Search Results for: F word

Genre: Comedy
Premise: When egomaniac magician Burt Wonderstone’s partner quits, Burt finds himself trying to rediscover his magic mojo solo, all the while fending off an edgy magician with a new style of magic.
About: Chad Kultgen wrote the original spec that sold a few years ago. Those who have been on the site for awhile may remember Kultgen wrote “Dan Minter: Badass For Hire.” Kultgen is also a novelist, having written two books, The Average American Male and The Lie. Jake Kasdan, who directed Walk Hard, Orange County, and the upcoming Cameron Diaz comedy, “Bad Teacher,” will be directing. Steve Carell is attached to play the lead. This is said to be in the vein of Zoolander (although it reads a little less broad to me).
Writers: Chad Kultgen (Story by Chad Kultgen & Tyler Mitchell), Revisions by Jonathan Goldstein & John Francis Daley and Jake Kasdan.
Details: March 17, 2010 – 114 pages (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).

Steve Carell for some reason is abandoning The Office next year and the TV world is abuzz with who’s going to take his place. If you’re like me, you’re thinking, how is it possible to replace Steve Carrell in The Office? Well guess what? It’s possible. I have a name for you. How ‘bout a little someone called Ricky Gervais!? He would not only fill Carell’s shoes, he’d bust out of them. Gervais is the only choice where you’d actually upgrade the Dunder-Mifflin’s boss position. I mean what’s Gervais done lately anyway? He hasn’t broken out as a movie star. He knows the role can turn people into stars. He still hasn’t caught on with the American audience – what better way to do it than here? He owns the damn show so it would be as easy as saying, “Me.” I don’t know why they don’t just announce this now. I mean it’s a match made in Heaven.

But back to Carell. He’s attached to a billion projects but this looks like it will be his first post-Office role and you know what? It’s perfect for him. I don’t know what it is about this guy but whenever you read a character imagining Steve Carell’s face, it instantly becomes funnier.

Burt Wonderstone is half a world-famous magic team with his long-time best friend Anton Lovecraft. The two have been performing magic since they first learned to shave, and discovered that the power of magic could lift them out of the Dungeon of Dorkville, of which they were they were the king and queen.

But things have changed in the last 20 years and now Burt and Anton don’t get along with each other. Sure they still smile and put on a good act, but as soon as those curtains drop, they’re like a bitter old married couple praying for a divorce.

One day Burt happens upon a public taping of some guy named Steve Haines (a clear take-off of David Blaine and/or Criss Angel). Haines is non-descript, awkward, and, well, boring. But when he cuts his own face open and peels back the skin to perform a magic trick, the nearby crowd goes wild. Burt doesn’t know why but he feels threatened.

Soon Haines is everywhere, performing “tricks” like not going to the bathroom for five days in a row. Burt insists that Haines is not actually performing magic – just hurting himself. Unfortunately, no one’s listening. When he and Anton’s own crowds start disappearing, it’s clear they have to change their magic to cater to this new type of crowd, something Burt refuses to do.

After a particularly disastrous show, Anton’s finally had it and quits the team, leaving Burt all alone. Burt responds by taking his act solo, but isn’t bright enough to incorporate Anton’s absence, therefore doing the exact same show, reading both his own and Anton’s lines as if Anton’s still there (this was my favorite scene in the script). Soonafter, he’s canned, and  when the economy comes crashing down, Burt’s latest trick is that he’s broke.

Burt must then reconnect with his love of magic, reconnect with his best friend Anton, and find a way to defeat the annoying poser Haines. Can he do it all without self-destructing?

Burt Wonderstone is an interesting script to study because it kind of eschews traditional structure yet still finds a way to work. The story favors a lopsided first act, whereby we witness Burt’s downfall for 60 full pages – in other words half the script. That means the actual plot (Burt trying to resurrect his career) doesn’t kick in until the mid-way point, which, in most cases, is way too late.

Why this drawn out act doesn’t spin the script out of control may be a matter of opinion, but I have a couple of theories. First, as I’ve mentioned before, we love train wrecks, especially if they’re funny train wrecks. We enjoy watching a character self-destruct, especially if that character deserves it, and Burt Wonderstone does.

But there’s also this almost imperceptible lovable quality about Burt. We do care for him. And because we care for him, there’s a part of us that wants to see him redeemed.  We wanna take the mixed-up guy by the shoulders, shake him, and say, “You’re better than this!” 

It’s a fine line the writers walk, because if he’s too much of an asshole or too selfish to others, they run the risk of us not liking him. But the writers keep us just enough on his side to root for a comeback.  

I also thought Steve Haines was a brilliant character. They probably could’ve made him even more of a villain, but who doesn’t want to punch David Blaine and Criss Angel in the face? This is a device I always recommend when you have a hero who isn’t overtly likable. Make it so we hate the villain beyond belief. The more we hate him, the more we’re going to side with our hero.

The script is lucky it’s so funny though because there are a few problems here. We were talking about the lack of development in female characters yesterday, and Burt Wonderstone is a prime example. I don’t have any idea what Nicole, the assistant, is doing in this movie. There’s no conviction to her character, nothing to make her stand out, and because she’s not a love interest, she ends up falling through the cracks.

I’ve found in general that readers tend to get confused when you have an attractive female lead that isn’t a love interest. If you don’t do something between her and the main character, the audience, conditioned by thousands of movies, gets antsy, and in some cases angry. That’s not to say every woman in every movie should be a love interest, but if she’s not, she needs some other distinctive characteric – something going on – to justify her purpose in the screenplay, and Nicole doesn’t have that.

Anton also gets lost in the mix . I got the feeling this script was exploring the theme of friendship and what really matters in life (the people around you), yet Anton disappears for something like 50 pages, then pops up like the gopher in Caddyshack.

The ending feels like a November landing at O’Hare as we have a scene that feels like the climax, only to have a second climax appear ten pages later. They might have been between drafts here which would make it understandable. It was just kinda messy.

And yet, through it all, this script won me over. It’s a funny premise, a funny character, and has a ton of funny scenes. The scene with Burt and Anton in the glass box above the casino has the potential to be an instant classic. Good stuff here.

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

What I learned: You want to avoid flashbacks in your movies because they stall your story’s momentum, or even worse, reverse it. But the one genre immune to flashbacks is comedy. I don’t know why but as long as they’re funny, we don’t seem to mind them. Just be careful not to overdo them. The flashbacks in Burt Wonderstone, showing how Burt and Anton got into magic, were fun, but probably went on for a little too long. Get to the flashback, make the joke, convey any information you need to convey, then get out.

Genre: Drama/Coming-of-Age
Premise: A dysfunctional group of friends living in San Francisco post-college find that making it in the real world isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
About: This script finished with 9 mentions on the 2006 Black List. Not knowing anything about the writers, Susanna Fogel and Joni Lefkowitz, I did some research after reading the script and found out they’ve recently written the remake script for Little Darlings for J.J. Abrams. The original movie starred Tatum O’Neal and Matt Dillon and was about two 15 year olds from opposite sides of the tracks competing to see who could lose their virginity first (someone called this movie a hit – but it’s not officially available on anything other than VHS). They also have another project in development with Elizabeth Banks in the lead based on the book “What Was I Thinking?: 58 Bad Boyfriend Stories.” It Is What It Is is listed as in development but doesn’t seem to have any movement right now.
Writers: Susanna Fogel & Joni Lefkowitz
Details: 120 pages – Sept 25, 2006 draft (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).

Black List Time Machine! I took the Black List Time Machine back to 2006 to find this gem. Those early years unfortunately didn’t benefit from the Scriptshadow/widespread script reading presence, so many have since been forgotten. Do not shed a tear though cause I’m bringin’em back baby!  

I’ll admit though, when I started reading this and realized it was a 20-something “trying to find our way in life” flick, I groaned. I actually like the idea of these films. Leaving institutional life for the first time and realizing  all the promises that were made to us weren’t even close to true is a right-of-passage we’re all familiar with. But most writers take the subject matter to the self-important extreme, and we end up following a lot of depressed 20-something losers complaining about making the rent.  Borrr-innnnggggg.

Well I’m happy to say that “It Is What It is” is one of the best versions of this format I’ve read since Happy Thank You More Please. Sure it gets a little self-important at times, but the characters are all well thought out, the situations interesting, and the dialogue fresh. And oh yeah, it’s funny too!

There are four main characters here. We have the quirky semi-alcoholic Eliza, who’d really love to be a photographer but is stuck designing tween underwear for Forever 21. We have the unlucky-in-love trust fund baby Grant, our Jeff Goldblum character from The Big Chill – who no matter how hard he tries, can’t ever seem to get out of the “friend zone” with women. We have stiff-as-a-board Barry, whose disdain for spontaneity explains his desperation to be a lawyer. And we have Jules, a slutty tomboy who invades on our friends’ tight knit circle.

There are a lot of complications for our characters (as there well should be) and they start with Grant, who’s been desperately in love with Eliza since the Renaissance Era, but has settled into that horrible best friend consolation bubble hoping that one day she’ll change her mind. When she meets a guy on Myspace and falls head over heels with him, Grant realizes that that day isn’t coming anytime soon.

Barry’s about to embark on his prestigious law career which will finally allow him to pay back the mountain of debt he’s left behind when his longtime girlfriend tells him no mas. She’s concluded that he’s more boring than elevator music and just like that, a man whose whole world is stability, is no longer in a stable relationship. Everybody somehow convinces Barry to make a “bucket list” of crazy ass things he’d never do and finish it before he enters the corporate world. Get high, have a one night stand, that sort of thing. He doesn’t want to do it but peer pressure gets the best of him. 

Later on, Grant meets the tomboyish Jules, who’s in town to visit her feminist lesbian mother she has a Coke Zero relationship with. When Grant brings her into the tight-knit fold of the three amigos, it throws the delicate balance of this triple-friendship off. Barry immediately likes her, but Eliza sees her as a potential threat.

For a moment it looks like everything’s going to fall apart (story-wise) when Jules’ mother reveals she has a brain tumor and a one night stand from Grant’s past shows up telling him he’s the father of their child. I thought, “Uh oh, and into Hallmark Country we go!” But the writers, thank God, ignore the sappy trappings of the tumor stuff and the Grant-baby story actually turns out to be the engine for some great character exploration. 

The only two people Grant’s ever had sex with are Eliza, on a drunken college night, and this girl, this *beautiful* girl, who clearly took pity on him one random evening. At first Grant is horrified by the prospect of raising a kid, but as they wait for DNA results to prove he’s the father, Grant becomes addicted to the feeling of having another half, a half he’s dreamt of having his whole life.

But the girl only wants financial help from Grant – nothing more. Watching him cling to her when she won’t even give him the courtesy of PRETENDING she’s interested, is so difficult to watch I had to stop reading a couple of times. You feel so bad for the guy.

Eliza has a great storyline as well. She falls in love with this guy online, they have a whirlwind romance, and for the first time in her life, she’s able to break away from her friends. But after he casually mentions a female friend of his, she looks her up on Myspace (I presume we’d change this to Facebook) and becomes obsessed with her and her strange philosophical blog ramblings.

ISWIS has what I’m looking for in every script. It doesn’t go the way you think it’s going to go. There were so many times where I was like, “Oh boy, here it is. Now we’re going to blah blah blah,” but five pages later, I was proven wrong. For example, I was sure that once Grant met Jules, the two would get involved and he would use her to finally get Eliza to like him. But one scene later, Jules ditches Grant at the bar and starts making out with a random bartender, making me rethink everything. I loved it.

I can also always tell when I’m reading a script with a female author (and in this case 2). In most dude-written screenplays, the women aren’t complex in any way. There’s a particular script I cite to others where there were 11 male characters and 7 female characters. Each male character had a 3-line introduction. Each female character never had more than a 3-WORD introduction!

It never occurred to me how insulting this might be to a female reader until I read an amateur script by a woman who approached her male characters the same way. Each had a short curt boring description, while all the women were elaborately complex. I remember thinking, “God, is this how women think of us? As a five word stereotypical blurb?” I completely changed the way I wrote women after that.

I didn’t see any glaring problems here. The script doesn’t have an all-encompassing plot, so the characters’ journeys are the only thing driving the story, and I suspect that might make it boring for some, which I understand. While the tumor storyline wisely avoided melodrama, I think there’s a stronger more appropropirate choice for this story. And there are a few times where you wanted to slap these guys in the face for acting like their lives were just – so – horrible. You’re 26 and not in jail. Your life is fine.

This is updating Reality Bites with, I presume, a hip soundtrack to boot.  The difference is, this script is actually good. I liked it quite a bit and if you like these movies, you should check it out.

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

What I learned: This is why you should never include pop references in your work. One of the lines in the script is (paraphrasing)… ‘Ooh, someone’s just been watching the Meg Ryan boxing movie.” In that moment, I was totally taken out of the story. The Meg Ryan boxing movie? That film that was out for, what, 2 seconds in 2004? It just completely ruined the flow of the read and made me very aware that I was reading an old script. Hollywood doesn’t like old stuff. They like new stuff. They like the hot new script. So don’t give them anything that’s going to clue them in on your script belonging in the Museum of Natural History.

The next two weeks should be fun.  We have a pretty big spec sale we’re reviewing later in the week.  We also have a “Reality Bites” type script that makes Reality Bites look like a shitty student film (which some will point out isn’t hard to do).  We have another comedy spec that’s made some headway and we’re also reviewing movie-as-script, Monsters, so try and see that to join in on the discussion.  As a bonus, I’ll also be offering my thoughts on The Social Experiment. With the addition of the new “Script News from around the Web” posts, keep checking in cause it should be rocking.  Now it’s been awhile since we’ve done a theme week, and I know that some of you hate when we cover anything that’s already a film, but I’ve always been fascinated by how much Christopher Nolan bucks conventional screenwriting trends, yet still manages to create films people love.  So next week Roger and I are going to review 5 Nolan films-as-scripts and figure out what he’s doing differently and why it still works.  Anyway, on to Roger’s review.  He decided to do something different himself and look at the piece that got Damon Lindelof (of Lost fame – yay, more Lost arguments!) into the business.  Take it away Roger. 

 
Genre: Comedy, Science Fiction, One-Act Play
Premise: Ollie Klublershturf, boy genius, must stop the Fourth Reich from murdering his family and stealing the time machine he’s invented, all of which occurs during dinner, of course.
About: “Ollie” is the one-act play Lindelof specifically wrote to get him a meeting with Carlton Cuse. It’s also been made into a short film, which played at the LA HollyShorts Festival, by director Skot Bright, starring Chris Hemsworth (Thor), Samm Levine, Norman Reedus, Rachel Nichols, George Segal, Lainie Kazan and Zach Mills. Before he became a professional writer, Lindelof worked as a reader for Paramount, Fox and Alan Ladd studios.
Writer: Damon Lindelof

When it comes to my favorite screenwriters, I’m always interested in that first script which serves as a calling card, that manuscript which lands them their first manager or agent, or in Damon Lindelof’s case, hooks him up with tv showrunner Carlton Cuse and lands him a spot on the writing team for Nash Bridges, which, as we all know, is just a precursor to what would become a dynamic showrunner and co-writer relationship with Cuse on the recent juggernaut of popular storytelling, Lost. 
Sure, I was obsessed with the show. We can debate its flaws, but for me, it was brilliant television. When I think about it, Lost‘s run captures a specific time period in my life, a period of six years that I devoted to learning the scriptwriting craft. The date of the first season coincides with my decision to become a creator, instead of merely, a consumer. There are moments in that show, character moments or revelations or surprises that are forever etched into my heart and mind. And, it became clear, that while listening to the show’s podcast commentaries, that Damon Lindelof had an uncanny gift for narrative. A young showrunner who shepherded a massive narrative, the guy who came up with the idea to place John Locke in a wheelchair, an idea which shocked the rest of the writers. 
In the writer’s room, he’s the guy that thinks outside of the box. 
Along with Orci and Kurtzman, Lindelof is one of today’s in-demand pop writers. I’ve always wondered what he would do after Lost and it’s no surprise that he hasn’t strayed too far away from that show’s genre-bending science fiction elements. He’s scripting the next Star Trek movie and is one of the writers on the Jon Favreau-directed Cowboys & Aliens, and if that’s not enough, he’s also been hired to pen a draft of Ridley Scott’s Alien prequel. Why is he in demand as a writer? The guy’s got the goods. 
Okay. So, what the hell is Ollie Klublershturf vs. The Nazis, Rog?
“Ollie” is the one-act play Lindelof specifically wrote to try and impress Carlton Cuse. The story goes that Cuse was talking to Damon’s agent, and he asked the agent if there was anything he could read, and the agent gets back to him a few days later and says there’s a one-act play he can read. 
Cuse was impressed, stating that the pages “were funny and well-written.” So, that got Lindelof in the room with Cuse, and they immediately hit it off and the rest is presumably history. But, here’s the kicker, according to Cuse, “Little did I know that Damon wrote this original material for the purpose of the meeting.” 

That’s a pretty good story, Rog. But what the heck is the play about?
Dade Klublershturf has brought over his latest girl to meet the parents over dinner. Dade is a bit of an idiot, frustrated with his mother, Sharon, who keeps mispronouncing his date’s name. 
Daniella is a polite enough girl, well-groomed and dressed and manicured in that modern European way. Only thing is, Sharon is a bit miffed that Dade is dating a German girl. He is Jewish, after all, and it just makes her talk about how her son has always denied his ethnic heritage. 
It’s a sore point between mother and son, but Daniella takes it all in stride. 
During this dinner argument, in-between Dade’s wheelchair-ridden grandfather, Poppy, battling his senility and what’s possibly Tourette syndrome, Ollie shuffles into the room.
Ollie, barefoot, with wild hair, goes about inspecting the room with a tape measure while examining the gaudy chandelier above them. He moves a chair a few inches and then exits the room.
Dade and Sharon continue to argue, and he pisses her off by making a joke about concentration camps. She replies, “You think joking about concentration camps is funny?”

“Roberto Benigni thinks it’s funny.”
The conversation is interrupted by the sound of drilling above them, and Daniella steers the conversation towards the little boy with the tape measure that she saw earlier. 
Dade tells her that’s his retarded brother, Ollie, and Sharon corrects him, “He is not retarded. He’s a genius.”
Sharon then tells them that Ollie has been busy building a time machine. 
On this, Ollie enters the room with a paper bag in his hands. He grabs a plate and starts piling food on it. As his mother tries to introduce him to Daniella, he informs her that she’s not only mispronouncing her name, but that they’ve already met. 
Daniella is confused, is confident that they have never met. 
Ollie tells his family, while talking to Dade, that his date is about five minutes away from killing their entire family. He confronts Daniella and says, “Go ahead. Ask. This is where you usually ask me about my time machine.”
What’s in Ollie’s paper bag? Is it the time machine?
Indeed, it is. 
It’s an Atari joystick. Although the sight of it renders Dade dubious, Ollie explains that it creates a rip in the space-time continuum and allows him to travel to any point in history of his choosing. 
Daniella is unsettled, and Ollie informs her that they’ve been through this chain of events twenty-three times now. No matter what he does, he can’t save his family so he keeps travelling back in time to the beginning of the dinner so he can create a paradox and thwart her evil plans. 
The dinner is interrupted when the doorbell rings and Sharon invites two hunky (and Aryan) bible salesman into her home. 
Who are the bible salesman?
Chad and Barry aren’t really bible salesman. 
With Daniella, they’re really members of the Fourth Reich. 
Ollie and the Fourth Reich begin to interrogate each other, and Ollie accuses Daniella of having a gun. If that’s so, why doesn’t she just shoot him and take the joystick? 
Ollie says it’s because he’s always able to activate his machine and escape before she draws the weapon, “I’m learning more and more each time though, and I daresay I have prepared a series of unpleasant surprises for you Nazi bastards this go-around.” 
What are the surprises?
A letter Ollie has taped underneath his mother’s chair to prove his point that his machine works and that these dinner guests really are nefarious Nazis. 
And, he’s also rigged the chandelier to fall and smash into Chad, burying him in broken glass. 
As Barry tries to kill Ollie, Ollie is forced to use the machine and he travels back to an earlier conversation during the dinner. 
Ollie tells Daniella that they’ve seemed to have reached a stalemate, and he offers to give her the device under three conditions: (1) She must spare the lives of him and his family, sans Dade and (2) when they go back to World War 2 she must convince Hitler to pick on someone other than the Jews, preferably Mexicans, and lastly, (3) his third and final condition is that she must show him his tits. 
Does she flash her tits?
Yep. 
But, of course, like any prankster boy genius, Ollie says he was just kidding and he’ll never stop at trying to stop her and the Fourth Reich. In fact, next time he’s even gonna get her to take her pants off. 
And, he activates his time machine and escapes, once again. 
Pretty funny. But, I thought you had to write screenplays or teleplays to break into the business?
I guess that’s usually the norm, and although Lindelof is known for being a Nicholl semi-finalist, with his spec screenplay, “Perfectionists”, it was this little twenty-four page one-act play that kick-started things with him and Cuse. 
You have to admit, it takes way less time to read twenty-four pages than it does to read a hundred pages, and the fact of the matter is, this one-act play has a beginning, middle and end like any good three-act screenplay.
It has its own inherent three-act structure.
There’s the introduction of the scenario and all the players. And the middle, or Act Two, starts with the hook that Ollie really has invented a time machine, the moment where he pulls out the Atari Joystick. And the hook that spins the play into the Third Act is when Ollie informs the Fourth Reich that he has prepared surprises this go-around. 
It’s funny and entertaining. Smartly written and structured to tell a story, even though it’s only a little over twenty pages. The lesson here? You definitely don’t need a ninety page script to show people that you know how to write characters, that you know structure, that you know how to tell a story. 
“Ollie Klublershturf vs. The Nazis”, despite its length, is a narrative that still manages to unfold and entertain.
It packs a fun punch.

Script link: Ollie Klublershturf vs. The Nazis

[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: I like this advice Lindelof gives in an interview, “I did so much bad writing in my 20s. I got hired as a professional writer for the first time when I was 28 or 29, and I literally have thousands of pages of shit. A lot of people aren’t willing to write shit, or they write 2 pages of shit and then they stop. You have to plow through it.” It reminds me something Ray Bradbury said once, saying that it probably takes a million or two words before you become a good writer, “Everything I wrote from the age of twelve to twenty-two was really no good. Two million words were no good, except they were. Why? They taught me how to be bad, how to be mediocre.” And lastly, for some reason, it reminds me something Ron Moore (Battlestar Galactica) said in Pamela Douglas’ book “Writing the TV Drama Series”: He said that when he’s looking at samples, he doesn’t pay attention to whether something is well-structured or plotted or not. He pays attention to the writer’s voice, the dialogue, and the knack for character. Why? He can always teach someone structure, beats and plotting. That’s the craft part. Craft can be learned. But the art part? That’s the talent. He can’t give or teach someone talent. Talent is a gift someone already has. And, how do you hone your talent? You plow through all the bad writing that comes out of you and look for the gold.

Genre: Period/Biopic
Premise: On the precipice of World War 2, the son of King George V, who has an embarrassing speech impediment, is tasked with giving one of the most important speeches of the 20th century.
About: The King’s Speech just won the Audience Award at the Toronto Film Festival. The film stars Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush, and Helena Botham Carter. For those of you writers getting long in the tooth and afraid that Hollywood ageism is conspiring against you, David Seidler, the writer of The King’s Speech, is 73 years old and just signed with UTA! Talk about paying your dues, huh? This script should prove to many that your best work is usually your most personal. Seidler had a terrible stuttering problem when he was growing up and was inspired by Bertie’s (King George VI) story. He’s been trying to get the film made for over 20 years. The script was finally made because it got into the hands of Tom Hooper’s parents (the director). They gave it to their son, who was shooting John Adams for HBO. He showed up at Seidler’s door, waving the script, calling it the best script he’d ever read in his life. In classic Hollywood fashion, they then proceeded to write 50 more drafts!
Writer: David Seidler
Details: 115 pages – Sept. 17, 2008 draft (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).

I remember last year around this time when An Education debuted and people were talking about it as an Oscar contender. I didn’t personally see anything Oscar-contention-worthy about the script, so while I know a lot of people liked it, I wasn’t surprised to see it disappear off the radar. I still don’t know why you’d make a movie about an inappropriate relationship where nobody in the movie cares that the relationship is inappropriate! But alas, I’m not here to complain about An Education.

I’m here to look for some weightier scripts. Last week’s half-hearted attempts at screenwriting left me cold so when I heard that, once again, companies were marching out their Oscar contenders, I perked up. You figure, at the very least, the scripts have to be decent, and this is what led me to The King’s Speech, the movie that came out of Toronto with the most attention.

I’m by no means an expert on British royalty so you’ll have to excuse me if I get some facts wrong. The King’s Speech is about Albert, or “Bertie” as he’s known, The Duke of York and second son of King George V. It’s the 1930s and some lunatic named Hitler is wreaking havoc up and down Europe. With King George on his last legs, a new king will have to reign soon, and that king’s voice will be one of the most important voices in the world, as it will convey to every country what Britain’s stance is on the dictator.

Enter Bertie, who has a colossal stuttering problem, so much so that his own wife, Elizabeth, is embarrassed by him. Lucky for Bertie, his older brother David, the Prince of Wales, will be taking over the throne, not him. David is a media darling and extremely popular, however he falls in love with a common woman, and is therefore scandeled out of the throne, forcing Bertie into the role he thought he was free and clear of, that of The King.

During this time, radio was becoming huge. For you youngsters, think 3-D times a thousand. Actually, 3-D’s not a good example, since it will be gone in a year. Let’s see. Like the internet! Yes, like the internet. Radio was like the internet back in the 1930s. Except there was no e-mail in radio. Or web. Or Twitter or Facebook. This reminds me, did you guys hear about that college that experimented for one week with no cell phones, texting, or internet? I guess the whole college grinded to a halt because nobody knew how to operate.

Anyway, the point I was making was that radio was huge, and more leaders were required to give public addresses. In particular, the world was awaiting the most important country in the world’s response to Hitler. Enter Bertie, a man who stuttered so bad he couldn’t find his way out of a sentence with a map.

So terrible is his problem that his wife actually seeks a speech therapist outside the royal circle. She finds a man with a great reputation, an Aussie named Lionel Logue. Lionel is of course brash, unconventional, and inappropriate, sort of like a 1930s Mr. Miagi with more attitude. Bertie hates him immediately. But after a clever first session in which he proves to Bertie that he can speak without stuttering, Bertie has no choice but to continue the therapy.

This is where the script really takes off, when these two are clashing against each other. The pitch-perfect conflict, one steeped in convention, the other dripping with disrespect, makes for some fun back and forth. Characters who buck convention and live by their own set of rules are always good, and when I heard that they got Geoffrey Rush to play this part, I knew they’d hit the jackpot.

Unfortunately, for some reason, the script deviates from the Lionel-Bertie storyline in the later half of the second act, focusing instead on in-family political issues and some nonsense with the prime minister that we don’t really care about. While I understand why so many writers get lost in this part of the script (I think it’s the hardest part of a screenplay to get right), this seemed like a pretty obvious mistake. Why go away from the best part of your story?

While it could be characterized as a hoighty-toity period piece, The King’s Speech uses the simplest most classic story structure there is. Man has problem. Man tries to fix problem. Believe it or not, it’s not that different from a script like Bad Teacher, the Cameron Diaz comedy I reviewed earlier this year. In that script, woman has problem (she needs bigger boobs so she can find a sugar daddy) and woman tries to fix problem (Steals money from the school she’s employed at).

What makes The King’s Speech so successful at this format, however, is first, irony is built straight into the concept. A man who can’t speak is tasked with making the biggest speech ever! What a great premise. Next, the stakes are extremely high (possibly the freedom of the world). There’s a natural ticking time bomb (the speech), and our character is super sympathetic. He’s an underdog! As I’ve pointed out before, there’s no character we root more for than an underdog. Put all these things together and you have a winning formula.

Now that doesn’t mean the structure is foolproof. One of the problems you run into with such simple stories is deciding how complex to make them, namely how many subplots to add and what to do with those subplots. This is a critical decision. If your subplots are too few or too thin, the story feels empty. If they’re too many or too complex, they create deep chasms of screenplay real estate that bore the audience to death. This is what I was referring to above. When we move away from Lionel and start concerning ourselves with Bertie’s brother, he’s just not tied into Bertie’s issue enough to make him interesting. Or, at least, not in the way they chose to include him.

Finally, I have to mention the dialogue in this script, specifically between Bertie and Lionel. Once again, it proves that the SITUATION is the most important factor in creating great dialogue. The dialogue here comes because you have an uptight man who demands respect working with a selfish man who respects no one. Before you’ve even written a word, the conflict you’ve created by placing these two characters in the same room is going to lead to great dialogue no matter how inexperienced you are.

It’s really too bad that the dreaded late second act blues hit this script because it was shaping up to be an impressive. Still, this was an enjoyable read and I’m not surprised it’s playing so well to audiences.

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

What I learned: Failed period pieces often try to cover too much territory. It’s as if the writer feels he/she must live up to the weightiness of the time and the material by exploring as many different aspects of the subject matter as possible. Instead, the next time you write a period piece, consider telling a simple yet powerful story that audiences can understand and relate to, like The King’s Speech.

First thing’s first.  If you want to complain about the new look of the site, I’ve created a forum for you!  A lot of people have said to just go back to the old look but unfortunately that’s one thing I can assure you isn’t happening.  I’ve always despised the look of the site and while I’m clearly not an esteemed member of the design club, I’ll keep tweaking it until it’s acceptable.  If you’re a graphic design master and want to shoot me some tips, feel free to!  

You’ll also notice there are now ads on the site.  People have called me a moron for not monetizing the blog earlier and I guess you can say I finally came to my senses.  My adsenses.  Heh heh.  If you’ve spent countless hours here and always wished you could help out somehow, support the site when you see something that interests you. :)  It will definitely be appreciated.  

This week Roger starts us off with a Western.  I then review scripts for two movies that played over at Toronto, both of which are getting some early Oscar buzz (Oscar buzz?  In September??).  I’ll also review an enormous super-thriller that’s been kicking around development for awhile. And for those freaking out because I didn’t do Amateur Friday last week, fear not as I am doing one this Friday.  In my world, Friday is September 31st.  Now, here’s Roger with a review of a Richard Donner project.  Enjoy!  

Genre: Western
Premise: A deaf gunslinger running from his past finds his destiny in Cheyenne, Wyoming, where he becomes embroiled in a war between rival railroad companies.
About: The only information I can find is the sentence that was attached to the script, “All Richard Donner will say on the project, a Western, is: ‘It’s got an incredible character in it that makes it unique.’” If, for some insane reason, you don’t know who Donner is, he’s the director responsible for such classics as Superman, The Goonies, and Lethal Weapon. Brian Helgeland (A Knight’s Tale, L.A. Confidential, Mystic River) is the screenwriter telling Donner’s tale.
Writers: Story by Richard Donner; Screenplay by Brian Helgeland
Details: Draft dated October 30, 2000
Brian Helgeland is the guy most likely to rewrite your screenplay should a) you manage to sell it, and b) it’s greenlighted with either Scott Free Productions or The Donner’s Company as producers. Richard Donner is the guy that convinced everyone to go the straight route on a Superman movie, and for his efforts created a modern classic that all geeks favorably point to when arguing about the cinema of superheroes. His name is associated with the zeitgeist of popular 80s flicks, The Goonies and Lethal Weapon, and although he’s directed a ton of movies and television episodes, he’s only been attached to two Westerns, Maverick and the 60s tv show, Wanted: Dead or Alive.
So, my interest was immediately piqued when this script made it into my hands with the note, “All Richard Donner will say on the project, a Western, is: ‘It’s got an incredible character in it that makes it unique.’
Who is this incredible character, Rog?
John Bowman Young is in love with a girl.
When we meet him, he’s one of the Union soldiers at war with the Confederates at Gettysburg. He’s scared and fighting for his life, and in the midst of all the chaos, he tenderly takes a moment to place a Bible under a dying friend’s head in an attempt to comfort him during his last moments.
If you’ve ever asked the question, ‘Why does Brian Helgeland get to rewrite everyone’s work?’, then this script will help tell you why. There’s both powerful and economic storytelling here, and during this war sequence we flash back to visions John is having of his circumstances in Boston before the war.
As John defends his dying friend, we meet the gal he’s in love with, Mary Deacon Powell. We’re told everything we need to know about them. How he first saw her during a downpour on a cobblestoned street in Boston, how he escorted her home to her mansion through the rain. How, at a Boston Society Ball, he watched her dance with the rich Alfred Roebling, the son of railroad tycoon, Temple Roebling.
Although John dreams of marrying her, he knows that this ambition doesn’t match his wallet. Temple has a proposition for John. He offers the young man four thousand in gold to serve as a draft replacement for his son, Alfred, “Money which would be worth ten times as much by war’s end.”
Mary protests, says that the only thing she wants is for him not to go. Says that the only thing she wants is him. John ignores her, and all she can do is give him a keepsake, a locket containing a lock of her hair.
And, the war ends.
But, before it does, he holds onto the locket as he’s charged by bayonet-wielding Rebels, accepting his death, but as he drops to his knees, a cannon unleashes hell just above John’s head, cutting down his attackers.
The cannon saves him, but at the price of his hearing.
John Bowman Young returns home from the war, deaf.
There’s a brilliant scene of John making the trek back to Boston, always moving against the grain of crowds of people, and he’s walking away from Lincoln delivering the Gettysburg Address on a military platform.
He stares, and of course, he hears nothing.
What happens back in Boston?
Heartbreaking stuff.
John makes his way to the bank and discovers that there’s no money waiting for him in his name. Zilch. Apparently, Temple duped him. Regardless, John sets out to find Mary.
Only to find her with Temple’s son, Alfred. He follows them on a busy street, and to all appearances, it looks like they’re a bonafide couple. In actuality, Mary is telling Alfred she misses John, but to a man who can’t hear, he can only react off the visual cues. When a woman screams because John is almost hit by a carriage, Mary spins around to see John, but John flees.
Mary recognizes him and screams, “I –“ but the ‘love you’ is silent in John’s world, and he leaves Boston despondent, full of despair. It’s a tragic case of Shakespearean miscommunication, with John assuming the worst and acting off of his perception of events, not the reality.
Where does John go?
He heads West, full of grief, hoping to find peace as a homesteader in the great move to settle the land. He can’t really stand being around people anymore, so instead of joining the Manifest Destiny caravan, he travels alone on foot. He acquires a best friend, a starving redbone coonhound named Moocher. They scavenge wagon train camps for food on their journey, and one day, he sees his reflection in a pool of dirty war. He hates seeing what he’s become.
He silently screams and howls, catching the attention of some Pawnee Indians led by a man named Six Killer. Six Killer allows John to stay within eyesight of them as they all travel, convinced that the crazy are good luck. The Indians call John, “Screams Alone”. He validates his presence when he saves the Indians from a buffalo stampede during a thunderstorm because he hears their approach when no one else can.
He’s sort of inducted as an honorary member of the tribe, but he’s forced to part ways with Six Killer when they decide to head to Canada. In an emotional scene, the band of Indians all start to scream and holler, but John doesn’t understand because he can’t hear them. “They just want you to know, you no longer scream alone! We scream with you.”
In Kansas, John learns that the Independence Mercantile Bank is refusing his loan to become a homesteader because he’s deaf.
So, in an act of desperation, he uses all the money he has to purchase a gun and one bullet. Hey, it’s all he can afford.
And, he attempts to rob the bank.
How the hell is a deaf man going to rob a bank with one bullet?
With the help of T.Z. Spaulding, of course. See, John is in the middle of trying to rob the bank when another robber arrives, and realizes what’s going on. Spaulding is quite entertained by the scenario, and he decides to help John rob the bank.
Which they do.
And the first half of the Act Two is about Spaulding and John’s relationship. You see, Spaulding is a famous gunslinger, outlaw and bank robbery. He’s the Wizard of the Pistol. He teaches John everything he needs to know about being an outlaw and thief. He’s a great raconteur, and in fact, he’s even writing a book about himself, “And you’re making an appearance in chapter ten.
“Deaf bank robber with one bullet and no horse.”
This section of the script is great fun, and a nice break from all the grief and sadness that permeates the first act. They rob trains and banks and John learns a thing or two about himself. But, good times can’t last forever and it’s not long before a posse is sent to hunt these two down.
Things don’t end well for Spaulding, and John sort of picks up his mantle, and through the book his mentor was writing before he died, he learns the intricacies and theory of becoming a gunslinger.
John becomes adept with all kinds of guns and tricks and flourishes, and he sets out to get revenge on the outlaw that tried to kill Spaulding, and in the process, took his thumb. John learns how to kill when it’s required, and he develops a reputation that brings him all sorts of trouble.
So, what happens?
John arrives in Cheyenne, Wyoming, a hotbed for the war being waged between two railway companies, Union Pacific and Great Northern. Two Union Pacific detectives arrive in town to recruit John as a hired gun, but they end up becoming his enemies. Each day, more men arrive, Pinkertons, outlaws looking to make a name for themselves, and a mysterious Man in Black, all taking sides in the battle to control the railway lines.
The situation is simmering, but really starts to boil when Alfred Roebling arrives in town, the scion of the Great Northern company, with his son and wife who is…you guessed it…Mary.
Farragut and Sunday, the Union Pacific detectives, conspire to assassinate Roebling, but of course, they’re going to have to get through John, first.
To complicate matters, John is in love with a prostitute named Liza, and our hero is forced to face all the demons of his past whilst trying to protect the people he cares about and get out of all the expectant violence alive.
Does it work?
Oh, man, does it.
This is a great script about a grief-stricken man trying to cling to hope and find peace and redemption. There were several times where I teared up because of the things said about loneliness, love lost, and hope. I mean, this is a Western that’s really about the characters and relationships and the hurt we hold inside us.
But, don’t get me wrong, the action and gunplay is awesome as well. It’s great to see how John deals with several life-threatening situations, compensating with cleverness and his other senses for his lack of hearing.
You know how we always talk about fully exploiting your concepts? Well, the concept of a deaf gunslinger is explored in exciting and painstaking detail, and it’s such a good journey. There are some cool gun rigs John wisely comes up with, and you can imagine all the duels and confrontations playing out awesomely on screen.
None of it is boring.
“The High Lonesome” is an emotional page-turner that feels like a great Western. It’s hard not to envision something special here, a deaf gunslinger looking for peace against the backdrop of the Civil War and Manifest Destiny, a man attempting to cling to hope in the throes of despair. It’s one of those journeys that you can’t forget, and you feel like you’re along for the ride every step of the way. What the story says about friendship and healing is powerful stuff, expressed in T.Z. Spaulding’s words to his friend and confidante, “…just remember hope, the patient medicine for disease, disaster and despair.”
Indeed, this is a journey of hope.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[x] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: There’s a current trend with pacing that tends to rush a story. I can see people reading this script and saying, “Wait, all the stuff in the logline and Cheyenne doesn’t begin to happen until the mid-point. Is there any way you can tighten things up and get it to start at the beginning of the 2nd Act?” I don’t know when or how this Haphazardly Rushed Sense of Urgency started, but sometimes people are so eager to make their plot move fast that they neuter their characters, sense of pace and overall story. Stories are journeys that unfold, and not all require the plot events of the logline to take place as soon as fucking possible, especially when the character stuff is so rich and required. “The High Lonesome” wouldn’t have worked without John’s journey and transformation, which all happens before his arrival in Cheyenne. Without it, the events in the third act wouldn’t pack the emotional punch they do. Sometimes, people just need to slow down and let their story unfold. Ignore the cookie cutter beats and let character be the engine that drives the story.