Genre: Thriller
About: A man finds an old cassette tape, the contents of which reveal something horrifying.
About: A very hot script that a lot of people are talking about in Hollywood: Karczynski sold this to Relativity Media last month. The property has garnered the interest of “No Way Out” and “The Recruit” director, Roger Donaldson. Although I haven’t been able to confirm it, this appears to be Karczynski’s first sale.
Writer: Steven Karczynski

Imagine your best friend shows up at your door. He’s hurried, excited. He dashes into your living room, “You gotta see this! You gotta see this!” He brings up Facebook and shows you the profile of the hottest girl you’ve ever seen in your life. He then says to you, “This girl saw your picture today and she wants to meet you.” “What??” you ask. “Yes! She’s at the coffee shop waiting for you right now!” You can’t believe your good fortune. You and your friend hop in the car, speed over to the coffee shop, run inside…but it’s empty. Your friend gets a text. “Oh, she left. She’s at the bowling alley. Let’s go!” You rocket over to the bowling alley, look around. She’s not there. Your friend gets a call. “She said her friends got bored and went to get some food.” So you drive over to the restaurant. Hurry inside. She’s not there. Your friend calls her. Oops, they decided to go to a movie. But she wants you to come to this party she’ll be at tonight. So you go home, get ready, look as good as you’ve ever looked before. Possibly even put on cologne. You’re bursting with anticipation. It’s finally time. You go. You look around. You can’t find her. You start asking people where she is. “Has anybody seen Jane?” Then someone walks up to you and says, “Didn’t you hear? She just died in a car crash.”

And that pretty much sums up my experience with Umbra.

Umbra is one frustrating-ass script. David happens upon a strange package jammed halfway into a mailbox in front of his house. He can’t resist opening it (would any of us be able to?) and finds a cassette tape inside. He buys an old tape player so he can listen to it. At first, we don’t hear what the tape says. All we see is David’s reaction as he listens. This is par for the course with Umbra, and what, for better or worse, sets it apart from every other script out there. There’s a lot of playing with time, playing with space, playing with sound and voice over. We’re hearing things, we’re not hearing things, we’re watching one thing while hearing another thing, etc. etc. It works quite well in my opinion, because it keeps you off-balance — just like David.

Midway through the tape, David gets a look on his face of such profound fear, we realize he’s heard something horrible. And here’s where Umbra will either get you or lose you. The rest of the script is David going to work, suspecting he’s being watched, suspecting he’s being pursued, is pursued…all while we get bit by agonzing bit of the tape. The whole thing feels like an American Idol results show. As we’re teased and teased and teased with pointless and uninteresting performances, we must wait until the very last minute to find out who gets voted off.

Actually, that’s a little harsh. The portion of the script where David gets chased is quite good. Particularly the way we see him get chased. Part of the brilliance of Umbra is it really takes you into the mind of a single person. David doesn’t have any relationships in his life, anyone to talk to. The point-of-view is so specific to this one character, that everything feels incredibly claustrophobic and personal. When things start going bad for David, we feel like they’re going bad for us too.

I’ll tell ya, the last 20 pages of this thing, I don’t know if I’ve ever read a script that fast. Some crazy ass shit starts happening. But the critical moment of the tape hasn’t played yet and we’re dying to know what’s said on it. We have to know what evokes that reaction on David’s face. We have to hear that final piece of the puzzle.

And when it comes…

When it comes…

It’s so disappointing that it’s beyond disappointing. Not because the idea is stupid, but because it doesn’t answer anything. It’s deliberately vague, and in that sense, a huge cheat. You basically dragged us along with this recording, taking advantage of the fact that you knew we’d go anywhere with you until you revealed it…and then you finish with this…non-answer. You killed the beautiful Facebook Girl.

Afterwards, when I sat back and thought about it, I realized that for 98% of the read, the screenplay was amazing. Because the job of the writer is to make the reader want to see what happeens next. and for 95 pages, that’s all I wanted. I wanted to see what happened next. Because of that, Umbra leaves me feeling very conflicted as to my final reaction to the story. There’s such great stuff in here and yet it’s ultimately disappointing.

I guess I’m giving it a “Worth The Read”. I mean, it did enough right that I can’t not recommend it.

[ ] trash
[ ] barely kept my interest
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: There’s a passage early on in Umbra where the character is running for his life. This is how it reads: “The Caller rips through several backyards. It’s as if we’re tied to the Caller’s back as he runs. He falls. We fall. He stumbles. We stumble.” Ten years ago, a writer would have been sent to prison for saying “it’s as if we’re tied to the Caller’s back as he runs.” “What are you doing??” a reader would say. “You’re not allowed to direct the action! That’s the director’s job!” People used to (and still do) really get in a hissy-fit about these kinds of things. But this is how I see it – if directing action helps me imagine the movie, why not use it? As long as it’s used in moderation, I don’t see anything wrong with it. Hell, it might even give the director some better ideas.

P.S. As always, if you’re going to discuss the ending in the comments, please post *SPOILER* before you do. And if I misunderstood the ending (it is open to some interpretation), please let me know. I certainly feel like I missed something. But I still think it was the script that didn’t provide it.

Okay, so it’s time to join you guys in the 21st Century. I went back in time this week and it wasn’t always pleasant. Three of the scripts I pretty much hated. And the fourth took four hours to read. This week’s crop of screenplays should be much more enjoyable. A couple of them were sold just this month, and the others are well-known projects around town. So that should be fun.

Take a look over at my “Script Request” list. I’ve added quite a few in the last couple of days. Alexander Payne’s latest, “Downsizing.” Two scripts from Max Winkler (who wrote one of my faves, “The Ornate Anatomy Of Living Things” and one of my least faves “The Adventurer’s Handbook.”) Bel Ami, which is a Robert Pattinson movie set in France. Beautiful Girl, which just sold yesterday. Chief Ron, which sold Wednesday I believe. And I’m still looking for The Originals and O’Gunn. In order to keep the list short, I’m taking a few off, Inception being one of them, which I think is a lost cause. So if you enjoy reading the site and have access to any of these scripts, give a little back so we can stay on the cutting edge of these sales.

Booked this week with consulting, but have openings the following week. If you’re interested, e-mail me for prices.

Genre: Period Drama
Premise: A 17th century English town deteriorates during the worst years of the black plague. How’s that for a crowd-pleaser?
About: This is it folks. This is the one. Considered to be the best script that’s never been made in Hollywood. It was written in the 60s and has been optioned dozens of times. Yet because of its dreary subject matter and…aggressive length, it never made it in front of the camera. I’ve personally spoken to a couple of people who call this the best script they’ve ever read.
Writer: Walter Brown Newman

Even today’s picture is old.

A lot of scripts make me feel old. They’re simplistic, the devices tired, cliche-ridden, and there are a few too many orifice-dependent jokes. Harrow Alley made me feel like I was young. Kindergarten young. I found myself saying, “This is the kind of shit people used to like?” Talk about a script that takes its time. Harrow Alley is 180 pages long. That’s half a circle man. Clint Eastwood wouldn’t read this script because he was afraid he would die before he was finished. War and Peace is an afternoon read compared to this thing. Did they have editing in the 60s?

Anyway, I can’t say I’m particularly surprised that this movie’s never been made. It’s got all the optimism of a Saudi Arabian beheading. The setting is compelling enough – A city in England during the plague – but in the end, the narrative is too widespread and the driving force too muddled to make the story modern audience-friendly. That’s not to say it was bad. It was just…challenging. Very. Very. Challenging.

Harrow Alley takes place in England around the 17th century, or whenever the hell the Bubonic Plague was wreaking havoc. Although there are dozens of characters in the script, the two we focus on the most are Ratsey, a common thief who’s been sentenced to death, and Harry, an alderman for a town in London called Harrow Alley.

Mere seconds before Ratsey is to be hanged, one of the guards faints due to complications from the plague. The precious few seconds Ratsey gains from the man’s death allows a stage coach to race in, and the Alderman Harry to leap out and declare a stay on the execution. Back in Harrow Alley, the plague is just beginning to flourish. Because no one wants to actually touch the dead bodies, the town is forced to look for help in unfamiliar places. Who better to risk their lives moving these diseased corpses than men who were supposed to be dead anyway?

Ratsey is shuttled back to Harrow Alley, where we get our first look at the town. It’s bigger than you’d expect – housing tens of thousands of people – but no sooner are they home than they see the town is in complete chaos! People are fleeing for London (More people – dirtier conditions – makes sense) in a desperate attempt to avoid the plague. Even the Mayor himself is on his way out. Before he knows it, Harry – a low ranking alderman – is the highest ranking official left! Which means it is his job to run the town.

Ratsey, getting this reprieve on life, is particularly unaffected in the face of death. It irks the hell out of everyone else until someone finally asks him his secret. Ratsey confesses that he already had the plague as a kid, and since you can’t get the plague twice, he’s immune to it. Snap! As richer and more respected men fear for their lives, the lowly Ratsey strolls through town without a care in the world. Here, he’s Superman.

We meet all sorts of people from Harrow Alley. The young prostitute, the ancient doomsayer, the doctor, the clerk, the mute boy, the scam artists…as their lives twist and turn and intersect in strange and surprising ways. As the plague ruthlessly devours the town, some of these people make it and some don’t. But it’s Harry and Ratsey’s lives that we keep coming back to.

Harry, who begins the movie as the optimist, lives with a pregnant wife who he does not love and who does not love him. His closest friend is his dog, who he’s forced to kill because of the plague. Harry is a good man who cannot bring himself to understand why the town’s elite have left their people to fend for themselves. And even though he begins to fall in love with his wife, and she with him, the exponentially increasing death toll eventually leaves Harry just as hopeless as everyone else.

The final straw is Ratsey who learns by the death of a friend, that anybody can get the plague, even those who’ve had it before. And so the two acquaintences give in, waiting for the day when death will surely knock on their door.

Just when you think all is lost though (and let’s not kid ourselves – it still is), Ratsey befriends the baker’s widowed wife, who finds comfort in teaching Ratsey how to make bread. For the first time, Ratsey provides value to the world, which gives him something he’s never had before: a sense of self-worth. When he runs into an old prison friend who offers him a chance to maim and pillage once again, Ratsey respectfully declines. At last he’s found peace.

The end of the script perfectly bookends the beginning with an unforeseen and quite surprising turn of events. In a story that felt at times like a history assignment, it is probably the part that resonated with me the most. Harrow Alley is both satisfying and exhausting, and I don’t know if I’d recommend it to the average reader. Those who have read their share of scripts might find the challenge intriguing. And to them I say, Read on! But for the rest of you, this review will probably suffice. Now, whenever you find yourself in a snobby film circle after a big premiere and someone brings up this “Harrow Alley” masterpiece, you’ll be one of the few with an actual opinion. And that’s what I do here at Scriptshadow. I suffer so that you may thrive.

[ ] trash
[ ] barely kept my interest
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: Harrow Alley has these long chunks of action narration: 8, 9, 10 lines long. People have asked me, “If the professionals can use 10 line paragraphs, why can’t I?” Here’s the answer. Older scripts. Adaptations. Writer-Director screenplays. Writing assignments. There are different rules for these scripts. With the older scripts, – before the spec boom -we just had more time on our hands. With the other examples, those scripts don’t have to make it through the overworked time-strapped underbelly of impatient readers who secretly run this town. They’re given more freedom to take their time and set things up because the people reading those scripts already trust the writer. You don’t have that luxury. You’re basically going up against someone who wanted to go to sleep 3 hours ago by the time they even start your script. So you have to keep things short and to the point. Action paragraphs should rarely, if ever, exceed 3 lines. It keeps your script lean and easy to read, which is exactly how you want it. Don’t be thrown by these massive chunks of action in scripts like Harrow Alley. That’s a different world, a world you’re 20 years late to my brother.

Carson note: I don’t think I’ve come across a script that’s caused more controversy in the last few years than Butter. Butter is a 2008 Nicholl winner that’s inspired all sorts of hatred – most of it directed at the contest which anointed it one of the five winners of its prestigious competition. Much like yesterday’s script, The Visitor…I mean The Tourist…I mean The Visitor — whatever the hell I reviewed! – opinions vary widely on this one. Which side of the fence do I fall on? Well, let’s just say that after I read Butter, I removed all butter from my fridge and vowed never again to eat any butter. Like, ever. The script felt too cute for its own good, quirky for the sake of being quirky, and preachy enough to start its own congregation. The central conflict didn’t even make sense as the reigning Butter champion – a man who lived to make these sculptures – quit the sport simply because someone asked him to. But all of that’s irrelevant because today the stage belongs to my buddy Ralphy – the only man in the world who reads as much as I do. Ralphy was originally supposed to review this two months ago but you know what they say: Better really really late than never. Ralphy, what did you think?

Genre: Quirky Comedy
Premise: A 12 year-old butter sculpting prodigy takes on the uber-competitive wife of Iowa’s best butter sculptor in a butter carving contest of epic proportions.
About: This script was a 2008 Nicholl finalist as well as #3 on the 2008 Black List.
Writer: Jason Micallef

Let’s face it: At some point in our lives, we’ve all looked at that stick of butter in the refrigerator and said, “Damn, I wish I had ten thousand of those so I could make a likeness of David Bowie. Or Ronald Reagan. Or Barbara Strei— Wait, no—Angelina Jolie! Ooh, ooh… a Ferrari! Angelina Jolie driving a Ferrari!”

Which is why a script about a cutthroat butter sculpting competition in Iowa is pretty damned brilliant. I mean, it plays on one of our deepest desires: the desire to create art out of food. Think about it. How many of us have sculpted our mashed potatoes into Devil’s Tower thanks to that one short (yet vital) scene in Close Encounters of the Third Kind? And how many of us have done it EVERY TIME WE’VE EATEN MASHED POTATOES? (Bonus points if you’ve said “This means something” on five or more occasions.)

See? Now how many of us are going to turn that half-used, semi-rectangular glob of Land O’ Lakes into a miniature Roger Federer, mid-swing, if Jason Micallef’s Butter ever hits theaters? I know Carson will. And I imagine at least fifty million more of us will do SOMETHING weird with it seconds before we spread it on our toast. Or use it to make cookies. Mmmmmmmmmmm… cookies.

But I digress.

Here’s the thing. This script was a Nicholl finalist for a reason. The story is pretty simple: 12 year-old Destiny, a black girl who can’t understand why white people act the way they do, has been passed around from foster home to foster home, never quite finding the right fit. Her latest foster parents, Jill and Ethan, are seemingly perfect yet somewhat dysfunctional white suburbanites. Oh, and Destiny is a brilliant butter sculptor. As is the husband of feisty, bitch-on-wheels Laura Pickler. Bob’s his name, and no one has or will ever beat him in the annual butter sculpting competition. (They all live in Iowa, where butter sculpting competitions are very serious business.) When Orval, the main judge of the Iowa State Mastery in Butter Committee, asks Bob to step down this year and give someone else a shot, Laura gets mighty pissed. So pissed that she berates Bob endlessly when he won’t fight the decision. And then she decides to take butter into her own hands and enter the competition herself, at which point she becomes an archnemesis of sorts for Destiny. And thus, the story is born. Or sculpted.

I won’t bore you with plot details. The script follows the classic sports film paradigm, culminating in a showdown between Laura and Destiny. But along the way, it also manages to be a quirky, dark comedy as well as a moving character study.

Much has been made about the oddness of the concept. People wonder why anybody would want to see a movie like this. Well, why not? As far as I’m concerned, it’s cinematic as hell. I mean, look at the fantastic sh*t people have made out of butter. For example:

Also, according to Wikipedia, butter sculpting is an “ancient Tibetan Buddhist tradition” used in religious celebrations. So not only is it wicked filmable, it’s Buddhist!

And the script itself has that irresistible Little Miss Sunshine indie charm. The characters all come alive on the page, worming their various ways into our heart valves like so much cholesterol. And the tone achieves just the right marriage between satire and homage; between comedy and pathos; between American Beauty and… well, American Beauty. If the right director and cast get involved, this could be another critical darling that finds a sizable audience outside of arthouse theaters. Juno, anyone?

Yes, I’m saying this could be another Juno. Or American Beauty. Or Little Miss Sunshine.

Does the script have its problems? Of course it does. Don’t be silly. For one thing, characters undergo major changes of heart that aren’t warranted by the events which precede them. It’s almost as if the writer’s invisible hand were… Well, by now you get the idea. For another thing, not all of the tonal shifts are seamless. But these are fixable problems in a script that is otherwise bold and unique.

Now, I’m sure by this point most of you are thinking, “Wait a minute—sometimes this Ralphy character sounds awfully sarcastic and sometimes he sounds really sincere.” To which I reply (because I can read your thoughts), “I am merely attempting to mimic the tone of the script to give you an idea what you’re in for.”

And on that note, I bid you all farewell. It’s been a great, gooey mass of graven fun. (They keep them in giant coolers, by the way. You know, so they won’t melt. In case you were wondering.) I’m sure Carson will never, ever let me write a guest article for him again.

[ ] trash
[ ] barely kept my interest
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: Well, I didn’t really learn anything because I already know everything there is to know about screenwriting. But one thing this script illustrates is the importance of voice. Butter has it—in droves. But it’s not “voice for the sake of voice”; it’s the type of voice that suggests a film that will also have its own voice.

note: If you know nothing about this script, I suggest you download it before reading anything below. The beginning plays out much better if you do.

Genre: Sci-Fi Dark Comedy
Premise: An alien who lives on Earth in female form searches desperately for a way back to her home planet. Best watch yourself E.T.
About: So on the Holy Grail list of best unproduced screenplays, this is usually mentioned in the top 3. It is said it would have been made had it not been for Men In Black. For a fascinating backstory on the script which chronicles its plight through a series of Hollywood legends, go here.
Writer: Claire Noto

THE TOURIST has always had incredible supporters and incredible detractors. Right from the very beginning it aroused very strong feelings one way or another. People were either very taken by it or felt it was the Anti christ. I still don’t, to this day, really comprehend what all the fuss was about. – Claire Noto

Richard Jenkins plays a college professor who discovers a pair of homeless, illegal aliens living in his New York apartment. But instead of giving them the boot, the lonely introspective Jenkins decides to let them stay. An unexpected friendship begins, dragging Jenkins out of his comfort zone and into the——Wait a minute. Wait a minute. That’s The Visitor. My bad.

Let’s start over. Grace is your average driven, if slightly eccentric, executive at a no-name corporation with more floors than ideas. But almost immediately we sense that something’s off about the chick. She’s constantly distracted and as far as I can tell, not very interested in her work. When her overworked assistant, Marty, pesters Grace about a flurry of messages from someone named “Frogner”, Grace’s unorthodox yet concerned reaction hints at an iceberg of a person we’re only seeing the tip of.

Hot and bothered by the Frogger messages, Grace hops over to a business party with her on-again off-again boyfriend. He tells anyone who will listen that Grace isn’t giving it up. Why he’s sharing this with complete strangers I have no idea. While the eternally-distracted Grace observes the party, on the other side of the room Sideshow Frogner, the bug-eyed over-caffeinated message-leaver, sneaks in and charges over to Grace like a lost dog. He bombards her with requests for business, to which she’s cautiously receptive.

But as Grace and Frogner lock into an intense stare, they see something in each other that freaks them the hell out. Enough to send Frogner racing out of the party. Grace goes chasing after him but obviously, once they get outside, Frogger’s got the advantage when crossing the streets, and easily ditches Grace.

Actual pre-production art of the film

The encounter rattles Grace enough that she makes it a priority to find Frogger at all costs. Over the next couple of days she follows a trail of clues that leads her to a funeral home. Except this isn’t your ordinary funeral home. Behind the walls, through a hidden door, Grace makes her way into a hidden backstage universe. Aliens from all over the galaxy are chatting it up in a dark eerie pub. Grace tiptoes through, shocked but also calm – as if she’s heard about this place. It doesn’t take long for us to figure out why. Grace is really an alien. And these fellows are her alien brethren. It is here, she hopes, that somebody will be able to tell her how to get back to her home planet.

Although Noto doesn’t care to get into some pretty important details – namely how the hell Grace got to this planet and why – she does give us clues. Apparently earth is some sort of galactic armpit of the universe – the biggest criminals and scum of the galaxy are sent here when there’s nowhere else to put them. This is one of the many nonsensical pieces of The Tourist. If these aliens are so bad, why the hell are they spending all their time hiding in the shadows? Why, in all these years, have they done nothing bad to us? I mean if they’re as bad as it gets, the universe must be a pretty fucking awesome place.

Connections she makes in the pub lead Grace to a new target, the elusive Taiga, the only guy who has the means to get off this planet. Hoping to hitch a ride, she begins a desperate search to find him.

The most surprising thing about The Tourist are its moments of unapologetic darkness. Grace walks into houses to find the disembodied eyeballs of a mother and daughter. When Grace visits the alien hangout, one of the aliens not so discreetly slips a tentacle up and into her nether-regions, performing a probe that definitely isn’t for scientific purposes. As all the aliens watch, Grace, who essentially allows it, nears orgasm until someone comes along and obliterates the offending alien. Weird sex runs rampant throughout The Tourist with scenes that are so odd, Dr. Ruth would have a hard time making sense of them. People die having sex. People grow cocoons while having sex. People dream of having sex as giant worms on other planets. I don’t know what else to say. Lots of weird sex going on here. Weird alien sex.

As the script went on, more and more rules are thrown out the window. I found myself getting increasingly annoyed. The last 30 pages were particularly baffling, as seemingly all structure and logic were jettisoned in favor of the most anti-climactic ending in cinema history. Grace is trying to secure a ride home from Taiga but the transport isn’t anywhere even close to nearby, and it’s clear they don’t have time to get to it, erasing any and all suspense about if Grace is going to make it. While this is happening all Grace does is bitch about how much she hates the planet. Then at the last second, she has some half-assed epiphany where she believes she’s bonded with a human. For the first time she’s “conflicted” [/me rolling eyes] At this point the writing and purpose are so sloppy and slapped together, I actually stopped paying attention.

I honestly couldn’t tell you why this script is so popular. There’s some imagination in here for sure. But they’re kidding themselves if they think Men In Black is the reason this didn’t get made. The script’s got major issues, especially the last 40-50 pages. What a mess. In interviews, Noto has practically bragged about her disregard for structure, inspired by the no-rules anything-goes attitude of the European New Wave. I’m not Structure Sammy or anything, but in my experience almost every script that ignores structure completely falls apart in the end. And what do you know? The Tourist completely falls apart in the end.

Noto’s complained that executives have been notoriously cruel to her in dealing with the script, telling her no one would go see the movie. Well I’m sorry to champion the evil empire here but in this case, THEY WERE RIGHT. What really did it for me though was Grace herself. Call me old-fashioned but I’m not about to do jumping jacks for a protagonist that spends the majority of the fucking screenplay whining about how much she hates my planet.

Ugh, I just didn’t like this. I’d designate it as trash if the first act wasn’t so intriguing.

[ ] trash
[x] barely kept my interest
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: Even though I didn’t like this script, I want to focus on the positive because there is a great scene in the beginning. Early on, Grace is at a party and there are 3 separate things going on at the same time. First is her date, who she’s not paying attention to. Second is a handsome man hitting on her. She’s intrigued by the man and their chemistry upsets her date. The third is the mysterious “Frogman”, who comes crashing into the party to close a business deal with her. As we see each thread build, the tension builds along with it. A more inexperienced writer would probably write a straightforward scene that only involved Grace and Frogger. Adding these multiple elements made what could’ve been a boring scene an exciting one (If only she had done this with the rest of the script).