Read as far as you can and tell us which script you liked best in the comments!

TITLE: The City
GENRE: Futuristic thriller
LOGLINE: An illegal artist hides in a nuclear wasteland to avoid a death-sentence but is forced back in an exchange to save his friends who have been kidnapped.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: I’ve spent a bloody long time on this script – over 5 years – and it’s completely different now to what it was when I started, as it should be. The story at the crux of it remains the same, and that’s what it’s all about. It’s a small story in a bigger world… As Jim Jarmusch said, “I’d rather make a movie about a man walking his dog than about the Emperor of China.” Anyway now that it’s “done” I need to get it out there, and I’m at a bit of a loss as to how to do that! Sure I can send out script queries but I feel this needs a real read and review – good, bad or otherwise. I’ve had friends and friends of friends read it for me, but they’re probably just being nice when they tell me what they think. I want professional words of wisdom because if there is one thing I can do it’s take them, take advice, hit notes, improve, and ultimately, from this, write in a way that will help me progress my career. This script has been a part of my life for so long I’m feeling pretty lost right now! This feels like a handy next step…

TITLE: They Ate the Horses
GENRE: Adventure/Horror
LOGLINE: A century after mankind’s near extinction, a daring teen eludes her overprotective father, risks an adventure to a neighboring town, and quickly discovers slavers are the least of her worries.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: Hey! Hey everybody! Another post-apocalyptic wasteland! Someone tell the DP to get the “grey” filter ready! You may notice that this is sarcasm. Glowing sarcasm, in fact. We’ve populated this world with likable (and not-so-likable) characters, danger, humor, and yes, even color. Come for the colorful take on life after (most) humans, stay for the ridiculous twist. I hope you have as much fun reading it as we did conceiving and writing it.

TITLE: The Benefactor
GENRE: Psychological Thriller
LOGLINE: A young widow discovers her husband’s accidental death is the latest in a series of murders-for-profit reaching back more than a decade.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: This is based on my published novel. In its review, Mystery Scene magazine described the book as “a story Hitchcock would have approved of.” Exactly what I was striving for.

TITLE: PARKING ENFORCEMENT
GENRE: Buddy Comedy (Step Brothers meets 21 Jump Street)
LOGLINE: When two bumbling brothers get their shot at a badge after twenty years in Boston parking enforcement, they will uncover a police conspiracy forcing them to go after the very people they’ve spent their entire lives wanting to be a part of.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: After failed attempts at recognition with less commercial fare, this is my first stab at a highly structured, broad commercial comedy. The initial inspiration for this came from a single question: what if The Departed was a comedy? Boston is always used in a very serious way where the deep roots of cops run for miles, so I wanted to take that aspect of it, flip it on its head for a comedy (a la The Heat) and ask a secondary question around, what if two people who had the badge in their blood wanted to be, but couldn’t? And, then finally, what if they were completely opposite brothers? I’d love to better understand what works here and what doesn’t from a story perspective. To date, this is the most structured and outlined script I’ve ever written.

TITLE: Broken Vessels
GENRE: Body-switching
LOGLINE: A New York City policeman tracks a serial killer through 700 years of dead bodies to find the secret to an immortal curse.
WHY YOU SHOULD READ: I’ve been a quarterfinalist in the Nicholl three times in four years (with two different scripts). I was a semifinalist in the Big Break the one, and only, time I entered. Frequent site contributor walker listed one of my scripts (not this one) as the best amateur script he’s ever read. I wrote this script with actors in mind. It is Oscar-bait for the Denzel Washington’s and Ryan Gosling’s of the acting world. Plus, you’ve said you are always looking for the perfect body-switching script. What if this is it?

Beyond that: At 40, I am stuck in a middle management job that requires me to get up at 3:30 in the morning and work 11 hours a day 6 to 7 days a week. I have a daughter at NYU, the most expensive school in the country, and my wife is now expecting our fourth child. I know I can write and, up until now, I have been willing to wait for my chance. Circumstances have conspired to put me in a more “Kyle-Killen-when-he-wrote-The Beaver” frame of mind. Were your site to bring that chance to me, I would not forget it—the way others that got their break from your site seem to have forgotten it.

At 29, Adi Shankar is one of the hottest young producers in town and one of the few guys who isn’t afraid to produce risky R-rated material. His credits include The Grey, Dredd, Lone Survivor, and A Walk Among The Tombstones. He’s also releasing one of my favorite scripts, The Voices, next year.

Shankar’s counter-culture approach extends to the web as well, where he’s produced the short film, “Punisher: Dirty Laundry,” starring Thomas Jane and Ron Pearlman, and “Venom: Truth in Journalism.” His newest offering is the animated dark comedy mini-series, “Judge Dredd: Superfiend,” which you can go watch right now!

Judge Dredd: Superfiend

SS: Before we get into writing, I’ve always admired your ability to make these risky R-rated films in an industry that’s typically afraid of that space.  How do you pull it off?

AS: Most companies egregiously overspend on overhead. I believe in a lean, tight-knit team, and it allows me to be cost effective in all my decision-making and affords me the financial freedom to make “riskier” films.

SS: Okay, moving on to my bread and butter.  I always talk to writers here on Scriptshadow from a writing perspective. But producers see the craft differently. From your side of the wall, what advice can you give writers just starting out?

AS:

1. When starting out, don’t be discouraged by people with the “9 to 5” jobs. They are the ones who urge you to “be realistic,” goad you as you attempt to understand yourself, and bring you down during your sporadic, minor, yet intangible victories. Take solace in the fact that these “9 to 5-ers” will get their minds blown when they see Katy Perry (or equivalent) at a restaurant one day and it will become the single defining moment of their lives, while you are attempting to add to the discourse of the culture.

2. Write every single day. If you don’t, writing will always just be your hobby. (Note: This doesn’t mean quitting your job)

3. You should read 200 “great” professional screenplays before you start writing so that you know what you are aspiring to be. The resources (scripts, interviews, trades, etc.) you have access to today as a beginning screenwriter are unparalleled and were only available to previous generations by becoming someone’s bitch. For the first time, you don’t even need to live in Los Angeles to be a screenwriter or to have your work read.

4. Follow the plethora of online recourses that weren’t available to past generations i.e Blacklist and the tracking boards, to see what’s selling, what’s getting heat and not selling, what’s getting acclaim, and what’s getting acclaim but not selling. This will inform your understanding of the marketplace and the business of screenwriting.

5. Write and produce for the Internet. It blows my mind that more people aren’t attempting to build a web footprint. Check out NEXT TIME ON LONNY it’s simple, smart, funny and is a blueprint for anyone who aspires to create.

SS: What about writers who are closer to the mid-level? These might be writers on the verge of breaking in or who have just punctured the lower levels of the industry. Any advice for them?

AS: The biggest misconception you have to psychologically fight is this idea that once you cross a certain imaginary threshold in your career you’ll feel “made.” You’ll never feel truly “made.” While, like any rote skill, things do get easier over time, you struggle consistently at any level and actually feel more not less pain at every higher rung on the proverbial ladder.

This industry is convoluted and hard for everyone: Whether you’re a novice writer or Robert Towne, a beginning actor or Russell Crowe, an assistant at the mailroom or Stacy Sneider there is always arbitrary red tape, infuriating walls built by insecure middlemen, and some asshole that just wants to fuck you over for the sake of fucking you over. You are constantly living with a damoclean sword over your head and a lottery ticket in your hand, one bad decision away from being black balled and one great sentence away from becoming the next big thing.

SS: Everybody’s trying to get their idea/script/project to the guy who’s able to say “yes” and the movie is greenlit. You’re occasionally that guy. In your best estimation, what do you need from a screenplay to give it that green light? What makes you say “yes?”

AS: Two things need to happen:

1. I need to respond to it creatively. (Note: I detest the routine and respond to material that is unconventional).

2. The market needs to respond to it financially.

As you can imagine 1 & 2 are almost always at odds with one another.

To be specific, by the “market” I don’t mean the movie-going public. Unless you are operating at the highest of levels (aka the Chris Nolan, Spielberg, JJ Abrams level), producers/directors don’t make movies for audiences, we make movies for distributors, and are beholden to what distributors believe audiences want (read: the last successful movie).

Second only to the inability of distributors to match a prospective customer with a specific product in a cost effective manner, the biggest problem that our industry needs to solve is the issue of access. Information is a commodity to the detriment of the business.

So my advice to writers: Figure out what the market wants and write the best version of that as quickly as you can before the market changes. For example, in 2008 it was quirky indie comedies, in 2010 it was $25-30 million dollar action movies, in 2012 it was $3 million dollar horror movies. Pretty soon the $7-12 million range, which for years had been the “no mans land,” is going to be the independent sweet spot.

SS: This leads me to a question I’ve always had. This industry is actor and director driven. If you get a big actor or director attached to your script, the project has a much better chance of getting made. So as a writer, should I be trying to find ways to get actors and directors to read my script so they’ll attach themselves, THEN come to you? Or should I come to you first and let you use your relationships with actors and directors to put that project together?

AS: It depends. I prefer STD free scripts, but sometimes if the attachments are so great then everyone is obviously going to pay more attention. Again, it depends on the producer and the genre of the script.

By and large I’ve found attachments for the sake of attachments to be a detriment. I once read a script that I thought was great but the manager insisted that a much hated director had to be attached to direct. That manager ultimately screwed the writers by making their very makeable, highly marketable script instantly un-makeable due to a bogus attachment. The marketplace moved on and the window of opportunity to make the film passed.

Also, when you’re attaching someone, realize that you are getting in business with the person, that person’s reputation within the industry, and reputation with the potential buyers for your project, not their credits.

SS: You sell your movies to many foreign territories, which is a way to fund your movies (or most of them) before they even get made. Film is becoming more and more of a global business. Should screenwriters be accounting for that in their screenplays? Should we be writing differently? How does one write for a “global audience?”

AS: Don’t worry about this. Just try to tell a really great story. The more you get caught up in trying to retrofit a human story into something that will “sell globally” the more you risk diluting your material.

SS: You were telling me about a project awhile back, an idea you came up with. And you said you went out and found a writer for that. How does a writer (say, a writer reading this right now) become the person you call to write your movie? How does he get in that room with you?

AS:

Step 1: In that particular instance the writer had written the last movie by the director whom I was developing the idea with. The brutal reality is that writers almost always get hired for an assignment because of a working relationship.

Step 2: When I call writer’s representatives, it’s preferable that they be “user friendly.” I’ve passed on working with so many talented writers because I thought their agent or manager was a cheese dick and was going to cause problems down the road.

Best blanket advice I can give to an up-and-coming writer:
Find a talented director at “your level” and partner with them and become “their writer” and start operating as a team (See: Wigard, Adam & Barrett, Simon). So many talented directors are in dire need of writer/producers to execute their wonderful ideas and more importantly for a creative partner who isn’t a cornball producer trying to pull a silver dollar out from behind their ear. This journey in 2014 is now too complicated and frankly impossible to do alone, so build a collective.

To be a douche and quote myself:
“Hollywood is undergoing a massive decentralization right now, caused by the ongoing collapse of the studio system and the rampant greed of the 90’s. It means that collectives of people who can consistently and autonomously deliver a product will have an advantage. They will help you sift through all the crap Hollywood throws at you, and more importantly give you the kind of creative autonomy that today’s non-celebrity filmmakers can only dream of.”

SS: Is it important that a writer be “good in the room” with you? Do you have to feel a chemistry or a certain energy and knowledge from them to work with them? Or do you only care about how good of a writer they are?

AS: Being good in the room doesn’t matter. I don’t want the guy who sells me the car to design and build the car too. I’m also not looking for a friend, girlfriend, roommate, drinking buddy, flip cup or beer pong partner. Humility, writing skills, and general insight about life that can be retrofitted into a screenplay are all that matter. I do meet many writers who are whiney and unloved and complain about “how unfair the industry is” and I generally want to bitch slap them … so don’t be that guy.

SS: I ask a lot of producers what they want from a script, and they almost always say, “I’m just looking for something great.” Is it really that easy? Or are there more factors involved?

AS: It’s that simple. We just want great material. Great material will attract a great director and that package will attract “bankable” (note: as an actor myself that word pisses me off) actors. It will make distributors fight over the distribution rights. Give me SOURCE CODE and I’ll produce and deliver you a finished film via text message faster than you can say Punisher Dirty Laundry.

SS: Does a writer need an agent for you to read their scripts? If you do receive scripts outside of agents, where do they come from?

AS: It’s a legal grey area. I desperately want to discover a great script from under a rock but legal reasons make it challenging.

Traditionally, success in this business has been proportional to one’s access to information. In their inevitable next evolution, online screenplay resources like ScriptShadow, Trigger Street, and Blacklist are very shortly going to revolutionize the way producers/actors/directors access material and democratize the green lighting process.

Before the Internet, an agent had the ability take a script off the shelf and present it as brand new. Tracking boards made the spec market efficient. Blogging made it possible for one to dissect material and allowed the industry to congregate behind risky but great material. The next tectonic shift will be numerically driven and force an egalitarian more “crowd sourced” process to the chaotic status quo.

On the issue of agents, keep in mind that reps are useless unless you have a career spark. To be clear, it’s on you at every juncture in your career to create a spark for yourself. If you are unrepped and looking for your big break right now the web stuff is the best platform to create a spark. What reps are really good at is turning a spark into a flame and the best reps will help convert that flame into a forest fire (see: Jennifer Lawrence and Bradley Cooper).

SS: Finally, we all know Hollywood prefers intellectual property that’s already proven. Since all screenwriters are poor and can’t afford to buy flashy intellectual property, what can they do to compete with these guys?

You bring up an interesting point. In television, the writers are the producers. This should be the case in the movie business as well, as it would eliminate a lot of the infrastructural problems we face.

A trend I’ve noticed is that once writers become deemed “professional writers” many take the mentality of “I need to be paid to write.” While I can sympathize, the fact of the matter is great screenplays are the lifeblood of this industry. If you have a great story that must be told … fucking write it.

It doesn’t make sense to waste time waiting for some jerk off producer or studio to “buy your idea.” Own it, control it, and if you really are that good you may have just written the next DALLAS BUYERS CLUB, PRISONERS, or LOW DWELLER (OUT OF THE FURNACE). Every major movie star and every major director needs a “next movie” and even those we have deemed gods at the moment are beholden to access to great material and are at the mercy of those who control it. Unencumbered scripts are easier to make.

Alicia Florrick

“You know the show’s demographic is 57 year old women, right?”

That’s what Miss Scriptshadow said to me when she found me watching my third episode of The Good Wife in a row. I tried to explain to her that I’d merely been tired of hearing how good the writing was on The Good Wife and I had to check it out for myself for research purposes. That was all. Strictly research.

But then I realized I wasn’t just lying to Miss Scriptshadow.  I was lying to myself. I was a Good Wife addict. The show that I never thought I’d watch, much less enjoy, had become my favorite show along with The Walking Dead. How did this happen? The plight seemed implausible. I HATE these kinds of shows. “Ooh, are they gonna prove that the murderer’s shoe didn’t fit in time to win the case!???” I don’t care. I have something called intelligence which allows me to know that, yes, they will prove the shoe fits, and then afterwards we’ll learn that it was really THE WIFE who did it.

That’s what I was expecting to find when I started watching this TV version of crack. And in a few instances, I was right. But what I learned through this particular law procedural, is that while the individual cases that come about each episode are usually cliché, it’s the things that happen outside the cases that make the show good.

For those who don’t know what The Good Wife is about, it follows Alicia Florrick, the wife of prominent and popular State’s Attorney, Peter Florrick, after he’s involved in an ugly scandal, fixing cases through a complicated web of prostitution, prostitutes that he himself slept with. Peter goes to jail, and Alicia, who’s up until this point been the “good wife” and mother to her son and daughter, must finally do something with that law degree she secured forever ago in order to support her family.

Luckily, Alicia’s old law school boyfriend, Will Gardner, is now a partner at his own firm. He decides to take a chance on Alicia as a junior associate, something that raises a few eyebrows in the firm. Is Will bringing her in because she’s good? Or is Will bringing her in because he’s still in love with her? The series is populated with lots of other fun characters, like the cryptic private investigator, Kalinda, and the tries-too-hard first year associate Cary, and like any good show, is a joy to watch in that you never know what to expect. The Good Wife constantly surprises you.

Will Gardner

You don’t really understand the power of a television show until you’ve seen it done right. And The Good Wife does pretty much everything right. Starting with its levels.

I admit that I’m completely making this vocabulary up because I don’t know the TV vernacular as well as I do features, but I’m calling it “The Level Approach.”  The Good Wife taught me that there are three LEVELS of exploration in every episode. The first level is the case itself. We’ll call this the episode’s plot. While there will be other things going on, sometimes more important things, this level is the engine that drives the episode. The second level is what happens at work (in this case, the law firm). This includes all the interpersonal relationships that are occurring at the firm. For instance, Cary has a thing for Kalinda, who doesn’t like Cary. So when they work together, there’s an undercurrent of tension. Finally, there’s the home level. What happens to these people when they go home (their personal lives)? For the most part, this level follows the main character (in this case, Alicia) and her problems with her family – how her two kids are dealing with this. As well as her complicated relationship with her husband, who she still loves, but who has betrayed her.

Now when each of these levels is dealt with separately, they’re only moderately entertaining. It’s when they INTERWEAVE with one another that the show excels.

Let me give you an example. In the second episode of the series, a prostitute comes to the firm complaining to have been raped by the son of a rich Chicagoan. On its own, this is a pretty uninteresting case. But who’s put on the case? Alicia Florrick. Alicia’s husband, of course, was cheating on her with prostitutes. Now, she’s forced to defend one. Her home life is now clashing with her work life. You see how a ho-hum case/episode can all of a sudden become exciting?

As the season moves on, Alicia is hearing more and more that her husband, Peter, might have been set up by the new State’s Attorney, Glenn, who orchestrated her husband’s ouster in order to steal his job. Then one day, the firm gets a new client. It’s Glenn’s wife, who wants a divorce. And she wants Alicia to represent her. As Alicia looks into the divorce case, she comes across information that might help her husband’s case. Which is complicated, as she’s still not sure she even wants her husband out of jail. Once again, her home life is clashing with her work life.

And really, when you think about it, you don’t have to stop at three levels. Every show concept will be unique, allowing you to add a fourth, or even fifth level. You could argue that Peter’s storyline (trying to get out of jail and get his State’s Attorney job back) is the fourth level in The Good Wife, and the writers do an excellent job of integrating that storyline into the cases as well. For example, in one episode, the law firm needs a judge’s help. That judge happens to be a good friend of Peter’s. So they need to ask Peter to put a call in.

John Wick’s dog

The great thing about The Good Wife is that they only include a choice if it adds more conflict to the show. Take the example above. It’s not as simple as the firm asking Peter to make a call. Their only connection to Peter is through Alicia.  Will has to then ask Alicia if she’ll tap her husband’s connections. This makes Alicia question if she’s been hired for the right reasons. Is she hired because she has access to one of the most powerful men in the city? Or has she been hired because she’s genuinely good? Everything about this show is so intermixed and intermingled. There’s never a straightforward narrative to any of the cases.

Now Miss Scriptshadow argues that it’s all too soapy. Will liking Alicia. Prostitutes coming out with stories in the media. But I pointed out that The Walking Dead (her favorite show) is one of the most soapy shows out there, and really, all the best shows have soapy elements. You can’t NOT have love stories and betrayal and the occasional character getting pregnant. She says The Walking Dead is different cause there’s zombies. I’m not sure how to respond to that.

Another thing I talk a lot about on the site is “The Choice.” This is when you give your character two choices that are equally bad. It’s a fun place to put your character because the audience loves watching them squirm their way to a decision. The Good Wife is one of the best shows (or movies) I’ve ever seen at this. They must talk about it specifically in the writer’s room because they clearly try to include it at every opportunity.

Let me give you an example. In the fourth episode of the series, Peter’s lawyer, who’s trying to get Peter out of jail, wants Alicia to testify that Peter made untruthful statements not because he was hiding illegal activity, but rather to hide his infidelity from his wife. In other words, Alicia is being asked to help her husband by confirming an action that kept her in the dark about his cheating. If she helps him, she basically endorses this behavior. If not, her husband stays in jail. Complicating matters is that her kids are desperate to have their father home.

The best of these choices are always ones where if you put yourself in the character’s shoes, you wouldn’t know what to do. If, however, they’re “paper decisions,” decisions that look fine on paper but, really, everyone knows what the best choice is, then you’re not doing your job.

I didn’t even get into the great character-writing here. I often hear the tip, “If you cover up all the characters’ names, you should be able to know who’s talking just by their dialogue.” This certainly sounds good, but it’s rarely 100% applicable. There are always going to be characters who sound neutral enough that their dialogue can be confused for others’. But The Good Wife is the one example where you really see this. The selfish and direct Kalinda. The uber-confident Peter. The motherly Alicia. The try-hard Cary. The stately Alicia (one of the partners). The calm and collect Will. I mean you really could cover these characters’ names and know who’s talking.

The only question I have for this show is, can it keep it up? I’m on Episode 18 of the first season. I understand they’re on their 6th season now at 23 episodes a pop. Does it devolve into Gray’s Anatomy territory where, by season 2, they’re doing Prom Hospital? Or are they able to keep up this amazing level of quality? Let me know so I can either raise or lower my expectations.

And finally, I need to know what club I’m in now. All these shows/movies have cool names for their watchers. Twihards. Browncoats. What am I now? Am I a Goodwifer?

Goodwifers unite!

Genre: Action
Premise: When a Russian gang kills a former hitman’s dog, he decides to take all of them down in an act of revenge.
About: John Wick just came out this weekend, finishing in second place at the box office with 15 million dollars. It could not overcome a major horror release (Ouija) a week before Halloween. What’s unique about this film is that it comes from first time directors David Leitch and Chad Stahelski, who were former stuntmen directors for more films than you can count (including 300, The Bourne Legacy, and Matrix: Revolutions). Needless to say, action was a priority over all else in the film. This is writer Derek Kolstad’s first big writing credit, unless you count the two movies he wrote for Dolph Lundgren, one of which is said not to contain a single discernible word from Lundgren.
Writer: Derek Kolstad
Details: 100 minutes

John Wick 12 hours after his dog was killed.

If there is an argument for the non-screenplay, John Wick might be it. This is an unapologetic action revenge flick with nothing going for it other than a good guy, a lot of bad guys and a kitchen full of bullet sandwiches. And you know what? It’s all the more wonderful for it. This film embraced what it was and WENT for it.

But don’t be fooled. John Wick has a little more screenplay panache than first meets the eye. I mean, you’re not going to get 86% on Rotten Tomatoes as an ACTION movie and not have some checks in the screenplay department. So we’ll get into that in a second. But first, for those of you who haven’t seen the movie, let’s find out how John Wick’s dog died.

John Wick is a normal guy, if you consider living with Keanu Reeves looks and a home right off the cover of Architectural Digest “normal.” Things are going well until the love of his life, his dear wife, gets cancer and DIES! Spoiler alert! Afterwards, John gets a package in the mail. It’s a present from his dead wife, to be delivered after she’s passed away. The present? The cutest freaking puppy in the entire universe! Awww times a trillion.

John loves this darn puppy. They walk around together, sleep together, eat cereal together. But then one day, when John goes to fill his 69 Chevy up with gas, a Russian punk takes a liking to his wheels and asks if he can buy the car. John says it’s not for sale, IN RUSSIAN, which makes our Russian baddie grumble extensively.

It isn’t surprising then when, that night, the Russians invade John’s house, beat him to a pulp, steal his car, and, oh yeah, KILL HIS DOG (luckily, this happens from John’s blurry point of view – so we don’t partake in the gory details).

The Russian who instigated this realizes soon afterwards that he made a major mistake. His Russian kingpin father tells him that the man whose dog he just killed… was John Wick. The greatest hitman ever. In fact, John Wick used to work for him, and was the main reason he rose to prominence. “So what is he, The Bogeyman?” the Russian son asks. “No. He’s the guy who KILLS the Bogeymans.” OHHHHHH.

John Wick then takes a sledgehammer to his basement floor, under which are buried all his old hitman toys, which seems a little dramatic (couldn’t he just put them under the bed?). He then checks into a special hotel downtown that caters exclusively to hitmen, and plans his revenge. Revenge that will require killing a lot of people with Russian accents.

John Wick’s dog.

So here’s the thing with John Wick. It’s both straight forward and not so straight forward. Even though there are clichés here (Russian bad guys for the 634,783rd time), the film does enough differently to make the journey fresh. And that’s what you’re always trying to do as a screenwriter. You’re never going to be completely original. But you can try and write ENOUGH original to outweigh the unoriginal.

A great way to do this is to introduce an overarching original element. By doing so, you can use it to spurn numerous “sub-elements” that are also original.  So the big “original” thing in John Wick is the Continental, the hotel downtown that caters exclusively to hitmen. There are rules here. No one is allowed to kill you here. You are given special attention and special treats as a hitman.

This one choice birthed a number of sub-choices. John is supposed to be safe here. But the Russian Mob Boss doubles the price on his head (from 2 million to 4 million) so that hitmen will attack him inside the Continental, a huge no-no. Also, when you’ve left someone for dead in the hallway of the Continental and someone comes out of their room, they don’t scream and call the police. They nod and say, “Hey John. Didn’t know you were back,” and let you go about your business. There’s a unique currency used in this world (special gold coins). And even a hotel manager who enforces the rules at all times.

This is really what helped set John Wick apart from the other action movies. I heard one interview liken it to a hitman’s Harry Potter – this special underground world where hitmen reside.  And I liked that analogy.  It really does feel that way.  And that choice was enough to spurn several other unique choices.  I don’t think I need to tell you this since I always do.  But PLEASE!   Take the extra time, especially when you’re writing in such a well-known genre, to find some original ideas for the story.  It’s the ONLY way your script has a chance.

More of John Wick’s dog.

But there were some screenwriting things that bothered me. First, everybody knows that “saving the cat” or “kicking the dog,” are quick and dirty ways to make you either love the hero or hate the villain. But they’re not meant to be taken literally. I never thought I’d see the moment where a writer would literally have his villain kick the dog to get us to hate him.

But it seems like it actually worked. I couldn’t possibly judge the choice myself because I was so hyper-aware of it being used to manipulate the audience. But the audience fell for it. As you know, it’s the impetus for the entire movie. John Wick kills all these guys because the Russians kill his dog. So if people are rooting for that at the end, it means they bought into the motivation.

For those of you who saw the movie, can you tell me if this worked on you? Were you aware of the manipulation? Was it too on-the-nose? Did that matter? I’m just curious how people didn’t see this as the most overt attempt at gaining hero sympathy… ever!

The other problem with John Wick was the second half of the script. The movie peaked with this beautifully crafted bath house invasion by John Wick set to this ethereal melodic pop song. But after that, the movie started running out of ideas. The hotel was now in the rearview mirror, and the writer didn’t seem to have anything fun or original to replace it.

Early on I was thinking, “You know how I know this is good. It’s the first action film I’ve seen in forever where we haven’t ended up in an industrial area.” Those industrial areas are beautiful to shoot in and give directors lots of options, but they all look the same. They make your action film the same as every other action film. The fact that these guys had managed to avoid that told me they were actually thinking through their choices.

John Wick’s dog out of make-up.

Then, after mentally lauding the film for this choice, where does the climax end up happening? In a giant industrial area.

Nooooooooooo!

It signified the reality here, which is that our writers and filmmakers ran out of juice. They were okay with the status quo with their ending. If they would’ve figured out how to make that ending unique? John Wick could’ve been a classic.

I still like it!  Don’t get me wrong.  But I almost loved this.  I wanted to love it.

All I ask is that in the sequel, give John Wick a possum instead of a dog. Or when John Wick comes out on DVD, show us that the puppy playing the part of John Wick’s dog is still alive in the credits sequence. Killing puppies, man. It’s too much.

[ ] what the hell did I just watch?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[xx] worth the price of admission
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: John Wick is a classic example of first-half favoritism! It is a condition writers have in which they spend the bulk of their focus on the first half of the script. They don’t realize that 9 out of 10 times, when they go into their script to fix or work on something, they’re focusing on the first half (they do this whether they know it or not since the first half is closer to the top of the document, which is often where you open it). For this reason, the second half of your screenplay gets the short stick. So here’s a trick to avoid that. Instead of always opening your script on the first page and going down, open up the bottom of your script and go up. Work on those bottom scenes just as much as you do the top ones. Otherwise, there will be a perceptible quality drop as your script goes on.

What I learned: Just say NO to industrial locations in your action script! In your next action script, I implore you NOT to use any industrial locations. The entire thing must avoid all industrial areas, including the insides of warehouses! Especially the scene where our hero is captured and wakes up tied to a chair in a warehouse. Give us something new instead!

Renee Zellweger?

Horror has a certain power over me that I can’t explain. So primal is my need to be scared that I will watch every studio horror film released. It’s why I went to see Annabelle. It’s why I’m going to see Ouija this weekend. Do I think Ouija is going to be a good film? Hmmm. Will Renee Zellweger ever look like herself again? The answer to both questions is, of course, no. But if I can get just a couple of scares out of the viewing, I’ll be happy.

Having said that, deep down, I’m always hoping that this is going to be “the one,” that rare horror movie that doesn’t just titillate, but resonates. After reading the awesome “February” yesterday, I asked myself, “What is it that makes a good horror script?” How do you achieve that rare feat of going beyond the scares and giving the reader a fully-rounded experience, like how one feels after watching “The Exorcist” or “The Sixth Sense?”

I don’t know. But looking back at the horror films/shows/scripts I’ve liked recently (The Walking Dead, Mama, Honeymoon) and comparing them to the ones I hated (Annabelle, Oculus), there do seem to be some consistent threads in each. So I wanted to highlight those so you horror writers can give this thing a proper go. This shouldn’t be considered a final list. I’m far from a horror aficionado. But these should give you a baseline on how to get horror right.

Honeymoon

Go in with higher expectations – One of the problems plaguing horror is it’s the genre with the lowest expectations. People see horror mostly as a vehicle to throw cheap scares and gore at the screen. Writers pick up on this and, as a result, set the bar low for themselves. Once you’ve done this, you’ve basically guaranteed your script will be bad. Treat horror just like you would a drama. Aim high and deep. I don’t care if you’re “only” writing a slasher movie. Try to make it the best slasher movie ever. There are few things as depressing as reading a lazily written horror script.

Deep characters – Remember this simple rule. If we don’t care about the characters (love’em or hate’em), we won’t care what happens when they’re put in danger. You cannot illicit fear from apathy. The reader must have a strong feeling about the characters one way or the other. So before you write your horror script, spend a LOT of time building your characters. Figure out their backstories, their fears, their flaws, their broken relationships. What is it they need to overcome in this journey? The more you build into your character, the more likely we’ll care about them.

Tie the scares to the characters – The horror and the scares in your screenplay should not be mutually exclusive. They should be designed around one another. In other words, try to connect your character’s fear to the horror at hand. In Mama, the step-mother’s fear is love, is getting close to these children. The scares in the movie then, surround this ghost mother who wants the girls back. The step-mother will have to learn to love the girls in order to save them. The closer you can connect the scares and the character’s own issues, the more impact the scares will have.

Original scares – Cliché scares are one of the most abused practices in horror writing. And this goes back to the first tip. Expectations need to be higher. If you’ve seen the scare before, DON’T USE IT. Or, at the very least, find a way to update it. One of the things that really annoyed me about Annabelle was the old-timey record player that kept turning on. Give. Me. A break. This is pure laziness. The Walking Dead is really good at spinning old cliches. We’ve all seen the scene where our characters have to pick up supplies at the supermarket but zombies are lurking about. Well, two seasons ago, they had a scene where the ceiling crashed in and all the zombies on the roof dropped down, trapping our heroes. Or this season, they had a scene where they had to get the food in a flooded storage basement, adding a unique challenge (walking in waste-high water) and type of zombie (a “floatie”).  It’s never easy to sit down and challenge yourself for hours to come up with something new and original. You feel like you should be writing instead, and that you’re wasting time. But when you put in that extra effort and DO find an original scare or a new spin on an old scare, it makes your script so much better.

Be truthful – Don’t force illogical truths into your story just to get scares. When you do that, you’re being dishonest and bending the rules of reality to fit your plot. Instead, you should always try and be truthful, to offer reality. The more realistic the world you create is, the more we’re going to suspend our disbelief. One of the biggest problems with Annabelle was that the doll was the creepiest fucking doll in the universe. It looked like the picture-perfect version of a what a movie possessed doll would look like (and nothing like the actual doll it was based on). If that was it, I’d say fine.  But where you’re being dishonest is having the mother character want it in the first place.  Who in their right mind would want a doll like this?  “Hey hubby? Can you grab me the creepiest fucking doll you can find for my collection?” Yeah right. There was nothing truthful about this plot point, and if you lie like this to the audience too many times, they call you on your bullshit and check out.

Atmosphere – You saw me talking about this yesterday with “February.” Horror is about atmosphere. It’s never just about walking into a room. It’s about the mood in the room. It’s about what’s creating that mood. Are the heating pipes banging obnoxiously behind the walls? Are there ice crystals forming on the window due to the -12 degree temperatures outside? Is your hero scratching at that annoying rash on his arm that won’t go away? Don’t be afraid to show those dead flakes of skin falling to the ground either. Atmosphere can be your best friend in a horror script when done right.

Loss of control – One of the scariest feelings for most people is a complete loss of control. Prey on this fear. As your story maneuvers through its plot, your characters should have less and less control over the situation. And at some point, they should have no control at all. They should feel completely helpless. Look at movies like The Exorcist, Human Centipede, and the little known Aussie film, The Loved Ones. Our fear is based almost exclusively on the helplessness of the main characters.

The Loved Ones

Build – Horror movies never seem to work when you jump into the scares right away. They need to be groomed and raised. They need to grow up over the course of the film. In other words, you want to BUILD UP to the scares. Look at Paranormal Activity, one of the most successful horror films of all time. That movie goes about three-quarters of its running time before a genuine scare occurs. Before that, it’s mainly a series of small building scares.  As a general rule, try to design the first 60-70% of your movie as creepy and the last 30-40% as scary.

The prelude to the scare is often more scary than the scare itself (aka “Milkage”) – A good solid scare is wonderful. But if that’s all there is, you’ve entertained your audience for all of one second. The real key to scaring is chronicling what happens BEFORE the scare. That’s where the gold is, as you can draw the feeling of fear out. As such, you should be designing scares that have a great lead-up, a period of “milkage” if you will. One of my favorite script scares is still in the original draft of The Conjuring, which they ended up cutting. In it, our main character is inside the wall crawlspace, and has found a hole that goes into the basement. There’s a rope coming out of the hole. She starts pulling it. And pulling it. And pulling it. Our imagination is so wrapped up in what’s at the end of that rope, we don’t realize that it’s the prelude to this reveal that’s really scaring us. Of course, a great reveal at the end doesn’t hurt either (in this case, the noose around the witch’s head).

An impending sense of doom – We should feel like bad things are coming for our characters in the future. This should stress us out. We should never feel comfortable in a horror film, like things are going to be okay. We should always feel like it’s going to get worse, that doom is just around the corner.

Plenty of you out there eat, sleep, and breathe horror. And I’m interested to hear your thoughts on my list. Beyond what I’ve noted, what do you think makes a good horror film? Share your tips with the rest of us.