Can we talk about something for a second? One of my favorite screenplays of the year? A little script called “Buried” about a man who wakes up inside a coffin with no memory of how he got there? Oh yeah, did I mention that the entire script takes place inside that coffin? Still not jogging your memory? Go check out my review of the script here. The script was purchased earlier this year and secured Ryan Reynolds as the one-man lead in the film. Production has since been completed.

Through the grace of one of Scriptshadow’s helpful fans who happened to know Chris, I was able to do a little trapping of my own and convince Mr. Sparling to do an interview for the site. Chris was more than happy to help out. A little background on Chris first. He is a writer/director/actor/producer/screenwriting teacher who took matters into his own hands when he wrote/directed/produced his first film back in 2005 titled, “An Uzi At The Alamo.” Chris recently sold another script titled, “Mercy,” to Gold Circle Films on September 24th. Clearly they must have heard he was going to be interviewed on Scriptshadow. Anyway, I’ll stop talking and give the floor to the man himself, Chris Sparling. Enjoy the interview.

SS: How did the idea for Buried come about?

CS: I wish I could say it was some uniquely artistic reason, but it actually was a financial decision. It had been about four or five years since I shot a feature, and I was getting sort of antsy. Anyway, I tried to come up with the most contained story I could possibly tell, in addition to being one that involved as few actors as possible. From there, I felt there had to be a compelling reason why someone would be buried alive, rather than go the straight horror route and chalk it up to some crazy, Saw-like lunatic who just wants to torture someone. After then researching the dangers so many civilian contractors are facing in Iraq and Afghanistan, as well as the unimaginable conditions those of them who are kidnapped endure, I knew right away I had my reason.

SS: I noticed you were an actor and a director as well as a writer. Were you writing something you could shoot and act in yourself? If so, what made you give up the acting and directing parts?

CS: Although I did initially intend on directing Buried, I never saw myself playing Paul. For one, I originally wrote him as being much older than me (even though Ryan Reynolds ended up playing the role, and we’re just about the same age), and second, I’ve done the DIY, wear-all-the-hats-at-once thing before and the movie suffered as a result. Also, once I saw Rodrigo Cortes’ first film, The Contestant, I knew he was the right person to direct Buried. He’s incredibly gifted, and unlike many other directors we considered, he was the only one who wanted to stay true to the script by keeping the entire story in the box. And, of course, we were fortunate enough to land an incredibly talented and courageous actor in Ryan, who was willing to take a risk on this crazy movie.

SS: How many scripts had you written before Buried? Which script did you realize that maybe you were getting the hang of it?

CS: Before Buried, I think I’d written about nine or ten features and two TV specs. Truth be told, it didn’t start to click for me until about my seventh feature script.

SS: What’s your process as a writer? Do you write quickly? Does it take awhile? Do you outline? How many drafts do you write?

CS: I kind of follow a pyramid design, in that I start with the bigger, broader things first and then steadily make my way up to the more detailed aspects of the script. Typically, I’ll write a brief synopsis (3-5 pages), then a character breakdown, followed by a thorough scene breakdown/step outline, and then finally a first draft of the script itself. Thankfully, yes,I do write pretty quickly, which helps because I usually write at least two or three drafts of a spec.

SS: One of the things I like so much about Buried is that it seems to follow the generally accepted rules of screenwriting, but like all great scripts, does so without the reader realizing they’re there. For example, in my review, I talk about your exceptional use of multiple ticking time bombs and how effective they were. Are you a “rules” guy? Or do you just follow your gut?

CS: Like I said before, it took me writing about seven scripts before everything seemed to click. For me, finally “getting it” meant being able to write from the gut and not having to consciously worry about hitting certain plot points or whatever else, because you end up hitting them anyway.

SS: A mutual acquaintance mentioned that you taught screenwriting. When you go into a semester, what are the most important pieces of information you want your students to leave with?

CS: I only teach from time to time, but when I do, I implore my students to learn how the film business works. Honing their craft should go without saying, which is why I stress the need for them to get out to festivals, make contacts, attend film markets, intern, and do just about anything else they can do to learn about the business they hope to someday work in.

SS: What is the most common mistake you see screenwriters make?

CS: Amazingly, not reading screenplays. This clearly doesn’t seem to be the case for the readers of your site, but on the whole, it’s a mistake a lot of writers make. How-To books are great, as are classes and seminars, but there’s no better (or cheaper) way to become a better writer than to read as many scripts as you can get your hands on.

SS: What do you think the key is, not necessarily to write a great script, but to sell a script? Or are they one and the same?

CS: So far, I’ve only sold two specs: Buried and, most recently, a horror/thriller called Mercy. What made those scripts sell and not the nine or ten others before them? It could simply be that they were better scripts, but it’s probably more do do with access — access to people who are now actually willing to read my stuff. This is why I think it’s so important to understand how the business works. You have to know who the gatekeepers are, how to get to them, how to get them to turn your pages, and then — provided your stuff is good enough — you will get read by the the people who have the power to buy your spec.

SS: How did you obtain agency representation and what is your advice for other writers seeking representation?

As I mentioned before, I made a no-budget indie a few years back, which caught the attention of my manager, Aaron Kaplan. He didn’t sign me right away, but he apparently saw enough promise in me to continue reading my scripts and watch some things I directed and acted in. Fast forward to just over a year ago, when I was already about six months into pre-production on Buried (the no-budget version I was going to direct), I sent him the script and he flipped for it. Two days later he signed me. From there, he got the script over to the agencies he had relationships with and within a week or so I signed with Charlie Ferraro and Doug Johnson at UTA. As for advice on how to get a rep, all I can say is to be persistent. Not overbearing; persistent. Apart from that, another great way is to connect with a producer — one who believes in your talent — and then, when the time is right, ask that person to refer you to some reps they regularly work with.

SS: How important to a screenwriter’s success do you think it is to have other things going on besides the writing (ie directing, acting, producing, blogging, teaching)?

I’m not sure doing any or all of these things are vital to being a successful screenwriter, but they certainly don’t hurt.

SS: With studios putting more emphasis than ever on adaptations (and hiring guns to write them), it’s getting harder and harder to find truly original material. But a couple of original ideas broke through this summer in The Hangover and District 9. What’s your opinion on the state of industry?

I think the public wants comfort right now.. We’re facing unprescedented economic hardship; we want to escape to the places and do the things we know for sure make us happy. There’s no risk there, and that makes us feel comfortable spending our hard earned money at the box office. That’s why everything seems to be pre-awareness these days. But, as you pointed out, there have been several original films that have broken through and, subsequently, performed very well in their own right. In my opinion, as we begin to pull out of this recession, I think the flip back to more original content will start to happen. But until then, enjoy the big screen adaptation of Dan Brown’s latest release, Iron Man 2, Rambo 5, Battleship the movie…..

SS: What is your opinion on Josh Olson’s recent rant that he will not read your fucking script? Would you read Josh Olson’s script?

CS: I understand both sides of this debate. From Josh Olson’s side, I have personally experienced the “No Good Deed Goes Unpunished” backlash from reading someone’s script. About four years ago, a woman (a complete stranger, mind you) emailed me and asked if I would read not one script, but two. Evidently, she and her writing partner had written two different versions of a story they came up with, and they wanted to know which of the two was better. Long story short, I agreed, and when I wrote back and told her I thought script B was better than script A, she got all bent out of shape because she wrote script A. Here it was I gave a complete stranger about three hours of my time (I read very slowly) and an unbiased, somewhat professional opinion, and in return she basically told me I was an idiot and that she shouldn’t have wasted HER time by contacting me in the first place. Again, that’s just one example of why I can see things from Josh Olson’s side. However, and this is a pretty big however, I’m not sure I agree with the way he went about saying what he said. I would imagine he was once a struggling screenwriter too, so he should know firsthand how hard it is to get stuff read — and therefore shouldn’t fault writers for trying.

Thanks again to Chris. I hope you guys found some wisdom, motivation, or inspiration from his words. I think one of the common threads I’m starting to see with success is that people who achieve it attack their dream from different angles. Writing is such an invisible pursuit. No one sees you doing it. So if you’re out there acting, directing, producing, even blogging. Those things are more visible and give you a stage to promote your writing ambitions. Just a thought.

Roger comes with both a review and a surprise today. The review is for a Joss Whedon spec written many moons ago. And the surprise is a…hmmm…shall we say a “not entirely real query letter” he and his writing partner created. This query letter isn’t just bad, it’s downright awful. Yet awfully entertaining. So go check it out over at The Deep Thoughts Of Great Importance Blog. In the meantime, as those of you trolling through the spec underbelly know, The Brit List was released last week, and I plan to delve into a few of these scripts here on the site. The Brit List is basically the UK’s answer to The Black List, which will surely whet our appetite for 2009’s Black List, which should be right around the corner. Oh, and I’ve decided to have a horror week on the week of the 31st where I review…yes, you’re hearing this right…a full 5 horror scripts. So get your suggestions in now. — Here’s Roger with his review of “Afterlife.”

Genre: Thriller, Action, Science Fiction
Premise: A resurrected government scientist escapes his handlers to find his wife, who believes he is dead.
About: Back in the early 90’s, before Joss fled screenwriting to build his television empire, he wrote and sold two high-selling specs. This is one of them. At one point, Andy Tennant (Hitch, Sweet Home Alabama), was attached to direct.
Writer: Joss Whedon

In 1994, three whole years before Buffy the Vampire Slayer debuted on our television screens, Joss Whedon wrote and sold a spec called “Afterlife”, a high-concept thriller about a government scientist named Daniel Hoffstetter.

Doesn’t Daniel die in the first 8 pages?

Indeed, he does. But let’s back up. Daniel is in his mid-fifties. He’s a thin and frail world renowned scientist doing important DNA research. So important, that like a lot of academics, he seems more married to his work than to his wife, Laura.

Daniel loves his wife, but sometimes he has to do things like show his boss, Leonard, the new program he’s been working on rather than take Laura to the annual fair.

A dark cloud hangs over their marriage.

Daniel is sick and we’re not even ten pages in when he dies. Laura never has a chance to say goodbye, because she falls asleep in a hospital chair when his disease-ridden body finally fails him.

But this script is 130 pages long! He can’t die!

You’re right. But don’t worry. Daniel wakes up and notices that there are no tubes connected to his arms. In fact, his arms look different. Strong and powerful.

His boss, Leonard, explains to him that the bio-electric matrix of his mind has been imprinted onto the tabula rasa of another brain.

A mind-transplant.

Daniel has been given a second-chance. The new body his consciousness now abides in is younger and stronger than his old one. An able specimen for fighting and shooting things…should he ever need to do that.

And fight and shoot he’ll choose to do, because, you see, Daniel works for The Tank now.

What’s The Tank?

The Tank is the part of the government the CIA doesn’t even know about. Resurrected scientists who work on secret government stuff, monitored by the watchful eye of Colonel Kendrick and his head of security, Bo.

Daniel doesn’t look at his predicament as a second chance. He sees himself as a prisoner. All Daniel wants to do is talk to his wife, but of course, he’s not allowed. If the CIA doesn’t know about his existence, why should civilians? This is his new life, secluded from the rest of the world in a clandestine facility miles underneath the desert.

When Bo tells Daniel that he should forget about his wife (by callously informing him that she’s now seeing a math teacher), Daniel comes up with a plan. He studies the security tech, the routines and protocol of the bunker.

And in a pretty gratifying action-set piece, Daniel escapes the bunker and makes it to the surface. There’s a car chase involving helicopters (and a tow truck; awesome!), and it’s a great example of how to write action. In fact, the script is one big example of how to write action set-pieces that aren’t there just for the sake of it, but actually serve to move the story along.

But there’s a twist to Act 2 (and to Act 3) that turns on the heat.

When Daniel makes it into a store to use a phone, there’s a reason the little boy sitting atop the Coke cooler keeps calling him “Snowman”. It’s an eerie detail, and we sort of forget about it until the store owner starts yelling expletives, pulls out a gun, and tries to kill Daniel.

Why did the store owner start shooting at him and what does that have to do with the word “Snowman”?

Snowman is the nickname of the executed serial killer, Jamie Snow. His other nickname is The Beast, but I guess that doesn’t really matter. What matters is that Jamie Snow is Daniel’s new body.

So, not only is The Tank after Daniel, but Daniel can’t really blend into crowds or enter civilized establishments without being attacked by pawnshop owners, scared policemen, earnest security guards, and concerned citizens.

If that weren’t enough, when Connecticut Homicide Detective Bob Moody learns that the serial killer he captured, the serial killer that was supposedly executed, has returned and is mingling with the hoi polloi, he obsessively joins the chase, too.

Can Daniel make it to his wife? More importantly, can he convince her that he really is Daniel, and not just a psycho killer (by the way, this script is way better than Andrew Kevin Walker’s “Psycho Killer”) whose path of most resistance is making national headlines?

He can. And he does. Act 2 is a Fugitive-esque race, an entertaining game of cat and mouse that is worth studying, especially if you’re interested in writing scripts that contain action set-pieces. Not only is it great to examine to see how Joss so easily entertains, but it’s worth looking at to see how Joss writes people.

I don’t think it’s a stretch at this point to declare that, simply put, Joss knows that people (characters) make the best stories. He understands relationships. If you don’t believe me, look at the end of the 2nd Act and pay attention to what he highlights.

This is an action script, but he focuses on Daniel and Laura rediscovering each other. He writes their intimate scene (the heart of this script) as if this married couple are two new lovers consummating their love for the first time. A flame reunited. Now that’s vertical relational depth, and that’s why Joss Whedon Is Your Master.
Roger, you mentioned there was a twist as we enter into Act 3?

There is, and it’s one you’ll see coming. (But there’s another one that comes right after it that will either work or piss you off.)

Back at The Tank, the resurrected scientists begin to have problems. Those bio-electrical matrices that have been supposedly imprinted on tabula rasa(s)? Well, they’re sort of going bye-bye. The minds of the “donors” are starting to resurface, erasing the minds of the government academics. In a nutshell? Serial killers are reclaiming their bodies.

And here’s the train-wreck: We know that Daniel is going to fight for control over his new body with the mass murderer, Jamie Snow. And he’s going to be doing it whilst isolated in a cabin with his newly reunited wife.

So Act 3 is a collision of ingredients: (1) A Sybil-like struggle over control of Daniel’s body, (2) Laura trying to escape from Daniel (which goes back and forth; she’s confused), (3) the Tank company men trying to clean up their mess, (4) Detective Moody confronting Daniel in his quest for the truth and (5) local law-enforcement thrown in the mix to complicate the man-hunt.

And yeah, there is another twist which I don’t want to give away here. Read it for yourself and see if it works.

Like at the end of any good Buffy (or Faith, amirite?) episode, conflict is resolved with a healthy dose of fisticuffs. It’s an action movie, what do you expect? It’s also a Joss-tale, so we get a final scene that serves as a bittersweet coda to the end of Daniel and Laura’s journey together. And it connects. It makes you feel.

All in all, a solid script that tells a tale and tells it well. Great dialogue, tangible characters, and action sequences written by a master craftsman. Definitely one of the specs to study if you want to play by the rules (and perhaps the germ for Dollhouse?)

[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] barely kept my interest
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: Even if you’re writing stories with fantastic elements, this script reinforced my theory that it’s best to focus on the human elements. Even though this is science-fiction, it doesn’t feel like it’s set in an imaginary world. It feels like it’s set in the real world, and I think that’s a wise choice. It’s good to remember, that for an average movie-going audience, people are subconsciously willing to invest into suspension of disbelief. More-so than people in the industry. They are more willing to just go with a story, unlike those who are studying the craft, or story-telling in general. But it doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t aim high. Where is the line that people start to clock out of a story because they judge it “unbelievable?” And what kind of people are more willing to suspend disbelief and be content to experience awe and wonder? It’s worth thinking about.

Genre: Drama
Premise: We chronicle the infamous career-long battle between screen legends Joan Crawford and Bette Davis, specifically on the set of the only film they ever made together, “Whatever Happened To Baby Jane.”
About: I believe this script is optioned but has not been purchased. The details are a little sketchy. What I can tell you is it came highly recommended from a trusted source. The main film it chronicles, “Whatever Happened To Baby Jane,” was made in 1962 for 980 thousand dollars.
Writers: Jaffe Cohen & Michael Zam

Can somebody say, “Cat Fight?” Rrrreow. I’m going to be honest with you, I’d never seen a Joan Crawford or a Bette Davis film until yesterday. In fact, my cinema I.Q. goes down about a hundred points when discussing anything before 1960. I love Jimmy Stewart. Citizen Kane is rad. Hitchcock rocks. But outside of a few other highlights, it’s all a bunch of black and white over-glamorized over-acted close-ups. I know, I know. The Golden Era of Film and blah blah blah. It’s just really hard for me to get into that time. That’s a long way of saying I knew very little about Joan Crawford and Bette Davis before reading this script. And I definitely didn’t know anything about this lifelong rivalry/feud of theirs. So before I read it I did a little research into the women that pioneered the word “diva” and came away convinced that both of them were completely fucking nuts.

I’m basing this off the writers’ descriptions but for the uninitiated, *on-screen* Joan Crawford was basically the hottest movie star on the planet (Megan Fox type?) and *on-screen* Bette Davis was basically the best actress on the planet (a kind of Kate Winslet?) But we’re not meeting these actresses in their prime. No no. We’re meeting them after all the bright lights and adoring fans have disappeared. They’re in their 50s now, still respected but too old to be headlining anything.

Joan approaches auteur director of his time, Robert Aldrich, with a book she wants to turn into a movie called, “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?” You might recognize Aldrich’s name. He was the director of The Dirty Dozen. But see that movie was still another five years away. At this point, he had about as much clout as Pauly Shore in getting his next movie made. Anyway, “Baby Jane” seemed like a good bet as it was a contained dark thriller, and another contained dark thriller had just opened in the U.S.. You might remember it. It was called “Psycho” (How appropriate, right?). The issue was a simple but daunting one. The movie centered entirely around two women in their 50s, and Joan wanted Bette Davis to play opposite her. Everybody knew these two detested each other but the reality was, they had become a couple of old movie stars cashing in on their former glory. But the press and media attention surrounding them working together would be unmatched – potentially catapulting them back into superstardom, particularly if the movie delivered. As reluctant as Bette was at first, she too recognized the opportunity here, and signed up.

Now here’s where things get funny. The synopsis of the film reads, “Two aging film actresses live as virtual recluses in an old Hollywood mansion. Jane Hudson (Bette Davis), a successful child star, cares for her crippled sister Blanche (Crawford), who’s career in later years eclipsed that of Jane. Now the two live together, their relationship affected by simmering subconscious thoughts of mutual envy, hate and revenge.” Not only were they playing opposite each other, they were playing opposite each other in roles that perfectly fit their real life personas! It would be like putting Bruce Willis in a Michael Bay movie about an actor and director who hated each other (then again it seems like everyone hates Bruce Willis these days).

As soon as production began, the claws came out. Joan gave all the crew members gifts so they’d treat her better than Bette. Bette way overdid her make-up and costume to make sure she upstaged Joan. The two pouted, threw fits, talked behind each others’ backs to the media. And poor Aldrich had to endure it all, spending the majority of his time playing babysitter to these alcoholic chimney smoking lunatics rather than directing (I hear those eyebrows alone are a direct result of helming “Baby Jane”). And yet because there was so much real life going on behind each performance, the dailies came back celluloid gold.

To be honest though, I was a little disappointed with this portion of the screenplay because my research led me to believe this was the on-set battle to end all on-set battles. Yet the actual blows seemed minor by today’s standards. For example, in a scene where Bette serves Joan a dead rat, Bette switches out the rubber one with a real one. Or later, Joan replaces Bette’s chocolates with packed meat. Packed meat?? I thought these two hated each other. What about poison?? Then there was a scene where Bette, who had a bad back, had to pick up Joan, so Joan added a belt of heavy weights underneath her clothes to make herself extra heavy. Is it just me or are these the kinds of hijinks you might expect on an episode of I Love Lucy? When I compare them to what went down with someone like Orson Welles, who was basically blacklisted out of Hollywood for upsetting William Randolph Hearst…it just didn’t feel like that all-out war I was hoping for.

Luckily, Best Actress wasn’t just about “Baby Jane.” It was about what happened afterwards when Bette Davis was a shoe-in for an academy award then lost because Crawford called all of Hollywood and told them not to vote for her. It’s about these desperate actresses so terrified of being left behind, that a year later after each had endured another bomb, they actually worked together again (in a movie Crawford was later fired from), choosing pure misery if it gave them even an inkling of a chance to hold onto that spotlight for a little longer. And it’s about these two kooky human beings developing a strange bond and respect for each other, despite all that happened between them.

Best Actress was fun. It taught me about a piece of history I knew nothing about and it did so in an entertaining way. The strength here is obviously these two titans, their obsession with fame, and what it brings out in them. I actually realized after finishing the script that its structure was quite loose. Yet it works because we were so obsessed with these insanely complicated characters. As far as its faults, there are a few. I did wish their on-set war was a bit more extreme. Audiences these days aren’t going to think much of an actress trying to throw out another actresses’ back. You might be stuck with history here, but if there’s any way to make these things more menacing, more intense, I believe the script will benefit from it. But other than that, Best Actress was a nice change of pace from all the thrillers, comedies, and action flicks I’ve been reading of late. Check it out if you’re in any way curious. Then do what I did and go rent “All About Eve” and “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?” Watching each is a riot once you have some background on the two.

[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] barely kept my interest
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: Despite its loose structure, Best Actress works. Why? Simple. It goes back to the most basic element of drama: conflict. You have two people who hate each other. That simple conflict drives the entire movie. Now conflict comes in many forms and you don’t want to have two people at each others’ throats for every movie. But if it fits, that intensity, that energy, can add a surprising amount of drama to your story.

So I’m introducing a new script reviewer today because he’s a great writer and passionate about the craft (and he writes me weekly e-mails telling me how awesome Scriptshadow is). He kept raving to me about this awesome script he read that he just had to tell the world about. I tried to explain to him that I already had a backlog of script reviews in queue. He ignored me and sent the review anyway. Once I saw how passionate he was, I knew I had to post it. So I’d like to introduce everyone to… Michael Stark.

Random observations before I give Michael the reigns. Strange that the script title is also the name of Freeman’s most famous character? And what the hell happened to Bruce Willis??? When did he become a cranky old man?? It’s sad. I’ll still see anything he’s in. But after this interview, I won’t ever look at him the same way again.

Genre: Action/comedy
Premise: A retired Black-Ops Agent must reassemble his old team to fight the new generation of high-tech assassins hunting him down.
About: Bruce Willis and Morgan Freeman already attached to this comic book flick. ‘Nuff said.
Writers: The Brothers Erich and Jon Hoeber adapting a Sir Warren Ellis Graphic Novel
Details: 120 pages (November 14, 2008 first draft, revised)

First off, I’m old school. Not just kind of old school, but real old school. I’m typewriters and rotary dial phones and vinyl records and staples-in-the-navels of centerfolds kind of old school. So, I just can’t get into reading scripts as pdfs. Can’t stand it. I loved the fact that they had to pulp some thousand-year-old Sequoia just so I could read your fucking work of genius. Screenwriting is an art. It requires sacrifice. Trees must die! Toner cartridges must get depleted. There might even be papercuts.

I know the industry is trending green these days, but I swear on the life of your vegan girlfriend’s pound-rescued crack puppy that I promise to recycle all the paper you send me. I’ll fold every page of your fucking work of genius into assortments of barnyard origami to leave at crime scenes. I’ll wrap my kid’s peanut-free school-bound sandwiches with your untroubled third act. Hell, I’ll chew on every page of your sparkling dialogue till I can spit out a fine paste that’ll turn your high concept into reprocessed, adult diapers for June Allison.

Just gimme your words on paper. I need to have you in my hands. I gotta feel the true heft of your tome. I wanna get blisters on my fingers from turning the pages so goddamn fast. I want to take you in the can with me cause I just can’t put your magnum opus down. I want to jot down notes you’ll never read in the margins. I want to spill coffee all over your script at the Farmer’s Market and play keep away with it from Andre De Toth, whose depth perception has been kinda off these days. And, of course, for my troubles, I’m gonna steal your 1.5 inch brads when I’m finished, cause I’m not only old school, but I haven’t worked in like fucking forever and I gotta scrimp and scrounge and steal wherest I can.

This is just how it’s supposed to be done. Call me old fashioned, but screenplays are made to be read in one sitting. You wanna know why spec scripts aren’t selling right now? It ain’t the economy, stupid. It’s cause you listened to that liar, Al Gore, and you’re now dutifully sending them all out as pdf files! Producers and executives and movie stars and their assistants already have the attention spans of retarded, sugar-smacked hummingbirds. You think they’re gonna really read anybody’s script on their computers with all them fine distractions already loaded on their desktops like tournament canasta and barely legal porn?

Honestly, how many of you have actually read an entire screenplay on your computer in one sitting? Don’t tell me you didn’t check your facebook 18 times after you opened up the file. How often did you tweet before the second act rolled around? How many hands of solitaire did you play? Bet you already IMDBed the key grip of this flick while you’ve been skimming my opening rant.

Believe me, I’m equally guilty. I haven’t been able to do a single one-shot read through on my laptop of anything since this techno geek takeover. Nope, not once. Not till someone sent me Red.

That’s how engrossing this script was. Even the most ADHD of you fan boys will soar through this without once checking your emails or twiddling out a text. It’s just that absorbing.

Okay, maybe I’m overselling it a wee bit. The thing isn’t a great work of art. But, it is a great work of craft that’s worth studying. So, if you have a hankering to write an action film, you’ll learn a lot about plotting, pacing and narrative drive from reading Red.

Let me impart some wisdom on all you young scribes out there. I’m not advocating you forego the usual study of Chinatown, The Untouchables and the complete works of Joseph Campbell. But, if this script got both Bruce and Morgan so hot and bothered, I’d download it while you still can and scrutinize the shit out of it. Reread the mother till it becomes your mantra. When you get your next draft of “My Catalogue of Cool Shots” into something this tight, I guarantee it will get sold. Yup, even if you sent it off as a fucking pdf file.

So, why am I so impressed by yet another adaptation of yet another graphic novel? Well, for one, the source material is from Warren Ellis, the Godfather of funny paper scribblers. The screenwriting brothers in charge of distilling this comic into cinema are Erich and John Hoeber. They might not have made movie alchemy with their recent “Whiteout”, but the boys definitely spin yarn into gold this time around.

Now, I must warn you. You’ve seen this plot before. You’ve seen it many times before. Nothing new under the sun here – especially if you’ve ever seen a Jason Bourne flick or read any David Baldacci or Lee Child potboilers. Did the Brothers take all the genre conventions and spin them on their heads Electric Boogaloo style? Not exactly, it’sbstill pretty much standard fare. You have the same stock, way-high-up-in-the-Washington-food-chain villains and side switching patriotic uber-thugs revealed at the end. And, the Bruce Willis character is pretty much a Bruce Willis character only a little bit older — and, apparently, gonna actually be played by a little bit older Bruce Willis.

So, Mr. Hype Meister, why should I read this damned thing? For the pace, baby, for the pace. This thing leaps out of the gate and keeps building and escalating with a rare economy of action. Meaning, there are no superfluous scenes or even extraneous lines of dialogue. Every single set up has a payoff!!! They didn’t throw in a car chase barreling through the unfinished Panama Canal during an asteroid storm just for the sake of getting your attention. This is a lean cornbeef sandwich without an inch of fat kind of storytelling. Hell, even the crusts of the rye bread have been trimmed off.

This is one lean, mean fighting machine of a screenplay!

So, what it’s all about? Frank Moses is a retired Black-Ops agent. He hasn’t pulled a Burn Notice and isn’t scrambling to get back in the show by helping a new troubled civilian every episode. Frank basically keeps himself under the radar, adjusting to his AARP status by keeping fit with early morning sit-ups, trying his hand unsuccessfully at gardening and listening to his classic collection of 50s vinyl. His only contact with the outside world is with Sarah, the operator of the government office whose pension checks he accidentally-on-purpose keeps losing to perpetuate their little chats.

Their burgeoning friendship doesn’t seem forced at all. It’s funny, sweet and real. The writers allow us a little downtime to develop this. When we open, Frank just seems like an average Joe struggling with the boredom of retirement. You get the hint that he might be ex-military cause of his regimented morning routines. But, there’s no hint of the two-fisted events to follow. Maybe I was sent a sweet romantic comedy for the Angela Lansbury set.

We don’t know anything about Frank or his mercenary past till page 8 when a crack team of government killers suddenly turn up to his abode to take the old dude out. His ex-spy status has just turned from “Green” to “Red”. “Red” as in when someone uptown wants you seriously dead “Red”. And, we’re kinda amazed to see our rose gardening retiree so effortlessly, single-handedly take out their whole unit. He’s old, but not Bucket List or Bubba Ho-Tep old. Ain’t no Death Panel for our Frank Moses.

See, Frank is like me, old school. He listens to Vinyl, not MP3s. He does sit-ups, not crunches. He slowly courts a woman over the telephone, not going after her all balls-out like some Apatow/Smith scripted lothario. He’s a gentleman. He’s also a former one-gentleman killing machine that some big muckety-muck just stupidly forced back into the game. And, he’ll show the young turks assigned to euthanize him just how it was done back in the good old days.

He doesn’t need any real cool, high tech weaponry from the Cheney Foundation to annihilate you. He’s a Q-less, Luddite who doesn’t know gun fu or parkour, but can still take down the entire CIA with a paper clip, a long expired bottle of High Karate and a little bare-knuckled help from his Cold-War era friends.

But, first, Frank has to rescue the gal whom might be the only leverage his ex-agency has on him. She doesn’t go quietly. It exacts some smooth talking and duct tape on Frank’s part to get her out of harms way. Yes, you’ve seen this before in Three Days Of The Condor, but, didn’t I mention somewhere this was also a comedy? It’s Grumpy Old Men vs the entire Central Intelligence Agency. It’s John McClane action hero Willis morphed with the wisecracking Moonlighting David Addison Willis with some gray haired, Danny Glover Murtough “I’m too old for this kinda shit” thrown in for good measure. And, Casting Directors, the gal, should most definitely be played by a certain repartee-ready Gilmore Girl.

Now Frank is just as in the dark as we are as to why he’s suddenly chased by the best assassins our tax dollars can still buy. The rest of the first act and a good chunk of the second is him reaching out to the few industry contacts he has left – Joe, his 90-year-old-dying-of-liver-cancer mentor; Marvin (Freeman) a completely paranoid ex-compadre: Ivan, a Russian ex-spy denigrated now to desk duty at the Ruskie Embassy and Victoria, a B&B owning femme fatale who has been juggling her retirement with a little wet work here and there for the extra pocket scratch or maybe just for the kicks.

The guy running this raid on Entebbe is Cooper, the agency’s most efficient and loyal killer. Of course, he’d been trained by someone Frank had trained way back when Coop was just a young pup of a pitbull. He’s also quite the devout family man, getting a honey-do list from his wife while he restages his latest hit to look more like a convincing suicide.

So, what ensues is the old guard versus the better-armed, physically fitter, mentally sharper army of new kids.

Unlike the norm for this genre, there aren’t any red herrings, false leads or wrong turns. Remember that I told you this was an exceptionally lean and mean script. The narrative drive goes from Point A to Point Z seamlessly and without any pit stops. Each action beat gets either Frank a new team member, another obstacle placed in the way or a bit more intel on why he’s suddenly a hunted man. And, once he gets the why, our guy quickly goes on the offensive to payback the who.

The writers also chose not to bog us down with the usual detective work seen in most procedurals. Frank doesn’t have to leap through a lot of hoops to find out why he’s on the hit list. He basically has Joe run the thumb print off the thumb he ginzued off of one of his attackers and – BAM — we go from there. This was a wise choice cause it gives us far more time on Frank’s elaborate (and pleasurable) acts of table turning.

The sure to be scene stealing character is Frank’s old buddy, Marvin. He doesn’t just spout paranoid conspiracy theories, he practically foams at the mouth with them. He’s delusional and perhaps dangerous, but a total riot nonetheless. His choice as an asset is what’s so fun about this script. The audience is kept guessing if Marvin’s brain has finally been fried forever, making him a potentially huge liability (He was the agency’s main lab rat in their LSD experiments back in the 70s) or if he’s really still that super perceptive at the spy game.

Marvin gets many magnificent melt-down moments. He is suspicious of everyone and everything and it would be unwise to make any sudden movements or whip out your cellphone in his presence. While our rag tag team tries to quietly cross the Mexican border, he suddenly pulls a gun on a woman tourist, a middle-aged realtor, weaving her into his psychotic pastiche of black helicopters, satellite surveillance and the Patriot Act. I don’t want to spoil the scene, but this script adheres to strict Newtonian laws. To every action there is always an equal and opposite reaction.

All the characters here are blessed with snappy dialogue, intriguing back-stories and sheer likeability. Except for Frank, all of the supporting players sprang solely out of the imaginations of the screenwriters. Ellis’ three-issue miniseries was really just a cocktail napkin of carnage for the Hoebers to build off of.

Now, the sheer likeability factor is what will have the true Ellis disciples shouting “Heresy!” The comic’s consequent bloodbath has pretty much been excised. We may live in the age of Dexter, but the producers wanted to keep this caper strictly PG. And who really wants to see John McClane play a monster? The very thought is just so un-American.

Frank and Ivan share a John le Carré inspired cloak and dagger past. They reminisce about the Golden Age of the Cold War when spies were real spies. When it was considered bad form to even think about touching your target’s family. Cooper, representing the new breed, has the combined ethics of a rattlesnake, a used car salesman, and the entire Bush cabinet (minus Colin Powell of course). He’ll do anything necessary to serve Frank’s head on a platter to his bosses.

Perhaps that’s what stayed with me so long after reading Red. It’s really a throwback to an earlier era/age/style of screenwriting. It has action, but it doesn’t call attention to itself like today’s product. The sequences moves at a nice clip, but it’s totally devoid of any look-at-me-as-I-cleverly-off-someone-with-a-bednob-or-a-broomstick-or-something-else-you’ve-never-seen-before. We’re totally invested in these characters and I found myself getting gleeful as they miraculously pull their mission impossible off.

Red is different because it’s so refreshingly underwritten. You won’t get a jolt or a rush or a headache after putting it down. There’s an old showbiz axiom that admonishes to “Always leave them wanting more.” The Brothers Hoeber have deftly pulled that off. When I closed the file, I was already looking forward to Frank’s next adventure.

Even if I have to read that next adventure as a fucking pdf!

[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] barely kept my interest
[] worth the read
[X ] impressive
[ ] genius

I’m sure the discussions that follow will accuse me of being overly generous, throwing off the Shadow’s strict script grading curve. I think it’s a great script to learn the craft from. The teacher inside me stands firmly by this high mark.

What I learned: Surely you don’t think an old dog like me can pick up any new tricks? Yes, I learned something. And, this is why I’m making Red required reading for all the young scriptors I’m tutoring. Most screenplays remind me of all the damned, superfluous notes Mariah Carrey squeezes into every fucking song she sings. Your scripts don’t need superfluous diva shit. Not every scene has to be an extravagant road trip tangent or an over the top set piece. Stop trying to light a fart or a building or a whole country on fire just to get my attention. You have my attention. So, just tell me a story.

Genre: Drama
Premise: When a dog is the only witness to a woman’s death, her husband tries to teach the dog how to talk so he can find out what happened to her.
About: Mandate Pictures (Juno) optioned Carolyn Parkhurst’s novel. John Crowley (Intermission) will direct. David Heyman of Heyday Films, and Corey May and Dooma Wendschuh of Sekretagent Productions will produce. Nathan Kahane and Tiffany Daniel will executive produce. Overseeing the project for Mandate will be Nicole Brown and Tendo Nagenda. Funny enough, Todd Phillips was once attached to the project. It’s unclear whether he wanted to veer out of comedy or not. I know that turning this into a comedy would pretty much destroy everything that’s great about it. So I’m glad that experiment is over.
Writer: Jamie Linden (We Are Marshall)
Details: 122 pages (Nov. 2006 draft)

I really loved this script. I mean, it’s not perfect. The ending gets a little…abstract. And there’s an odd tonal shift late in the second act. But there’s so much to love here. And the storytelling is top notch. Dogs Of Babel tells the tale of Paul Ransome, a man who comes home to find his wife dead. She apparently fell from the apple tree in the back yard and cracked her neck. All signs point to it being an accident. But Paul’s not so sure. There’s something not quite right about the evidence. What in the world was his wife doing up in the apple tree anyway? And how do you fall and crack your neck from an apple tree? Break your legs maybe. But break your neck?

It so happens that the only witness to this “accident” is Lexy’s dog Lorlelei, a dog, it should be noted, Paul doesn’t care much for. In fact, the dog spent more time getting in the way of their relationship than complementing it. And because Lorlelei pretty much feels the same way about Paul, life after Lexy’s death turns into a tough learning experience for both. Not only are they both extremely depressed, but Lorelei’s desired routine coupled with Paul’s ignorance regarding pet responsibility turns into a clumsy frustrating dance that neither can get quite right.

After awhile, Paul becomes fascinated by Lorelei’s ability to understand simple words like, “stay” and “lay down,” etc. He wonders, “If she can understand these words, why can’t she understand others? And if I can communicate with her, why can’t she communicate with me?” And thus Paul sets out on a journey to do something that makes no logical sense whatsoever: Teach Lorelei how to speak so she can tell him what happened to Lexi that day.

I like premises that border on the absurd because I’m fascinated to see if the writer can actually pull them off. 9 times out of 10, they’re not up to the task. But this is that one time where they get it right. What drives this story and our emotions and our hope is Paul’s devastation over his wife’s death. We want so badly for him to find out what happened to her, that we become just as illogical as he is. We actually believe that if he can just find enough time, if he can just come across the right piece of research, he’ll find a way to do it.

Dogs Of Babel is a script that takes a lot of chances and pulls most of them off. In addition to the main storyline, Linden offers us a glimpse into Paul and Lexy’s life through a series of flashbacks. Now normally I hate flashbacks. But here, they’re presented intermittently and at designated times, therefore making them feel like a natural part of the story instead of an interruption of it. They also acheive a couple of things. They introduce us to Lexy, which allows us to care more for her, ultimately driving up our emotional involvement in Paul’s search for the truth. And it furthers the mystery of her death, as all signs point to them having a perfectly healthy relationship.

The next thing Linden does is highlight a history of canine intelligence through a series of voiceovers dictated by Paul’s research. All of the stories are 100% true. And after each one, we feel a little bit closer to the ultimate goal of getting Lorlelei to communicate. For example, one of the stories involves a woman who decided to teach her dog how to type. She made a specialized keyboard that would release a treat upon tapping of the correct letter. She’d call out a letter, and if the dog got it right, he’d receive a treat. The dog got so good at typing she’d have him type out her Christmas cards every winter (via her transcribing each letter of course). There’s a haunting quality to each story. Because while each one seems to give us hope, there’s a part of it that feels desperate. The stories are magnificent in their own right, but none of them point to that Holy Grail – actually getting a dog to talk to you. Is Paul grasping at straws? Has he gone insane? Is any of this really worth it? The fact that we’re not sure is what compels us to turn the pages.

As I mentioned before, the script isn’t perfect. There’s a particularly strange choice in the second act where Paul visits a man who’s done research into canine communication. But it plays out in a creepy way that feels more like a scene out of a horror film than that of a drama. It was definitely a memorable scene, but I’m not sure it belonged here. As we get to the climax, Linden also makes some odd choices, as real-life is kind of blurred into the subconscious and deluged with flashbacks. It was hard to tell what was going on and I was terrified that the ending would be explained away in a big copout. But thank God it comes together nicely and we get the answers we’re looking for.

Had the ending been a little cleaner, this might’ve shot into my Top 10. As it stands, it still breaks into my Top 25. A great story indeed.

[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] barely kept my interest
[ ] worth the read
[x] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: Flashbacks are more effective if they’re a part of a larger pattern. If they’re simply there to fill in some hole you couldn’t figure out how to integrate into your story, they’ll stick out like a sore thumb. But if there’s a rhythm and consistency to them, they’ll feel like a natural extension of the story.