The second episode always reveals the truth of whether you have a good show or a bad one

If you couldn’t tell by now, I’m fascinated by this series.

I think it’s kinda gangster, and also kinda insane, to try and make a show that looks exactly like another show that happens to be one of the most popular shows of all time in The Walking Dead.

So from a screenwriting perspective, I’m interested in how you get around that. It’s a big challenge. And I wanted to see how they were going to do it. I became even more interested when they went all in on the marketing. It showed they were really backing this show. So maybe they did figure out the trick to make it work.

But then last week, the same thing that happens to me when I read a bad script happened to me when I watched the pilot. Which is that these little red flags popped up. The super-generic post-apocalyptic city, for example. A main character who wasn’t compelling enough to carry an entire series. A secondary character – the girl – who has some standard lame secret power that’s going to be revealed later.

All of it felt way too familiar.

And that’s why I’m reviewing this second episode. I’m curious to see if my suspicions are correct. I believe that this show is in major trouble. The only hope I have for it is if they sacrificed story quality for setup purposes.

The weakness I saw in that pilot were a crippling reminder of how critical character is in a TV show. If we don’t fall in love with those characters right away… the show is screwed. And what’s so frustrating about screenwriting is that, theoretically, I should like Joel. We meet him, we see how much he loves his daughter, then watch his daughter get killed in front of him. Why am I not all-in on this guy?

I don’t know. All I know is that when we fast-forward 20 years Joel is this grumpy guy you kind of sort of like but also don’t. You know who he reminded me of? Obi-Wan Kenobi in the Obi-Wan show. Same idea. Grumpy. Head down. Goes to work every day. “Grumpy” is a tough character trait to make work. Audiences generally don’t like grumpy people. It’s possible, of course. “Up” did it. But, usually, it’s a bad move.

I want to be proven wrong about all this. Let’s get into episode 2’s plot and see if I was.

In this episode, we start back in 2003 in Jakarta. It’s here, apparently, where the virus was born and is starting to spread. The government’s head scientist determines that there’s no hope and they should immediately start bombing the city they’re in!

Cut to Joel and Ellie (the little girl) and Tess (the girlfriend) in the present. The three need to get through downtown Boston for some reason that isn’t well explained at all. I think they’re going to a courthouse for some reason? It’s confusing.

That setup is mostly an excuse to start playing with this world and seeing what it looks like. Buildings have fallen over onto each other. Hotel lobbies have become frog ponds. And the infected monster people are scattered about in various locations. Although, surprisingly, for most of our trio’s journey, we barely see them.

Eventually, our group get to the courthouse – again, I don’t know why they’re going there but they get there – and that’s when Tess reveals that she’s infected. Which means she’s going to have to off herself soon. Joel and Ellie then have to get out of Dodge, leaving Tess to lure in some other monsters so she can take them out along with herself. The End.

So… was I entertained?

Funny enough, this episode felt a lot like the first episode. It started off strong. Then got worse from there.

The show’s central problem continues to be its weak characters. Joel doesn’t talk much and, when he does, he usually says boring stuff. Tess is like a female version of Joe. She’s equally as moody and talks in that sort of angry whisper that all cliched characters in these shows talk like.

I guess Ellie, the girl, is supposed to be the comedic relief. But comedic reliefs only work when they’re not annoying.

With that said, at least we’re on the move now. We’re walking through this city. There’s potential danger around every corner, which heightens the tension whenever we’re in a scene.

But there’s just no X-FACTOR here. There’s nothing about this show to get you excited. Nobody’s going to finish an episode of this show, text their friend, and say, “Oh my God, did you see the latest episode of Last of Us!!??” And that’s what you need these days. Because the modern day equivalent of telling your friends is telling the internet. So if nobody’s running to social media to talk about how awesome the episode was, your show is in trouble.

House of the Dragon had that quality. White Lotus had that quality. This is missing something. And I think the problem is two-fold. Boring characters and a world that’s too familiar.

The one big difference between this show and The Walking Dead, I guess, is that these zombies are more like monsters. They can morph into more exciting beings. But is looking forward to these monsters enough to drive an entire show? I don’t think it is.

What matters most is CHARACTER. We need to love the characters. I wish I could put up one post a week that just repeated that line a thousand times. And I’m not even going to lay all this at the feet of the writers. Casting comes into this too. This is the fourth role in a row for Pedro Pascal where I am not impressed by him at all (Mandalorian, WW1984, The Bubble were the other three). I’m not sure how this guy became popular. But I think he’s freaking boring. He’s like Gerard Butler without the charm. So that’s probably playing into it why the show feels stuck in second gear.

Look. This show is better than some of the other high-profile releases that have come out recently. Rings of Power. Willow. Obi-Wan. But it’s nowhere near the class of House of the Dragon, White Lotus, and Stranger Things. It’s not even as good as Westworld.

This marks the last time I will watch The Last of Us. What about you?

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

What I learned: I love the writing move of a character sitting down somewhere random and the military comes up to get them, because this person is needed by the president to help them figure out a top secret problem. I love that moment where they walk up, stop in front of them, and then no words are spoken. We just cut to them in the car. Or in the helicopter. Because why do you need your characters to say anything? The audience understands what’s going on. Don’t write a line if you don’t have to. — This happens in the opening of this episode.

It’s here!

If you are unaware what the Logline Showdown is, every second-to-last Friday of the month, I will post five loglines that were submitted to me. You, the readers of this site, will then vote for your favorite in the comments section. I will then review the script of the logline that received the most votes the following Friday.

This is the first of the showdowns. But don’t worry if you didn’t make it into the inaugural one. These are coming every single month. Just get me your logline submission by the second-to-last Thursday (by 10pm Pacific Time) and you’re in the running! The next deadline will be Thursday, February 16th, at 10pm Pacific Time. I need your title, genre, and logline. Send all submissions to carsonreeves3@gmail.com.

Also, this is a reminder that a lot of your are shooting yourselves in the foot with your loglines.  You’re making catastrophic mistakes that give you no shot at script requests.  It genuinely hurts me to see because you may have a good script but nobody’s going to want to read it until you’re able to properly write a logline for it.  If you want a logline consult with me, they’re cheap. They’re just $25.  E-mail me at carsonreeves1@gmail.com

Okay, now it’s on to the submissions.  You don’t even have to read any scripts this time!  So I expect the votes to come fast and furious.  Voting ends Sunday night, 11:59pm Pacific Time!

Good luck everybody!

Title: Call of Judy
Genre: Action/Adventure
Logline: When a lonely kid gets lost in a next-gen VR gaming experience, the only person who can rescue him is his mom, who’s never played a videogame in her life.

Title: Daughter of Twilight
Genre: Horror
Logline: Dr. Kate Grant’s new patient at Bellevue Hospital claims she is the only survivor of a massacre in the year 1920…and swears the killer is chasing her through time. But when the killer actually appears in 21st century New York and starts slaughtering Kate’s patients, she must find a way to stop him before he murders again.

Title: A Brief History of Los Angeles
Genre: Thriller/Dark Comedy
Logline: Desperate to improve their social status, a disgraced divorcee and an ambitious event planner team up to host a charity gala but the night is derailed when a guest unexpectedly dies and they must dispose of the body before anybody finds out.

Title: Poker Dollface
Genre: Crime heist
Logline: In 1960’s Dallas, a desperate wife of a losing gambler forms the Dollfaces, a group of misfit bandits who go on a spree of robbing underground cardrooms run by the mafia to win back her husband’s losses.

Title: Cougar
Genre: Thriller
Logline: Two desperate siblings cruise Hollywood, preying upon the loose pockets of drunken partiers to fund their mother’s stay at an assisted living facility, until they find themselves in the crosshairs of their latest target – an older seductress with a sinister secret.

As I continue to read tons of amateur screenplays for my consulting services, I’ve noticed that I continue to give one note again and again. That note is, “Take a risk!” Take a risk SOMEWHERE in your screenplay. Because if you don’t take any risks at all, it’s very hard to write a screenplay that people actually remember.

Risks are scary. If I were to assess where I went wrong as a screenwriter, a lack of risk-taking would be up there near the top of the list. I can write you the most technically proficient screenplay that you’ve ever read. But without any risks taken, that’s all it would be.

Sometimes readers of this site erroneously assume that I’m Mr. Follow The Rules. And if you don’t follow the rules, that I believe it’s impossible to write a good screenplay. Well, I’m Mr. Follow The Rules with one major caveat. I want you to take at least one big risk in your script. Because that’s what’s going to bring your script alive.

But telling someone to take a risk is a weak note because what is a risk? Does anyone know how to break the word down into actionable tasks you can actually implement?

Yes.

I do.

Risk-taking breaks down into five distinct categories. I’m sure there are a few more. But these are the main ones. They are…

Concept
Plot
Character
Perspective
Time

Concept – Concept is picking a movie idea that is challenging just through its concept alone.

Plot – Something BIG happens in your plot that’s completely surprising and sets the story onto a previously unexpected path.

Character – You do something with one of your key characters that’s very risky. Something most movies wouldn’t do.

Perspective – The perspective from which you tell your story. Make it a little different, a little unexpected.

Time – Playing with time in such a way that challenges the story and challenges the audience.

Recently, I’ve been watching this show on Hulu called Fleishman is In Trouble. It’s about a New York doctor in his 30s, Toby, who’s in the midst of a divorce and, one weekend, when he’s taking care of the kids, his wife doesn’t show up to pick them up. She’s pretty much disappeared. We then spend the episodes bouncing back and forth in time, learning about how Toby met his wife and how they got to this point.

The show often contains narration by a third character, Libby, who is a former friend of Toby’s. She’s the one who takes us through Toby and his wife’s past and how they got to this point in their marriage.

So, in the case of Fleishman is in Trouble, the show is taking two of the six risks. First, the perspective. We’re not in some standard CW high school show where we dutifully see the story through each of the four main characters’ eyes, jumping back and forth between them in a very traditional 1-hour drama way. Instead, we’ve got Libby equal parts shot-putting and dragging us through this complicated relationship. The choice to make this random third character our narrator is definitely a big risk.

The other risk is Time. We’re jumping all over the place here. We’re in the present. We’re a year ago. We’re fifteen years ago. We’re five years ago. We’re never on this straight-forward linear path. That’s a risk.

Go watch an episode and see for yourself. The show doesn’t feel like other shows out there. And that’s because it’s taking two of the six risks!

In order to make this all a little bit clearer for you, here are five movies that took risks in each of the five categories.

Title: Parasite
Risk Type: Plot

Parasite was already a good movie before the big plot risk it took. This story about a family infiltrating another family’s home was one of the most entertaining commentaries on the disparity between the rich and the poor that we’ve ever seen. But the midpoint twist of there being an unknown basement in the home where another character was living, one who was even poorer than our protagonist family, elevated the film into an all-time classic.

Title: Marcel The Shell With Shoes On
Risk Type: Perspective

If you haven’t seen Marcel The Shell, it’s an animated film (for the most part) about a shell who’s living in this AirBnB house. The big risk the writers made was to tell the story in documentary style. This was a particularly risky choice due to the fact that animated films just don’t ever do documentary style. Which is a good lesson to internalize. Some risks are riskier than others. And this was definitely a huge one.

Title: Red Rocket
Risk Type: Character

One of my favorite movies from a couple of years ago, Red Rocket, follows a character, Mikey, a former porn star who’s been forced to move back to his tiny Texas town. Mikey starts dating a teenager who works at a local donut shop. The reason I liked this movie so much was because it was the biggest risk-taking character movie of that year. Sean Baker, the writer, made Mikey extremely likable. And you’re not supposed to do that in a story like this. And it made for a very complex viewing experience where you were constantly battling with how you felt versus how you were supposed to feel. And it was amazing for that very reason. I hold this movie up in the pantheon of how to take a big risk with a character.

Title: 1917
Risk Type: Time

When I say the words, “World War 1 movie,” what comes to mind? I’m guessing long-drawn out narratives about soldiers on the front lines for months if not years, and then coming home and dealing with the PTSD of war and not being able to re-integrate into society. Boring s—t, right? 1917 erased all that with one simple risk-taking choice. It made a World War 1 film real-time. Boom. Just like that, you have the most original World War 1 movie ever made.

Title: A Quiet Place
Risk Type: Concept

A Quiet Place did something very similar for the horror genre. It came up with a concept where nobody can speak. This instantly turned the movie into a silent film. That’s a pretty darn big risk. A major studio budgeted and promoted a horror film that was silent? Risks don’t get much bigger than that.

So I’m sure plenty of you are wondering, “Do you HAVE to take a risk?” The answer is no. You don’t have to. There are plenty of movies, with scripts, that didn’t take much of a risk at all. John Wick comes to mind. Top Gun Maverick. Black Widow. Free Guy. Knives Out. These are movies that know their lane and stay squarely inside of it.

But, here’s the thing. When you write a screenplay, you are now competing for readers’ interest. And readers read a lot of stuff. They see the same stories over and over again. The same characters. The same tropes. So, while it is possible to write this perfect version of a basic story, you can kind of hack the system with one big risky swing (assuming it pays off).

Uncut Gems is a huge character risk. We’re rooting for a truly despicable man. Barbarian took a plot risk. After that captivating opening, it jumped to a completely different character and now we don’t know where the script is going. Everything Everywhere All At Once, I believe, takes risks in all five categories. Which is why the movie is so beloved by the film community.

Risks are just like a lot of tools in screenwriting. You have to decide whether you want to use them or not. I can tell you, from personal experience, that when a writer a takes a big risk, that screenplay is always more memorable than the scripts that didn’t take a risk. Even if the risk doesn’t work.

So go out there and put your testicular fortitude on the line and take a risk in your screenplay. Something tells me it’s going to pay off.

Today’s script JUST SET THE BAR for 2023!!!

Genre: Sci-Fi Comedy
Premise: A low-level worker on a spaceship run by a dark god must steal the most powerful weapon in the universe to save his workplace crush.
About: This script finished Top 10 on last year’s Black List. The writer has a lot of credits in the animated kids TV space. He wrote on such shows as Monsters at Work and Vampirina. Which, after you read this review, is going to be beyond shocking.
Writer: Travis Braun
Details: 97 pages

This has Holland written all over it!

You are about to experience something so rare that you may not know what to do with yourself afterwards. The rumors are true. You’re about to read a glowing review of a Black List script.

This is no ordinary script. This isn’t graded on a curve to adjust for the current level of the Black List. This is a legit awesome script. I don’t know who this writer is. I don’t know where he came from. But if he doesn’t get snatched up by the Marvel universe by the end of this weekend, I’ll be shocked.

24 year old Charlie was delivering a package when earth was invaded and aliens either killed or enslaved everyone. Charlie is one of the enslaved. He lives on a Death Star like ship that travels around the galaxy, destroying planets.

The ship is run by a terrifying alien named Morticus. Morticus is the embodiment of evil. All he cares about is killing. The only reason Charlie, the other humans, or the other enslaved aliens on the ship, aren’t dead, is because he needs people to keep the ship running.

Charlie spends most of his time cleaning up weapons that have just been discarded during battles. This place is like the Wild West. If the guards aren’t killing you, another slave is. This is Charlie’s every single day. It is pure misery. He has no reason to live. The only reason he doesn’t kill himself is because he’s too much of a wimp to.

Then one day, he gets a message on his food ration plate. It says, simply, “Have fun.” Perplexed, Charlie looks to see who wrote the message, and sees Emma. Charlie is instantly smitten.

He writes her back a message, and the two continue to go about their days, stealing glances and smiles, but never actually talking to each other because if you talk to other people, they kill you.

For once, Charlie has a reason to be alive. And boy is he happy about it. (Spoiler) That is until Morticus comes down from his tower, finds out Emma was planning to escape, and takes his scepter and thrashes it into her, making her die the most horrible death imaginable.

Now, Charlie is even more devastated than he was before he knew Emma! His life truly sucks. That is until he hears a rumor that Morticus’s scepter has the power to bring people back alive. For the first time since he’s been on this hellscape, Charlie is going to rock the boat. He’s going to travel to Morticus’s tower, steal his scepter, and reanimate his girlfriend!

This.

Script.

Was.

Bonkers.

Good.

There’s so much bonkers good here, I don’t know where to start.

You read ten scripts in a row that are all somewhere between bad and average and you start to think that a) nobody knows how to write anymore. b) your standards have gotten too high, or c) some combination of the two.

But then a script like this comes along and reminds you that there is still good writing out there! Which means we have another script to place in the ‘good script’ archives to learn from.

First, I’ll start with the writing. It was so light and clever and effortless. It was such a joy to read. I know that’s cliche. But it really was. I found myself not just looking forward to plot beats, but looking forward to actual line descriptions. Which is crazy. Cause that never happens.

I mean how great is this line: “Charlie and Sodros enter the vast throne room. It’s cold and empty, no doubt a design choice to match Morticus’ soul.” Despite what one of the commenters here will say via a 750 word essay about why this isn’t a clever or good line, trust me, it is. I’ve read everything. I read anything. Nobody writes lines this effortlessly funny like this. It’s super rare. And Braun somehow keeps it up the whole script.

I mean check out this description of the ship: “A massive engine of intergalactic evil.” I don’t know many writers who can capture the essence of an object inside such a concise simple line with the kind panache that Braun does here.

And it’s just fun. The line is fun. The story is fun. Everything here is fun. Here’s a quick dialogue exchange.

HAYNES: C’mon man. I’m your bestie. I can practically tell everything you’re thinking.

CHARLIE: You’re a telepath.

HAYNES: That’s fair. But if I wasn’t, I’d like to think our connection was such that I could still tell.

Now if it was just about the description and dialogue, that wouldn’t be enough for me. It’s the way the story is told as well. This is a writer who understands the craft. For example, Charlie’s job is to clean weapons. Weapons are used non-stop on this ship because all anybody does here is kill. The script lures us into that reality without us really thinking about it. Then, when Charlie finally decides to do something and re-animate his girlfriend, guess who has access to a bunch of weapons in order to do so?

You can always tell seasoned writers because they’re great with setups and payoffs.

But probably the thing that I liked about this script the most and what really separated Braun’s script from all the others is his dedication to turning moments on their head end not giving you what you expect.

For example, we’ve got Charlie and Emma flirting from afar with the kind of sexual tension that, if converted into raw energy, could power a mid-size country. Braun builds that up to crazy levels over the course of 15 pages. Then there’s a big dust-up and several creatures are killed. Charlie and Emma are order to transfer the dead aliens’ armor and weapons down to another floor.

The two wheel the armor into an elevator, and it’s the first time they’ve ever been alone together. As soon as the doors close, Emma says, “I think we have about ninety seconds.” “Yeah,” Charlie replies. “We should use it wisely,” she says. “Totally.” I think you know where this is going.

One of the biggest teaching tools out there for screenwriters is measuring what you would write versus what a great screenwriter would write. I can honestly say that, 99% of the time, the weak screenwriter writes what you expect. This is why only 1% break through. Because those are the screenwriters who think differently. They’re the ones who come up with the moments that the audience couldn’t have come up with themselves.

So when you look at the above scene that I set up, where they’re in the elevator together, I’m guessing 99% of you assumed that we would then cut to them having sex. Or cut to the end of the elevator ride, the doors opening, and them looking disheveled, clearly just having had sex.

Guess what?

That’s not what happened. And if you would’ve written that, you would’ve lost the game of screenwriting. Because EVERYBODY would’ve written that. The accountant in the back of the theater who’s never written so much as essay in his life would’ve come up with that reveal.

Instead, after their little exchange, we smash cut to them each wearing the alien armor, swords raised and they proceed to play fight with it.

It’s such a clever cut that you can’t help but smile. But, more importantly, it displays pro-writer behavior. Which is to ask what the audience expects and then make sure to give them something different.

This happens repeatedly throughout the script.

Later on, Charlie, while sneaking around trying to get to Morticus, gets stuck in a fuel pipe, and is all of a sudden sucked deep into this thing by fuel, and will for sure drown. Except, at the last second, he gets yanked out of this thing by a cool Oscar Isaac like character named Ignacio. Ignacio is this bada$$ who’s been living here in the front of the ship, using his awesomeness to survive. We immediately love the guy.

Him and Charlie get to chatting and I’m all psyched about how Charlie is going to team up with this dude and they’re going to save Emma’s life together. That is until Ignacio confides that he’s heartless and only cares about himself. Charlie says, “No you’re not. You saved me.” And Ignacio’s entire persona flips on a dime. He replies, “Who says I saved you?”

All of a sudden, straps whip around Charlie’s arms and legs, tying him to the chair. Ignacio then says he’s sorry but he’s got to kill Charlie and sell him off for food pound by pound, cause human flesh is worth a lot around here.

Braun had me hook, line, and sinker. He set up the Ignacio character so well that I never in a million years thought he was a bad guy. But, again, this is what good writers do. They lead the reader towards a conclusion they’re sure of, then repeatedly pull the rug out from under them.

On a slightly different topic, today’s script is the perfect comparison piece to yesterday’s script. You may be saying, “Carson, are you insane? Yesterday’s script was set on earth and followed a depressed pregnant pizza deliver girl struggling to accept whether she would be a good mother or not. What does that have to do with running around a spaceship trying to reanimate the love of your life?”

Quite a bit, actually.

You see, movies are great at exploring universal themes, the things we all experience in life. But they’re not good at doing that LITERALLY. They’re much more effective when you find larger-than-life stories in larger-than-life genres that explore those same themes on a much larger tapestry.

Dying For You is about depression just like Pizza Girl is about depression.

The difference is, the depression is explored on a much bigger canvas, which allows us to actually be entertained while we’re exploring that theme. Writers make the mistake of thinking that if they’re very literal and show dying and crying and drug addiction and daddy hit me exactly how they happen, that we’ll eat it up. But if you show that exactly the way it happens in the real world, there’s a good chance we’re going to be bored and miss the point.

That doesn’t happen in a movie like Dying For You. This is a story about a guy who has zero reason to live. He’s a slave on a spaceship where everything is designed to kill you. The love of his life was killed in front of him. His baseline is depression. But because we get these fun exchanges between him and friend. Because we get this exciting adventure where he goes off and gets in all these battles and chases – we’re actually entertained. And because we’re entertained, we’re more present – WHICH ALLOWS US TO FEEL THE DEPRESSION MORE INTENSELY.

Let me summarize that: “If we’re more present, we care more about what’s happening. Which means we feel your emotional beats more effectively.”

Now, I can already hear some of you rolling your eyes. “So I should never write a drama Carson? What about Lost In Translation? What about Good Will Hunting? Those weren’t great movies that made us feel for the characters?”

That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that as an unknown screenwriter trying to capture a reader – or even as a professional writer trying to bring in a real audience to his movie – you’re much better off looking for a larger-than-life setup to explore universal themes than you are doing it literally via a drama.

There’s a version of Everything Everywhere All At Once that doesn’t have multi-verses. That’s just about an Asian family that a mother has checked out of. The Daniels could’ve written that movie. And guess how many people would’ve seen it? Hold up both your hands, fingers extended, then lower three of those fingers. Count the rest. That’s how many people would’ve gone to see that movie.

I’m getting off-track here.

The point is, this is a great script. It’s honestly everything a spec screenplay should be. It’s got a big fun premise. It’s got a likable main character. It’s written in a fun, effortless manner with tons of white on the page. The dialogue is funny. The writer is constantly surprising us. The mythology is great. This is it, man. This script IS screenwriting.

All Hail Morticus.

[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[x] impressive (Top 25!)
[ ] genius

What I learned: This script reminded me that when you create a scenario where two people can’t be around each other (in this case Charlie and Emma), every single moment they do get together is CHARGED. When these two were around each other, I can’t remember a time where a scene between romantic interests felt so big and important.

Genre: Drama
Premise: A pregnant pizza delivery girl becomes infatuated with a customer, a mother desperately trying to raise a son on her own.
About: This script finished top 5 on last year’s Black List. The writer is very new and green. She has one produced credit, writing an episode of Law and Order: Organized Crime.
Writer: Jean Kyoung Frazier
Details: 101 pages

Nayah Damasen for Pizza Girl?

I’ve been seeing some gabbing in the comment section about nepotism. I know that Franklin Leonard, the creator of the Black List, is a rampant hater of all things nepotistic. So his list is, basically, a compilation of anti-nepotistic entries. I think the scary question to ask – and one a lot of people are afraid of – is, “What does this anti-nepotism get us?” Cause, for the last few years, it doesn’t look like it’s gotten us a whole lot. Let’s hope Pizza Girl changes that.

Pizza Girl is half-Korean, 18, and pregnant. She works at a pizza joint called Eddie’s with her best friend, Darryl, a young black man who seems to be in constant drama with his many boyfriends.

Pizza Girl has a boring life. She doesn’t like her mom or her (Pizza Girl’s) boyfriend, Billy, because they’re disproportionately in love with the baby she’s about to bring into the world. Billy wants nothing more than to be a father which is exactly why Pizza Girl is disgusted by him.

I’ll tell you who Pizza Girl does like though. A random woman who calls in and asks Pizza Girl to go buy pickles and add them to her pepperoni pizza. She has never met this woman yet loves her more than the man who impregnated her.

She delivers the pickle pizza to Jenny, a 38 year old woman who lives in a nice neighborhood in town. Her and her 8 year old son have recently moved back to CA and her son hasn’t been eating. Pickle pizza is the last hope to get him to nourish himself. Which is where the unique order comes from.

Thus begins a plot-averse character journey where Pizza Girl becomes more and more obsessed with Jenny, to the point where when she’s having sex with Billy, she imagines Jenny in order to orgasm.

We’re never quite sure why she likes Jenny so much but I think it’s because Jenny is a mother and is doing such a good job loving her child. So maybe that means Pizza Girl, who’s not exactly thrilled to be a future mom, can overcome that issue and be like Jenny. Whether that actually happens or not, however, we’ll have to see.

It actually took me a while to understand what this script was.  I went in expecting a 2023 version of Juno. But this definitely isn’t that. What I liked about Juno was that it had something to say. The movie was about a young girl making a very adult decision and navigating all the complexities of managing that decision.

I was 50 pages into Pizza Girl and I couldn’t figure out what it was about. If you had forced me to come up with a brief summary, I would’ve said something to the effect of, “It’s about a really depressed pregnant girl who likes one of her pizza delivery customers for reasons that aren’t entirely clear.”

That doesn’t exactly have the same punch as Juno.

But somewhere between pages 50-60, I started to realize the script was about depression and the fear of being a mother. Which is a noble topic to take on. However, it’s one of the harder subject matters to explore. Because 99% of moviegoers go to movies to escape their own feelings of aimlessness and depression. They want to forget that for two hours.

At our core, we are a feel-good industry in a feel-bad world.

Which puts Pizza Girl into that specialty market where the prime consumers are critics and cinephiles – the moviegoers who watch everything and are, therefore, bored, by those dopamine distilleries known as Hollywood flicks.

But that market isn’t easy to thrive in. If anything, it’s harder than the mainstream stuff. Because it’s such a tiny slice of the movie business and the people you’re writing to are extremely discerning. These are expert moviegoers and they’ll demand a lot more from you because of it.

So, when you’re writing a script like this, one that treats jokes like lepers, the two things you absolutely must get right are: we have to want to root for the main character. And we have to be captivated by the story’s central relationship.

Unfortunately, the script fails on the first front. Pizza Girl is not likable. She seems to hate her boyfriend and mom, despite them being super loving and supportive. She drinks all the time, despite being pregnant. She becomes infatuated with this other person for reasons that the reader doesn’t understand (she literally falls for the woman off her initial phone call, before she’s even met her??).

As I’ve said many times before, it’s impossible to win over a reader if they don’t like your main character. And that’s where I was with Pizza Girl. Despite her awesome name, she was impossible to get behind.

Now, the relationship with Jenny was a different story. That had me kind of intrigued. Jenny was a bit of an enigma so I was curious what was going on with her. Why was she a single mother? Where was the dad? How did she live in a nice neighborhood when it didn’t look like she had a job? So whenever Pizza Girl would go to her place, I noticed I was a lot more interested in the script.

But a lot of this was offset by the overwhelmingly depressing tone that I could never get past. All of us writers are feelers. We feel deeply, especially when we’re down. But you have to be careful to separate the feeler in you from the storyteller in you. Let the feeler feel. But, in the end, the storyteller has to steer the ship. He has to come up with the most entertaining scenes, the most entertaining plot points, the most entertaining characters. If you leave the feeler in charge, especially if you’re writing a movie about depression, it’s going to be a big fat drag.

Juno says so much more about pregnancy than this script and it’s because Diablo Cody prioritized storytelling over feels. She made her main character likable. She went out of her way to make the dialogue entertaining. Her plot points (like the husband crossing the line with Juno) were all interesting.

And she was still able to get that shot of depression in there through the character of Vanessa, the wife desperate to have a child.

Like a lot of Black List scripts, Pizza Girl has some strong pieces to it. But the overall experience feels uneven and too depressing. I think I understood what the writer was trying to do but was just never able to get past that down feeling the story gave me.

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

What I learned: You can explore depression without making every single beat of your story depressing (Skeleton Twins). Just like you can explore humor without making every single beat of your story funny (Tom Hank’s Punchline). I think it’s dangerous if you explore depression as a subject matter by only showing depression. We feel an emotion the greatest when we can contrast it against the opposite emotion. And I never saw the opposite emotion in Pizza Girl.

What I learned 2: Be careful not to confuse the reader with contradictory elements. In this script we see Pizza Girl constantly ignoring Billy’s calls. Then, when she sleeps with him at night, she kisses him desperately, clinging to him with all she’s got. So does she like Billy or doesn’t she? Jenny lives in a rich neighborhood but in a poor house. Is she well off or isn’t she? Pizza Girl wears her lack of ambition like a badge of honor. She’s also mad that Billy doesn’t have any ambition. Does Pizza Girl value ambition or doesn’t she? I think some writers believe these contrasts make their story more complex. But, more often than not, they just confuse the reader.