Genre: Whimsical Dramedy
Premise: A young man makes the all important second round of a mission to Mars contest, and begins his training, despite the fact that everyone in town thinks the contest is a scam.
About: This script snuck onto the 2016 Black List, grabbing 6 votes. The project, written by Rebecca Banner, got some initial heat, attaching newbie director Sam Boyd (In A Relationship), but struggled to get money in that all-important financing stage. Contrary to popular belief, Rebecca Banner is not the mother of Marvel cinematic hero, Bruce Banner.
Writer: Rebecca Banner
Details: 106 pages

Hoult for Alex?

Ah, the Delusional Adventurist sub-genre. One of the most beloved by writers, yet one of the hardest to execute.

From The Fisher King to Field of Dreams to Nebraska to K-Pax to Safety Not Guaranteed, the temptation of writing these movies is their adult fairy tale nature. We may have outgrown our knights and princesses saving the day. But boy would we like to write about a guy who puts an ad in the paper asking for a partner to go back in time with him.

I wrote a Delusional Adventurist script back in the day about a guy who believed he could use the junk in his dead father’s junk yard to build a satellite receiver that would allow him to talk to his father again. Yeah, um, that script didn’t go anywhere. But boy did I love writing it. This genre really allows you to use your imagination and have fun. And isn’t that what writing movies is all about?

27 year-old Alex lives in a small town in the middle of nowhere and has recently learned that he’s made the all-important second round of the Mission Mars Space Program Contest, which will put him in a ship with a group of fellow astronauts to fly to Mars where they’ll live the rest of their lives. Alex takes the mission very seriously and starts preparing immediately, even though they don’t leave for another 10 years.

Alex’s sister, Liz, considers Alex’s obsession with this Mars mission embarrassing. Everyone knows that the company is a scam. They’ll never be able to put this thing together. So Alex prancing around town telling anyone who will listen that he’s a Mars astronaut is not only making him look bad, but the rest of the family as well.

Alex decides that because a Mars trip is dangerous, he should probably take out a life insurance policy, so he heads into the local insurance office where he meets Daisy, who just moved into town. When Alex tells Daisy he’s going to Mars, she can’t stop laughing, until she realizes he’s serious. Um, okay, she says, I guess we’ll write up a policy for you.

Daisy takes a liking to Alex, but Alex makes it clear that they can’t get too close. He must put all of his focus into training. Even though, based on what’s in the script, Alex’s training amounts to walking around town aimlessly. Eventually, we learn that Alex and Liz had a brother, Christopher, who died last year, and that maybe this is playing into Alex’s Mars’ obsession. When you need a little extra drama, why not throw in a dead family member backstory, right? Will Alex finally face reality and be with this amazing girl? Or is he stuck living in a fantasy world the rest of his life?

So how do you make the Delusional Adventurist genre work? Well, for starters, you have to figure out if your hero is smart or dumb. For example, Ray (Kevin Costner) in Field of Dreams is smart. Kenneth, in Safety Not Guaranteed, is not smart. The story is completely different depending on which route you take. And this was Space Oddity’s biggest misstep. I had no idea who Alex was. At first I thought he was dumb. Then I thought he may have been on the spectrum. Then I thought he was of average intelligence but just in a daze since his brother died.

Let me make something clear to all writers out there. If the reader doesn’t understand who your hero is, you’re screwed. Nothing else you do in the screenplay will matter because we don’t have a handle on the person who’s taking us on the journey. This is why I PLEAD with screenwriters to spend more time on your hero’s introductory scene than any other scene in the script. I don’t care if it takes you THREE MONTHS, as long as, once you’ve figured out that scene, the audience is crystal clear on who your hero is.

Yes, there are times where you’ll obscure your hero for mystery purposes. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the 95% of screenplays where you introduce a hero and we know immediately who they are.

For that reason, it took me a good 60 pages until I had a reasonable feel for who Alex was. By that point, with half the script gone, there was only so much of myself I could invest. Truth be told, there were a number of newbie mistakes in the script. It’s a script based around dialogue but the dialogue is predictable and safe. It’s never bad. But it’s never good either. And if you’re writing a script where the dialogue is one of the main focuses, then the dialogue has to be exceptional.

I knew the script was in trouble when Daisy’s job had absolutely nothing to do with the story. Literally the only reason she holds this position is so Alex can walk into an insurance store and there’s a girl there he can start a relationship with. I can’t remember insurance coming up at all after that scene. Not only that, but the act of getting insurance didn’t make sense for the story! The one thing we know about Alex is that he only cares about going to Mars. He’s selfish. So why would he open a life insurance policy? Who does he care about after he dies? Nobody.

This is the kind of stuff that bothers because it’s an indication that the writer isn’t thinking through what they’re writing. They get an idea – “I know. I’ll have him fall in love with an insurance saleswoman.” But then they don’t think about what that means or why the character would hold that position or why that choice is best for the story. They think the initial inspiration is enough to justify the choice. And that is enough to justify the choice in a first draft. But then you have to challenge those choices and decide if they’re the right choices. In almost every case, they can be improved upon.

The original time machine in Back to the Future was a refrigerator. Had Zemeckis and Gale kept that idea, that movie would’ve been a hell of a lot less exciting.

Unfortunately I was too caught up in all the rookie mistakes to think about the bigger question here, which is how do you write a great Delusional Adventurist script? And I think the answer to that question is a boring one. Or, at least, not the one you’d expect. It’s to make the characters interesting regardless of the storyline. In other words, in the end, it doesn’t matter if the mission is real, if the field is real, if time travel is real. What matters is having a catch with your father. And that payoff only works if you’ve done the hard work on the characters. Like I said, I couldn’t tell you if Alex’s IQ was 90 or 160. That’s how clueless I was about this character. So of course I cared very little about his relationship with Daisy.

With all that said, I’m a sucker for a good Delusional Adventurist script so here’s hoping that the next one gets a worth the read.

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

What I learned: “A means to a monologue.” Too many writers treat dead family member backstories as a means to a final act monologue and nothing more. They don’t truly explore grief. They don’t truly explore pain. They don’t know who those characters were before and after their brother died. They merely see plot beats as chess pieces to move around until they can give that final monologue. Look, I get it. It’s a character piece. There’s probably going to be a big monologue at the end. But it needs to be earned! You actually have to feel the things the characters are feeling in order for it to land. Jason Bateman says that the only way he can cry on cue is if he imagines that his kids are dead. I know that’s drastic but who said the arts were easy? If you’re not feeling it when you write it, we’re not feeling it either.

Genre: Horror
Premise: A recovering alcoholic travels off to his dead uncle’s remote island to battle the disease, but ends up battling a deadly monster who lives in the surrounding water instead.
About: Hooray! A recent spec sale. A few weeks ago, actually. And high six figures even. Never say the dream is dead. However, if you’re going to live the spec sale dream, you probably want to get your script to David Boxerbaum, as he’s the only agent in town the studios go to for original material. Peter Joseph sold this script to Universal.
Writer: Peter Joseph
Details: 105 pages

I’m doing this review for one reason and one reason only. Because I know that Grendl will post a 5000 word essay in the comments section on why it can never live up to its inspiration, Jaws.

There is a specific movie that brings all of us into this bizarre frustrating addictive craft known as screenwriting. And while we fight against copying the films of our past, an argument can be made that all we’re really trying to do is rewrite our favorite movie ever. Grendl knows Jaws so well, he can probably tell you the name of Extra #482 on the beach. So he can tell you how this script fares much better than I can.

I, however, am not bound by these chains. I’m easily entertained when it comes to monster movies. I’ll be the casual fan here and Grendl can be the New York Times critic.

30 year old Henry Wabash just got out of rehab. His sister, Athena, is proud of him, but worried that if she leaves him alone, he’ll relapse. That’s exactly what happens. Henry ends up at a bar his first night back. And so Athena comes up with a plan. She’s going to drive them out to their Uncle Pat’s place, which is located on a tiny island in the middle of a river way out in the middle of nowhere. There, Henry can fix up the house of their recently deceased uncle and truly put this addiction behind him.

After Athena leaves, the only connection to the outside world Henry has is Maurice, a local caretaker. Maurice is going to motor out and deliver him groceries every week. That way Henry won’t have any access to booze at all. One day, while out on the lake in a canoe, a rogue wave knocks Henry out of his boat. While underwater, he spots an old military plane at the bottom of the lake. Later, when Maurice comes by, he explains that the crew got out fine and it’s nothing. But it sure didn’t seem like nothing to Henry.

The next day, while out near the shore, a giant tentacle slips out of the water and tries to yank Henry in! He’s able to chop it off with an axe, but that’s not the end of it! The tentacle turns into its own entity and continues to attack Henry, who’s only barely able to kill it. Henry sends up a flare to have Maurice get him out of here, but on the way back, the tentacle creature attacks them! Not only that, but it seems to have grown! Henry is somehow able to escape but can only get back to the private island.

But if he thought he was safe there, think again! The sea monster is growing so rapidly that it’s able to squirm its tentacles up to and even INSIDE the house. It really wants to kill Henry. Henry realizes that if he doesn’t come up with a plan pronto, he’s going to be sea food. Ironically, Henry’s lone stash of liquor allows him to McGruber together a Molotov cocktail, which, theoretically, he’ll be able to use as a weapon. But this giant sea thing is getting smarter by the second. So whatever Henry’s plan is, it better be foolproof.

Let’s start off by recognizing the EXTREME streamlined writing style here. Pop open the first scene in Don’t Go In The Water and you won’t even see the right side of the page. That’s because there are no words on it. This script is written to read fast. And while I’m not sure a script should be THIS sparse, there’s an argument to be made that it should. All of Max Landis’s scripts read like this and he sold a bunch of stuff as well. Readers like effortless reading experiences and this script selling is proof of that.

Another takeaway is that monster-on-an-island specs are gonna sell at a higher rate than other specs. I know it’s simplistic. It almost seems like cheating. But we saw this with last year’s spec sale of Beast, about a woman running around an island with a beast creature. We saw an extreme version of it with The Shallows. The reason it works is because it hits all the beats that make for a thrilling experience. You’ve got a character who’s trapped. You’ve got a mysterious monster. And you’ve got time ticking down. As crazy as it is for me to say, I don’t think it’s a bad idea to write one of these. It’s sort of like a sneaky loophole to a spec sale. Sure, two of them are now in development. But any studio would like to make one of these because they’re so cheap.

As for the quality of the story itself, it had its pros and cons. I liked that Joseph attempted to explore something real with this character by making him an alcoholic. And I liked how organically that played into the plot itself. He had to come out here because it was his only shot at beating this. But I’m not sure Joseph ever really committed to it. There were times where he did and other times where Henry seemed like he wouldn’t know what alcohol was if a Budweiser hit him in the face. You probably need a writer who really understands addiction to do a pass on this storyline. Cause you can’t just dabble in addiction when its convenient. It’s supposed to be who your character is.

For that reason, I was only casually interested in the story. It was all too simplistic for my taste. However, after Maurice is killed and Henry is forced to flee back to the island, things picked up considerably. In any monster movie, one of the primary variables that you have to nail is the threat level of your monster. This is why Aliens remains one of the greatest monster movies ever made. When we see those aliens first attack the Marines, and they’re so overmatched, we think our heroes are done for, no matter what they do from now on. That’s the threat level you want to bring to your story – if not early, then by the midpoint.

Once I felt that Henry wasn’t safe in his own house, that he didn’t have any way to communicate with the outside world, and that any attempt to use the water for escape was suicide, I became a lot more invested. That final 40 pages is when this script delivered. So it’s by no means a killer screenplay. But once it hits the home stretch, you leave feeling like you got your money’s worth.

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

What I learned: Alcoholism is everywhere in movies and TV. For this reason, it usually comes off as cliche. The reason for that is writers think that to convey alcoholism you have to show the character drinking. A lot. The more they’re drinking, the belief is, the more developed the character becomes. In actuality, they’re just feeding the cliche. To accurately convey alcoholism, focus more on NOT HAVING THE DRINK. It’s the moments between drinks – the struggle – that’s where you explore true addiction.

Genre: Comedy
Logline: (from Hit List) Abby hosts a popular true crime podcast about a brash blue collar troublemaker named Daryl, who she believes was wrongfully convicted of murder. But when Daryl breaks out of prison and shows up at her apartment, she goes from podcaster to accomplice as the unlikely pair team up to try to exonerate him before he’s caught.
About: I picked this script from the 2018 Hit List when I saw that the writers had sold another script called “Haunted Haunted House.” I thought that was hilarious. The writers started their career writing for College Humor, where they won numerous Emmys, and most recently wrote for Last Week with John Oliver. This film is set to star Awkwafina as the podcaster and Ike Barinholtz as the escaped convict.
Writers: Dan Gurewitch & David Young
Details: 110 pages

Let’s start today’s review with a Scriptshadow PSA. Your comedy spec should be between 100-110 pages. If you are outside this page count window, your screenplay will be terminated by the Scriptshadow Incinipager 11,000. Thank you for listening. Have a nice day.

You may be asking why I’ve yet again ventured into comedy territory with today’s script. The last time I gave a good review to a comedy was back in the 70s with Smokey and the Bandit. Ah, it feels like yesterday when Burt Reynolds signed up for the role of Smokey off the buzz from my script review. Or was it the Bandit? Who’s keeping track? All I know is that if you want something in this world, you have to will it into existence. I want to laugh during a screenplay again. And so it shall be!

Ultra liberal Abby Parrish had it all – the number one podcast in the world, fans hanging on her every word, late night talk shows touting the addictive nature of Crime after Crime. Every week, Abby would delve deeper into the murder of Tom Hutcherson, a simple man who was stabbed 17 times behind a bar and left for dead.

Earlier that night, everyone saw Tom fighting with his dimwitted overweight law-breaking brother, Daryl. So it must have been him who murdered Tom! That’s what the courts said. But Abby ripped open every crevice of the case to prove that Tom was innocent. Except she never proved anything either way, leaving a rabid fanbase to turn on her for wasting dozens of hours of their lives.

Lucky for Abby, she’s getting a shot to finally put the nail in the coffin. Or… take.. the nail out of the coffin? When there’s a blackout at the local prison, Darryl, in all his white-trash glory, figures he should make a run for it. He, of course, runs straight to Abby’s, just as she’s about to have sex for the first time in 3 years. The uptight Abby is NOT cool with Darryl crashing her sex party. But then she realizes she can finally give her audience what they’re looking for – an ending.

She agrees to help Darryl find out who really killed his brother and they figure the best course of action is to steal Tom’s phone from police evidence and see who he was calling that night. After successfully pulling the phone heist off, they find a bunch of calls placed to Temple Beth Israel Synagogue, which is strange because Tom was Catholic. They go there and talk to a shifty guy named Spencer, who says that, “Oh yeah, he used to do landscaping work for us.” It’s all a bit shady but when they look deeper into Spencer, he checks out.

Next up is Darryl’s ex-girlfriend’s new boyfriend, Gene, as Darryl has concocted a theory whereby Gene has been planning for years to steal Darryl’s girlfriend and figured out the best way to do it was to kill Tom and frame Darryl for it! Abby doesn’t go with him on this one so Darryl kidnaps Gene himself, disguising himself and using a voice modulator to interrogate him.

Meanwhile, Abby finds the murder weapon in Darryl’s favorite secret hiding space, confirming her deepest fears – that Darryl did it. When she confronts Darryl about this, he falls apart, devastated that she wouldn’t believe him. Feeling bad, Abby decides to follow one more lead, a hail mary tied to that Spencer guy at the synagogue. If it pays off, justice will prevail. If not, she’ll have to come to grips with the fact that she’s been fighting for a murderer.

So here’s the thing with comedies today. They really only come in two forms. Female-driven and technology-driven. Even though that Anne Hathaway Rebel Wilson comedy just bombed, that’s the stuff they’re looking for. I don’t know why you would keep betting on a bad horse but sometimes Hollywood doesn’t make sense.

The other comedies that still shine are technology focused. That Uber comedy that’s coming out soon – that sold not long after Uber become popular. Here, we have a spec about true crime podcasts. What’s the common denominator? They allow you to write movies that haven’t been written before. And comedy is the genre that best takes advantage of pop culture and modern living.

Netflix is sort of changing the game. It seems like they want to bring high concept comedy back sometimes (“When We First Met”), but then they go out and make something like, Always Be My Maybe which doesn’t have a hook at all. I think they’re still trying to figure out what type of movies work for them. So we’ll have to stay tuned on the streaming front.

Back to Crime After Crime.

One of the ways I judge comedies (outside of the obvious – that I’m laughing) is how writers deal with familiar situations. Familiar situations are where newbie writers bare all their newbieness. I can tab a newbie the second we get to a familiar situation and they take all of the predictable routes. Seasoned writers find a new wrinkle, twist, or spin on a familiar situation.

One of the first familiar situations to come up in Crime after Crime is the cops visit Abby’s place immediately after Darryl escapes prison, forcing Darryl to run into Abby’s bedroom and hide. What’s more familiar than a character needing to hide in a bedroom? We’ve seen it a million times. So I’m going to have you actually practice this lesson yourself. What is your new comedic twist on this “need to hide in a bedroom” scene? Because I know what’s going to happen here. When I reveal what these writers do, you’re going to say, “Oh! That’s not funny Carson! You’re dumb for laughing!” Okay, so put your money where your mouth is. Go down to the comments and write what your funny twist would be, and we’ll let everyone else decide if your idea is funnier than these guys.

Are you back? Okay, so here’s what Gurewitch and Young did. Darryl runs into the bedroom, checks under the bed, but it’s filled with stuff. He runs to the closet, but it’s packed. He can hear the cops coming so he looks around, and he sees on the bed… a body pillow. He quickly unzips the body pillow, throws the insides out the window, then squeezes in and zips it up, trying to stay as still as possible. When one of the cops spots the body pillow, he confesses that he’s thinking of getting one and would it be okay to cuddle with it to see how it feels. Abby must think on her feet to prevent this from happening, and somehow get the cops out without realizing the body pillow is Darryl. If you wrote something funnier than that down in the comments, you get five Scriptshadow stars.

These guys know what they’re doing. They don’t always hit. You never do in comedy. But they knew how to construct scenes that are both clever and funny. One of the things I tell you to do is that everything should be hard for your hero. For example, it’s easy in investigation scripts to have a bunch of straight-forward scenes in rooms with heroes questioning leads. But that’s not very clever. And it doesn’t lead to much comedy, unless you’re a dialogue comedy ninja.

In one of my favorite scenes, this paranoid lead will only talk to Abby at a death metal concert because he knows that way he can’t be recorded. So when Abby gets there, he’s right in the middle of the mosh pit, and Abby must go into this wild crazy limbs-swinging mass of dirt and blood and violence to get information from this guy. That’s how you make things tough for your hero! And it’s certainly more fun than talking in someone’s apartment.

The only problem I had with this script is that the pairing of Abby and Darryl wasn’t that interesting. The two were on different sides of the political aisle. But that was never explored. There was no sexual chemistry either, so it lacked conflict on that front. As different as we’re told these two are, they get along well, and that lack of contrast made for some boring interactions.

Still, there were enough laughs to keep the read entertaining. And while this one isn’t going on anyone’s OMG, THAT WAS HILARIOUS list, it’s a fun way to spend 90 minutes.

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

What I learned: A lot of people are afraid of comedy these days because every little minor joke is being interpreted as hateful. But unlike stand up, where the person themselves is delivering the potentially inciting joke, in scripts, you can have characters say risky funny things as long as it’s in character. Audiences are more accepting of this because the characters are fictional. Here, Darryl and Abby have just found out that Tom has ties to the synagogue. Their quick interaction…

Genre: Drama/Light Sci-Fi
Premise: Two life-long friends, one married, one single, find joy in playing their favorite fighting video game together, Striking Vipers. But when the latest version of the game becomes too realistic, the friends find themselves exploring it in unexpected ways.
About: Black Mirror is back, this time with only a 3-episode season, likely because they spent a big part of their budget on the Black Mirror feature, Bandersnatch. This episode has a strange development history to it. It was originally about a corporate VR exercise where team-members would enter a VR simulation to stage a musical – the key idea being that inside the simulation nobody knew who was who. It just goes to show that your original idea isn’t set in stone and that if another storyline starts to show promise, you should follow it.
Writer: Charlie Brooker
Details: 1 hour long

I still contend that Charlie Brooker has the best gig in the world. Even if you compare him to the titans of the industry – Steven Spielberg, James Cameron, JJ Abrams, the Russo Brothers – all of those guys have to fight like mad for three years to get movies through the slog of a system known as Hollywood, with a gaggle of corporate types breathing down their necks the whole time. I was watching a Russo Brothers interview after they finished filming Endgame and they looked like they were on the verge of passing out. They were mumbling incoherently, confused about what they could and could not say, and genuinely seemed over it.

Meanwhile, Charlie Brooker gets to write and make these experimental mini-movies, knowing that the second he finishes writing them, he can start shooting. Imagine a world where you come up with an idea, spend a couple of months writing it, then immediately afterwards, shoot it? That’s the world Charlie Booker exists in. And sure, the immediacy of that formula results in some misses. But because he’s so talented, it far more often results in hits. Which leads us to today’s script, a futuristic update of Brokeback Mountain.

For those who haven’t seen the brilliantly directed episode, it follows Danny, a married father of one who looks about as happy in his marriage as I do at the dentist. Technically, Danny is living the dream. His wife is gorgeous. He’s got a house with a killer view. His backyard parties look like the stuff of Hollywood commercials.

Meanwhile, Danny’s best friend of 15 years, Karl, chose the opposite path in life, enjoying being a single man, dating as many beautiful girls as possible, and killing it at work. The thing that has always bonded these two men together is the video game Striking Vipers, which is an unofficial stand-in for Street Fighter. During one of Danny’s parties, Karl gives him the latest version of Striking Vipers, a Matrix-like update where you literally become the character you’re fighting as.

In their first remote game (the two are each at their respective homes playing online) Danny chooses to play as his favorite character, the Bruce Lee-like “Lance,” and Karl chooses the buxom Asian blond, Roxette. But something funny happens during the fight. Roxette kisses Lance! Lance goes along with it, but it becomes too weird for Danny, who cancels out of the game. A few days later, Karl pops up online again, the two briefly chat, confirming to each other that the last game was a mistake, only to jump into the game, and this time have sex!

Danny finds himself looking for every opportunity to slip away from his family and play Striking Vipers with Karl, but eventually his wife senses that his focus is elsewhere, forcing Danny to decide what he’s gonna do about both relationships. He figures that he and Karl must meet in person and kiss to see if this is just a ‘game’ thing or a ‘real life’ thing. His whole life hangs in the balance of this kiss. What will happen?

First of all, I loved this episode. It’s one of the best Black Mirror episodes I’ve seen. Even better, it brings up an extremely important screenwriting talking point, something it’s imperative every screenwriter understand.

When you come to Scriptshadow, the formula you always hear about is GSU – Goal, Stakes, Urgency. The most important component of those three is definitely the first one – GOAL. Your main character having a goal will be the primary driving force of the story. The reason for this is simple. If your character is going after something, he’s going to bring the story with him.

However, not every story is goal driven. And this is particularly true in television, because in a season of 8, 10, and sometimes 22 episodes, it’s hard to always give your character a goal. So there’s something else that TV uses. And it’s called “The Dramatic Question,” which amounts to a question at the beginning of the episode that the audience will stick around for to get the answer to. In the case of Striking Vipers, the dramatic question is: “Will these two end up together?”

The problem with the Dramatic Question format is that it’s too loose. It’s easy for a writer to convince themselves that they’ve come up with a question that the audience finds worthy. For example, I’ve read lots of coming-of-age scripts over the years that have had no character goals and when I asked the writer why it was he thought the reader would want to read to the end, his answer was some version of, “They’re going to want to know what happens to my character.”

Let me make something clear: “Will my character’s life turn out okay?” is not a good enough dramatic question to build a story around. It’s too vague. And this is the problem with the Dramatic Question format. It provides too much leniency in its framework. Luckily, I have a way for you to fix that. When it comes to the Dramatic Question, there’s one change you need to make, and if you do it well, your Dramatic Question episode, or even movie, will work.

You change “Stakes,” to “STAKES.” In other words, in a Dramatic Question narrative, the stakes need to be sky-high. Look no further than Striking Vipers to see how this is done. The stakes are EXTREME. Danny has a wife, a home, a kid. If this relationship with Karl goes beyond the game, he could lose all of that.

I would go so far as to say if you’re more interested in television than you are in features, you have to master the Dramatic Question narrative. Cause a lot of times, the only thing to do in an episode will be character-driven (as opposed to plot driven). So you’ll want to lay down an important dramatic question at the beginning of the episode.

Also, Dramatic Question narratives are MUCH HARDER to do in features. They can be done, of course. But a big reason this episode works (in addition to other TV episodes) is that the answer to the question comes within an hour. Once you try stretching that into two hours, boredom sets in. The stakes need to be EVEN HIGHER. The character work needs to be EVEN BETTER. As much as I liked this episode of Striking Vipers, there’s no way it would’ve worked as a feature.

All you Dramatic Question Feature Junkies – you’ve been warned.

I’ve seen some reviews online saying this batch of Black Mirror episodes wasn’t that good. I’ve only seen the first two episodes but so far, they’re some of the best episodes in the series. Haters gonna hate! Scriptshadow gonna like.

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

What I learned: High stakes are imperative when you don’t have a strong character goal or narrative urgency. Just to drive this point home, imagine this story if Danny is single, just like Karl. The entire episode collapses. Sure, you still have two guys struggling with their sexuality. But that struggle isn’t disrupting anything. Giving Danny so much to lose is what makes the answer to this dramatic question – Will these two end up together? – so compelling.

What I learned 2: The more general and unfocused the dramatic question in your Dramatic Question narrative is, the less interesting your story will be. For example, the most generic of generic questions is, “What’s going to happen?” Yet there are bad writers everywhere who think that as long as there’s some semblance of this question driving their narrative, readers will be captivated. It takes more than that. Focus in on exactly what your question is, keep the stakes high, and your Dramatic Question episode or feature should be in good shape.

Today I want to share with you something I never figured out while I was writing screenplays. This was such a game-changing revelation that had somebody told it to me early on in my journey – as opposed to 15 screenplays in – I’d be writing this entry from the set of a 200 million dollar Disney production as opposed to a couch that has about a dozen uses left in it. I’m talking about understanding what a movie is actually about.

When I started writing, I was under the impression that movies were about the idea. So, in other words, if I came up with an idea about an asteroid that was heading towards earth, I thought my movie was about an asteroid heading towards earth. And you may be thinking, after reading that sentence, that the movie IS about an asteroid heading towards earth. But you’d be wrong. What I’d eventually come to realize is that the prototypical movie idea is only your first act. That’s where you showcase your concept. You have someone discover the asteroid. You have leaders deliberate what to do about the asteroid. You have the planet get wind of the asteroid. You have everybody freaking out. But guess what? That only takes you to page 25.

One of the Matrix moments for me was realizing the movie isn’t about the idea at all. Well, it is. That asteroid is going to be a part of the story all the way through. But the real movie is about what happens once your idea has been established and you’re into the second act. Which is ironic because that’s the act most writers are the least interested in. To them, the second act isn’t a playground to charge into excitedly. It’s a giant wasteland of space that one must “get through” in order to arrive at the more punctual and structured third act.

Let me try and say this another way because Armageddon isn’t the best example for what I’m proposing. It’s possible to have an idea but not have a movie. Let’s say your idea is to have several characters wake up in a mysterious room, each with a different tattoo on their hand and they no idea how they got there. That’s an idea. You can get a first act out of it. But what happens next? I’m sure we could come up with some plotlines. But the reality is that there’s no meat to this story, no second act. So whenever you come up with an idea, you shouldn’t worry about the first act. The first act will take care of itself. You should be thinking about what comes next. That’s going to be your movie. In the spirit of this concept, here are the five questions you should ask yourself when trying to figure out if you’ve got a full blown movie idea.

1) What does your hero do after page 25? – This will simply determine if there’s something to do in the story. And this is all tied back to the goal. Essentially, page 26 is when the journey begins. So you need a character (or characters) who are going after something. I don’t remember exactly what happens in Armageddon but I think one of the characters goes out to put the team together. Later on, the recruited characters become the drivers of the story. But as long as we’ve got someone going out and trying to accomplish something on page 26, that’s a sign you have a movie. It’s not everything. But it’s the first piece.

2) Does your hero or a main secondary character have a flaw? – Your second act isn’t always going to be “go go go.” You’re going to have slow spots, which is why the second act is so challenging. You have to know how to keep those slower moments engaging. One of the ways you do this is with a character whose internal life is at odds with the external circumstances. So to use a basic example, if a character is closed off to life and prefers to stay in his little bubble, then you want a narrative where that character is forced to do a bunch of crazy stuff. Therefore, before every scene begins, you’ve already got a compelling situation lined up. The classic example of this is Cameron in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. He hates doing things, being out, challenging himself. And yet every scene is forcing him to do this stuff. This is really powerful when you get it right and it makes second acts a lot more entertaining.

3) Do you have at least three unresolved relationships you’re exploring? – Now we’re getting to the meat of it. This is what your movie is REALLY ABOUT. It’s about characters interacting with each other. And if those characters are getting along, watching them interact will be boring. It’s only fun when they’ve got unresolved stuff with one another. Maybe it’s unresolved problems from their past, maybe it’s a disagreement on how to do things, maybe it’s fundamentally different worldviews – whatever it is, there’s got to be conflict there. But there’s a catch to this. It can’t be surface level “follow the rules” conflict. It has to be genuine. You, the writer, must be genuinely emotionally invested in these conflicts. This is why so many famous authors will tell you to draw from real life. Because if the broken friendship between your heroes Axe and Clay is really about your own broken friendship with your former best friend, then everything you write with those characters is going to have an air of authenticity to it. But if you’re just doing it because I’m saying you have to or because William Goldman said you had to, it’s not going to work. This is the crux of this whole article, guys. It’s not about whether the ship sinks. It’s about what happens to Jack and Rose. If exploring your characters and their issues doesn’t excite you, then, I’m sorry, but your second is going to suck.

4) Is there enough journey for the journey? – Despite the fact that the real focus should be on the characters, you obviously still need plot to push the story along. And one of the most common errors writers make is getting to that second act and realizing that they don’t have as much plot as they thought they did. So what you want to do is make sure you’ve got (at least) three big things that are going to happen in the second act. If you’re writing a straight up Hero’s Journey, this should be easy. Just come up with three big places that your hero will need to get to along the way and spread those plot points out equidistantly. But if you’re writing a drama or a contained horror movie, this will be more challenging. The three things are more likely to be (although they don’t have to be) things you throw AT you characters. So, if you’re writing a contained zombie movie where our heroes are inside and a bunch of zombies outside? One of your three big moments might be a door breaking down and 10-12 zombies getting in. The bigger point here is to make sure that you’ve got enough for your characters to do. I can promise you that if you head into your second act without this figured out, you’re not going to make it to the finish line.

5) Is there a force that’s always aggravating our hero(es)? – Remember that the second act’s nickname is the “Conflict Act.” So your mind should always be on, “What can I do to provide the most conflict in my story?” The idea with this tip is to make sure you have a constant aggravating factor working against your hero at all times. The most simplistic version of this is a villain. But it can be weather. It can be time. The reason you want this figured out is that whenever you’re struggling in your second act, one of the easiest ways to get the story moving again is to pit your main aggravating force against your hero. If your bank robber heroes have robbed yet another bank on page 67 and you don’t want that scene to feel like all the other bank robbery scenes, you have your “villain” cop show up and he and the hero have a little showdown. I would go so far as to say if you don’t have a great aggravating force figured out ahead of time, you’re not ready to write your script.

If all of this sounds confusing, I’ll try and simplify it. A movie idea isn’t worth writing unless you’re excited about writing the second act. And the second act is about character and conflict. If you don’t have a passion to explore those two things, then the heart of your screenplay is going to be dead. :) Good luck!

Carson does feature screenplay consultations, TV Pilot Consultations, and logline consultations. Logline consultations go for $25 a piece or $40 for unlimited tweaking. You get a 1-10 rating, a 200-word evaluation, and a rewrite of the logline. If you’re interested in any sort of consultation package, e-mail Carsonreeves1@gmail.com with the subject line: CONSULTATION. Don’t start writing a script or sending a script out blind. Let Scriptshadow help you get it in shape first!