For those who have forgotten, this is one in a series of five scripts I’ll be reviewing this week from represented writers who have not sold a script. The exercise is meant to explore the level of quality it takes to obtain agency representation. Enjoy!

Genre: Drama
Premise: After wrecking his marriage, his liver, and a 737, an alcoholic ex-airline pilot tries to put his life back together.
About: Matthew (one half of the writing team) is a blogger himself doing breakdowns of DVDs at Criterion Collection DVDs. He and Adam are repped over at UTA and managed by Circle of Confusion. The two are going out with a new spec soon.
Writers: Adam Price & Matthew Dessem

Clearly Matt and Adam have been waiting for this moment. They’ve been tracking my taste, planning and plotting, looking for just the right moment to storm the Scriptshadow beach and take the island. Because they obviously understand what I like. “Everything Must Go,” a story about a man who sets up a living quarters on his front lawn when his wife locks him out of their house, plays to just about everything I like in a story (please find an actor for this and make it now!). So when I heard Matt and Adam’s logline, a logline that sounded like “Everything’s” second cousin, I couldn’t control the magical download finger that transfers my next reading experience onto my hard drive.

But beware the follow-up blues. Whenever we see something great, something that personally moves, shocks or excites us, we want more of it. And we want it now. But when, in the history of mankind, has there ever been anything that’s capitalized on the success of something else, and was actually better? After Pearl Jam we got Soundgarden. After Lord Of The Rings we got Dungeons and Dragons. After Pac Man we got Q-Bert. Ultimately, you end up disappointed, feeling like you just witnessed a shallower emptier version of your previous love affair. That’s not to say that Adam and Matthew even knew about Everything Must Go when they wrote The Conquered. I’m speaking for myself, the reader’s perspective. And these similar second endeavors almost always end up in disappointment.

So then what’s the deal? Was the first script in our Repped Week any good? Was this a disastrous idea? Are these writers without a sale so far out of the big-timer’s league that they don’t even deserve any Scriptshadow love? Let’s find out.

The Conquered is kind of like a cross between Everything Must Go and The Wrestler. Frank is this beat up guy. His wife, Kelly, left him for an “actuary,” which is a job Frank’s never even heard of. He’s pissed about the ordeal, even though he has no right to be. Let’s be honest. When your spouse is gardening in another man’s lawn, chances are it’s not because you’re Husband Of The Year. In a move so monumentally moronic it makes my Freshman year at college look like a year in seminary, Frank, a pilot, stumbles into the cockpit of his flight, wasted beyond recognition. He proceeds to kick the co-pilot out, start the plane, pass out onto the controls, and roll a 737 into the airport lobby.

Niiiiiice.

Needless to say, Frank loses his wings and six months later finds himself slumming it in Hollywood (note to non-Los Angelinos: Hollywood is very very dirty), selling off his things to pay for rent and food. Frank’s best friend Virgil is a bit of an oaf but has a good heart. Ironically, Virgil just lost his life as well. After 16 years she didn’t even leave him a note. He spends most of his days hunched over in Frank’s apartment, weeping like a little girl.

Virgil nabs Frank a job at his brand new employer’s, The Matchstick Company, pulling levers on an assembly line. On his very first day, Frank manages to somehow set both himself and Virgil on fire. But Virgil meets and falls in love with his Mexican boss, Elena. The relationship occasionally ropes Frank into doing things he doesn’t want to do. Any time he’s not getting shitfaced watching TV is considered unproductive. But a party at Elena’s introduces him to Elena’s drop-dead gorgeous 18 year old (and still in high school) daughter, Lily, a blossoming artist stuck in a going-nowhere situation. Her thug boyfriend, Nando, has just gotten out of jail, and Elena is desperate to keep Lily away from him.

Frank does everything in his power to destroy his life short of swallowing an atom bomb. He drinks, drinks, drinks, and when the liquor runs out, he lies, cheats, and steals to get more. Occasionally he’ll rendezvous with the local bar owner, the mature but attractive Angie. Not only does he pull a one night stand on poor Angie, but also steals a stuffed dog of hers and names it “Mr. President.” Mr President becomes Frank’s best friend and unwitting accomplice in an ongoing attempt to throw his life away.

When Elena finds out that Lily’s sneaking out with Nando, she starts sending him over to Frank’s so he can keep an eye on her. They don’t have very much in common and she seems baffled that Frank can sit there and watch The Weather Channel and infomercials for six hours straight (For the record, this does not even come close to my 8 hour ESPN marathons). Slowly, the two develop a friendship, and Frank starts to pull himself out of that 20-mile hole he’s been digging. The friendship leads to a few dates and the dates lead to one night of sex. But ironically, after a lifetime of screwing others over, it’s Lily who realizes she made a mistake, and she’s the one who wants nothing to do with Frank. After this karmic taste of his own medicine, Frank’s forced to square of with Co-Nando The Barbarian. And as you can probably guess, it doesn’t go well.

There’s an honesty in The Conquered that you don’t find in a lot of scripts – an aversion to play it safe, a hesitancy to wrap things up in a neat bow. And that’s what I liked about the story. Frank is pretty much despicable and has no real desire to better his life. He’s trapped in that place in your life where you’re supposed to have everything, yet you have nothing. So you start to think, what’s the point in trying? What’s the point in sticking it out? He drifts from beer to beer, shot to shot, and somehow, through it all, we still root for him. There’s a part of us that wants Frank to get back up on his feet, because we think maybe, if he can, we can. It’s always a daring choice to go with an anti-hero, Paul Newman as opposed to Will Smith. But when it works, the story is richer for it.

The script isn’t perfect. I’m still not sure why Elena would leave her 18 year old daughter with a raging alcoholic she barely knows. Not exactly the daycare center I’d send my kids to. And I feel like the script lacks that one “big moment,” near the middle. The drifting nature of Frank motivates a fairly straight-forward narrative, but I was looking for that one jolt, that one surprise to knock me out of my seat. I don’t like it when I start to feel too comfortable in a script. And that happened a bit in The Conquered.

Needless to say, The Conquered was still an enjoyable experience. With a little exposure, it has Black List written all over it. Definitely not Top 50%, but somewhere in the lower half for sure. If you liked The Wrestler, or the scripts Everything Must Go and Up In The Air, you should check this one out pronto.

[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] barely kept my interest
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: A lot of writers just starting out leave their supporting characters out to dry. They’re not concerned with them – their backstory, their goals, their purpose. Smart writers have something going on with all of their characters. In the case of The Conquered, Virgil, Frank’s friend, plays a crucial part in the story. His own collapsed marriage and new relationship with Elena is what leads to the main romantic storyline between Frank and Lily. Inexperienced writers would probably bring Virgil in as the “funny guy” and not go any further than that. He wouldn’t have any depth or any goals of his own. But by taking your time and really giving each character something to do, something to seek out in the film, you create a richer more fulfilling experience for your reader.

Wow, this is shocking. I can’t believe they’re doing this. Variety is reporting…

“Twentieth Century Fox is resuscitating its “Alien” franchise. The studio has hired Jon Spaihts to write a prequel that has Ridley Scott attached to return as director.

Spaihts got the job after pitching the studio and Scott Free, which will produce the film.

The film is set up to be a prequel to the groundbreaking 1979 film that Scott directed. It will precede that film, in which the crew of a commercial towing ship returning to Earth is awakened and sent to respond to a distress signal from a nearby planetoid. The crew discovers too late that the signal generated by an empty ship was meant to warn them.”

Read the rest of the story at Variety.

If you’re not familiar with Joh Spaihts, it just so happens I reviewed one of his scripts here on Scriptshadow. To check that out, go here!

Just a reminder. If you’re a repped writer and still haven’t made your first sale, you have til the end of tomorrow (Saturday) to get your script in to me. Some writers/agents have expressed reservations about sending in material as the exposure of the script would make it difficult to sell. Obviously, this is something that’s never been done before so you have no idea what the response will be. But even if that concerns you, maybe this is a strong script you already went out with at a bad time in the marketplace. Maybe it’s a script you – the writer – think is your best work but it’s a hard sell. Maybe something similar got snatched up, preventing your own sale, even though your script was immeasurably better. This could be that second chance you’re looking for.

Anyway, here’s the original post (oh, it’s now FIVE scripts instead of four):

So I’m doing something different next week. I want to give five writers a chance to get some exposure. The only catch is you have to have agency representation and not yet have sold a script. If you meet those requirements, send me your script, your agency, and a logline. I’ll take the five most interesting loglines and review those scripts Monday-Thursday. If you don’t want your script posted or you won’t be able to take a potentially negative review, then you shouldn’t participate. I know a lot of you unrepresented writers are crying foul here but there’s a reason I’m only allowing represented writers. First, I don’t want to be inundated with 10,000 e-mails. But more importantly, this is an exercise to review scripts from writers who *were* able to land representation, but have not yet been able to sell a script. What’s the difference in quality between a represented and an unrepresented writer? What’s the difference in quality between a represented writer and a represented writer with a sale? Is the difference merely a matter of luck? That’s what I want to explore. Who knows? Maybe we’ll find something great. Send the scripts to this e-mail: Carsonreeves2@gmail.com. There is no guarantee your script will be chosen but you have my word that I will delete all scripts I don’t use. Deal?

Okay, now let’s make one of you guys a millionaire.

Edit: I’ve decided to allow Manager representation as well. Though the choices will be weighted to favor agency representation.

Accepting submissions until: Saturday, August 1st, 11:59pm Pacific Time

Genre: Action Romantic Comedy
Premise: An alcoholic debt-ridden bounty hunter has two days to find and bring in his selfish manipulative dishonest ex-wife, who’s skipped bail.
About: Andy Tennant (“Hitch”) to direct. Starring Jennifer Aniston and Gerard Butler (who seems to be making a name for himself in the romantic comedy world). Sarah Thorp previously penned “Twisted”. This is shooting right now.
Writer: Sarah Thorp (1st draft, Sep 2007, 114 pages)

Now to be fair, this is the FIRST DRAFT of the screenplay, dated two years ago. So we know some changes have been made in the meantime. But it’s my guess that the basic premise and story are the same. And unfortunately, that’s the problem with The Bounty. This thing is more forced than an episode of The Bachelor. And I understand that the forced setup is a romantic comedy staple that’s been around for years. But there’s a difference between “forced” and “forcing it down our throats” – when the setup becomes so ridiculously over-the-top that it can only exist in the movie world. And that’s what’s happened here. This place that Thorp has invented only exists in Never Never Land. There is nothing plausible or realistic about any of the characters or situations in this movie.

That’s a really nice way of saying I detested this script.

Cassidy Daley is a gung-ho news reporter who will stop at nothing to get her story. She receives that “tip of a lifetime” about some potentially dirty cops from a source of hers named Jimmy. So off she goes into the seedy underworld to find him. Unfortunately along the way she does something illegal and gets arrested. She’s dragged off to jail, but immediately posts bail and skips her hearing. As far as she’s concerned, this front-page story is way more important than a silly bail formality.

Milo is a drunken gambling mess of a bounty hunter. He owes every bookie in town and is quite a ways from his prominent life as one of the best cops on the force. On the eve of getting roughed up by his bookies, Milo’s bail bondsman buddy, Sid, offers him a face-saving bounty. 5000 dollars if he can catch and bring back this person by Christmas Day (48 hours away). There’s just a slight twist. It’s his ex-wife, Cassidy! Ahhhhhhh!!! What are the chances?????

In case you haven’t guessed, Milo hates Cassidy. And Cassidy hates Milo. Even more than Milo hates Cassidy! These two really hate each other! Yet there’s something about this opportunity that makes scumbag Milo happy. You see Milo didn’t always used to be a scumbag. He used to be a successful cop with a bright future. Then he joined up with a reporter on an important case. And said reporter solved the case before he did and printed a story about it, making Milo look like an incapable moron. That led to their divorce. That led to his drinking. That led to his gambling. That led to his firing. And of course, this reporter’s name was Cassidy. Milo is convinced – CONVINCED – that Cassidey stole some information from him in order to solve the case. And he’s finally going to get her to admit it.

Milo’s actually pretty good at his job and it takes him less than an hour to find Cass. He handcuffs her and within seconds the pair is back to their old skitter-skatter rat-a-tat-tat verbal bantering ways. I hate you. No I hate you. No I hate you. No I hate you. No I hate you. No I hate both of you!!!

Milo is so obsessed and scarred by this ancient case, he becomes more than a little interested when Cass informs him that the whole reason she skipped bail was she was onto a huge story about a bunch of dirty cops. Milo realizes that this is it! A chance for him to redeem himself. He’ll solve her case within the 48 hour allotted time before he has to have her in. This will prove he’s smarter than Cass, which will in turn gain him his reputation back, which in turn may even get him his job back! All he has to do is keep Cass within sight and make sure she doesn’t run away. Which essentially means they have to do this…together!!! Snnnnnnnnnn-ap!

Yes, you read that right. Milo is doing this to prove that he’s smarter than Cassidy.

Stirring the pot is the bookie, Dwight, who’s chasing Milo for the thousands of dollars he owes, while Milo and Cass chase the story. Milo and Cass are then put through all the romantic comedy staples like being mistaken for a couple and having to sleep in the same bed (didn’t we *just* talk about this in Leap Year???). But since they used to be married and know all each others’ secrets, they’re constantly able to one-up each other, as evidenced in one scene where Cass sneaks a request to the waitress to add sesame seeds to Milo’s burger because…HE’S ALLERGIC TO THEM! As he chokes to death, Cass scuttles away!

Will they solve the crime? Will Milo still get Cass to the bondsman on time? Will I ever recover from this experience?

The Bounty feels like bad cosmetic surgery. Everything about it is fabricated and manipulated, twisted and pulled and chiseled and tucked in a desperate attempt to look natural. But no matter how you dress it up, it’s still bad cosmetic surgery. There is nothing authentic about this person!

Even the mechanics are all over the place. The order in which the information is offered to us for instance. All the stuff about Milo’s life falling apart because of the case he shared with Cass. We don’t find out about any of that until well after the two have rejoined each other. That’s the kind of information you have to tell us before the two meet so that when we hear the person he’s going after is his ex-wife, our mouths drop. “You mean the person that did all those horrible things to him?? Oh shit!” Without that information, she’s just a name to us. We don’t know a single thing about their history. It’s details like this that drove me batty and that I’m really hoping are just first draft glitches. I’m not saying you don’t want to save some details about the past for later on. But you don’t want to keep everything a secret!

Pretty much nothing in this screenplay works. I laughed one time (when Milo tells Cass to talk dirty to her and Cass sexually utters things like, “Sewage, waste, bacteria”) and pretty much rolled my eyes the rest of the way through. Ratio of laugh to eyeroll = 1 to 1000. The hope appears to rest on the pages upon pages of “witty banter.” But the truth is, I couldn’t even tell you if it worked. I was so put off by the artificiality in which the situations were created that they could’ve been reciting secret scrolls revealing the meaning of life and I still wouldn’t have been paying attention.

Having said all this, I can see from an actress’ point-of-view why this role would look appealing. It’s a bit different. And Aniston basically gets to be a bitch for 3 months of shooting (note to all writers: Actors and actresses love when they get to be assholes). But I don’t think she’s seeing the forest through the trees here. The Bounty jams the ‘art’ into artificial. Then bolds it and italicizes it and ups the font size – The Bounty – until it no longer resembles reality.

I can only hope that subsequent drafts have given this script new life. But I’m afraid the concept is too flawed. Therefore, I’m sorry to say but…

[x] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] barely kept my interest
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: There’s nothing less attractive than writing that’s trying too hard. If we can see you pulling the strings behind the curtain, the story loses its magic.

Roger Balfour is backfor another review. This time it’s cult writer/director Richard Kelly’s third film, “The Box.” Kelly has a tall order ahead of him, trying to follow-up the cinematic masterpiece known as “Southland Tales.” Let’s hope he didn’t employ the 1980s casting director of Saturday Night Live this time around. There are very few guarantees in Hollywood, but one of them is that your movie is always better without Jon Lovitz.

Genre: Conspiracy Thriller, Science Fiction, Horror
Premise: A small wooden box arrives on the doorstep of a married couple, who open it and become instantly wealthy. Little do they realize that the box also kills someone they don’t know…
About: Adapted from the Richard Matheson short story, “Button, Button”. Cameron Diaz and James Mardsen will star. Richard Kelly calls it the most personal film he’s ever made.
Writer: Richard Kelly (writer-director of “Donnie Darko” and “Southland Tales”).

Ask any burgeoning screenwriter what scripts they cherish, which scripts they consider holy not only as tutorial tomes, but as illustrations of the form, and I’m sure you’ll get a laundry list of titles. And I’m sure you’ll find titles like “Pulp Fiction”, “The Shawshank Redemption”, “Little Miss Sunshine”. Stuff you can pick up at Barnes & Noble. What I like to call the Screenwriter’s Starter Kit. Then there’s other stuff, stuff you have to go out of your way to find because it’s not as simple as taking a stroll to the nearest Big Chain Bookseller.

For me, that script is “Donnie Darko”.

I found my copy at a used bookstore about 40 miles away from where I live. And it was at a time when I was first starting to take my writing seriously. I had just written my first two sprawling scripts, and because I had no idea what I was doing, each was 200+ pages long, written by hand with felt-tipped markers (Why? Because that’s how Tarantino did it, that’s why) and had enough plot strands and ideas that would have been better suited for 20 different, individual screenplays.

But whatever, the only way to write is just to do it, and you either catch up to the learning curve or you don’t.

Anyways.

It’s an important movie to me for reasons that I won’t get into here, and despite the criticisms concerning the narrative and plot clarity, I’m in love with the tone and feel and the characters of the movie.

It’s an atmospheric attraction.

And I cradle the script like a conspiracy theorist fondles their sacred Salinger paperback copy of “Catcher in the Rye”.

Quick word about the other stuff Richard Kelly has done. To give you a sense of my palate. I’m not a fan of “Southland Tales” and I think “Domino” is a fun movie, if entirely schizophrenic. But I have a predilection for all things Tom Waits and the movie is so bombastic and Tony Scott-sleazy it’s hard not to love.

Get to it Rog, what’s up with The Box?

It’s Richard Kelly’s adaptation of Richard Matheson’s short story, “Button, Button”. It was previously adapted into a Twilight Zone episode, which was called “The Box”. Interesting info nugget: Matheson used the pseudonym Logan Swanson for the teleplay because he disapproved of the ending.

Do you think Matheson would willingly attach his name to Richard Kelly’s version, or would he go with the Logan Swanson nom de guerre?

You got me, guys. Can’t speak for the man himself. But when I finished reading the script I wandered around my house puzzled. I felt like the Valet from Sartre’s “No Exit” was leading me around my own house on a leash, except there were no mirrors or doors and Richard Kelly was sitting on a barstool laughing at me, taunting me with the key to this narrative puzzle box.

Only problem was, he would never let me lay hands on it.

I don’t know what that means. Explicate.

Takes a deep breath. Okay.

Reading the first 40 or 50 pages of “The Box” is like settling down in your favorite comfy chair in front of the fireplace, while an old friend, who you haven’t seen in a while, sits across from you. While you guys catch up, you realize how much you missed your friend’s voice. How much you’ve missed their presence in your life.

Or, it kinda feels like being a kid again.

It’s after bedtime and I’m under a tent fashioned out of bed-sheets reading the script by flashlight. Devouring the story like it’s a creepy EC Comic.

But then…

Your friend produces a packet of mind-altering drugs and informs you that, to continue, consumption will be necessary. And as you’re dropping acid the comic book turns into a manifesto on existentialist philosophy.

Um. What?

Exactly.

Can you at least tell us what the story is?

Richmond, Virginia. 1976. Arthur and Norma Lewis are seemingly nestled in comfortable suburbia. Norma is a teacher at the Collegiate School, a prestigious private school. Incidentally, their nine-year old son, Walter, is a student at the school. This is important because the School Board has officially canceled the faculty tuition discount.

The Lewis family will no longer be able to afford their son’s tuition.

Arthur works for NASA.

He’s an engineer for the NASA Langley Research Center. He designed the 360-degree camera that’s mounted on the landing module that was sent to the surface of Mars.

When we meet the Lewis family, it’s before Christmas. And someone in a black Sedan, under cover of night, has just deposited a 1’ x 1’ x 1’ cardboard box on their front porch.

And inside of the cardboard box is a wooden box.

Its dimensions are 8” x 8” x 8”. White oak. A clear glass dome is attached to the top on a hinge mount. Inside of the dome is a cylindrical metal button.

The next day, a gentleman in a crisp wool suit and black hat arrives at the Lewis house like a door-to-door insurance salesman. When Norma finds him on the doorstop, he stands in profile. But when he turns, introducing himself as Arlington Steward, the other side of his face is revealed.

We see gums, molars.

Arlington’s face is horribly disfigured. The flesh burned away, forever providing a window into the pink innards of his jaw and mouth.

Although Norma is momentarily repulsed, she feels an overwhelming pang of pity and sadness for this strange gentleman. Why? Because, she too, possesses traumatic physical scars.

However, because it’s her foot that is disfigured, she can easily hide, cover up her shame. It’s as simple as putting on a shoe. Her deformity concealed save for a limp her students whisper and wonder about.

Kelly sometimes it’s hit out of the park with his montages and his cross-cutting sequences. His parallel scenes. And his writing in “The Box” is no exception. There’s a sequence where we are told the origin story behind Norma’s disfigurement, and it’s a tender and poignant series of moments that establishes Arthur’s love for his wife.

Kelly cross-cuts between Norma and Arthur telling this story. Norma tells a class full of curious students, calmly defusing what could have been an ugly situation by, just for a moment, transforming herself from a figure of authority into a storyteller. She becomes transparent, vulnerable, an adult who honestly tells her secret to a room full of teenagers. Arthur tells Norma’s story to a co-worker, his method of the tell framed by the prosthetic he is building for her foot.

And it’s a powerful sequence.

In Norma’s youth, her brother accidentally dropped a barbell on her foot. And while she was having her foot X-rayed, the doctor was negligent and left her alone for way longer than she should have been behind the X-Ray machine. Four toes had to be amputated because of the radiation.

Which is all to say…

Norma Lewis feels a connection with Arlington Steward.

And Arlington Steward feels a connection with Norma Lewis.

The box belongs to Arlington.

And this is not a good thing.

There’s something Mephistophelean about Arlington. And he has a Faustian proposition for Norma, “If you push the button one of two things will happen. First someone…somewhere in the world…who you do not know…will die. Then, you will receive a payment of two-hundred thousand dollars…tax free.”

He opens his briefcase, shows her the money, then leaves.

Obviously, Norma is spooked. But, a seed of temptation has been planted in her soul, and she goes through the next few hours grappling with the possibility and the ramifications of the question, ‘What if?’

Arthur, the consummate engineer, takes the box apart.

It is completely empty.

Does Norma push the button?

Yes.

And…does someone really die?

Yes. The next few pages after Norma pushes the button are INTENSE. It’s actually really cool. We get descriptions of the lingering Kubrick camera floating through the 911 Dispatch Center and we experience the 911 call…and we’re rocketed through the telephone lines and the atmosphere…arriving with the police officers at a house where there is a child, barricaded in a bathroom…screaming her lungs out.

And there’s a corpse in the kitchen.

Does Arlington keep his end of the bargain? Does the Lewis family receive two-hundred thousand dollars?

Yep.

The furious beating heart of the story is exposed as Kelly cracks its rib-cage open when Arlington tells them that the box will be reprogrammed, and delivered to someone else. Norma asks, “So now what? Are you gonna go and make the offer to someone else?”

“Why yes. That’s how it works, Mrs. Lewis. (beat) And I can promise you that the offer will be made…to someone you do not know.”

And his meaning is clear.

Norma’s life is in danger.

Because someone she doesn’t know is going to push the button on that box.

She’s become part of a twisted cycle, a creepy metaphysical experiment with life and death consequences. And in order to survive, her and Arthur have to find out who Arlington Steward really is and who he works for. And the story jumps into conspiracy thriller mode as they dig for clues and discover answers. As they put the puzzle together, they discover enemies and allies; more people, ranks and titles who are caught in Arlington Steward’s chilling web.

Wow. The first half of the script sounds kind of awesome! Does the second half hold up?

Not in this draft. The concepts are really interesting though. I won’t spoil the mystery, but I’ll give you guys a hint. Richard Kelly seems fond of mining Philip K. Dick. Particularly “Valis”. I’m not certain, but he maybe drew inspiration from the fabled, unfinished PKD novel, “The Owl in Daylight”. Just speculating here, though. Arlington does have a sort of witch’s familiar, an owl that watches several of our main players and seems linked to the creepy gentleman. Consciousness-travelling is also a major concept and device.

There are hints throughout the script to Arlington’s true nature. For example, in one scene, the son Walter is reading an Edgar Rice Burroughs-like comic-book at one point and the thematic implications are eerie as hell.

NASA may or may not be hiding photographs from the Viking Project. Photographs taken by Arthur’s camera on the surface of Mars. Photographs that may be major clues to Arlington’s true nature.

Sounds cool. What’s your beef with this draft of The Box?

The execution. How Kelly shoe-horns what should only be a reference to Jean-Paul Sartre’s “No Exit”, but becomes a frustrating, distractive tangent when characters become obsessed with the work like it’s the codex to the encrypted mysteries of the main story and start repeating lines from the play. There’s even a bizarre Jodorowsky-like dream sequence where Arlington is dressed like the Valet from “No Exit”, and the players are trapped in Hotel Hell.

I feel that it muddles up a story that starts out as a cool little thriller and takes it to the realm of obscurantism.

It gets really confusing as characters start to deliver cryptic lines of dialogue about Pandora and Prometheus. I feel like that it may be a substitute for unclear characterization, because, in the first half of the story you have a good feel for who these people are, but once we derail into bizarro world it’s like we’re no longer dealing with characters so much as automatons that recite and reference other works of literature.

Kelly has been recorded as saying, “My hope is to make a film that is incredibly suspenseful and broadly commercial, while still retaining my artistic sensibility.” Does he succeed?

I’d say so. But my quibble is that it feels like two different movies. I’m positive there have been rewrites, as there’s stuff in the trailer that isn’t in this version of the script. My hope is that his artistic sensibilities will lean more towards the coherent in the finished movie.

Look, sometimes I think that Kelly is less interested in telling a coherent narrative than in creating a feeling. A tone poem. He seems more interested in conducting emotions and atmosphere than telling an easy-to-follow story.

Does an audience really need a primer in existentialist philosophy and mythology to understand a story about a box that kills people when you push a button?

I understand the appeal of dropping references. I’m a fan of retelling myths and classical stories.

But the story should stand on its own as well. Sans references.

Think about viral marketing. Alternate Reality Games (ARGs). This is supplementary material that may broaden the worlds of tv shows like “Lost” or movies like “Cloverfield”, but it’s never an intrinsic part of understanding the plots. You could enjoy those stories without even knowing that the supplementary material existed.

Kelly treats it the other way around. All the supplementary material with “Southland Tales” actually becomes an answer key as you try to understand what the hell you just watched. It’s almost the same way with “The Box”. I really hope he boils his witch’s brew of interesting concepts into something easily digestible.

[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] barely kept my interest
[xx] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I Learned: Atmosphere. Kelly is superb at creating a suburban eeriness. Reading his clean prose, I could actually envision and feel the crisp gloom of Steven Poster’s photography. A good eye and ear for spacial and audio details helps not only create an atmosphere, but a time period. Snippets of talking heads on the radio, newspaper headlines, architecture. I not only felt like I was in 1976, the eerie atmosphere made me feel like I was reading an actual Richard Matheson or early Steven King short story. Atmosphere, when melded with voice, can go a long way into making a script an enjoyable read.

For an interview with Kelly about the film, go here.