Genre: Spy Thriller
Logline: No idea.
About: Only thing I know about this script is that one half of the writing team wrote Adam Sandler’s “Hustle.”
Writers: Taylor Materne and Jacob Rubin (story by Damian Chezelle)
Details: 120 pages
We’re going old-school Scriptshadow today, back to the days when I’d have no idea what I was about to read. I’d get a script, see the title, shrug my shoulders, and off to the races I went. These reads have the potential to be the most rewarding when the script turns out great. But they also have the potential to be complete and utter wastes of time. In the ultra-niche screenplay reading world, the stakes are high.
However, it’s a nice reminder that, as unknown screenwriting entities, this is what all of you are facing as well. You are sending a script to someone who has no idea who you are and you are saying, “Please read this.” Think about that for a second. When have you ever read something from someone you’ve never heard of before and a script that you have zero context for? Probably never. So why would you expect someone else to do the same for you?
The only way is if your concept sounds really good to them. Then, and only then, will they be willing to take a chance on your script. It’s not because of some noble reason – that they feel like they owe it to their moral conscience to give people a chance. lol. Not even close. They will read your script if, and only if, they think it will make them money down the road. That’s because 90 minutes of their time is 90 minutes that they could be spending on something else that makes them money. That’s why it’s so important to have a strong concept.
There’s a bonus round to this. If they don’t like your script, but they like you as a writer, then they can still make money off you, which means they’ll sign you or hire you to write another project. But, again, they can’t find out you’re a good writer if they don’t read your script. And they won’t read your script if you send them some dull logline (“An Alabama fisherman tries to keep his fishing business afloat while confronting old demons.”). Which is why you always want to be working with loglines that have some bite to them – the kind of logline where if you saw it floating around, you’d say, “I need to read that script!”
While it’s true that you can write a low-concept script and run into an industry person who ALSO happens to like that subject matter (lo and behold, the manager you sent it to is an Alabaman who loves fishing!) resulting in them requesting a read, you’re still putting yourself in what I call “the screenplay lottery.”
Putting yourself in the screenplay lottery is the act of writing a script that doesn’t have a strong concept. Of course it’s possible to sell that script. It’s possible to sell a script about anything. But the tamer your concept, the more you’re depending on that random lucky serendipitous connection. If you’re armed with a strong concept, you skip that line and go straight to the front, where you’re competing with a way smaller pool of scripts.
Long intro for this script! Let’s see what it’s about.
Diego Agen is what’s called a “language officer.” To be honest, I was never entirely sure what that was, but I think it’s a type of secret agent for the French government who specializes in knowing a lot of languages. If you’re confused, just do what I did. I imagined Diego as earth’s version of C-3PO.
Diego works a desk job, which he’s perfectly content with considering he’s got a wife and young child. But his world is disrupted when an old friend from the agency, Telander, tells him he’s got a field job for him. Diego doesn’t want to do it which pisssssssses Telander off. He talked this guy up to his superiors and now Diego is dissing him? So Telander says if he doesn’t do the job, he’ll demote him. Diego has no choice. He’s in.
Diego flies to Marseille where he must get in close with a woman named Saveria, a local kingpin. Her assistant was killed recently, which has led to more crime in the area (I guess the assistant used to curtail crime) and that means French citizens are getting killed. The government doesn’t want that so they want Diego to get in there and patch things up somehow (no, I don’t know how).
First, Diego must befriend a local night club promoter named Paulu. Paulu will take him to meet a tough dude named Roccu. Roccu is the son of Saveria, the head honcho he needs to meet. But within 24 hours, Roccu kidnaps Diego and says that Paulu stepped out on him. He gives Diego a gun and tells him to kill Paulu. If you don’t kill Paulu, we kill you. So Diego has no choice. The desk agent brutally murders Paulu.
This gets Diego in with Saveria, who tells him about her murdered assistant. She thinks this dude named Walid did it. So she needs him to get close to Walid. Diego uses his lawyer skills (I guess he’s a lawyer as well?) to win Walid an important court case, so now Walid is his buddy. Walid even introduces Diego to his hot sister, giving him his blessing to have sex with her. All this happens by page 60 by the way. Yeah, to say this script is filled with plot is the understatement of the millennium.
Diego eventually learns that Walid is the killer (of the original assistant) but that Roccu ordered him to do it and didn’t tell his Gangster mama. This means the mom and her son both wanted the opposite result. Eventually, though, a Godfather-like war erupts and many people are killed. Did our boy Diego survive? Unfortunately, you’ll never find out unless they adapt this into a TV show cause I can promise you nobody’s ever going to make this film (he lives).
This is the kind of script that if your mind drifts for even a second, you’re lost. For that reason, readers hate these scripts. Let me rephrase that. If the script is really good, readers love these scripts. But if you’re requiring 5x the attention from us as the average script and you don’t deliver something awesome, we will get very very mad at you.
I mean consider this. A guy is hired to go on a job. The job is to get close to this woman. But before he gets close to the woman, he must meet up with a local connection. The connection then connects him with the son of this woman he’s trying to get close to. He must do a job for the son and that allows him to be introduced to the mom. The mom says we had this guy working for us and someone killed him. We think it’s this guy. So go get close to him (are you following this – we got close to a guy to get close to a woman to get close to another guy).
Now, Diego is something called a language officer. But when he gets to the guy connected to the woman connected to the guy, he’s all of a sudden a lawyer. Like, a real live lawyer. We see him win a case in order to win the trust of the 3rd guy (Walid). Did he just happen to luckily also be a lawyer? Or was this all in the plan from the get go? Cause how would he have known that the guy he was introduced to from the woman introduced to him from the guy who introduced her would’ve needed a lawyer?
Confused? Yeah, welcome to how it was reading this script.
In the writers’ defense, I don’t want to work to understand this story. Some readers love spy films and they love the 15 dots they must connect in order to understand a plot point so if they’re confused, they’ll go back in there and re-read everything until they figure it out. My mom is one of those people. Maybe she should’ve reviewed this script. She watched all five seasons of Fauda and somehow understood all of it. But for me, I don’t want to do the work unless the story surrounding the work is amazing. And, in this case, it is not.
It’s not bad. But as I like to remind writers, the goal is not to write a “not bad” script. It’s not even to write a “good” script. Both those scripts will be rejected. Takes me back to that old screenwriting book, “Liked it Didn’t Love it.” A producer wrote that book to remind writers that readers need to LOVE something in order to do something with it. “Like” doesn’t cut it.
And by the way, I’m not saying these writers aren’t trying to write something we’ll love. We’re all trying to write something great. I’m just reminding you that this is the reason you can never half-ass anything. Cause even when you try your best, you’ll still, most likely, write something average. Any level of effort less than that? You’re guaranteed to write something bad.
The script has its moments and is best when it’s pushing the envelope. There’s a scene where Diego is forced to kill his connection in Marseilles that’s intense as hell. The best scene in the script by far. And then Diego also ends up sleeping with and getting involved with Walid’s sister, which is a choice that 99% of writers wouldn’t have made (due to Diego having a wife and newborn). Writers are terrified of making their hero unlikable and will do anything to avoid it.
I also liked that the writers took their time setting up Diego. A lot of writers would’ve sent Diego off to Marseilles the second Telander asked him. But by staying with Diego longer – seeing him at home with his wife and kid – it helped him feel a lot more relatable and real. It also made those later moments, like sleeping with Walid’s sister, more impactful.
Unfortunately, the script has enough plot for – I’m not even exaggerating here – 10 seasons of TV. The story takes place over 14 months! So much for the “U” in GSU. At a certain point I was like, “Stop. Stop making me memorize 6000 things to enjoy your story!” For that reason, it wasn’t for me.
[ ] what the hell did I just read?
[x] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: This is not a one-size fits all lesson but I have found a definite correlation between broader titles and weak scripts. Usually, if you don’t know what your script is about – if you don’t have a clear story you’re telling, you become unsure what your title is. You start to pull up higher and higher until your title is so macro that it’s borderline generic. “Marseille.” If I told you only that title and nothing else, would you be able to imagine this movie? My guess is no. Using yesterday’s movies as a baseline, Mean Girls, The Beekeeper, and Anyone but You all have titles that more specifically reference their stories.
