friendship/romance. All of these subplots pop into the story for just the right amount of time, before leaving to put the focus back on the fishing plot. I know how hard it is to choose which parts of a novel to keep and which to throw away. I haven’t read the novel but it looks like Beaufoy struck just the right balance.

I’m kinda begging these guys to get rid of the title here, because I’ve had this script for a year and had zero interest in reading it because of the title. It makes you imagine a Middle Eastern man fishing in a river for 2 hours. That’s going to prevent a lot of people from seeing what I’m guessing will be a pretty damn good movie.

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

What I learned: Define your characters by their actions, preferably as soon as possible. Even the quickest and smallest actions can tell us everything we need to know about a character. For example, there’s a moment when Fred walks into a room and is introduced to Bridget (the press officer for the Prime Minister). Bridget is busy reading something, and raises her hand to shake Fred’s without looking up. Right there, you know exactly who Bridget is: A hard-nosed worker who doesn’t respect other people. Go back to your favorite movie characters and you’ll usually find that moment early on in the film when they perform an action that tells us exactly who they are.

The Karate Kid makes 56 million on its opening weekend. I don’t think anyone saw that coming. Not even “I’ve never failed at anything in my entire life” Will Smith! This is great news for Jackie Chan as well, who was just about to commit to a The Spy Next Door sequel, which we all know would’ve been titled, “The Spy Next Door Too.” I did not see Karate Kid, but I have to admit, the trailers did not look awful. The actors seemed to be taking the movie seriously, and against all odds, it kinda worked. Have no idea if the full movie is the same. Here at Scriptshadow, I’m reviewing an Oscar winning screenwriter tomorrow, putting together what should be a fun little article for Wednesday, and am yet to commit to my Thursday and Friday reviews. Today, Roger comes at you with a script I’m 97% certain was written specifically for him. Here’s “The Book Of Magic.”

Genre: Fantasy Adventure, Horror
Premise: Harry Houdini teams up with the legendary author, H.P. Lovecraft, to track down a supernatural serial killer in 1920s New York City.
About: This script won first prize in the 2003 ManiaFest Screenplay Competition and landed Sheldon Woodbury a writing assignment for Jeff Sagansky, a producer who used to be the president of Sony Pictures.
Writer: Sheldon Woodbury

Surely, as deep calls to deep, mystery attracts mystery. Which is an idea explored in “The Book of Magic” (not to be confused with Neil Gaiman’s The Books of Magic), a tale where the infamous escape artist Harry Houdini teams up with the grandfather of horror fiction to catch a supernatural serial killer in 1920s New York City. That logline appeared in my inbox a few weeks ago and all I could do was stare at it and exclaim, “Seriously?” As a reader of this blog, it doesn’t take a lot of homework to know that I love two things: