Genre: 1 hour TV Drama/Sci-fi
Premise: A Secret Service agent goes to Wayward Pines, Idaho in search of two federal agents who have gone missing in the bucolic town. He soon learns that he may never get out of Wayward Pines alive.
About: The show was bought on a spec by Chad Hodge, which was based on a book. Hodge has been working in TV for awhile, getting on-air with the shows “Runaway” and “The Playboy Club,” but hasn’t been able to cross that mighty threshold known as the “2+ season show.” Ahh, don’t we all wish we could be there. He’ll have a little help this time, however, from M. Night Shyalaman, who’s executive producing the series at Fox. The show has some serious actors to help as well. Matt Dillon, Carla Gugino, Terrance Howard, Melissa Leo, and Juliette Lewis will all partake in this maze of a story. I thought the show was coming out this year, but apparently it’s not premiering until 2014. It’s either a Fox or FX show (it’s not totally clear which).
Creator: Chad Hodge (based on the ebook by Blake Crouch)
Details: 63 pages (October 23, 2012 draft)

There was a time when anything M. Night Shyalaman did was shrouded in secrecy. He was the master of the mystery (before JJ Abrams came along). Nowadays things are a little different. However, there’s a part of me (and I assume, us) that’s still curious whenever M. Night introduces a new project. Will he bring us back to that Sixth Sense magic? And when you hear that they’re going for a “Twin Peaks” feel with this – well, the mind is definitely curious. All on top of a show based on an e-book (keep writing those e-books people – Hollywood is snatching them up!). Might this unique equation result in the next big thing on TV??

37 year-old special agent Ethan Burke is driving along in the middle of Idaho with his partner, Pete Stallings, discussing how the heck two other secret agents could’ve disappeared. That’s why they’re here in Idaho, heading to “Wayward Pines.” Two special agents were sent there on a mission last week and never reported back. Now these guys have to find out what’s up.

Turns out only one of them will figure that out. A MACK truck appears out of nowhere, slamming into the car and instantly killing Stallings (ironically in a very un-stall’ish maneuver). That’s our teaser. When the cops finally find the car, it’s all but annihilated. But there’s a curious difference from the last time we were inside of it. Ethan’s no longer in it!

Turns out Ethan flew a hundred feet out of the car into the forest, and no one saw him. Which is where we pick him up. Bruised and bloodied, he stumbles along the road where he finally reaches a small town. And wouldn’t you know it – that town is Wayward Pines!

That much is good. But what isn’t good is that everyone treats poor Ethan like he’s a moron from outer space. Nobody seems helpful, and even after he ends up at the hospital, no one seems to know where his burned up car is, where his stuff is, or why he keeps babbling on about being a secret service agent. Eventually Ethan gets so fed up that he sneaks out of the hospital and into town, where he meets a waitress, Beverly, who, after a little chat, tells him to stop by her place if he needs help.

He does, only to find one of the agents he was looking for brutally tortured and burned to a crisp. Not cool! Ethan goes running back into town, telling the sheriff that his co-worker has been tortured and killed, but just like everyone in this getup, Large N’In Charge doesn’t seem to be that interested. What the hell does a guy need to do to get a drink around here!

Later, Ethan meets up with Beverly again, who tells him that she’s just like him. She got stuck in this town and has been here for an entire year. “What year is it?” Ethan asks. It’s 1986! Holy debut of the Oprah Winfery Show! If that isn’t weird enough, Ethan eventually DOES run into that other female agent he was looking for. There’s only one problem, she’s 13 YEARS OLDER than the last time he saw her. What in the Challenger crash is going on here?

And that’s only a fraction of the questions asked in the debut of Wayward Pines. You get the feeling that this show is going to have Lost-level story threads to resolve. But is it a good enough show to warrant all those threads? Or is this just gobbledy-gook covering up the fact that there’s no story?

Well that’s a good question. I don’t know! You see, with feature screenplays, the answer’s always there for you. If you read to the end, you find out if the writer knew what he was doing or not. With a TV pilot, there’s no way for you to tell. Because many of these questions don’t have to be answered for weeks, sometimes even years!

That’s why it’s so hard to write these types of shows for TV. If you don’t have a set amount of seasons, you have no way of knowing whether to speed up your storyline or hang back. And a show’s lifespan is often hanging in the balance unless you’re Gray’s Anatomy or Modern Family.

But getting back to Wayward Pines, I thought this was pretty damn good. We may only have questions to judge this on, but the questions were definitely entertaining. I want to know how we went 20 years back in time and yet one person has aged 13 years while another has only aged one.

And the writers were smart. One of the agents our hero is looking for is a former flame who almost broke up his marriage. In other words, there’s a CONNECTION there, and you need those relationship connections in a movie to balance out the relationships that are new to the character. And plus I just like the idea of this unresolved love affair that’s complicated by a strange nefarious town, the aging of one of them 13 years, and the fact that she’s now married to one of the Wayward Pinians! These are not your average issues you have to deal with. And that’s what you want when you write any type of script. You want relatable, but the ‘on-steroids’ heightened version of relatable.

And then it’s got that “Lost” goal going for it as well – that goal that’s always going to be there for every episode: GET OUT. They had to find a way to get off that island. This guy’s gotta find a way to get out of this town. As long as you have that pull dominating every episode, it gives your show a little more juice. It’s not as exciting, obviously, if this show was framed as a man going to a strange town, looking for missing people, who could leave whenever he wanted.

As for the script’s faults, there were a few here and there. Our character’s partner is killed but he pretty much forgets about that after five seconds. True he’s frustrated and wants to get out of this town. But we probably need more than a “You’re kidding me,” when he finds out his partner’s dead. And it was frustrating that every single person was so unhelpful. I couldn’t figure out if this was being done because people were purposefully trying to mislead him or because it made the script cooler. I guess it makes sense if everyone’s in on it, but I find that hard to believe. And even if they were in on it, you’d think they’d at least PRETEND like they weren’t. So when he says to the Sheriff, “an agent’s been tortured and burned to death,” why isn’t the Sheriff pretend-acting like a real person would. “Oh shit! Where!?” The fact that he’s more interested in getting a drink is basically proof that he’s a bad guy. And if that’s the case, why not just tell Ethan. “Yo, I’m a bad guy and you’re now stuck in this town. Get used to it.”

Then again, that’s the dance you’re always doing with these kinds of scripts. How long can you keep the secrets and reveals before it gets ridiculous?

This kind of thing has been done before (most recently in the underrated The Prisoner). I thought that was pretty good but it got cancelled. So I’m not sure what’s the formula for success here. But from this pilot alone, I think they have something pretty cool. With that talent pool they’re working with, I find it difficult to believe that people won’t at least check out the first few episodes. Where it goes from there is up to the TV gods.

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

What I learned: A technical tip today. There are times where you have to change a character’s name in a script. For example, if a character has a secret identity, then later reveals himself to be someone else, you have to start using that new name. Problem is, the reader’s used to the old name. So cold-turkey changing the name can be jarring. In these cases, for the first few times you use the character’s changed name, include both names – the previous and the new, divided by a slash.

So in this pretend scene in a back alley, a mysterious man named Anderson hands a character we’ve seen before (Frank) a bag of money.

ANDERSON
How’s it going, Ray? It’s all in there.

It’s Frank, the doctor who chatted Ethan up back at the bar. But Anderson just called him “Ray.”

FRANK/RAY
Thanks.

ANDERSON
Welcome. We all good?

FRANK/RAY
We’re all good.

Frank/Ray struts over to his car, gets in, and drives away.

Glengarry Glen Ross is one of those films that flew under the radar because of its ultra low-budget look and feel. As moviegoers, when we don’t see our movie stars perfectly lit in front of A-level sets, we get suspicious. “Is this one of those vanity projects?” we ask? The kind where the acting is great but the story sucks? We’ve been burned by too many of those before so no thanks. But Glengarry is one of the few “vanity” projects that was also a great story (and a great film!). I mean superstar screenwriter David Mamet (who was paid 1 million to turn his hit play into a script) wrote the thing. And to many, this is his best work. There are, of course, three things that one remembers from Glengarry – Jack Lemon’s amazing performance, The Alec Baldwin scene (which was written exclusively for the film – it was not in the play) and the razor-sharp dialogue. In honor of that dialogue, I’ve decided to make today’s “10 Tips” all dialogue-related! Enjoy!

1) Your characters should only speak when they have something to say – Without question, one of the biggest mistakes I see from amateurs is characters who are only talking because they’re in a scene. If characters are only talking because a writer’s making them, the scene will be maddeningly boring. What’s so great about Glengarry Glenn Ross is that the characters never say anything unless they want something. They may want to close a deal, they may want to beg for leads, they may want to let their boss know how pissed they are, they may want to vent their frustrations to their co-workers, they may want to convince someone to steal the leads with them. But they’re always speaking for a reason. If your character doesn’t want anything, they probably shouldn’t be saying anything.

2) Use dialogue to reveal character whenever possible – When characters speak, try to occasionally tell us something about their character via dialogue. For example, Blake (Alec Baldwin) is gearing up for his classic monologue early in the script. He turns to Williamson (Kevin Spacey). “Are they all here?” “All but one.” “(checks watch) Well, I’m going anyway.” In other words, this is the kind of man who doesn’t have time to wait for others. That’s what we learn about Blake through this line of dialogue. You should try to reveal character through dialogue wherever you can.

3) Ask and you shall receive… a better response – When a character asks another character a question, the simplest answer is usually the most boring. “How are you?” “Good. How bout you?” If this is how your characters speak, God help you. You can do better. In the famous Blake (Alec Baldwin) monologue, one of the salesmen asks, “What’s your name?” “Fuck you, that’s my name. You know why, Mister? ‘Cause you drove a Honda to get here tonight, I drove a sixty-thousand dollar B.M.W. That’s my name (original dialogue).” What would you have written had someone asked Blake “What’s your name?” Hopefully something just as unique.

4) Specificity in monologues – Monologues, like Alec Baldwin’s, work best when the speaker is being SPECIFIC. This monologue would’ve sucked had the character unleashed something general like: “You guys are all lazy bums! We give you leads and what do you do with them? Jack shit! You need to stop fucking around and work harder to secure these guys!” There’s no specificity there. Anyone could’ve written that! In Mamet’s version, we learn about ABC (Always be closing), A.I.D.A (Attention, Interest, Decision, Action), we learn Blake drives a 60 thousand dollar BMW, we learn his watch costs more than what these guys make in a year, we learn he’s from Mitch and Murray, we learn about the coveted sparkling wonderful Glengarry leads. The monologue is convincing because it’s not just a bunch of general bullshit. It covers a lot of details. Make sure to do the same with your monologues.

5) Delay an answer to a question! – Just because a character asks a question during a conversation doesn’t mean the other character has to answer it right away. We see this during another great moment in the Blake monologue. Moss (Ed Harris) challenges Blake with, “You’re such a hero, you’re so rich, how come you’re coming down here, waste your time with such a bunch of bums?” Blake looks at him for a moment then keeps on yelling at everyone. A few minutes later, out of nowhere, he turns back to Moss: “And to answer your question pal. Why am I here? I came here because Mitch and Murray asked me to, they asked for a favor, I said the real favor, follow my advice, and fire your fuckin ass, because a loser is a loser.” A conversation is never a straightforward thing. It jumps around a lot. Never forget that.
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6) CONFLICT CONFLICT CONFLICT – I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. One of the easiest ways to create good dialogue is through conflict. In almost every single scene in Glengarry Glen Ross, one character wants something while the other character wants something else. Take the famous scene where Shelley Levene (Jack Lemmon) begs Williamson (Kevin Spacey) for the Glengarry leads. The entire scene is built on the principle that Levene desperately wants those leads while Williamson is determined not to give them to him.

7) Phrase exercise – To find out your character’s unique way of speaking, take a simple phrase, then have your characters each say it in their own unique way. This is not to happen in the script. Do this in a separate document. The goal is to get a feel for how each of your characters speak. Take the phrase, “Good luck.” Let’s see how each of the characters in Glengarry would say this. Blake actually says in the script, ““I’d wish you good luck but you wouldn’t know what to do with it.” Bitter Shelley might say, “Good luck you miserable cocksucker.” Pathetic Williamson might say, “Good luck” laced with heavy sarcasm. Earnest Aaronow (Alan Arkin) might say, “Best of luck, Frank. You deserve it. You really do.” If each of your characters wouldn’t have their own way of saying a phrase, you either don’t know your characters well enough or you’re not doing enough with your dialogue.

8) A negative temperament for at least one character in a scene typically results in interesting dialogue – Some of the best scenes in Glengarry are when Shelley (Jack Lemon), wreaking of desperation, tries to get others to do what he wants (getting those Glengarry leads, trying to get the husband of the woman he talked to on the phone to come around). Whether it be frustration, desperation, fear, anger – Negative dispositions are your friends when writing dialogue.

9) Liar Liar, dialogue on fire – Dialogue is always interesting when someone’s lying. Why? There’s a natural inclination for us readers to find out if the other party’s going to figure it out or not. Glengarry is one big lying fest. Shelley’s lying to all the leads about how they “won” a contest. Roma (Pacino) spends the entire movie lying to his mark. Ross (Ed Harris) and Aaronow (Alan Arkin) are lying about robbing the place. When a character has something to hide, the dialogue always has an extra spark to it.

10) Give your character an interesting angle going into a scene – Instead of just placing two characters in a scene and letting them talk, try to find an interesting angle for your key character. So in the Glengarry restaurant scene, where Roma (Al Pacino) is trying to con a customer into a sale, there’s a million ways Mamet could’ve approached it. He could’ve had Roma be straight forward, he could’ve used the hard sell, he could’ve had him focus exclusively on the numbers, he could’ve made it seem like a great deal then played hard to get. Instead, he has Roma SEDUCE the man. He treats him like a date, someone he’s wooing. He slowly cuddles up to him, makes the man believe in him, and that’s when he goes in for the kill. Seduction, I believe, was the best option for interesting dialogue in this case. It allowed for all this fun philosophizing on life that you wouldn’t have gotten otherwise. If you want good dialogue, make sure your character is approaching what he wants from an interesting angle.

Genre: Sci-fi
Premise: In a future where the world’s been frozen over, a young man on a train that never stops leads a revolution to topple the train’s tyrannical leader.
About: Snowpiercer was co-written by Korean director Joon-ho Bong, who’s making his first American film. He’s best known for his films The Host and Mother. Kelly Masterson, who made revisions to the script, wrote the excellent “Before The Devil Knows You’re Dead,” yet strangely hasn’t written anything since (that was an excellent screenplay – so I’m kinda shocked he didn’t blow up after it). Snowpiercer stars Captain America himself, Chris Evans. It’s already been shot and will be released later this year, although curiously, no release date has been set.
Writers: Joon-ho Bong and Kelly Masterson, based on the French comic book series created by Jacques Lob, Benjamin Legrand, and Jean-Marc Rochette
Details: 110 pages (final draft – 11/11/11).

Along with its cool title, hip director and shiny lead actor, Snowpiercer has itself some pretty slick visuals if you’re to go by its trailer. Ever since I saw The Host way back when, I’ve been intrigued by Bong as a director. The guy was one of the first to prove that big effects didn’t have to come from a Hollywood budget. I guess it was only natural, then, that he’d work his way over to the states.

However, the U.S. is a little different, and something I’ve noticed over time is that the Asian point of view doesn’t always translate well in the U.S. And it probably shouldn’t. Cultures are different. They like a lot of different things. I saw that earlier this year with the Chan-wook Park film, Stoker. And I saw it with The Host, too.

I bring this up because my opinion on Snowpiercer is not a good one. And I don’t know how much of that is because of bad storytelling or because of a cultural divide. But this script did not work for me. I guess because I wanted it to succeed so bad, I’m looking for excuses why it didn’t.

It’s 2031, 17 years after the world’s nations sent a chemical called “CW-7” into the air to stop global warming. Looks like their chemical worked a little too well. It’s now freezing out. Worse than a morning-Chicago-commute-in-February freezing. Almost everyone died in this global freeze-a-thon. Except for a few lucky ones, like Wilfred. Wilfred was one of the few who foresaw the chemical agent apocalypse, and so he built a train.

A train, you say? But how is a train the best option for taking on global freezing? That’s one of the many baffling questions Snowpiercer will pose. But yeah, so this eccentric billionaire built a train that travels around the world and never stops. It’s powered by a super-engine that never dies. How? Oh, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. It’s one of the big reveals of Snowpiercer and it’s so ludicrous, I can’t repeat it. But, moving on…

So this guy, Curtis, is one of the poor souls at the back of the train. These are the nobodies, the slop, the trash. They live in deplorable conditions while the rich eat their caviar and drink their champagne in the front cars. Too bad for them, Curtis is tired of being left out. So he puts together an army to march through all the cars and to kill Wilfred.

But first he’s going to need the gate opener, Namgoong. Namgoong designed the gates between each car before becoming a Chronole addict. He’s since been sent to prison with his 17 year old daughter, who’s ALSO a Chronole addict. Curtis makes a deal with the both of them. For every gate they open, he’ll give them a bag of Chronole. They’re in.

There are others who join the charge as well. They’re Tanya, whose child was stolen by the rich. She wants him back. There’s Curtis’s best friend and second-in-command, Edgar. There’s the old man of the club, 70 year-old Gilliam. Each wants to get to the front of the train for their own reasons. Not all will make it. And the ones who do (spoiler) will be shocked to find out their revolt may not have been their decision in the first place.

Oh boy.

I mean. Okay. Wow. Snowpiercer is one of the more bizarre pieces of material I’ve read all year.

One of the first things you want to make sure of when you write a script is that your concept passes the logic test. It needs to make sense and be understandable. Because if your concept’s weak, anything you place on top of it is going to make it weaker. Things are going to start creaking. They will start buckling. And pretty soon they will all fall down.

The concept in Snowpiercer? It’s the future. We’re in a self-imposed ice age. So in order to battle this a man builds… a train?? I’m sorry but how does this make sense? There is no connective logic there whatsoever. How does a train stave off cold? Wouldn’t it be a billion times easier to build a bunker? I mean then you wouldn’t have to worry about maintaining 30,000 miles of track over the course of 20 years, right?

To me, this was the script-killer of all script-killers. The mythology here was just too poorly thought-through. Nobody sat down and thought past the cool-factor of each idea. I mean, when you watched The Matrix, you got the sense that the Wachowskis knew their world inside-out. Even if you thought some of it was weird, you knew they knew it. That isn’t the case here. Most of the stuff feels like a sixth-grader thought it up and everyone just went with it without a second thought.

There were also some really goofy choices here. For example, one of the train cars they have to go through is a club. Like, “boom boom boom” – a dance club. In a world where these are the last remaining humans and every square inch of living space is vital, why are they wasting an entire train car on a club???

We also get weird lines of dialogue, like when one of the rebels throws a shoe at a guard, the resulting tantrum results in this line: “This is disorder. This is size ten chaos.” Or when it’s revealed that Curtis had to resort to cannibalism before he was on the train, he offers this line, “Do you know what I hate the most about myself? I fucking hate that I know what part of a human tastes good. I know that young babies taste the best.” I don’t’ even know what to say about that line!

I wish the faults stopped there but even the main character was confusing. I never really knew what made Curtis tick – why he wanted to do this. There’s this vague reference to him being afraid to lead, but it was never explored or explained in a way that we could get behind. I mean at least Tanya had a clear motivation – she was trying to find her kid. Why does a secondary character have a clearer and stronger motivation than your hero?

To the writers’ credit, there were a few fun characters. Namgoong, our drug addict, was kind of fun in a slightly-more-dangerous Han Solo way. There were these badass twin villains that I liked. There was this huge beast guy who makes an appearance in an early battle. There were definitely moments where I could visualize a cool scene in the theater.

But see, there’s the trap that so many writer-directors fall into. They’re so focused on the visuals that they don’t make sure it works on the page first. And it’s gotta work on the page. Bong has an amazing visual sense. The Host showed that. But you gotta give us a story or none of the visuals will matter. That’s Storytelling 101.

If I were writing this, I’d make everything about the train a mystery. The guys in the back have no idea why they’ve been on this train since they were born. And one day they decide they want to know more. And they start fighting their way from car to car. With each car, they learn a new clue as to what this train is and what they’re doing on it. In other words, instead of knowing the whole backstory before we meet our characters, we’re learning what’s going on as our characters do. I think that mystery would make this story a lot more fun. At the end, they’d probably find out that they were food for the rich (cannibalism is already a part of the script – this would allow them to incorporate it more fully).

You’d then have to redo the entire mythology. Get rid of the weird global warming “so let’s build a train” stuff. I still don’t know why a never-stopping train would need to be built for any reason, but I’m sure if a dozen Scriptshadow folks brainstormed the idea for twenty minutes they could come up with 10 better reasons than this one.

Of course, it’s all too late for that. The script has been shot. The movie is wrapped. I just hope Bong fixed some of these issues in the meantime.

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

What I learned: Play devil’s advocate with every idea you come up with, especially when you’re creating new worlds in sci-fi or fantasy scripts. Snowpiercer could’ve avoided so many plot holes if someone would’ve simply challenged its goofy ideas. “Why would someone build a train to keep people warm?” “If someone has an undying energy source in a freezing world, why are they using it on a train instead of as a heat source?” “If nobody can live outside, who’s maintaining the 30,000 miles of track the train is on?” “Do you really think that 20 years could pass without a single track maintenance problem?” Playing devil’s advocate ensures the script doesn’t cheat.

Amateur Friday Submission Process: To submit your script for an Amateur Review, send in a PDF of your script, along with the title, genre, logline, and finally, something interesting about yourself and/or your script that you’d like us to post along with the script if it gets reviewed. Use my submission address please: Carsonreeves3@gmail.com. Remember that your script will be posted. If you’re nervous about the effects of a bad review, feel free to use an alias name and/or title. It’s a good idea to resubmit every couple of weeks so your submission stays near the top.

Genre: Comedy
Premise: (from writers) In a last ditch effort to sell his screenplay, a self-absorbed writer kidnaps actor Kevin Bacon.
About: (from writers) Carson, according to our mothers, we’re a couple of sexy, cool screenwriters with a fun little screenplay. According to us, we think you’re going to enjoy reading TAKING BACON. Why? Well, for starters, we’re already getting attention from some of Hollywood’s biggest movers and shakers. Who you might ask? Do Steven Spielberg and J.J. Abrams ring a bell? (this was sarcasm by the way).
Writers: Michael Fitzgerald and Matt Carrier
Details: 104 pages

Whoa, Taking Bacon was hit with the controversial stamp in Amateur Offerings last week. There were a few comments praising the script in the comments section that sounded less like a critique and more like mom and dad giving approval.

Truth be told, I wasn’t bothered by any of it. I loved this idea and since there was no clear winner in that Amateur Offerings bunch, I figured why not go with the concept that had the highest upside. Granted, this kind of script depends on getting Kevin Bacon, but it’s not like he’s having to fight off fans these days.

I figured even if I didn’t like Taking Bacon, maybe I could offer the writers some ideas on how to get it into shape. Comedy is rarely executed well on the amateur level. The story’s almost always a mess. As I do before every comedy, I say a little prayer to the script gods that that won’t be the case this time. Please, I said, let Taking Bacon be different.  Did the Gods listen??

Like most movie characters, 33 year old screenwriter Morgan Wright isn’t where he wants to be in life. As in he’s an assistant at a production company. Sure he’s got access to one of the top producers in town. But being that close to someone who can change your life is almost as worse as being light years away. I mean every day you’re staring at the man who, with the flick of his wrist, could have you writing the next Jurassic Park. Yet whenever you mention your script to him, he quickly changes the subject and disappears.

The sorta good news is that Morgan gets fired from that nightmare. The bad news is he walks in on his girlfriend playing naked sex-organ tickle with another man. And that’s the point where his life officially falls apart.  Recent breakups and unemployment are never the condiments you want to spread on your life sandwich.  The only thing that makes waking up bearable anymore is that his new friend, Darrel, a security guard wanna-be actor, is even more pathetic than he is.

But Darrel’s got a pretty sweet idea. He’s got this business associate down in Mexico with a lot of money. Why don’t they just go straight to him for some financing and make their own movie!? Problem with that is, this Breaking Bad extra lookalike wants a star. So Darrel offers up a white lie. He happens to say that his favorite actor, Kevin Bacon, (who he’s seen like 50 times in Wild Things, freeze-framing every time the Bacon full-frontal shot happens for reasons unbeknownst to anyone in the script) is attached. Going off this information, the shady Mexican businessman says, sure, bring him down here and let’s make a movie!

So the guys head down to Comic-Con where the Baconator is heavily promoting his next film – Hang Glider! It’s about a guy who hang-glides. They approach him about starring in Morgan’s current script (an alien musical) but he blows them off. Knowing this is their only shot at stardom, Darrel waits until Kevin Bacon goes to the bathroom and tasers him. Morgan’s freaked out about this turn of events, but Darrel convinces him that they can either get on the Success Train or stay at Failure Station forever. Morgan chooses train.

Together, the three head down to Mexico, where they encounter a major detour at a Native American reservation. In the meantime, Kevin Bacon’s agent desperately needs Kevin to sign the franchise papers for Hang Glider 2 and 3. So he goes after them. But not before they finally make it to Darrel’s money buddy, who promptly changes the rules as soon as they get there, a la Darth Vader in Cloud City. What’s going to happen to Kevin Bacon? What’s going to happen to poor little Morgan? And what about Doofus Darrel? You gotta read to find out folks!

Taking Bacon has that required professional polish that a comedy spec needs – it shines enough to say to others in the business, “I’m not a drive-by screenwriter. I know what I’m doing.” But as the story evolves, a lot of those frustrating craft/story holes you see in amateur scripts start popping up.

Let’s start with the premise. Regardless of how wacky your comedy premise is, when you set it up in your story, it needs to make sense. Taking Bacon is predicated on this notion that Kevin Bacon is a bankable movie star. He isn’t. He’s a fun topic of conversation. But nobody’s rushing out to see his movies. So right from the start, as they’re trying to get Kevin Bacon to be in this movie so they can get money, I’m thinking to myself, “Um, that doesn’t make sense.”

And if it doesn’t make sense to me, history tells me it isn’t going to make sense to a lot of other readers either. Not that I’d go this route, but if our main character was in love with Footloose and had written Footloose 2 – now it makes more sense why he has to kidnap Kevin Bacon. Again, I wouldn’t take that route. I’d sit down and brainstorm something with more depth. But the point is, it makes more sense for the setup. And the setup is the one part of your script you can’t have any holes in.

This brings me to Kevin Bacon himself. I’m not sure the writers have figured out what’s funny about Kevin Bacon. Because really, you could’ve inserted any faded movie star into this role and it would’ve been the exact same movie. That cannot be the case. If you’re going to pick a well-known person to make fun of, you better have a ton of specific jokes and situations that will make fun of him. If you’re doing a roast of Donald Trump, you don’t start making jokes about Simon Cowell. For example, say we exchanged Kevin Bacon for another faded star, like Hayden Christensen. You’d then stack your script with Star Wars prequel jokes and situations that would force Hayden to re-enact dumb Star Wars scenes.

There was just nothing specific to Kevin Bacon here. I know, for instance, that Kevin Bacon lost a fortune, almost his entire life savings, to Bernie Madoff. We could’ve exploited that for some jokes. But really, the most frustrating thing about Taking Bacon is it meandered around with no real purpose. I mean it did have a goal (get to Mexico to talk to the guy) but why, for instance, are we spending 30 pages at an Indian reservation? What do Indian Reservations have to do with Kevin Bacon?

When you come up with a premise, every scene should exploit that premise. In The Hangover, we don’t have a scene where they go have a trampoline showdown with a bunch of prostitutes. Not that a great comedy writer couldn’t make that scene funny, but it’s NOT RELEVANT to their situation. Their situation is that they don’t remember the previous night, and therefore must follow the trail of receipts they have to find Doug. Every time they do something, it’s an extension of that specific problem. I didn’t see that here. The Indian and Comic-Con stuff felt completely random.

Again, this comes back to, “What is it that’s funny about Kevin Bacon?” The one thing everyone always talks about is the six degrees stuff. Is there a story you could build around that? In order to get Kevin Bacon, they have to go through the six degrees of people they know between him? I don’t know, I’m just riffing here. But, without question, we need the comedy in this script to be less random and more relevant.

Now was the script funny? Comedy is so subjective, I’m not even sure if my answer matters. I’m thinking for any good comedy script, you gotta be laughing out loud at least 30-40 times. I laughed out loud maybe five times? Again, that’s just me. Doesn’t mean someone else wouldn’t die laughing. For me, Kevin Bacon getting bitten by a snake on his dick and then Morgan having to suck the venom out? Even though I was cringing the whole time, I have to admit I laughed.

I think for this script to work, the set-up has to make a lot more sense (you can’t just invent rules like “Kevin Bacon is a mega-movie star in my world”). On top of that, all the situations have to be more Kevin Bacon specific. Instead of thinking, “What kind of wacky situation can I put my characters in? Ooh, an Indian Reservation could be hilarious,” think “what situation would be the worst to put Kevin Bacon in right now?” Maybe they stumble upon the town where Footloose was filmed, and everyone there hates him for it because the entire world now associates their town with a bunch of dancing pansies. So they all want to kill Kevin Bacon. That kind of thing. If it’s not relevant and specific to the setup, it probably won’t be funny.

This is something every writer has to learn, usually the hard way, so hopefully Michael and Matt will take that to heart. ☺

Script link: Taking Bacon

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

What I learned: Remember that dick, poop, and ‘constant swearing’ humor is typically considered the cheapest humor out there. In other words, it doesn’t take a lot of thought to put it together. Therefore, most readers hate these kinds of scripts. They like their humor with a little more thought put into it. I’m not saying dick and poop aren’t funny when done right, but you definitely run a huge risk if that’s the majority of the humor in your script.

Many of you may remember that a couple of months ago, I fell in love with an amateur script called “Where Angels Die.”  I liked it so much, I put it in my top 10. Since that time, the writer, Alex Felix, has moved to Los Angeles, garnered co-management from Energy and Station Three, and secured representation at CAA. The agency is currently packaging the material to go out to studios with. I sat down with Alex in Culver City last week to interview him about how he got here. The interview went a lot longer than expected so I’m going to split it into two parts. Part 1 is today and Part 2 will be posted tomorrow. Enjoy!

SS: When did you start writing?
AF: I’ve been doing it for 8 years now, so since 2005.

SS: I think you said you originally started writing short stories, right?
AF: No, well, the first thing I wrote was actually a novel.

SS: Exactly. I totally knew that.
AF: Yeah. And so I sent it to some friends and they were like, “Oh, that’s cool.” I’m sure it was terrible. But I had always been fascinated by movies, so I thought, “Lemme check out screenplays,” and I started buying screenwriting books — I read Save the Cat a bunch of times. When you’re a beginner, it’s probably the best book you could read. People will argue that. But yeah, I read every screenwriting book I could get my hands on, and then I adapted that first novel into a screenplay, then wrote a bunch more.

SS: A bunch more screenplays?
AF: Yeah. And some of them were, y’know, eighty percent done or so and I’d be like, “Wait…”– I didn’t quite know what I was doing yet. Second act, black-hole type phenomenon. But eventually you push through and you push through and you keep doing it and, I guess what helped out, too, was working for Sniper Twins as a director’s assistant. I helped a lot with their pitch decks and longer form treatments. Working with Dax and Barry allowed me see scripted material from a director’s POV, which is something a lot of screenwriters don’t think about.

SS: Wait, who are these people?
AF: Sniper Twins? They’re commercial directors based in NYC, repped by Smuggler. You should check their stuff out, they’re really talented guys.

SS: This is just so not fair. I work with guys named “Daisy” and “Wheelchair Al.” You work with the “Sniper Twins.”
AF: What can I say? I’ve been lucky here and there.

SS: And what’s a ‘pitch deck?’ I want one for Christmas.
AF: Let’s say Nike has a concept for a commercial — they’ll basically take submissions from different repped directors, and it’s basically their version of how they would shoot the commercial. It’s kind of like a show bible but for a commercial, so it’s more visual. So, I helped [the Sniper twins] with that.

SS: So do they include storyboards?
AF: No, not really. For instance, you might include actor references, but it’s really about the look, the feel, the tone, and the world. That actually helped me with the world-building aspect of screenwriting, too, and seeing things visually. I learned a lot. And that’s when I went to film school.

SS: Where’d you go to film school?
AF: Digital Film Academy. It’s in New York. It’s not one of the expensive 4 year programs or anything, but they have a solid curriculum and everything is very hands-on. I’d been writing for a while by then, and what was cool about that was I got to write a bunch of shorts—for your thesis you had to direct your own short. I had never really messed with shorts before and so that was cool, too.

SS: Was your education just focused on the filmmaking side or did you write any screenplays there?
AF: I did, actually. I wrote three shorts while I was there and ended up picking the one I liked best and using that as the one to direct, but I was still working on my own feature-length screenplays on the side.

SS: So you finished there. Did you keep trying to direct or did you focus on writing?
AF: I focused on writing. I wanted to do the film school thing because I’d been writing a while, but wanted to explore all aspects of filmmaking. I did really like the process of directing, though. I think I had a 7D at the time and enjoyed DP’ing as well. I was doing the whole DSLR, run-n-gun, do-it-yourself filmmaking thing, but my passion throughout had always been the writing (that’s not to say I wouldn’t be interested in directing some of my own work in the future).

SS: It’s one of the best ways to get in the business, really, getting established as a writer, then when you write something everybody likes, hold them hostage: “If you want this made, I’m gonna be the director.” You can’t really do that at first.
AF: Yeah, I actually just spoke to Chris Sparling recently, great guy. He originally tried directing Buried after he wrote it.

SS: Yeah, that’s right, he wanted to direct that.
AF: That’s what he’s doing right now, directing his own first feature. I couldn’t be happier for him.

SS: Oh, he’s officially doing it?
AF: Yeah. You see that happening a lot more – writers who have written 3, 4, 5 screenplays, garner a lot of acclaim as far as their voice and their writing and saying, “I want to direct this.” Whether it’s using the contacts they’ve built up or “holding the material hostage”, as you put it.

SS: Yeah, that’s how I like to do it.
AF: [laughs] Well, those were your words!

SS: So, how did we get from there to Where Angels Die? How many scripts did you write in between? And how many years would that have been?
AF: I was in New York for six and a half years and I was writing that whole time. Where Angels Die was written afterwards, in Michigan. The plan was to move from New York to LA, but there was an extended pit stop in Detroit, which actually served the screenplay really well because I was in Detroit to write it. I think I had written about 6 features total before Where Angels Die.

SS: From the beginning?
AF: Yeah, not including the shorts and the novel.

SS: You told me you didn’t feel as confident in those previous scripts. Can you elaborate on that?
AF: Practice really does make perfect. Each time I look back at one of them, I see that I learned something, even just from script to script. And I would tell this to a lot of writers, when you write something you think is really great and you’re in your “cooling off period”, always put it aside for a few weeks. Don’t look at it. Instead, look at the last one you wrote, or even the one before that, and so many things will pop out at you, just from the experience of writing this new one. You might see characters in a completely different light, or that your dialogue is flat in places… and when you go back to the newer one, you see noticeable improvement. For me, the bar has been set at Where Angels Die—it’s not that I’m not proud of those previous efforts. Without them, I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am now. But would I send those to producers around town? I think they’re more interested in what comes next. And there’s already two, three things in the works.

SS: What was it about Angels that put it above your previous screenplays in your opinion?
AF: I knew this one was unique from the start. I had never written a screenplay in the city I was living in at the current time so I got to go location scout. As I was planning to write certain scenes I had the ability to visit those locations. With the Ambassador Bridge, for instance, I got to drive by that. When you have a picture in your mind– and this is also why, going back, directing and film school helps because when you’ve done that and you can visualize what the end product needs to look like, you know whether the scene works or whether there’s a good chance the director is just going to cut it. Those factors added depth, as far as the world building went. I think it was also just building on previous experience… something clicked for me. The phase of my own life I was going through, that probably influenced it as well — I was in, honestly, a little bit of a darker, moodier, depressing place. My plan was to drive from NY to LA and I had bought a POS early model Honda Prelude and so it ended up breaking down in the best place possible, in Detroit, because I have a lot of friends and family there. As I was there, I was writing and it was a setback, I didn’t have money to just go buy another car right away, also I was kind of, “Okay well, maybe it’s not meant to work out.” I still was going to keep writing, I never stopped, but you know how it is when you’re back home. My folks were really pushing me to…

SS: … to do stuff that actually paid money?
AF: Exactly. [laughs] So while I was in MI, I was just trying to keep everybody happy. Then winter came. It was a brutal winter and part of me was obviously depressed, although I don’t think I’d admit it back then– a part of me really wanted to go out to LA and follow my dreams. So I think that that unique mindset, it kind of lit a fire in me and there were at least 3 days in a row where I was banging out 10-15 pages a day and it was almost like this act of rebellion. So it was very personal and real to me and it was almost like I had something to prove to the world. I was angry inside and I dunno, writing was my therapy.

SS: I felt some of that anger in the script!
AF: Yeah! So, it was probably a combination of lots of factors.

SS: Something I really liked about Angels were the characters. I was curious how you approached creating characters.
AF: Well the first thing I always do – before I even approach the characters – is I’ll get the concept down. I’ll do some abstract brainstorming, a page or two of jotting down whatever ideas I have for this film, and then I’ll whip up a quick Blake Snyder, I’ll get those 15 beats down.

SS: So you actually use the Blake Snyder beat-sheet?
AF: Absolutely. Every time. I get my 15 beats down and then I’ll go and do my 40 scenes. So I’ll go in and for me it’s easier and I’m gonna get to character in a second – but this is just my process– before I even get into the characters I need to know what happens.

SS: So you’re more plot-centric when you start?
AF: Yeah, and that’s not to say there’s a right way or a wrong way. It’s just the approach that works for me. And sometimes I actually try and get my writing buddies involved early on, even in the outline phase, to get some feedback.

SS: So you’re actually sending out–
AF: It’s like when Blake Snyder says bounce your loglines off friends. I have a couple of close friends who’ve also been writing a long time and I trust their feedback so before I put TOO much effort into something I’ll ask what they think about the concept. So when I’m confident I have a great premise, I’ll write my 15 Blake Snyder beats, then flesh it out and get my 40 scenes down. Once I’ve got a good handle on plot, then I’ll go in and work on my characters. There was actually a Scriptshadow article that really helped me as I was developing my process. The one about the X-factor?

SS: I think the one about the 13 most important things every script should have?
AF: Yeah, that one and also the GSU one. Goals, stakes and urgency lend themselves to all the genres I write. So I make sure those are there. But once I know where the story’s going, I get to the characters. And I really start by making sure the characters aren’t stock, aren’t stereotypes.

SS: Well how do you do that? How do you make sure they’re not stock?
AF: I’m not sure if part of it is because I’ve always been more of a sociable person, and part of it is noticing little quirks about people in my real life. Someone I meet or know might have this really cool quality about him or her that’s intriguing and different. I kind of just keep those things in mind and if you base your characters in a bit of reality, then you know that A) they’re not gonna be way over-the-top or unbelievable, but B) they’re gonna have some qualities you’d find exceptional and different. It’s not the whole “give every character a limp and an eye-patch” thing, you could do that, you could make a list of ten things that sets this person apart. But for me, when it’s personal and it’s based off someone in real life, even just taking my own good friends and family, everybody’s got flaws, including myself.

SS: Which friend was placed into the cross-dressing killer role in your script?
AF: [laughs] It’s not only real life, it’s also movies you’ve seen. You just draw from all experiences, let’s see, Horatio was– I know a couple people who have really short tempers, actually, but keep in mind villains have to serve the protagonist, so you know Parker, being strapped all the time, I wanted someone who’s gonna make you really worry about Parker’s safety. Someone really unpredictable. I also have people in my life who’ve died of AIDS and so that was an influence in that decision. People kind of avoid that topic, which I get, but at the same time it’s a fact that a lot of inner-city prisoners are HIV positive, so that goes back to basing your character in reality in certain aspects. Even the medications he takes, I was working at a pharmacy at the time, so even that little part, write what you know. And then there were a few of the more standard villain tropes. There was also definitely a little bit of Heath Ledger’s Joker in there. I kind of built a Frankenstein villain that works for the story. I know one of the things you said was he was a little too over-the-top at times but you just don’t care because he’s unpredictable, which was what I was going for.

SS: So, obviously when you talk about character, you move naturally into dialogue, and one of the dialogue scenes I liked best was the scene where Parker yells at his co-worker. If felt so real. How do you approach dialogue so it feels natural?
AF: This is one of those things where going back to the older scripts you’ll notice huge improvements. When I go back to my earlier efforts, a lot of the dialogue is very on-the-nose. So that is probably, for me, that took the longest to lock in. How do I approach it? They always say to have actors read your stuff if possible. I’ve never had that opportunity, and writers who have are definitely lucky. I’m not hanging out with the cast of Breaking Bad on the weekends. For me, the dialogue has to serve the character first and foremost and also, I really at this point make a conscious effort (and this doesn’t come until 2-3 drafts in) to make dialogue NOT on-the-nose, to use subtext. Real people talk in short clipped sentences, they’ll cut each other off, they’ll be sarcastic. The better you know your characters, the better their dialogue is going to sound. Even just when you sit at a bar and people watch, you’ll notice there’s definitely a rhythm to the way people talk, and some people talk with their whole body while others are very conscious of how they come across. The main thing I would say is really do everything you can to make sure your characters are not just conveying information that you want your audience to know. No one wants to sit around and read that. If you’re giving notes on an amateur script, bad dialogue will be one of the first things you probably notice.

SS: Right.
AF: It’s the quickest way to sink a script. I’ve seen people who can write great action scenes, great description, and then you get to the dialogue and it’s like, “God, none of these people sound like real people.” So yeah, that’s what, I think for me, took the longest to nail down. Other writers are naturals at dialogue. For them other aspects of the craft are harder to pick up (like structure). But this is how the world works for me.

Part 2 of the interview is here!