Today’s Black List screenplay imagines Anchorman as an extremely dark comedy.
Genre: Dark Comedy
Premise: A news anchor’s life starts to unravel when he leverages a contract renewal by auditioning for a host position on a new game show.
About: This script finished just outside the top 20 on last year’s Black List. Writer Brett Conrad has written on some pretty high-profile TV shows over the last 7 years, which include Sons of Anarchy, The Killing, Marco Polo, and Wayward Pines. The project isn’t officially set up anywhere yet, but should that happen, it will become his first feature credit.
Writer: Brett Conrad
Details: 116 pages (undated)
We’re going there, folks. Hot diggity dam we’re flying business class to one of the most well travelled screenplay cities in the world. Yup, we’re talking about unlikable protagonists YET AGAIN. But there’s a new angle to this suffering sucatash of a discussion today. I call it “The unlikable Black List bias.”
It’s true. That Black List loves dastardly anti-heroes more than any subset of Hollywood. Whether it be assholes, philanderers, cranks, liars, this is the destination for dickery. I mean they voted The Libertine (a script that has the single most unlikable protagonist in screenplay history) the number 3 script of the year.
And I think I finally understand WHY. Whereas the rest of the industry is concerned with getting movies made, and hence knowing that unlikable curmmudgeons are impossible to slip past studio suits whose data suggests that even a hint of a frown could cost the film 3 million dollars at the box office, the Black List doesn’t need to worry about that shit. They’re just voting for what they like.
And I think Black List voters relate to these characters. These are people not yet at the top of the mountain and therefore frustrated, just like these protagonists. So whereas a studio suit might say, “He didn’t save the cat. Why do we like him?” A Black List voter says, “I’m in the same place, brother. I feel your pain.” It’s a possible explanation for these scripts making the Black List so frequently.
43 year old Colin Weston is a news anchor in Phoenix. Colin is losing it. Those softball interviews he used to give local figureheads have turned into him decking the assholes the second they go off the air.
Naturally, the station doesn’t like this, but Weston is their top draw, so he can deck the fucking halls for all they care. But that loyalty is about to be tested when Weston sneaks away to Los Angeles to audition for a game show host position.
Eventually, his employers find out, and Weston decides to use their discovery to his benefit, as he has a new contract coming up. If the game show gig doesn’t work out, maybe the station will give him more money. The thing is, the rest of Weston’s life is such a mess, that this calculated move adds up to a shit-show circus.
There’s his mistress, Mona, who’s just informed him that she’s pregnant. There’s his 16 year-old daughter, Daisy, who’s doing everything in her power to try and get pregnant, there’s his wife, who keeps pushing Weston for the down payment on Daisy’s private school tuition, and there’s the car dealership he co-owns which is so far in the red, his partner got an ill-advised loan from the local version of the Hell’s Angels. Oh, and let’s not forget Weston’s hanging-by-a-thread sobriety.
As all of these pressures start adding up, Weston finds himself taking it out on his nightly audience, which his bosses are becoming increasingly less tolerant of. That’s when the reality of the situation rears its head. There’s a strong chance that when this is all over, Weston could end up with nothing.
Whenever you write one of these “spiraling out of control” stories, the key ingredient is pressure. You must pressure your protagonist from all sides. And Conrad does a brilliant job of that here. We’ve got the Hell’s Angels loan, the pregnancy from his mistress, the alcohlism, a game show job that’s looking bullshitier by the second, the private school tuition, and a book he got an advance for that was supposed to be finished months ago.
This pressure creates CONFLICT, and as we all know, conflict drives drama, which is the lifeblood of a good story. If nothing’s going wrong for your hero, then your hero’s not going to find himself in any interesting situations. And it’s this good storytelling technique that helps offset the offputting main character. If you’re going to make your protagonist a jerk and then just have him be jerky for 120 minutes, we’re going to be bored. You need to put him in dramatic situations and that’s what constant pressure does.
I also want to point out a scene in Pandemonium that uses one of my favorite devices – the scene agitator. For those who’ve forgotten, a scene agitator is a third variable in a scene (typically outside of the two main characters in the scene) that agitates the situation. It just gives the scene a bit more texture so it doesn’t feel too one-note.
Here in Pandemonium, Weston goes to visit his co-owner in the car dealership business. The co-owner starts explaining to Weston how they have no money and they had to take on a bad loan. The scene agitator is a couple who recognizes Weston from the news. So the wife comes over and asks for a picture with Weston. The reason this particular scene agitator is so effective is that it CONTRASTS the situation.
Weston is pissed off at the bad news but has to smile and play nice when someone asks for his picture. This scene doesn’t work if Weston is receiving good news and is therefore happy. It works because of the contrast.
There’s a lot of good writing throughout Pandemonium. The only reason I don’t rate it higher is because it gets you down, man. There’s no way getting around that the hero is a jerk and responsible for the shit-show his life has turned into. So it kinda leaves you bummed out, and it’s always hard for me to give high marks to stuff that leaves me feeling that way. But for those of you who like your screenplays dipped in anger and frustration, this very well might be for you.
[ ] what the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: A dual-job allows for more variety in a screenplay. That second act can be tough to find enough story for. You hit page 45 and all of a sudden it’s like, “What now?” If you’re covering two jobs, you can create two subplots, which fills up space. So here, Weston is both both a news anchor and a car dealership owner.
What I learned 2: There’s a little-talked-about skill in this business called the “conceptual pitch,” which is a quick and dirty marketing pitch that sells your screenplay. Think of it as a verbal billboard for your script. Now there are ideas out there that don’t need conceptual pitches. Jurassic Park is a cool idea that sells itself. But when your script is offbeat or low-budget or unique, you need a way to explain it that gets people excited. One of the most famous examples of this was when David Twohy pitched a Pitch Black franchise, calling it, “Star Wars’s evil twin brother.” That’s the conceptual pitch that got everyone excited and helped greenlight the film. Here, I used, “Anchorman re-imagined as a dark comedy.” You don’t have to use a known film in a conceptual pitch. As long as it’s creative and nails the feel of the story, you’re good. So I’ll pose a challenge to you guys. Let’s say that neither The Revenant or Room have been made into movies yet. What would your conceptual pitch be to a studio to get these films greenlit? Make sure to up-vote your favorite answers!
