Genre: Thriller/Sci-Fi
Premise: (from Black List) When a man’s estranged wife gets lost inside of her own mind during an experimental procedure, he must navigate her subconscious to find her in the memories of their past.
About: Brett Treacy and Dan Woodward are new writers. They finished top 100 in 2017’s Launch Pad competition with a script called Trapline. Then last year they made the leap to the big time – the Black List, grabbing a respectable 14 votes. Brett Treacy was a production assistant on Westworld.
Writer: Brett Treacy & Dan Woodward
Details: 120 pages
There I was, 15 pages into In Retrospect, sweating bullets for the writers. In theory, these ideas are goldmines. They’re high concept. They’re exciting. They feel like a movie. In practice, they’re nightmares. I can confirm this from my own experiences as well as from reading similar scripts from other writers.
The problem lies within the rule set that governs the script’s mythology. The disparity between what you believe writing the script will be like (fun!) and what it’s actuality like (misery!) is so much bigger than anticipated, it gives way to a sort of surrender as the writing process goes on. It’s never fun when you realize a script is going to take five times as much effort as you anticipated. What am I talking about? Read on.
James, a photographer, gets a call from a mysterious scientist who says he needs him to come immediately. James’ ex-wife, Sloane, is in trouble. James arrives at Vicaricorp where he’s whisked into a room to see his wife is in a coma. They explain to James that Sloane was part of a cutting-edge memory experiment to cure Alzheimer’s and that something went wrong. As James is Sloane’s emergency contact, he’s the only one legally able to help them. So what do you need me to do, he asks. We need you to go inside your wife’s memories and bring her back.
Before James even knows what that entails, he’s placed in a coma and linked to Sloane. The memory operational rules are as unclear to James they are to us. James can navigate Sloan’s memories by grabbing onto “nearby objects.” Also, James can watch himself in these memories as Memory James. Or he can inhabit Memory James and communicate with Memory Sloan. Keep in mind that Memory Sloan is not real Sloan. She’s just a memory. He needs to trick Memory Sloan to help him find where real Sloan is hiding.
We then take a literal trip down memory lane. Their first date at a bar. Their first love-making session. Dinner with the family. Sometimes James enters memories that he’s not in. For example, he accidentally stumbles into a memory of Sloan banging a mean guy in college. — Because James has no idea what he’s doing, he just keeps stumbling through old memories. That is until he senses there are other “memory travelers” in here with him. James demands to be woken up. He wants answers!
What James learns is that Vicaricorp has found a way to donate memories from one person to another. They hope to use this technology to help people with traumatic memories overwrite them with nicer memories from the “donor.” Sloan, it turns out, is their best donor. But for some reason she’s run away from them into the deepest recesses of her mind, her “emotional core.” In order for James to get her back, he will need to enter this core. And in doing so, access the most intense memories yet. Can he do it? Or maybe the more appropriate question is: Should he?
As you can see, In Retrospect has some good ideas in it. But there’s so much it has to crawl through to get to those ideas, it’s more an exercise in navigating bizarre infrastructure than it is a fun engaging story. For starters, there’s an entire 30 pages of scene fragments. When James first goes inside his ex-wife’s memories, he’s rocketing through them so fast, none of the scenes have a chance to play out. It’s like that college friend of yours who gets a hold of the remote and never stops flipping through the channels.
If the whole point of this story is to explore a broken marriage, why rush through the memories? We should be plopping down and exploring each memory in detail, figuring out what went wrong.
Even once we get out of that, the script suffers from a rule set foggier than an Oregon highway. I didn’t understand how to flip from one memory to the next (grab an object??). When you switched to a memory, was it random? Or could you control it? Never clear. The stuff where he could inhabit himself or remain an invisible third party was murky at best. And when he did inhabit himself, he could alter the memory by changing the conversation or action? How does that work? Memories can’t change.
In every movie, you either sign the “I’m going along with this” agreement or you don’t. It’s why some people love A Quiet Place (they signed on) and others hate it (they didn’t). Your job as a writer is to make signing that agreement as easy as possible. The murkier your rules, the less likely it is we’re signing that piece of paper. I ripped this agreement up as soon as that weird third person stuff showed up.
And I’ll take this opportunity to promote ONE MORE TIME that the best screenwriting is SIMPLE SCREENWRITING. While the gears grinding underneath your screenplay may be far-reaching and complex, the stuff THE READER SEES? That stuff needs to be as simple as possible.
Despite this issue, there were some things I liked. I liked that the doctors/scientists were in a hurry. They needed to get Sloan out quickly. Not only does this add urgency to the overall plot, but it helped individual scenes as well. When James first shows up at the facility, we have the potential for a long and boring exposition scene. A lot of writers fall apart when they have to convey heavy exposition. But because these scientists were in such a hurry, we moved through the exposition quickly. Contrast this with one of the worst exposition writers in Hollywood, Jonathan Nolan. His exposition scenes are so egregious because they rarely have any urgency behind them. They’re all two characters sitting in a room with the rest of their lives to chat if need be. Beware JNol exposition.
The writers also do a nice job holding some of the plot back. As writers, we’re eager to expose our genius ideas as soon as the plot will let us. If we’ve got a cool story beat, darnit if we don’t throw it at the audience immediately. Instead, hold some things back! Give us the first half on page 20. Then give us the second half on page 70. That’s what Treacy and Woodward do. They give us the bare essentials of the memory technology in the first scene. Then tell us what’s REALLY going on during a scene deep in the second act.
Unfortunately, this script needs a lot more drafts if it’s ever going to meet its potential. Slop Century.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: Never give the reader what they want when they want it. Readers are willing to wait if they’re told something will be reveled later. I loved it when the scientists were showing James their facility and James said, “I want to see her.” The head scientist didn’t say, “Okay, here she is.” He said, “We’ll get to that.” Always make them wait!
What I learned 2: Beware writing about major human experiences you have no experience with yourself. It was so clear by the casual nature of which this divorce was explored that neither of these writers had experienced divorce themselves. Divorce is a traumatic experience that redefines your life. It isn’t like a breakup where you shrug your shoulders and walk away. Money is involved. Kids are involved. Property is involved. And the feeling of failing at the institution of marriage itself cuts you to your core. — I’m not saying you can’t write about divorce in any capacity if you’ve never gone through it. I’m saying you probably don’t want to write a movie that’s specifically about divorce if you haven’t been divorced yourself. There’s no way you’ll be able to explore it convincingly. Readers always pick up on that. You want to see a guy tell a story about divorce who I KNOW has been through a divorce? Watch this clip (beware – it’s not an easy watch).
