I have a question for you.

Does Sundance matter anymore?

It used to be the number one hotspot to find the next breakout hit. Little Miss Sunshine, Reservoir Dogs, Memento, The Usual Suspects.

But what’s come out of Sundance recently?

Late Night. Blinded by the Light. The Report. And let’s not forget that 2017 Sundance darling that lit the box office on fire – Beach Rats.

Okay, to be fair, there are still some success stories. Eighth Grade. The Big Sick. Call Me By Your Name. But Sundance movies used to make money! Little Miss Sunshine made 100 million bucks at the box office. Where are the money-makers these days? It feels like Sundance has become more of a place to feed streamer content.

Back in the day, film festivals were the only way to get non-traditional movies a) seen and b) distributed. But the internet’s been steadily eating away at that model for years and I think we’ve finally reached a point where festivals no longer make sense. The one argument they still had over the internet was, “Do you want your movie to be seen on a big screen or on someone’s phone?” But outside of Christopher Nolan, people aren’t picky about how they watch their media anymore.

I suppose it’s still a place to build buzz for projects. You have a movie that does well at Sundance and that translates into a studio getting behind you and putting together a legit release with an actual marketing budget behind it. But how did that go for a movie like “The Farewell?” Yes, it was a critical darling. But nobody saw it. Why? Because there were a bunch of people looking really sad on a poster for one (nothing screams “I HAVE TO SEE THAT!” better than a bunch of depressed faces). But also, Sundance no longer carries the same level of cache. There aren’t enough successful movies coming out of there to generate interest when they say they’ve found a new one. And The Farewell continues that streak.

The point is, I’m not sure film festivals work as a model anymore. They were perfect for 1997 when it was the only way to break out from obscurity. But nowadays, it seems like the better option is to make a great short film, put it on the internet, get a lot of views, and find someone to bankroll the feature (a la Lights Out). I also believe it’s a matter of 3-4 years before a Netflix or Amazon creates a direct distribution model for films the same way they have for self-publishing novels. “But how will anyone know about them, Carson??” The best movies will rise to the top via rankings and word of mouth. If I had the resources, I would put that system together in a second.

While I was ruminating on all this, what should appear on my iTunes main page but the latest “Jay and Silent Bob” movie. Before I knew what was happening, Carson circa 20 years ago rented the flick. Great, now I had to watch it.

I decided to enter this viewing experience with a simple directive: LAUGH ONE TIME. That’s it. That’s all I was asking of this 90 minute movie – to make me laugh one single time. Did it succeed? I’ll share that answer with you in a second but first let’s talk about Smith.

Kevin Smith is the single luckiest person who’s ever made it in Hollywood. And I say that sans hyperbole. I truly believe he’s at the top of the list.

This is a man who maxed out his credit cards to make a movie, in black and white mind you, that he then used the last of his money for to submit to the Independent Feature Film Marketplace, got the world’s worst screening time (11 am) and nobody showed up except for one guy named Bob Hawk who had a little pull in the indie business. Hawk literally told Smith that the only reason he showed up was because he saw the publicity card for the movie and it looked like the saddest thing he’d ever seen. He showed up because he felt bad for the film. It just so happened that his sense of humor lined up with Smith’s. He began telling everyone it was great, and this was back when you could tell people through backchannels that something was great, build a buzz, and the movie would succeed regardless of whether it was good or not. It was the buzz that propelled it, not the quality of the film.

It is safe to say that had Hawk not gone to that Clerks screening, nobody would’ve ever heard of Smith.

Mind you, I’m not saying Clerks wasn’t good. There are obviously people who love it. But is it as good as it was made out to be? If you look at the rest of Smith’s contribution to film, does it support the belief back then that he was a talented filmmaker?

I throw in Jay and Silent Bob Reboot and, like I said, I only want to laugh once. The plot isn’t as bad as I expected. Jay and Silent Bob get arrested for growing weed and during their court case, accidentally sign a document giving up the rights to their names, which allows Kevin Smith, as in the actual director, to use their likeness to make a Jay and Silent Bob reboot movie so they need to get to California to stop him. Actually, what am I talking about? That sounds awful. Am I deranged?

Which would explain why I was not able to achieve my goal. Jay and Silent Bob Reboot does not have a single solitary laugh in it. Not one.

I’m sitting there thinking to myself, how can this be? Just the sheer number of jokes implies that one of them has to hit. Even a stopped clock tells the right time twice a day. But nope. There isn’t even a funny dialogue line. And that’s arguably Smith’s only strength, is his dialogue.

I could’ve disposed of the film’s memory right then and there but my screenwriting analysis side wouldn’t let me. I had to understand why the movie was so unfunny. Comedy is the most subjective genre there is. But this was objectively unfunny. Why was that?

The first thing that popped out at me were the letters “S” and “U.” Longtime Scriptshadow readers know what I’m talking about. G = goal. S = stakes. U = urgency. Jay and Silent Bob had the “G.” The goal is to get to Hollywood to stop the movie from happening.

But what are the stakes? What happens if they don’t stop it? The movie gets made and… then what? They don’t have the rights to their own names? Does it really matter? If it does, they don’t do a good job conveying that to us. The value of high stakes is that they make your characters’ actions feel important. This trickles down to every single scene because if our characters encounter an obstacle, we’re a lot more invested in them overcoming that obstacle if the ultimate goal feels important.

Stakes work hand in hand with URGENCY. If you can create an important situation and you can then give your heroes less time than they need to accomplish it, your script is going to feel tense, and that’s something Jay and Silent Bob Reboot lacked.

Jay and Silent Bob has what I call “FALSE URGENCY.” It’s urgency that’s on the page (“We only have 3 days to get to Hollywood!”) but it never truly feels like they’re in a hurry. This is something I try to remind screenwriters. You can’t pay lip service to the formula. It has to be authentic. In The Hangover, you really felt the characters’ need to find the groom by the end of the day so they could get him to his wedding on time.

Or look at one of the biggest comedies from last year – Good Boys – to see how to get the formula right. In that film, the boys lose their dad’s really expensive ‘they’ll be grounded for life’ drone to some older neighborhood girls and they have to get it back by the end of the day. Goal = get the drone back, Stakes = grounded for life (high stakes for 6th graders), and Urgency = Dad gets home at the end of the day.

When you don’t have GSU in a comedy, you’re hanging your characters out to dry in every single scene. What I mean by that is, “being funny” is the only thing driving the scene, which is the fastest way to write an unfunny scene.

For example, there’s a scene where the characters stop for food at a fast food joint. There are no stakes attached to this scene. No urgency. The only goal is to order food. Smith does everything in his power to write funny dialogue. But funny dialogue without any purpose behind it is the equivalent of pointing at someone and saying, “Be funny right now.” Who’s ever been able to be funny in that situation?

And that’s almost every single scene in this movie. But here’s the curious part of all this. That was the same approach Smith took with Clerks. So why did that movie work and this one didn’t? How come rule-breaking dooms this film but doesn’t doom that one?

Well, it IS actually possible to write funny stuff without a plot or GSU. It’s just a million times harder. It’s like anything in writing. Sure, you can write a good movie with a passive hero. It’s just a million times harder than if you write a movie with an active hero. So why would you stack the odds against yourself?

I have a theory on why Clerks worked while this didn’t. Energy. The energy a screenwriter has before he’s made it is his superpower. You’re hungrier. You’re angrier. You’re more willing to rewrite it until it’s perfect. All of that comes through in that movie. Regardless of how you feel about Clerks, there’s no denying that it’s packed with a manic energy that picks up the slack in places where the plot and characters dip.

Conversely, Jay and Silent Bob feels like a tired film. Everyone looks tired. And when you have weaknesses in your writing as big as Smith does, you can’t afford for other parts of your production to be lacking.

Share your thoughts about Sundance, Kevin Smith, and this weekend’s box office in the comments section. 1917 with another strong hold. Seems like a shoe-in for Best Picture at this point. And I still haven’t seen it! Maybe this week. :)

Genre: Thriller
Premise: Trapped at a three day personal development retreat, a woman fights to save her husband and herself from being brainwashed by a charismatic self-help guru.
About: This script finished with 10 votes on this past year’s Black List. The writer is repped at Verve.
Writer: Levin Menekse
Details: 107 pages

I know, lazy casting. But Claire Foy would be perfect for this.

Despite all the great entertainment options out there, there’s still nothing quite like reading a good script. Something that sucks you in and never allows you to disengage. That’s the power of good writing.

To that end, I owe today’s experience to you guys. I saw a few of you fawning over this in the comments section and I had to see what all the fuss was about. As it turns out, the subject matter was right up my alley. A cult movie? But not the obvious kind (people in white robes saying weird s%#@ and secretly trying to kill you). The much more sinister kind. Cults dressed up like a self-help organization. Where is the line between genuine self-discovery and manipulation? That’s what today’s script asks. And the answer is splendid.

38 year old lawyer Kirsa Rein finds herself somewhere outside of Los Angeles at a big bland gray building with her 31 year old husband, Peter. Kirsa is trying to make partner at her firm and recently her boss came to this Tony Robbins on steroids retreat called “The Process” which is able to transform you into your bigger better self within three days. Peter is begging Kirsa to ditch the sketch-fest in the last minutes before entering the drab building but she thinks it’s gong to be great.

Famous last words.

Once inside, they’re treated to their first lecture by Aiden Caul, a big intense dude who’s equal parts terrifying and charming. Aiden starts screaming at everyone that this isn’t going to be easy but it’ll be a lot easier if everyone’s honest. Immediately he calls on Kirsa to give her initial impressions on the event but whatever she says, he’s not buying it. This is a woman who’s gotten straight A’s her whole life. Immediately, she’s on the teacher’s s%@$ list.

Afterwards, she meets up with Peter, who’s laughing it up with one of the volunteers, Maya. One of the gorgeous volunteers, Kirsa notices. Hmm, this isn’t going to be anything like she thought. The men and women are separated into different rooms and when Kirsa wakes up, her anti-depressant medication has been taken from her suitcase. She freaks out and yells at the volunteers, which only results in everyone hating her more.

Peter gets called up on stage at the next lecture where Aiden meticulously dresses him down. He starts asking Peter if he’s happy with his life. If he’s happy with his career. If he’s happy with his marriage. At first Peter says, yes, he’s very happy. But Aiden keeps pushing him. Again, the process isn’t a place for bulls@%#. It’s a place for truth. So Peter starts giving him the real answers, starts having real breakthroughs. It’s at this point where Kirsa realizes that this is no longer about getting a promotion. It’s about breaking her husband out of here before he’s fully brainwashed. The question is, will Peter want to go with her?

So there are two ways I recommend starting a spec. Notice I’m saying “spec” here. Not every script. Spec scripts. I use that distinction because people reading specs have zero faith that they’re going to be good. Under those conditions, option 1 is to give us a mysterious situation right out of the gate. This creates a sense of mystery which compels the reader to read on.

Option 2 is to give the reader a familiar situation but to spin it in a way that we’re not expecting. A good example would be The Matrix. A team of cops go to arrest a woman in a building and all of a sudden she starts running on walls and leaping over buildings.

Of these two options, I like number 1 better. I like the opening of It Follows. A young woman runs out of a house and keeps looking back at something chasing her but there’s nothing chasing her. If I’m reading that script, I will definitely keep reading to find out what the heck is going on.

The Process goes with Option 1 in a subtler way, but nonetheless just as effective. We start in this large gray room with no windows. It is populated by half a dozen “volunteers” in unisex uniforms, all staring forward, silent. We don’t know what “volunteers” are yet. We then move out of the room down a long gray hallway, “swallowed into the bowels of an endless building.” Immediately I want to know where I am and what’s going on. These may seem like simple questions but these are questions readers will want answered and therefore keep reading to find out.

All of this took place in one page and already I’m curious to find out more. Remember, your goal when writing scripts is never to impress the reader. Your only job is to make them want to keep turning pages. So give us some questions we want answered right away and we’ll keep turning the pages.

The mystery behind exactly what this place is drives the first 15 pages of the story. And by that point, we’ve gotten to know our couple, Peter and Kirsa. Injecting a couple into this scenario as opposed to an individual was a stroke of genius. Because now it isn’t just about, “How evil is this guru and to what extremes is he willing to go?” It’s “Is this couple going to survive this process?”

This is something I wish I could tattoo onto every screenwriter’s forearm. The cool hook gets us in the door. But it’s what’s going on with the characters that keeps us there. And you have choices in that department. You can just explore what’s going on internally with a character, like Arthur in Joker. Or you can build the exploration around a relationship (marriage, parent-kid, best friends), which I find to be more fun because it’s easier to play with conflict and tension and flaws when two characters can talk about it. When you’re only exploring a character internally, their flaw needs to be actionable to resonate. For example, the flaw of greed is an actionable flaw because there’s lots of ways to show your hero being greedy.

But there are so many more scenes you can write when you’re exploring a relationship and that’s where this script shines. It has a “THAT” scene that explores marriage as intensely as I’ve ever seen. Remember what “THAT” scenes are. They’re big memorable scenes that everyone is going to be talking about after the movie. If you have a below-average script but you have a THAT scene? It’s worth it to keep rewriting your script until you get it right because THAT scenes are indicative of a concept that has potential. You can’t write one of these scenes off a bad idea.

The scene in question is when Aiden takes Peter up on stage and starts asking him if he’s happy with his life. Out in the crowd, we occasionally cut to Kirsa’s reaction to Aiden’s questioning. It’s an amazing scene because Aiden is so blunt at laying out how bad Peter’s life is. Peter is finally confronting this reality. And Kirsa is watching it all unfold helplessly from her seat and terrified with how much further it’s going to go. There is a genuine possibility that by the end of their interaction, he might want to leave her. Talk about a high stakes moment.

There are a lot of strong choices in this script. For example, the reason they’re here is because Kirsa’s boss at the law firm, who also took this course, recommended she do so as well. Kirsa is determined to make partner. So it’s imperative she make her boss happy. This gets rid of the question that is often asked in movies like these: Why don’t they just leave? If things are getting out of control, why wouldn’t they leave? And that’s why. Because she knows if she goes back a failure, she’ll never get that promotion.

The thing that pushed this script over the edge for me was the character of Aiden. He could’ve been a one-dimensional bully. But there’s a lot here he says that makes sense. When he’s challenging people to confront their lives and if they’re happy and if they’ve been lying to themselves, it rings true. And it’s when you have those conflicted feelings as a reader, where you can’t hate the bad guy straight out, that make for a more introspective conflicted read. You don’t want to be feeling this way but you are, and it slyly pulls you into a deeper realm of the story. It’s almost like you have to keep reading to confirm that this guy is bad so that you don’t feel bad yourself about agreeing with him on some things.

This was a perfect mid-week read. And a very financially doable movie. This is exactly the quality of storytelling I’m looking for in The Last Great Screenwriting Contest.

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

What I learned: There are pivot moments where the previous reasoning for something no longer makes sense because of a plot development. When those moments happen, you have to up the reasoning to reflect the new reality. So earlier I said the reason they don’t just leave is because she doesn’t want to go back to her boss and say she didn’t finish the program. However, when Aiden starts destroying her marriage, that logic doesn’t work anymore. You need another reason they stay. So what The Process does is, by that point, Peter is a convert. He believes in what Aiden is saying. So he doesn’t want to leave. This forces Kirsa to stay to try and rescue her husband.

I want to keep giving you inspiration and advice for The Last Great Screenwriting Contest. So here are ten things I commonly see when I’m reading a good script.

1) An unobtrusive writing style – Too many screenwriters want you to know that they’re a WRITER. They want to describe everything beautifully. They want every scene to be dense and self-important, all the things that prove how serious and strong of a writer one is. I can tell you from experience that these tend to be the hardest reads. They take a lot longer. They’re not fun to read. Good writers understand the burden of the reader and try and make the script as easy to read as possible. Sparse prose. Never adding more than is necessary. Keeping the story moving. These are the fun scripts to read. Now there will always be a difference between a script like Buried and a script like Gladiator. Gladiator obviously requires more description. Still, you always want to keep the reader in mind. When was the last time you finished reading an entire script? I’m guessing except for a couple of dozen of you, it’s been a while. Why didn’t you finish it? Because at a certain point it became more ‘work’ to get through the script than ‘fun.’ Don’t make the same mistake on your script.

2) A first scene that creates a sense of mystery – If you took everything I’ve ever written on this site about the importance of your first scene, it would probably be as long as Lord of the Rings. And yet, day in and day out, I continue to read screenplays with bad first scenes. So the message isn’t getting through. What I’ve noticed is that I often get pulled into scripts where the first scene creates a sense of mystery. There’s some question that’s been posed and I need to keep reading to find out the answer. For example, one of my favorite recent scripts is The Traveler. In that script, we start off with a man driving, and then slowly, bit by bit, his car begins to disappear, until it’s gone and he’s floating through the air all by himself, still in the driving position, then he tumbles to the ground and rolls to a stop. When I read a scene like that, I want to know what’s going on. And that gets me to keep reading.

3) Conflict in dialogue – One of the quickest ways for me to dismiss a script is when I read really on-the-nose dry dialogue. Dialogue that doesn’t have any sense of spark. The characters are speaking more to establish themselves or push the plot along than they are actually having a conversation. One of the easiest ways to up your dialogue game is to inject conflict into every dialogue scene. It doesn’t have to be over-the-top conflict. But something that forces the characters to work something out. There’s an imbalance in the moment and the only way that it’s going to re-balance is if the characters hash it out. In The Menu, one of my favorite scripts from last year, we start with two people on a mysterious date (yup, we get another first scene with a sense of mystery!). He’s freaking out because, wherever it is they’re going, it’s important to him. His date, meanwhile, is trying to relax him. And the more she tries to relax him, the more revved up he gets. Note how this isn’t some huge dramatic argument. That’s not what we’re looking for in every dialogue scene. But there’s an imbalance here that the characters are working out. There’s conflict to play with.

4) An organic conflict within your hero – Characters are always more interesting when they’re fighting an inner battle. If everything is neat and clean inside your hero, why would we be interested in them? The great thing about inner conflict is it can literally be about anything. But a trick to find it is to ask yourself, “What is the first thing my character wakes up in the morning anxious about?” That should lead you to your inner conflict. We can go as far back as Benjamin Braddock in The Graduate. The second we meet him, he’s graduated college and HE HAS NO IDEA WHAT HE WANTS TO DO WITH HIS LIFE. That’s the conflict that eats at him every day. More recently, we have Arthur from Joker. He’s trying to figure out how to connect with the world yet he has no idea how. Every day he wakes up trying to figure out that equation. Obviously, the conflicts will be lighter in lighter genres, like comedies. But a quick way to make characters stand out is to give them an interesting inner conflict.

5) A good scene writer – Recently I read a script where the first 30 pages consisted of scenes that were barely a page long. The script moved quickly but the pacing was odd. We were always moving on before anything got going. Conversely, I read another script where all of the scenes were 8-10 pages. Shockingly, they were just as incomplete, as the characters were always prattling on without a point. I know I’m reading a good writer when one of the first few scenes in the script is its own complete compelling thing. It’s got a point (characters with a goal). It has a beginning – a setup to the scene that lets us know what it’s about. It has a middle – conflict between characters and obstacles that come up. And it has an end – the scene’s own little climax. These writers understand that scenes are like mini-movies which need to entertain the readers in and unto themselves. If every scene is an entertaining little movie then it’s impossible for the reader to get bored.

6) A sense of purpose – Good writers know that every scene is a piece of the puzzle and, therefore, must be pushing towards the puzzle’s completion. There is a noticeable focus to each scene that indicates the writer knows exactly where he or she is taking you. On the flip side, you have writers who think scripts are places to figure their story out. They might get an idea on page 20 and let that dictate where the story goes next. When you write this way, 99 times out of 100, your script will lack focus. It will read like you’re not sure what story you’re telling but, hopefully, along the way, you’ll figure it out. When you hear that a script displays confidence, it is always in reference to writers who have a deft command of their story and it’s clear, every step of the way, they know where they’re taking you. By the way, it’s perfectly okay to seek out tangents in early drafts. But not at all okay to do it in your final draft.

7) A steady stream of unexpected choices – This is something I harp on all the time on the site. But it truly is one of the easiest ways for me to tell if a script is going to be good or not. If a plot development or scene or character in the story comes up and the writer chooses to write something that 95 out of 100 writers would’ve written, I know I’m in for a long read. Good writers get into the heads of the reader, ask what they expect to happen at this moment, and then make sure not to write that. Honestly, this starts at the concept stage. If you give me an idea that I’ve seen hundreds of times before, I can promise the script will be bad within 99.9% certainty. One of the biggest level-ups for a screenwriter – and it’s something most of them don’t figure out until between their 7th and 10th script – is when they start actively seeking out unexpected choices in their screenplays. I mean, did anyone see the hidden room in Parasite coming? Did anyone see that crazy climax in the backyard coming? This is the creative bar you need to hold yourself to. Cause like I tell everyone, if you’re just going to give us what everyone else does, why do we need you? We can just go to everyone else.

8) Understanding the power of time – One of the biggest decisions you will make in a script is deciding how long the story’s timeline will be. The reason this decision is so important is because time has the biggest effect on your structure. Once you know how long your story is, you can begin to figure out how everything is going to play out. Generally speaking, the shorter the time frame, the easier it is to structure. Not long ago, I reviewed a script called 9 Days. The concept was as close as you’re going to get to experimental without being experimental. It was about a guy in some nether-not-quite-heaven reality who decides which people get to live a life down on earth. That concept could’ve been dealt with in a very messy way. Believe me, I’ve seen it before. However, the simple decision of giving our hero a 9 day deadline gave the story a firm structure. Another example is Richard Linklater’s Dazed and Confused. That movie followed a dozen different characters and was about the chaos of junior high and high school in a small Midwestern town. It would’ve been so easy to get lost in that world. Yet Linklater had everything take place in one day. A messy story all of a sudden became very focused.

9) A love of the second act – The second act is where most beginner and intermediate scripts go to die. It’s the biggest most expansive space in the script (50-60 pages!) and if you don’t understand how it works or have a plan to tackle it, your script will fall into this abyss as well. One of the things you learn the longer you travel this screenwriting journey, is that the second act IS YOUR MOVIE. It’s not some thing to muddle your way through until you get to the climax. It’s the place where your characters will be challenged by the things they fear the most, which will include the external journey, the other characters they interact with, and, like we discussed before, themselves. In other words, this is where your characters are going to figure themselves out. Once you embrace your second act as an opportunity to explore that, you will begin to love it.

10) A killer ending – I read a lot of scripts where you can see the writer getting tired the deeper into the script we go and so the ending feels more like something they were just happy to get to than the single biggest most memorable sequence in the film, which is what an ending should be. Remember, the ending IS WHAT WE THE READER LEAVE WITH. If you write a great ending, a reader will have this compulsion to go out and tell someone about it. They can’t keep it in because it’s the last strong memory they’ve been given. As crazy as it sounds, lots of writers take their ending for granted. They think as long as the good guy saves his girlfriend from the bad guy that we’re going to give them a big fat gold sticker. It doesn’t work like that. Outside of your opening scene, your climax should be the scene you put the most time into. And that’s not just writing. You should be thinking through 10, 20, 30 different potential climaxes to make sure you’re giving us the best one.

P.S. If you’re still deciding what script to write for The Last Screenwriting Contest, consider a logline consultation ($25). Not only will I analyze your concept’s strengths and weaknesses and write a new version of the logline for you, but I also give a 1-10 rating on the concept. As I’ve noted here before, I don’t encourage anyone to write a script for a logline that gets under a 7 out of 10. So it’s an indirect way to find out if your concept would fare well in the contest. E-mail me at carsonreeves1@gmail.com if interested.

Genre: Comedy
Premise: Actor Nicolas Cage, spiraling and trapped in debt, makes an appearance at the birthday party of a Mexican billionaire. While there, he learns that the billionaire runs a drug cartel, and the CIA recruits Cage for intelligence.
About: Not only did this script finish Top 6 in the 2019 Black List, but it got Cage onboard! The movie will be made by Lionsgate. The writers created the TV series, Ghosted, which was a comedic take on The X-Files.
Writers: Kevin Etten & Tom Gormican
Details: 117 pages (but pretty much all dialogue so it reads fast)

I’ve always marveled at these famous actors who did great GREAT movies now doing a dozen sixth rate micro-indies a year. Take Bruce Willis, for example. Bruce Willis has all the money in the world. Maybe more than all of it. Yet he makes these awful 2 million dollar B-movies that nobody sees. It doesn’t make sense.

But you know what does make sense? Nicholas Cage doing a dozen sixth rate micro indies a year. Cage was a notoriously wild spender at his peak and supposedly had some big issues with the IRS at one point. You get the sense that Cage isn’t doing these movies for fun. At least not all of them. He’s doing them to pay off all the debt he’s accrued.

And the unfortunate thing about Hollywood is that when big stars start chasing these low-level movies to pay the bills, they start becoming associated with low-level movies. And it’s very hard to dig your way out from that. I don’t think any former star has dug themselves a deeper hole than Nicholas Cage.

Of course, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Cage really does love making these movies. He’s just one of those actors that always needs to be on a set. I get the feeling this script is going to shed some light on this aspect of the eccentric actor’s career. Let’s take a look.

Nicholas Cage is having dinner with Quentin Tarantino, who’s really close to giving him the starring role in his latest film. But then word comes back from Cage’s agent. Tarantino is going with someone else. Devastated and broke, Cage doubts when his next big chance is going to come, so much so that he considers QUITTING ACTING.

But then his agent calls. There’s a Nicholas Cage superfan in Mexico who’s willing to pay Cage 1 million dollars to come to his birthday party. Cage hems and haws before ultimately going and is surprised when the 45 year old man who invited him, Javi, is a cool dude. In actuality, Javi is a closet screenwriter and he’s hoping to get Cage to read his stuff.

But then Cage is approached by a mysterious man who tells him he’s working for the United States government and that Javi is responsible for 30 billion dollars worth of drug trade and that he’s killed thousands of people. They need Cage to do his best acting job yet – convince Javi that he’s interested in his screenplay, work on it together, and, in the meantime, gather intel on Javi.

Cage doesn’t know what’s going on but at this point, he doesn’t really have a choice, so both Cage and Javi start putting a script together, with both of them in starring roles. Funnily enough, Cage starts to like the script and feels like it might be his best character piece yet. So they keep working on it but run into the same problem all screenwriters run into. They don’t have an ending!

Cage’s CIA connection tells Cage to use the screenwriting suggestion of having Cage’s character’s family kidnapped in order to figure out where Javi is hiding his latest kidnapped subject. But Javi gets so into the idea of bringing a family relationship into the plot that, unbeknownst to Nick, he flies Nick’s ex-wife and daughter down to Mexico for inspiration. Of course, not long after, Javi realizes Nick is working for the government, and therefore really does kidnap Nick’s ex-wife and daughter. Nick finds himself REALLY IN one of his movies. Does he have what it takes to get out alive? We’ll find out.

I came into this one skeptical.

Nicholas Cage is one of those actors who’s been made fun of so much by this point that he may have passed his sell by date. And that’s the vibe I was getting early on in the script. Cage would have these conversations with his younger cooler self about Cage’s plummeting career and Young Cage keeps pushing him to get back on top. The scenes were okay and will definitely play better onscreen than on the page. But they felt predictable. You guys know me. Whenever I read choices that feel like a lot of different writers could’ve come up with the same thing, I lose faith in the writer.

But then the invitation to Mexico shows up (our inciting incident). Going into this, I had not read the logline so I didn’t know that was coming. I thought I was going to get some boring “Nicholas Cage tries to get back on top in Hollywood” plot. It shows you the power of a hook. You’re immediately thinking – some weirdo inviting a struggling movie star to his birthday in another country – there’s a lot of comedy to mine from that. So that kept me reading.

Then Gormican and Etten surprise me again when it turns out Javi is a normal guy. Actually, we get some scenes of Javi talking to his business partners away from Nic Cage that paint him as this normal everyday person. So I’m thinking to myself – hmmmm, he’s not going to be some weirdo freak? Where is this going? I’m intrigued.

Then they hit us with the second big hook, which is that Javi is a drug kingpin. I feel a little stupid that I didn’t see that coming but, again, I hadn’t read the logline and the writers did a good job making him look like a normal guy. I thought maybe he’d brought Cage here to convince him to be in his movie. This new plot point, however, was much juicier. Now we’re putting Cage in a bunch of dramatic irony scenes – we know he’s trying to incriminate Javi but Javi doesn’t.

But probably the best thing about this script is that it’s about a broken family. Pretty much the entire first act sets up Cage’s problems with his ex-wife and his 16 year old daughter. It’s rare that writers do this these days. Most people think there’s no need to “waste” pages on character development in the first act of a comedy or an action film because people go to those movies to laugh and see things get blown up.

But it’s a smart move because it pays dividends in the third act. I still contend a big reason Taken worked was because its entire first act was character development. People don’t care about a daughter being taken from your hero when you’ve only known her for two minutes. They needed to be around that relationship between the father and the daughter to care about it. Same thing here.

And it wasn’t just that. The writers did this really cleverly. Javi had kidnapped a big rival’s daughter. The CIA wanted to know where he was hiding her. So they told Cage to add a kidnapping plot to the script Cage and Javi were working on and then innocently ask Javi, “Where would we keep the daughter character if the bad guy kidnapped her?” This then led to Javi flying the ex-wife and daughter in for inspiration, and now you have a way to really kidnap these two without it seeming forced.

That’s the problem with every script where the bad guy kidnaps the girl in distress. It’s added in a blunt and cliche manner. This script, however, used its unique setup to bring them in organically. For me, that’s what made this script more than a garden variety “worth the read.” It’s a fun script but it’s also cleverly plotted. Props to the writing team!

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

What I learned: One of the best places to find comedy ideas is “Ripped from the headlines” articles that aren’t comedic. This concept was clearly inspired by the Sean Penn – El Chapo incident. The writers then asked, “What actor could we put in Penn’s role that would make it hilarious?” And they wisely came up with Nicholas Cage.

I have one question for you before I get to today’s article. Is the key to getting an original script turned into a wide release movie one single shot? I know it’s a small sample size but after 1917 made a shocking 36 million this weekend (when was the last time a World War 1 movie made 36 million in a weekend???), we have to ask the question. Cause there was that OTHER original idea – a little movie called Gravity – that was a single-shot film (for the most part) and that became a surprise hit also. Coincidence?

I’m asking the question half-jokingly but it’s an intriguing discussion. It’s so hard to get any original movie released these days. So if you can find any trend out there, you run with it. Now both these movies were writer directors. But I think a spec writer could do an even better job because they wouldn’t be worried about pulling off certain shots and whether something would be too difficult or not. They could write whatever came to mind.

Why does the single shot movie work? Well, obviously, it’s hard to pull off so it’s easy to build buzz around a one-shot movie. But from a screenwriting perspective, if you’re doing something in one shot, you have to create a sense of urgency or else there’ll be a bunch of slow spots in the movie. So, in a way, it forces you to create a really tight exciting story. Might we now get a few single-shot spec scripts in The Last Great Screenwriting Contest? Maybe a single shot social horror thriller even? We’ll see!

Moving on, I’m going to talk about producing today because that’s where my mind is at. This past week, I stumbled onto a movie called “Sweetheart” on Netflix. The film is about a shipwrecked girl who wakes up on an island only to learn that a monster lives on it as well. The movie follows her journey both trying to survive on an island and trying not to get killed by this monster.

The main reason I watched this movie is because it’s a movie I would’ve made. You’ve got a contained thriller. You’ve got a supernatural threat. That combination has been responsible for a lot of movies that have made a lot of money. You’ve also got a hot young director coming off a hit movie at Sundance. I would’ve seen all these elements and thought, “Slam dunk.”

Unfortunately, as I hit the 30 minute mark of the movie, I was struggling to stay invested. I kept asking myself, “Why? This is a movie you would make. Why isn’t it working!?” As if being able to answer the question would ensure that every future movie I made wouldn’t suffer the same fate. Gradually, after I was able to take my emotion out of it, I realized it came back to script problems. More specifically, it reminded me that contained thrillers are incredibly hard to pull off. And Sweetheart shows you why.

When we come with a contained idea, the first thing we think about is the cool moments. For example, in the big spec contained thriller, “Shut In,” you would think of the moment where the main character nailed the bad guy’s hand into the floor to keep him there. Or, with this movie, you might imagine the first time our heroine sees the monster. These moments are the moments that get us excited to write a script.

Here’s the problem though. There are only about four of five of these big exciting moments in your head when you’re putting an idea together. In the best case scenario, these moments take up fifteen minutes of screen time. In addition to this, you’re likely going to have a big climax, so we can add another 10-15 minutes of screen time on top of that. This means you have 30 minutes figured out. Which means you still have 70 MORE MINUTES TO FILL.

Now filling up 70 minutes in a Star Wars or James Bond movie isn’t that difficult. You just go to a new planet or a new country and throw in a car chase. But 70 minutes in a CONTAINED THRILLER??? Even screenwriting aces have trouble making those minutes interesting. Usually, all you have is a few characters and a small space. What do you do with 70 minutes of that?

That’s clearly where Sweetheart fell apart. It didn’t have a plan for those 70 minutes. It made the fatal mistake of assuming the concept alone was going to do the work for it. That we’d be so excited in the moments between the monster attacks to see it again that we’d wait through anything. Watching a character washed up on an island try to survive on page 10 is interesting. Not so much on page 60, when we’re bored of it.

It’s the writer’s job, then, to come up with plot beats that keep the story moving. And, to their credit, they try. For example, a couple of other shipwrecked characters (from her ship) show up about 50 minutes in. And that, at least, gives us some new scenarios, like characters being able to have a conversation. However, the plot beats were lazy. In fact, there’s another girl washed up on a deserted island with a monster spec that was written at the same time as Sweetheart. What happens at the 50 page mark of that script? A couple of shipwrecked characters show up. In other words, your story choice was so predictable that the only other person writing this idea came up with the same plot beat.

It is IMPERATIVE as a screenwriter to always check yourself on these things. When you come up with a plot development, one of the first things you should ask yourself is, “Would someone else come up with this as well?” And if the answer is yes, don’t write it. Come up with something else. The counter-argument to this is, “Well how many plot options are there in this scenario? Bringing in new characters is one of the only things you can do.” There’s never a situation where there’s only one thing to do. There are always options. It’s definitely harder to come up with the options that nobody’s thought of yet. But those are the ones that are going to make your script great.

Another issue was that there was no sense of danger in a script about a woman stuck on an island with a monster. She and the monster routinely see each other and nothing happens. She’s easily able to hide under a log or behind a tree. It gets to the point where you’re wondering if the monster is even interested in killing her. If the only person in your thriller script isn’t in danger, you don’t have a thriller.

In retrospect, I think I know why they did this. If the monster is too aggressive and powerful, the movie’s over in five minutes. The only way to make the movie last was to make him passive. But then where’s the movie? The last time I checked, the alien in “Alien” doesn’t occasionally walk by the characters, uninterested in them. It aggressively hunts them down one by one. And I’m not bashing Sweetheart for not living up to the greatest sci-fi horror film ever. I get that these are tough script problems to figure out. But if the audience isn’t feeling fear for your hero, we don’t have anything to work with.

I bring this up in the hopes that those of you writing contained thrillers for The Last Great Screenwriting Contest approach these dangerous 70 minutes strategically. You might want to watch Sweetheart and read Shut In back-to-back. In Shut In, we have two children in danger outside the room our hero is stuck in the entire movie. That alone adds a sense of urgency and tension that Sweetheart never had. It ensured that we were always rooting for our hero to escape the room so she could rescue her kids.

And that’s probably the best lesson to learn for a contained thriller – personal character-driven stories give you the best chance at surviving those big gaps of screen time where you don’t have a set-piece. I’m still on the edge of my seat for the Shut In heroine when all the noise died down because I still want her to save her kids. I’m not scared for the Sweetheart heroine at all because, from what I can tell, this monster isn’t interested in killing her.

Did you guys see Sweetheart? If so, what did you think?