For the month of May, Scriptshadow will be foregoing its traditional reviewing to instead review scripts from you, the readers of the site. To find out more about how the month lines up, go back and read the original post here. This first week, we’re allowing any writers to send in their script for review. We warned them ahead of time that we’d be honest and judge their material aggressively, so put that Kleenex box away. There’s no crying in screenwriting. Actually, there’s lots of crying in screenwriting but that’s besides the point. This is not a final judgment of your script, just how we see it in relation to the other scripts we read. We’re hoping the original writer can learn something and so can you. Roger is here with the first script, Hell of A Deal, by Joe Giambrone.

Genre: Thriller (?) Mystery (?) Drama (?) Black Comedy (?)
Premise: An aging Hollywood film mogul makes a deal with a mysterious man who is selling an experimental medical treatment that promises youth. In exchange, the salesman wants to use the mogul’s resources to make a movie, but the only catch? The salesman may or may not be the Devil.
About: Blindly chosen from the ScriptShadow slush pile for Amateur Week. I received this screenplay in my inbox with this attached email from Carson, “I literally closed my eyes and clicked. This is what came up.” The title page indicates this script is based on an original novel by the screenwriter, but upon further investigation (Google!), I couldn’t find any information about said novel on the Internet.
Writer: Joe Giambrone

I dove into this script with nary a logline nor a clue as to what genre I was about to read. All I had was the title, “Hell of a Deal.” Would it be a Mark Twain social satire like The Prince and the Pauper, a picaresque Horatio Alger rags to riches story, or would it be something more Faustian? And, more importantly, what sort of ramifications would it have for the next few hours of my life?

After I studied the title page, I looked at the first page. I examined the formatting and the prose in the Action/Direction lines. This is always telling. For example, you can always look at the A/D lines on the first page to gauge if this is going to be a safe read or not. By safe, I mean, does the writer have a competent command of not only the English language, but Screenplay Shorthand? Can they string words together in a clear and concise way that creates tone, atmosphere and description of not only character, but action? In other words, can the writer set the stage (scene) and describe what happens on the stage (scene) with prose?

If the answer is ‘Yes’, then it’s possible you might be in safe hands. But even if it’s obvious the writer has a skill with words, sometimes they come from the world of novels and prose fiction and the A/D lines may be overwritten, redundant, too dense (some may also argue that the prose is too spare) for the brevity required in screenplays. If the answer is ‘No’, then your luck is cut out for you and you’ll find yourself in what can be described as a frustrating foray into clumsy A/D lines that will have you both confused and pulling your hair out.

But luckily, with “Hell of a Deal”, the A/D lines looked safe so I continued my journey.

What’s it about, Rog?

This is a morality play about a Hollywood mogul named Al Smith. When we meet him, he’s seventy-three years old and he’s walking on a treadmill, staring at a plasma screen monitor that features living wills and trusts.

Al doesn’t have a lot of time left here on earth. He spends his days exercising on his treadmill, looking for that next original screenplay and keeping final cut away from the death merchant directors that make movies for him.

But then Lou Seaford arrives in his life, a shark-like salesman hawking a veritable fountain of youth. Al is suspicious, as of course he’s researched all the latest medicinal treatments, but he seems to cave in pretty fast when Lou talks about nano machines and shows him a video of his assistant, Katya, dressed up as a naughty nurse, injecting an old mangy mutt with a serum that transforms the dog into a puppy so realistically that Al is convinced it’s CGI.

Al is all too ready to sign up for the treatment, but when he asks how much this is gonna cost him, Lou answers, “I want money, I go to a bank. I come to you, Big Al Smith, the king of Hollywood, and of course?”

“You want to make a movie.”

But what are the conditions?

Well, of course, the studio cannot go beyond an R rating. “No male genitalia. No mutilation.” Lou doesn’t understand, as Al’s last movie had tons of blood. But they move on.

Al emphasizes that Lou must stay within budget, a generous twenty million. But then they get into an argument and Lou talks a hard bargain, driving the budget up to a hundred million dollars.

When Al tells Lou that the studio has final cut, Lou threatens to walk away. But Al is desperate to be young again, so not only is he gonna give Lou the hundred million, it also seems like surrendering final cut to this odd salesman is going to be negotiable.

The next thing we know, a waiter carries over a contract on a tray, but when Al tries to sign it with his pen it suddenly runs out of ink. Lou hands his pen over, and Al notices the ink is blood red. As he’s signing, the lights seem to dim.

All this and he doesn’t know yet what the movie is going to be about.

So how does the treatment go?

After he experiences some chest pains, an ambulance ferries Al from his Beverly Hills home, where his daughter Victoria sees him off with promises to visit later, to the treatment center.
Victoria’s decision to go do “a shoot” instead of accompany her father (who appeared to be having a heart attack) to the treatment center puzzled me. I just can’t rationally or logically accept it. Characters should act like real people in these situations, and as a loving daughter, I would expect her to go with her father in an emergency like this. It could be the last time she sees him, after all.

At the treatment center, it’s a chaotic scene as Al is losing consciousness. Lou is yelling at him to choose an age before he administers the drugs, and Al passes out and has a flashback about his deceased wife.

What happens in the flashback?

Al is in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco with a crew of film students. He’s pushing them to film a drum circle of Ojibwe as they’re out looking to score footage of a police riot or topless girls. “Sex and violence. Don’t waste film otherwise.”

One of the Ojibwe women confronts Al, a gal named Lisa. But they seem to have an attraction to each other and the next thing we know they’re doing LSD and making love. They share a bond now, and Al proposes to Lisa.

Then we’re out of the flashback, and the age Al screams out to Lou before he passes out again is “Thirty!” This was Al’s age in the flashback and that’s the age he returns to when he awakens from the treatment.

If he’s 30 again, how does Al deal with Victoria and the film studio?

By pretending to be Al, Jr. I didn’t have a problem with this tricking the film studio, but I did have a problem when it came to convincing Victoria. It felt too easy and it didn’t feel as graceful as it should have.

I have a hard time getting past a plot glitch like that, and this brings me to my main criticism with “Hell of a Deal”. I’m going to be honest here, and my negative feedback may seem harsh, but as writers, we should be used to feedback, both positive and negative.

There’s a lack of verisimilitude, that quality of stories and storytelling that uses the right details to create the appearance of truth. To make something made up seem realistic. As storytellers, we are basically spinning lies into truth. And we must become masters at it if we want to succeed.

This lack of verisimilitude rears its head in the scenes dealing with the examination of the film business. And as the rest of the story is about Lou’s movie, well, this absence of truth plagues much of the script.

So what’s Lou’s movie about and what’s his end game?

Lou’s film is called, ‘Terra: Earth Under Terror’. Much of the second act is focused on Al dealing with Lou’s demands as they hire a screenwriter to script the project. After that, we see what happens when they send the script out to the latest leading men to see who’s gonna bite.
This movie within the script is pretty weird. Lou explains it, “It’s about the Supermen of the Homeland…like the Nietzsche Ubermenschen…,” who rise up to defend civilization against the terrorists.

Except these Supermen are into gangrape, torture and killing.

Basically, things come to a head during an Angel Heart-like moment when we learn that Lou Seaford is really Lucifer. His movie is hopefully gonna be as effective as La Fin Absolue du Monde from John Carpenter’s Cigarette Burns when it comes to inciting madness and homicidal urges in people, in turn causing World War Four and the end of civilization as we know it.
So the third act becomes a court case where Al is trying to block the release of ‘Terra’, but is then sued for a billion dollars by Lou’s team of lawyers.

Does Al succeed?

Strangely, no.

We have a heavy-handed finale where Al urges Victoria to live a happy life and “make moral art” before Lou comes to collect his soul, welcoming him into the gates of hell.
This sequence kind of blind-sided me as an attack on violence in cinema, especially violence in the “Torture Porn” genre.

I mean, as a dude that saw Kick-Ass three times in the same week, I felt like I was being personally condemned for being entertained (and finding value) in the Cinema of Violence.
But personal feelings and ego aside, that wasn’t my issue here. My issue is that the sequence felt pretty preachy, and I wish it was more subtle.

So, what’s your final verdict, Rog?

Well, despite my criticism concerning the plot glitches and character logic, I think there’s a good use of the three act structure. There’s a good macro-structure here. The writer nailed his over-all structure.

My criticisms deal with mostly the micro stuff, the stuff that happens in the scenes. I found that the scenes ran too long or lacked the realism they required. Instead of feeling like I was glimpsing into a window of a real-life mogul, it felt more like a hasty approximation of what one imagined this mogul’s life to be.

It ultimately ran off the tracks for me when it came to Lou’s movie. It was just really strange.
My advice to the writer would be to focus on making his scenes feel realistic, on making his characters feel like real people. Study genres and their tones, what makes them work, and apply appropriately.

Script link: Hell Of A Deal

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

What I learned: Does your screenplay have a message? It does? Okay, kill it. No, seriously. Dismember it and bury it under your story. Because chances are, unchecked, this message has grabbed the reins from story and has shattered through the fourth-wall and has punched the audience member in the face, breaking his or her nose. The audience is coming to your movie because they want to be told a story, not a sermon. Sure, a theater can be sacred like a cathedral if you’re an audience member passionate about cinema, but it’s still not a church.

Here’s the analogy: Say you’re writing a science-fiction tale. The fiction comes first, not the science. The story is the center. If there’s no story at the center for the audience to be moved by, then they might as well be reading a text book on quantum mechanics.

All screenplays address an idea or ideas, something we can refer to as theme. If theme is a bell, then every scene should ring this bell. However, watch out for those moments where it seems like the character has stepped on a pulpit and is ringing the bell so hard it’s clanging and hurting our ears. And if you’re telling a morality play, aim for subtlety. Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight was a morality play, but its message was always in harmony with the story.

To get in touch with Roger, you can e-mail him at: rogerbalfourscriptshadow@gmail.com

note 1: Cruel remarks such as “This is f’ing terrible” or “This story sucks” will be deleted. I want you to be honest and I want to have a discussion about the writing but be respectful to the writer.

note 2: I’m sorry that the comments aren’t working for some – try using different browsers while I continue to work on it. Ever since upgrading it’s been a nightmare. Unfortunately, like most computer shit these days, they won’t let you downgrade back to the old version. If you have any experience with Disqus and/or commenting problems and know what the problem may be, e-mail me please: Caronreeves1@gmail.com

Genre: Action-Comedy
Premise: Merlin assembles a group of modern-day knights to battle a resurrected ancient evil, but all that’s available are an alcoholic ex-Olympian, a geriatric actor, a grumpy billionaire, and a nerdy scientist.
About: Brian K. Vaughn has quickly become an all star on the writing scene. When the comic book and Lost writer puts a spec on the market, all of Hollywood stops. A couple of years ago, Vaughn had a huge bidding war over this spec, which Dreamworks won. Pretty much everyone considers it to be the next Ghostbusters.
Writer: Brian K. Vaughn
Details: 99 pages – First Draft, May 2008 (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).

You know, it’s no wonder they’ve been desperately trying to make a third Ghostbusters for two decades now. There really is no other movie franchise like it. Every movie that has ever tried to be the next Ghostbusters has fallen flat on its ass with a big resounding THUD. The franchise found that elusive combination of comedy, mock horror and action that SEEMS like it should be easy to replicate, but in actuality, is damn near impossible. It’s like Coke or Kentucky Fried Chicken. You generally know what’s in there, but you don’t know how it’s all mixed together. Well, Brian K. Vaughn must have broken into the Ghostbuster labs and stolen the recipe, because he’s written the next Ghostbusters.

Roundtable starts out back in the olden days when Merlin was a badass and knights ruled the roost. An evil old witch named Morgana spent her time flying around killing people for fun. Luckily, Merlin and the knights of the round table are all about turning this bitch into a pop-tart, and eventually battle her down into the ground where she becomes trapped inside a tree. As long as there are knights to protect England, Merlin proclaims, their country will be safe from Morgana, and safe from evil.

Jump forward to modern day New York City.

Merlin now lives in a Brooklyn apartment (which he’s had for over 300 years) and spends the majority of his time scarfing down twinkies and playing World of Warcraft. Due to a Morgana curse, if Merlin were to ever leave England, he would never be able to come back. So Merlin popped over to this land England bought, thinking it would be a quick vacation, only to find himself stuck here once the United States declared their independence. This is a very big deal because he’s just gotten word that some numnuts back in England who wanted to build a mall, ran over the tree that was housing Morgana! This is officially a worst case scenario situation. Morgana is back in business and Merlin can’t go back to stop her!

Since the only other thing that can stop a witch are Knights, Merlin is forced to recruit four knights from the modern-day coffers. Of course, since these days they knight anyone with a pulse, the pickings are slim. He ends up with Simon, a dweeb who was knighted for his expertise in ecology, Ricky, a former Olympic javelin gold medalist who’s now a slobbering drunk, Edmund, a stuck up angry billionaire supermarket CEO, and Michael Caine. As Vaughn writes in the script, “Yeah, THAT Michael Caine.”

Merlin zaps these four to Brooklyn where he informs them of the task at hand, and they predictably tell him, in no uncertain terms, HELL NO. They don’t even have their own lives together. What makes them think they can take out a witch? So back to England they’re zapped, believing they’ll simply be able to watch Wimbledon, hang with Becks, and inhale strumpets. But they quickly learn that the situation is more grave than they considered. Morgana is turning everyone into ogres and quickly taking over England! These knighted men each look deep into their souls and somehow find the courage to step up and fight for their country. They’re not sure they can do this, but because they’re England’s only shot, they have to.

And thus begins the story of Roundtable.

In all the scripts I’ve ever read, I don’t think I’ve ever read a screenplay as FUN as this one. The Hangover was close, but this beats it. It’s just a blast from page 1 to page 100. It all, of course, starts with the characters, who are hilarious. A lot of the script has them squabbling with one another other and it’s some of the funniest squabbling you’ll ever read. For example, they only remember Michael Cain for his bad movies like Jaws 3-D and The Muppet Christmas Carol. None of them have any idea that he was in iconic successful films like Alfie or The Italian Job, and it pisses the shit out of Caine.

Just look at how the script opens: “A crowd of SCREAMING PEASANTS charges over the rolling green hills of sixth-century Britain. But just when you start to worry that this is going to be a shitty historical drama, we push in close on one of these moaning peasants to reveal WORMS crawling through the flesh of its reanimated corpse-face. Oh, okay, neat. These marauding farmhands are actually an ARMY OF THE UNDEAD.”

Vaughn even throws out casting suggestions on the fly, informing us that Merlin shouldn’t be old and boring, but should probably be played by Jack Black.

I’ll be honest with you, I can’t fathom how this movie hasn’t been fast-tracked into production. It’s easily one of the best spec script ideas in the last decade and there isn’t a single character in the script that wouldn’t be a blast to play. Why hasn’t Jack Black committed to this? Why hasn’t Ricky Gervais committed to this? There’s a scene in a celebrity wax museum that would easily be one of the greatest scenes of all time, right up there with the Stay Puff Marshmellow Man. This has “classic” potential written all over it.

Having said that, this draft isn’t perfect. Not everything has been fleshed out yet, and the second half of the screenplay, in particular, seems to go too fast. The final battle also kind of comes out of nowhere and after it was over, I felt like I hadn’t gotten to know these characters well enough. It’s rare when I say a screenplay has to slow down, but I think Vaughn may have underestimated just how lovable this team of misfits was. We needed some drawn out moments towards the end of that second act, and I think if they’d done that, the finale would’ve played out better.

Very enjoyable read. I’m left with only one question. When the hell are they going to make this movie???

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

What I learned: In a screenplay, near the end of the first act, there is usually something that’s fancily referred to as the “Refusal of the call.” What it is is your hero initially refusing to accept the challenge that’s been put forth before him. Obi-Wan asks Luke if he’ll come with him to Alderran. Luke says no way. He can’t leave. He has to help his Uncle on the farm. In The Matrix, Morpheus is guiding Neo to safety out on a building ledge when Neo finally says, “Screw this shit, this is too dangerous,” and allows himself to be captured. The Refusal Of The Call actually makes sense when you think about it. The challenge set forth in the movie is usually so above and beyond what your protagonist is capable of, that it wouldn’t make sense if they DID accept it right away. You need that transition moment where the hero says, “I can’t do it,” because, hey, it’s the same way we’d all react, and it sets up your character for the change they’ll have to make later in order to arc. When our four heroes are tasked to take out the killer witch here, they all say, “No friggin way dude. We’re not committing suicide.” And they walk away. It’s only when the witch begins her path of destruction that they realize, “Hey, we don’t really have a choice here. We have to do this.” —- Note, however, that a refusal of the call is not always necessary. In the film this script was inspired by, Ghostbusters, the technique was never used.

Note: I’m still figuring out the comments section here. I upgraded to the newest version of Disqus but it seems to have made it so nobody can comment (is that what an “upgrade” is supposed to do?). Do me a favor, even if you don’t normally comment, leave a “test” in the comments section just so I can see if the comments work for anyone. Brownie points if you simply leave your system and browser (ie Windows XP, Firefox 7) Also, if you are familiar with Disqus or blog code and can see why Disqus is having such a difficult time working for me, please let me know what you find.

Genre: Action/Drama
Premise: When a pair of priests discover proof that there is no God, they go on a path of destruction.
About: Back in 1995, Tri-Star made one of the most famous spec purchases of the decade. The 400 thousand dollar sale about two priests who find out there is no God is on several “Best Unmade Scripts Of All Time” lists and is, by far, the script I get asked about the most. However, if there was a project that defined Development Hell, both figuratively and literally, it would be “The Sky Is Falling.” As rewrites continued through the decade, no writer could find the elusive tone that both captured the original writers’ intent, while making the story accessible to a mainstream audience. I wasn’t able to get the spec sale, but this is the first attempt by the original writers at a revision. Although I’m sure the two did plenty of assignment work after “Falling,” it appears they were never able to get anything into production, except for Singer, who recently wrote the Clive Owen starrer, “The International.”
Writers: Howard Roth & Eric Singer
Details: 110 pages – October 27, 1995 draft

There are violent specs and there are VIOLENT specs and this, my friends, is a VIOLENT spec. Natural Born Killers? Tame. Fight Club? G-rated. Resevoir Dogs? A Sunday stroll in Disneyland. Pulp Fiction? Playing this weekend at your local Chucky Cheese. None of these movies and their supposed violence and debauchery hold a candle to the sheer bombasity of this insane screenplay. And make no mistake, Howard Roth and Eric Singer are clearly insane people. You’d have to be to write this. Because it is so out there, so bizarre, so twisted, so violent and reckless, that you’re going to need anti-anxiety medication just to make it out of the first act. I will now attempt to summarize this story. But beware, if you are a moral person, if your typical night involves baking cookies and exchanging work tales, if you saw “Passion Of The Christ” 7 times, you should not read on.

Cli-click [me strapping on my seatbelt]

Okay, so here we go. Monsignor Felix Crowley and Father Ringo Michaels were involved in a Nevada desert excavation. Nobody knows exactly what happened but what they do know is that 30 plus excavators were brutally beaten to death by a hammer and Felix and Ringo are nowhere to be found. That is until they show up on a security video at a local casino, hopped up on a cocktail of narcotics, robbing the place like they’re Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid. And when authorities get a call that the duo are tearing through the city in a stolen vehicle, they send some units out to partake in a car chase that would make even your most reckless Grand Theft Auto afternoon look like Super Mario Brothers. Oh, and just to give you a feel for how weird this script is, the officers chasing them are named “Officer Frick” and “Officer Frack.”

Ringo and Felix, who, despite the constant chaos around them, always speak plainly and to the point, have discovered, through this excavation, definitive proof that God doesn’t exist . They are keeping this proof in an orange fanny pack which they treat like a deity (why they treat something like a deity if they no longer believe in deities is beyond me). All the two care about now are doing as many drugs as possible, stealing as much money as possible, murdering whoever they can, fucking whatever they find, and finally, their main purpose, finding Felix’s old high school girlfriend so Felix can tell her he loves her before, presumably, offing himself.

Hans Langerman, the man who owned the excavation site and a devout religious dude, is terrified of what may happen if the contents of the orange fanny pack are shown to the world, so he calls his old friend, Hitman turned God’s Man Frank Doyle. He wants frank to come out of retirement so he can save religion. Doyle is a bit of a curiosity himself. He has some sort of terminal disease – and I wish I could explain his condition better but since I had no clue in hell what was going on, I can only say this: Frank places worms inside his body, possibly (though I’m not sure) to battle the disease. So he’ll be talking to you and a worm will slither its way up underneath his forehead. No additional comments are needed. Doyle agrees to do the job on one condition. He wants absolution of all his sins both past and future. Doyle wants to go to heaven when it’s all over.

From this point on, it’s a not-so-standard chase film, as Doyle tries to find and take down the heretics. And if guys with worms in their faces weren’t enough to hook you, we have a scene where Felix and Ringo are in their hotel room….WITH THEIR CAR. There are no holes in the wall. It’s just a normal room. Yet somehow they found a way to get their car in it. Oh! And there’s a scene where a character is just hanging out, then grabs the end of a bungie cord, a missile attached to the cord shoots into the sky, he rides it, where he is then picked up by a passing airplane. So you get plenty of wacked out weirdness delivered with your story. Except I’m still not sure which is the main dish. Is this weird with a side of story? Or story with a side of weird?

The thing is, amidst all the craziness, there’s an actual theme here, an attempt to explore some meaningful debate about faith. When Doyle, maybe hours from death, finally catches up with the lunatics, the notion of what’s in the fanny pack becomes the central focus. Is God real? Is he a figment of our imaginations? And does Doyle look before he dies? Can “the truth” really override faith? I mean, it’s not The Ten Commandments, but it’s pretty thoughtful for a film with men on bungie cords being picked up by 747s wearing orange fanny packs.

Look, let’s not kid ourselves on why this has never been made. It’s so relentlessly bloody and hopeless and cruel, even for risky independent fair, that everyone’s probably terrified to risk 60 million bucks on it. And I’m sure that’s why they’ve rewritten it so many times. They’re trying to lighten it up to a point where it’s digestible. Not audience-friendly mind you. But *digestible.* as in, people don’t start rioting after the screening. But the problem is, if you lighten it up, you take away everything that’s unique about it.

I don’t’ really know what to make of this. It’s definitely unlike anything I’ve ever read. While there’s a noticeable 3-Act structure here, it definitely doesn’t care about conventions. It might be an interesting exercise to ground this idea in some sort of reality, but I wouldn’t want to be tasked with that assignment because then you run the risk of making the script preachy and boring. I wouldn’t say I liked this screenplay, but if I told you it wasn’t worth reading, I’d be lying. It’s just so weird and different and unpredictable that it’s one of those anomalies you just have to check out.

I may have to make up a new category for this one.

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

What I learned: I remember when I first started writing and I would read a Tarantino script or a Shane Black script and think, “Okay, this is how you have to write to be successful.” So I’d go ahead and write a script like that. And it would suck. And it took me awhile to figure out that just because someone else was successful with a particular style of writing, doesn’t mean you’re going to be successful with that style of writing. I bring this up because “The Sky Is Falling” has a very ballsy aggressive style to it, a style that’s fun to read. And I’ve found that whenever you read scripts like that, they tend to influence you in your next script. This happened most recently after – yes I’m going to say it – Juno. After that script, everybody and their grandmother wrote super quirky cute clever dialogue. Some were successful at it. Most weren’t. My point is: Never forget the things that matter: Plot, character, structure, theme. Focus on those things first and allow your style to emerge organically. If you try to ape somebody else’s style because it’s the hip style of the moment, your script won’t work. Cause it’s not you.

Shoot. I think the comments are broken again. E-mail me at carsonreeves1@gmail.com if you can’t comment. I just “upgraded” the Disqus software.

Chad St. John had a great year in 2009. He sold his first script, “The Days Before,” which I reviewed here. He also sold a script titled “Motor City,” which has only a couple of lines of dialogue in the entire script. Both scripts made the 2009 Black List, and “The Days Before,” landed in the Top 10. This led to St. John selling another spec, “The Further Adventures Of Doc Holliday” to producer Lorenzo di Bonaventura and Paramount. That film is said to be a Pirates Of The Caribbean-esque action adventure story, with a basis in history. Since St. John spends hours upon hours in the shadows writing his masterpieces, he had no problems jumping into a Scriptshadow interview.

SS: Can you tell us what led up to your sale of “The Days Before?” How long had you been writing? How many scripts had you written? How much had you committed yourself to the craft of screenwriting?

CSJ: Years. I had written quite a few things. I think you have to write 100 rotten scripts. No one writes a great song till they’ve written a hundred awful ones.

I would work the “real job”, then come home and write for another 3 or 4 hours and on the weekends. I considered that my real work. The more desperate and irritated I’d get with workin’ for The Man, the more I’d immerse myself in writing. I used to call it “writing for my life”.

SS: Okay so when you say 100? How many did you really write before that first sale?

CSJ: Including all the ones I wrote for just me, as exercises? I’d say somewhere just north of twenty.

SS: Why did you write “The Days Before?” Was it because you wanted to write something marketable? Was it because you were passionate about the idea?

I definitely try to write things that I think are marketable. It’s the business of entertainment, after all.

As far as DAYS, I always wanted to write an alien invasion story. But, I could never figure out a nifty way for them to show up. Seems like a bunch of massive alien craft cruising towards earth might be the kind of thing somebody would notice. That is, unless they just popped up out of nowhere. Like popping out of hyperspace, a wormhole, or some dimensional mumbo jumbo. But, none of those ideas really blew my skirt up.

One day I noticed a homeless guy with a sign. It’s something I’ve seen hundreds of times in L.A., but this guy stuck out for some reason. It was one of those “Ninja’s killed my father. Need money for karate lessons” kind of signs. I honestly don’t remember what it said, but it reminded me of that cliché of the crazy guy with a “Repent! The end is near!” sign. I thought, what if it had been one of those signs. And, what if he was right. What if he was the only person in the world who knew the world was ending. Today. Man, what a drag.

So, the idea of an alien invasion, and that homeless dude careened around in my head for a few weeks. At some point, they crashed into each other. Aliens show up out of thin air. One guy knows and has to try and warn the world. Etc. etc. I got pretty jazzed about the concept once it all clicked. It was a cool new take on an old idea.

SS: Can you give us a blow by blow of how the sale happened?

CSJ: I finished it in November of ’08, and gave it to my agents. They flipped for it. But, things were awful as far as spec sales were concerned at that time. The economy had just taken a nosedive, and not too many folks were buying. Not to mention, DAYS is something you either get, or don’t get. I’ll admit it’s a far out concept, and I had originally imagined it as a “Lethal Weapon in tone/don’t take itself too seriously” kind of flick. We didn’t want to burn it by going out with it, and no one buying. So, we decided we’d sit on it till the new year, and see what was what marketwise then.

Still, just to test the waters, one of my agents slid a copy with no cover page to someone at Warner Brothers he trusted, to get an opinion on the marketability of the script. That was on a Friday night. They bought it Monday afternoon. Just like the aliens in the story, I never saw it coming.

SS: You also wrote a script called “Motor City” that is 75 pages and has almost no dialogue. Can you tell us why you decided to write that script and why you think it was received so well. Also, what’s the status on the project?

CSJ: Honestly, it wasn’t my idea. Greg Silverman over at Warner Bros., one all around bad ass dude, tossed that one my way. After they bought DAYS and I had rewritten it based on their notes, Greg offered me a two script blind deal. I was definitely salivating for the chance, but I really wasn’t keen on the blind aspect of it. I wanted to have at least one of the scripts spelled out before I said yes. I thought it was crucial to follow DAYS with something just as unique. So, Greg throws this idea at me. Then, he says the magic words…“and there’s no dialogue.” A “silent” revenge movie.

I said yes before he finished the sentence. The artist in me leapt at the chance. Beside, when the hell is another Exec this far up the food chain in a studio going to ask me to write a “silent” movie? I was all over it. It was audacious and ballsy. Of course, then I spent a week banging my head into a desk in front of my computer thinking, “What the hell have I done?”

Why was it received so well? I was just humbled that it was. Truly. I still am. I think part of it is definitely that it was just so ballsy and different. Maybe it was a reminder that a script doesn’t need to have an explosion a minute. Or, even dialogue. You’ll have to ask all those cats who like it. I just aim for “Don’t Suck”.

I rewrote it for Dark Castle. And, yes, added dialogue. I’m really happy with how it’s coming along. We still go back and forth as to which version is the right one to get made. I suspect it might be a version that combines the no dialogue and dialogue versions. We’ll see.

SS: How did you get your agent?

A friend of mine gave something I had written called THE GIRL to a young lady at ICM they call Ava Jamshidi. Reading them didn’t cause her any physical or emotional discomfort, so I met with her and Lars Theriot. I liked them both on the spot. They didn’t have me thrown out. Been partners in crime ever since.

SS: What was “The Girl” about?

CSJ: It’s a black comedy about a low level hitman, who is actually a woman, that has an overwhelming, debilitating fear of blood. She screws something up for a mob boss, and is tasked with bringing said mob boss the head of someone that screwed him over. So, she kidnaps the next guy on her hit list, and promises him his life back if he’ll do the deed for her.

SS: Cool. And how long did you have your agent before you sold Days?

CSJ: We’d been together for 5 or 6 months before we sold DAYS.

SS: If you were to start all over again, knowing what you know now, what would you have done differently to speed up your path to success?

Develop my voice as soon as I could. Anyone can write a story, but only you can write it like you do. Hopefully, people become a fan of that last part.

Personally, I know enough to know that I wouldn’t change a single thing. I had to write everything I wrote, I had to bust ass, I had to get my teeth kicked in, I had to struggle exactly the way I did to get where I am today. It makes you a better writer. Story is conflict. So is life. One seasons the other.

SS: What’s your writing regimen like? (How many hours do you write a day? How much rewriting do you do on a script, etc.)

CSJ: Balls to the wall comes to mind. Usually, I do little else when I’m working on something. I get consumed by it. Totally immersed. I forget to eat. I’ll spend fourteen hours in front of the computer before I realize it. I usually don’t do a lot of rewriting. But, I do many, many passes. Changing a word here and there. Tweaking in places. Etc.

SS: How do you know when your script is ready? Do you have an extensive system where you give the script to certain friends and get feedback, or is it more of a feel thing?

CSJ: There are only one or two people I might show something to, barring my Agents. And, they’re not in the business. The absolute best judges, as far as I am concerned. People with opinions I completely trust. We make what we make for the people who aren’t in the business, after all. There are exceptions sometimes, but that’s usually how it goes. No extensive system. I just try to write what I would like to watch.

SS: I asked this question to another sci-fi writer. What do you think the key is to writing good sci-fi?

Character. The same thing that is the key to writing everything else. I think a good sci-fi story is one that can be lifted out of that genre, placed in any other setting, and be just as good. Think of every great sci-fi story. You love them for the characters.

[SS note: This is almost the same answer Ben Ripley gave. And yet I keep getting sci-fi scripts that focus on the world more than the characters!]

SS: “The Days Before” has such a unique structure in that you’re jumping through time repeatedly. How challenging was it structuring that story? Or was it easy?

Not as bad as you’d think. There’s really only one “jump” that changes everything.

SS: You had such a successful year in 2009. I’m always curious, does it feel like you thought it would feel when you imagined breaking through? Is it exciting? Or does that feeling wear off and you immediately begin thinking about the next level?

All of the above, really. I wouldn’t say the excitement wears off for me. Rather, I just don’t think about it. It’s mighty tough to get anything done when you’re geeking out every ten minutes. I know. But, it is every bit as awesome as you’d imagine, being able to make your living doing it. I have honestly worked harder than I ever have in my life (and I’ve worked in steel mills and on farms), but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

SS: Staying with that, what was the biggest surprise about the industry once you sold that first script? Were there things you weren’t prepared for? Or was it exactly how you thought it would be?

Meetings. The sheer number of meetings. With everyone. Everywhere. They don’t tell you that in the handbook, but a huge part of this gig is meetings. You develop the social skills real fast.

SS: Can I ask what you’re working on now?

CSJ: My 3rd pot of coffee and SGT. ROCK, with SPYHUNTER on deck.

So today I wanted to do a little interview with Jim Mercurio, one of the many friendships I’ve been able to formulate through the Scriptshadow blog, and let you know about his contest, The Champion Screenwriting Competition, currently running, which has a $10,000 Grand Prize. I first became aware of Jim through a contest I held over at the Done Deal site. He wrote this unique script about a seriously dysfunctional relationship that was sort of like a Woody Allen film if it were on speed. It was called, not surprisingly, Dysfunction Junction. Wanting to know more about the warped mind behind this story, I got in touch with him, where I found out he’s been at this game for a while, having worked as a development executive for Allison Anders, directing the first six years of the Screenwriting Expo’s screenwriting contest, and written a column for Creative Screenwriting magazine. In between making a low budget film every other year, he now manages to put out his own free monthly ezine Craft & Career. I used the excuse of promoting his contest to get myself some free screenwriting advice!

SS: First of all, why don’t you tell us a little about yourself and your contest? What inspired you to start it?

JM: The name of my contest, Champion, says a lot about what I’m trying to help these writers achieve. I want to encourage writers and help them grow, and when they’re ready, give them access to the industry. Almost ten years ago, Erik Bauer, then-owner of Creative Screenwriting and founder of the Screenwriting Expo, asked me to design and run the Expo competition because he thought I had the risk-taking gene. All of us writers are risk-takers. Choosing this career and writing on spec is a huge gamble. I hope the excitement of vying for $10,000 motivates these writers to do their best work, and it feels great to be able to reward them. I also invite the top writers to a weeklong party called the Champion Lab. We’ve got to feel rewarded as writers, on some level, or it’s tough to stay motivated.

SS: In general, are contests worth the risk?

JM: If your writing is competition quality, then contests can be a smart and reasonable investment. There are other benefits aside from the Grand Prize — the excitement of waiting for results; making friends and connections on message boards like Done Deal and Movie Bytes, and having a deadline, which helps you to crank out those pages. However, if you enter a dozen contests where your script is the sort that the contest purports to reward and you don’t advance in any of them, consider spending the next $600-$1000 educating yourself and honing your work with classes, coverage, consultants, etc.

SS: You’ve read a ton of scripts, I’m pretty sure way more than I have. What is the big difference you see between amateur scripts and pro scripts? What really sticks out in your mind?

JM: If you don’t want this to turn into a 20-part interview, give me some leeway to give a smart-ass answer or at least a creative one.

SS: Go for it.

JM: I am going to make up a word. Most aspiring writers’ scripts don’t have a high enough “story density.” Story density is the amount of good storytelling you can cram into 110 pages. For beginning writers, there is often too much dead space between the good shit in their script. For some, it might be cumbersome language or style. For others, it might mean the antagonist’s plan in their action script doesn’t have enough twists. In a non goal-oriented script, it might mean a sequence goes slightly astray and wastes our time. Check out the first page of The Beaver. The Beaver’s first page has high story density. I know, that sounds bad.

SS: Okay, let’s get more into craft later. What do you personally look for in a screenplay?

JM: I think some contests and university writing programs overvalue the “heaviness” of a subject. Let’s say we take To Kill a Mockingbird and The Nutty Professor. When the writer aims for the To Kill a Mockingbird masterpiece but only accomplishes 55% of his goal, you can’t argue that it is a better screenplay than a well-crafted broad or high-concept comedy that accomplishes 95% of what it set out to achieve. Screenplays can’t be compared or quantified like that. Their aim is not to be literature. The best screenplays are blueprints for stories meant to be told on film that will meet their audience’s expectations. The closer writers get to accomplishing their goal with a script, the more of a chance they’ll have to satisfy their audience.
I look at scripts for what they are trying to be. I want them to aim to surpass what the other writers in the genre have already consistently achieved. And then I look at how well the craft and execution achieves that goal.

SS: If you were a new writer, sitting down to start your next script, how would you approach it to give yourself the best chance of selling the screenplay?

JM: It depends on how new the writer is.

SS: What do you mean?

JM: If you are a beginning writer, write WHATEVER script you want to write and then finish it. Use it to develop your craft, learn your strengths and weaknesses, and grow as a writer.

SS: Yeah but come on. You remember what it was like writing those first few screenplays. The last thing you wanted to hear was that your script was basically worthless, that all it was good for was “to get better.”

JM: True, but that’s what screenwriters have to learn. This industry isn’t a cakewalk. It takes several scripts, sometimes up to a dozen, for most writers to reach a tipping point with their craft. And that’s okay. Don’t think of it as “it doesn’t matter,” think of it as practicing free throws at 11pm when everyone else has gone home for the night. This is your preparation for the big leagues. So write whatever material you’re passionate enough to FINISH, and when the moment comes, pick a genre you know or love so you can transcend it. You have to be willing to do the research or brainstorming to make sure you can nail a genre. For instance, if you aren’t up to the challenge of finding a hundred clever and integrated ways to exploit, say, the first-person camera technique, then don’t write Rec or its American remake Quarantine, Paranormal Activity, The Blair Witch Project or Cloverfield.

SS: Okay, so this leads to one of my favorite questions: “Should I write a more character driven piece, something I can put my heart into? Or should I write something more high concept, despite my heart not being in it?” The argument is that the character-driven piece will have more depth, but Hollywood is scared off by the fact that it’s not marketable. The high-concept script is more marketable, but is often labeled as “not having enough heart.” Which route should I take?

JM: I think the answer is both.

You are going to write several scripts on your way to learning the craft, so I suggest writing each kind of script at some point.

SS: Well cause I know Dysfunction Junction is a passion project of yours, and that comes through in the writing. But it’s still a hard sell, right?

JM: Unfortunately, it’s true. The problem is, even if something’s good, that might not even be enough. When I entered the industry in the 90s, I fell in love with movies like Allison Anders’ Gas Food Lodging. Maybe they gave me hope…or false hope… that personal cinema could be done in and around Hollywood.

If you have a character-piece, decide one of two things.

1) It’s a sample: Spend six months on it. Get it done. Move on to the next script.
2) You are going to make it: You can’t really control if it gets made, but you can make it actor bait, easy to shoot, and maybe even have rabble-rousing material (In the Company of Men, The Woodsman). Be or find a “producer.”

At some point, you should write a high-concept script, but be warned — writing a well-integrated, high concept piece is labor intensive. Look at the first draft of your high concept story and circle the conflicts that are unique to the script’s specific set up. And then circle the ones that are generic (like the drugged out sequence in Land of the Lost, wtf?). If you are not at an 8:1 or 9: 1 ratio between the cool/specific-to-the-concept stuff and the could-be-in-any-movie stuff, then you are not going to compete with Leslie Dixon and Freaky Friday or Charlie Kaufmann and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. You have to hit most of the character beats of the character piece but you have to cleverly wrap it ALL around the concept.
One of the goals of in my workshops is to illustrate the subtlety of craft and how understanding the exploitation of concept and the inner workings f character and theme are both essential to writing scripts that have a chance in the marketplace. I actually wrote an article about it here.

Why can’t movies be both character pieces and high concept? If writers do have a tendency or skill toward one or the other, then the real skill is to make sure that they can complement the high concept or genre script with character, or the character piece with some hook.

Are Chinatown, Citizen Kane, and The Godfather smart character pieces or high concept fare? I went old school on purpose. But what about Memento, Wall Street, or The Sixth Sense? If Eternal Sunshine doesn’t have great characters and really honest things to say about memory, shared experiences, and love, it comes off as a confusing gimmick.

SS: As long as I have you here, I’m going to be selfish and get your thoughts on a couple of things I’m always trying to improve on. What are the keys to writing good dialogue and strong characters?

JM: Your readers can check out your Facebook from earlier this week for a link to a longer piece I did on dialogue in Craft & Career. But basically, with dialogue, your creative freedom comes from the clarity of the beats, not the words themselves. Go and watch the famous “I could’a been a contender” scene from On the Waterfront. There is all this heavy stuff about the depth of his brother’s denial and betrayal, about life-changing epiphanies and how relationships will be forever changed and possible lives lost. Brando is overwhelmed with the surprise and revelations. And his response is simply… maybe the first modern hip usage of the word: “Wow.” It only takes those three letters to capture his shock, disbelief and sense of loss.

As far as character goes, I don’t think that there is much debate about the theory. A story challenges the character’s deep-seated beliefs and hidden wounds until the character comes to a crisis and a chance to change. I think what it comes down to is craft. Can the writer find the action and situation that can make these inner machinations external? Can they succinctly show us the character’s essence?

Let’s say you want to show that your character is smart. You have a scene where he uses three or four explicitly spelled out and logical steps to make a deduction. That’s not going to work for a Jack Ryan or Gregory House character. Cut out most of the baby steps and let your character make one big leap of logic, intuition or faith. In every Harrison Ford thriller, there will be a scene where a subtle visual cue will be all the character needs to jump into action. In Air Force One, he sees milk dripping from a bullet-riddled cart — CUT TO: he dumps gas from the fuel tank. Okay, he’s smart. But the challenge is at the scene level — can the writer reveal it succinctly with elegance or cleverness?

SS: What is the biggest mistake you see writers make?

JM: Hmm, having read half a million pages of screenplays, I am not sure I can pick just one. Here are a few.

Not writing. If you’re a beginning screenwriter, write a few scripts. They may suck. So what? Keep writing.

Beware of the faux masterpiece. What is that? That’s when you try to tackle something huge like a critical piece of history – the Holocaust, slavery, World War II – or try to set an expensive politically-charged love story against that sort of backdrop. You might be a deep thinker and have an unparalleled understanding of the subject, but as a beginning writer, your craft is not going to be able to do the story justice.

You don’t write The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Schindler’s List, Sophie’s Choice or even Atonement as your third or fourth script. When a writer aims for that sort of script – one that only works if it’s a masterpiece – then whether they achieve 50% or 75% of their goal, it’s sort of irrelevant. They haven’t crossed the tipping point where the script has any viability.

SS: Great point about the faux masterpiece. I see a lot of those. But does that mean writers shouldn’t try? Aren’t you the guy who is supposed to be championing people? Ore you are contradicting yourself…you said writers should write whatever they want when starting out.

JM: Fair enough. If you are writing your attempted masterpiece to learn about screenwriting, go for it. And get it over with ASAP. The skill you need to pull off the masterpieces come from finishing several non-masterpieces.

So, let me contradict myself again. One of the biggest mistakes is to not have high enough expectations. Writers shouldn’t just nail a genre. They should innovate and transcend it, too. For example, The Hangover is an okay mystery but the genre-crossing makes it a great comedy. When you come up with a hook like Memento or Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, you will spend several hours banging your head against the wall to find your way through it. If your script isn’t driving you nuts, then you didn’t challenge yourself enough.

And when you are finally in control of your craft… PREACHING TO THE CHOIR ALERT, CARSON! … If you want to be calculating and commercial-minded, aim for modestly budgeted high concept fare with a good hook.

SS: Choir preached to indeed. I know each contest is different, but is there a specific type of script that does better in a contest?

JM: It’s the writer’s responsibility to research who’s running and judging a contest. Look at the winners from previous years. If the contest is giving away 10K or 20k to period biopics, stuffy dramas and literary-sounding faux masterpieces, then don’t enter your “Die Hard in a skyscraper” script, right? Be aware of their tastes and limitations.

Because the stakes in the production world to find good in a screenplay or to find a good screenplay at all are higher than in the contest world, I suggest making your contest script a little bit more the “theoretical good script” that the screenwriting education niche prescribes. You know — being a good read, having no typos, having a brisk pace, setting up the reader’s expectations very quickly regarding tone and genre and being less than 120 pages.

SS: What types of scripts do better in your contest?

JM: I have an inner film snob that appreciates film as an art form. My last script’s influences are Bergman’s Scenes from a Marriage, the plays of Patrick Marber and Neil Labute and a few French films like Romance and Dreamlife of Angels. And I have made three low concept features as a director or producer. On the flip side, I am also first in line at the Thursday midnight screenings for The Lord of the Rings and Iron Man and have given development help to some of the most commercial-minded people in Hollywood.

I pride myself on being able to appreciate good screenwriting “across the board.” Last year, Champion feature winners were a high concept comedy, a coming-of-age drama, and quirky buddy picture. One of the shorts winners was a masterpiece (non-faux) and the other a smart comedy.

We have a prize (and a micro-writing deal or option) for best low budget horror and our short categories include prizes for serious scripts, comedies and best script under three pages.

SS: I think contests are a great way for new writers to test their mettle. If your script is good, it will do well, which gives you confidence, pushes you further along in the industry, and buffers your bank account in the process. But I always believe in a multi-faceted attack. So while these writers are waiting for their names to be announced as winners, what else should they be doing to break into this industry?

JM: Writers need to know what stage they’re at in their writing career and act accordingly. The basic stages:

1) Learning – They need to knock out a couple scripts, get some feedback, read scripts, watch movies, take in every opportunity to improve.

2) Mastering the Craft – Here, writers start choosing scripts with some practicality in mind and are writing a couple of scripts per year. They enter contests and share their work with peers or professionals who are willing to give feedback. Don’t blow a potential contact by submitting a script before it’s ready. When you have confirmation via peers, contests and professionals, then you are ready for the final stage.

3) Marketing – Spend some time studying queries and loglines. Consider pitch services and get your material to producers and managers, or people who can help you get your script read. Contests might be a part of your strategy but use your wins or advancements as ammunition in cold calls and query emails. Spend some time with the “salesperson” hat on and get your script out there.

SS: Can you tell me anything else about your contest? Entry fees? Deadline? Where you sign up? Any tips you have to improve the readers’ chances?

JM: With WithoutABox discounts our entry fees are still less than $45 and shorts are $20. I think our prices are the lowest of any of the contests with a Grand Prize of $10,000. For an additional $40, entrants can enter our Coverage Category (and get a free copy of my DVD Killer Endings) and receive a page and a half of notes. Coverage will never be the Holy Grail of insight into improving your script, but I designed the category to help writers advance to the next round where their script garners additional attention. It’s meant to take some of the luck out of the process.

May 15 is the Regular Deadline and the last chance to use the Coverage Service.

Enter at www.championscreenwriting.com.

Even if you aren’t entering the contest, please sign up for my free newsletter there.
If you have any questions about the contest or anything else, please feel free to drop me a line: info@championscreenwriting.com

SS: Last question. I understand you just got back from Paris for work, right? How the hell did you get out of the country? Did you take a tramp steamer back here?

JM: Yeah and I met a hobo on the tramper who was working on a script. We made a barter deal. In exchange for a semi-stale baguette, I told him his second act was way too long.

SS: And that’s it. Thank you Jim for taking the time to let Scriptshadow pick your brain.

JM: It’s all good. Thank you.

SS: I hope you find the next Aaron Sorkin in your contest. (And I hope he’s reading this sentence right now!)