It’s Tuesday which means it’s time for another horror review. Another horror review that I won’t be giving. But I’ve left you in good hands. Jonny Atlas knows his shit. As he points out in his review, he’s a Rules Nazi, and I’ve been the recipient of some of his analysis before. It’s not pretty. But while he can be harsh, he always has good advice. Here is his review of Parasite.

Genre: Horror
Premise: When the crew of an underwater research station discovers a new parasite that turns its host homicidal they have to defend themselves against the surrounding sea life and their infected crew mates in order to stay alive.
About: This horror script was making the rounds not long ago and got some pretty good heat. Ultimately, it failed to sell. It’s good to read these “almost” sales every once in awhile so you can study what separates a sale from a non-sale. Kristy sold. This did not. Why?
Writer: Ehud Lavski

When Carson asked me to review this script, I asked him what it was about. He responded, “I don’t know but Tarson says it’s good. I think you should read it.” A fine endorsement if ever I’ve heard one. I found the logline on trackingb, and I have to say the premise really intrigued me. It’s a fresh take on the late 80s/early 90s underwater thriller formula.

The script opens on plankton, which get eaten by a striped bass in a fisherman’s trap. Halfway through the first page we meet our antagonistic force: THE PARASITE! Our gluttonous bass chomps down on the parasite and spits it back out. Too bad the parasite has other plans. It uses it’s tentacles to force-feed itself to the bass. We then see the other fish in the trap huddled in the far corner, “crazed with fear”.

I like scripts that open with a bang. This certainly opened with a pop, but I don’t know that I really felt a bang. The sequence was creepy and the parasite was pretty damn cool, but it ends too soon. We don’t get to see what the parasite does, other than force fish to eat it. In my opinion, this is a huge wasted opportunity on Lavski’s part. He says it’s “the parasite”, but I was hoping to see this thing as bad news straight out of the box. I wanted Lavski to give me something I should be afraid of. He let me down.

From there, the script turns to shit for a good 24 pages.

Let me rephrase that. It turns into a shitty horror script for the next 24 pages. The stuff that happens on pages 2 through 25 isn’t drek. In fact, it’s pretty well written. Unfortunately it doesn’t belong in a horror script. Lavski gives us 24 pages of pure character development. I shit you not. There is only one mention of the impending parasite threat on page 6, where a herring beats another fish to death by repeatedly swimming into it. After that, nothing until page 26.

We meet Jane and Doc. Jane’s cramped in a small exploration sub, and Doc is her connection to the underwater station. They do their job, with a chunks of exposition thrown in for good measure. Their first interaction is a great example:

[scrippet]
Doc wears a pair of HEADPHONES. She stares at a beat-up family photo. Doc hugging her husband and kids.

JANE (O.S.)
(Coming from headphones)
Staring at the picture again?

Doc laughs, busted.

INTERCUT JANE/DOC

DOC
How could you tell?

JANE
I can hear you ovulating from down here.

DOC
You holding up OK?

JANE
Ask me when I’m out of the coffin.

DOC
Claustrophobia’s acting up?

JANE
What do you think?

DOC
From one to ten?

JANE
Beansprout.
[/scrippet]
Reading this, I felt like I was getting beat over the head with the information hammer. It’s written with skill (“I can hear you ovulating from down here”), but it is one massive exposition dump. Doc has a family, wants more kids, been away for a long time. Doc and Jane are good friends. Jane has claustrophobia. Bla bla bla.

I’m sure some would argue that it’s a good use of a few lines of dialog and action to dump info on the reader. If it were really that good Lavski could spare us the next two pages. You see, Jane has Doc sing her a lullaby as she collects samples in her tiny sub for two fucking pages.

Is Jane’s proficiency with the mechanical arm on the sub important to the plot? Yes. Do we need two pages to establish it? Fuck no.

Right here, I already had a few huge problems.

Problem 1: Why the fuck would a claustrophobic person (whose claustrophobia is a pretty big plot point) sign up to work in an UNDERWATER RESEARCH FACILITY? More importantly, why the fuck would they agree to get in a miniature submarine with “barely enough space to move”? Sorry, I don’t buy it.

Problem 2: Why have some random “infected” fish attack another random fish on page 6, when you could have the striped bass from page 1 attack the other fish at the bottom of page 1? Seriously, it’s a waste of an opportunity. More importantly, there’s a huge disconnect because we never see random fish #2 get infected. We have to draw the conclusion on our own. Why risk the chance of losing your audience?

Anyway, after the shit with the fish, this guy Curtis persuades Doc to let him talk to Jane “alone”. We get the vibe he and Jane had a thing before he screwed it up somehow. Doc agrees and leaves the room, which leaves psycho-ass Curtis free to try and kill Jane. Why? Because he and Jane were dating until Jane started fucking the Captain.

You read that right. Jane’s best friend on the ship just left the guy Jane fucked over (who is apparently known for having an anger problem) alone in the room with her sub’s remote controls. That’s two problems in one. A) Doc is either a moron (doubtful since she’s a mom and a fucking DOCTOR) or she doesn’t give a shit about her friend, and B) our claustrophobic protagonist is cramped in a tiny sub when the fucking thing has a remote control station! Seriously, what the fuck?

I’m gonna stop harping on details now because if I don’t I’ll be here all fucking night. Seriously, the minor plot holes and glaring errors regarding science and plausibility made me want to bash my head against a wall. Moving on.

So Curtis tries to kill Jane for eleven pages and the mighty Captain Matt comes to the rescue. Once again, it was well written. There was definitely some suspense here. Really though, eleven pages? So not necessary. Then there’s six pages of aftermath from the attempted murder, which puts the sequence at seventeen pages.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all about deep characters. However, it is the job of the screenwriter to weave character development into the unraveling of your premise’s plot. Throughout this script (and especially in the first act), Lavski does one or the other. Consequently, the real story doesn’t start until page 26.

On page 26, Doc pulls in the fisherman’s trap from page 1 (like the audience is going to remember that shit after 25 pages of character drama), bringing the parasite onto the ship.
Yeah. The inciting incident doesn’t happen until page 26. But hey, that means we’re gonna get to the good stuff now, right?

Wrong.

More character drama. In fact, there’s eight more pages of characters blabbering until Curtis eats the parasite on page 34. Then they talk for another five pages before more shit starts to happen. I wouldn’t mind the five pages if I hadn’t already read a whopping thirty-two pages of plotless character exposition.

On page 40, crazy shit starts happening. On page 41 we finally make it to the second act when the crew discovers the parasite in a fish. Mind you, it’s in a fish. Curtis is still MIA.
On page 50, they realize Doc has a parasite in her brain. Page 53, someone has their first run-in with parasite-controlled Curtis. It’s not until this point that there’s any palpable suspense from the antagonistic force (the parasite).

You’re probably wondering why I’m harping on page count so much. It’s not because I’m a rule nazi, I promise. Take a look at the script’s logline: “When the crew of an underwater research station discovers a new parasite that turns its host homicidal they have to defend themselves against the surrounding sea life and their infected crew mates in order to stay alive.”

None of that shit starts to happen until page 41. Hell, they don’t even face an infected crewmember until page 53! That’s practically the fucking midpoint.

Basically, you wind up with a script that promises to be like DeepStar Six but starts out like The Abyss (don’t get me wrong – The Abyss is by far a superior film; DeepStar Six is just a more action-packed horror flick). Actually, This script starts out like a tortoise in a marathon. Too bad slow and steady doesn’t win the fucking race. It just puts me to sleep.

Speaking of DeepStar Six, Parasite’s story actually follows its formula pretty fucking rigidly. All the beats are there, down to the slightly crazy crewmember whose personal beef with crewmember X motivates him to kill, which leads to a fistfight between him and crewmember Y. If only this script followed DS6’s lead and put the characters in danger at the beginning of the script instead of the middle…

For the rest of the script, it’s pretty nonstop. There’s a lot of crazy shit – giant crabs, parasite-controlled sharks, kamikaze dolphins… some really cool (and sometimes silly) stuff. There are still a ton of errors in the story (as mentioned earlier), but the second half of the script is a fun ride nonetheless. I really wish the whole script was like the last 61 pages. Unfortunately, that’s not the case.

[ ] trash
[x] barely kept my interest
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: As important as character development is in a script, you must integrate it with your plot. Otherwise you wind up with a schism between character and plot that no amount of flowery prose can mend. Find creative ways to reveal your characters through the action of your forward-moving storyline. If you don’t, your story will get lost in the incessant blabbering of your characters and your first act will be over forty pages.

I also found Parasite to be further evidence that writing eloquently and knowing how to tell a great story do not always come pre-packaged together. If you don’t have both abilities naturally, it takes time and effort to develop the skills necessary to execute a great script. Don’t shortchange yourself by hoping the good will outweigh the bad.

If you want to read more from Jonny, check out his blog here: Jonny Atlas Writes

A final word here. Jonny brings up a great point in his “What I learned” section. Character development is extremely important to your script. But you have to do it on the move. You have to hide it inside actions and sneak it into dialogue. You can’t set apart large chunks of your screenplay just to develop characters or you’re going to put the reader to sleep. Keep the story moving. I saw that this was 114 pages. Most horror scripts are closer to 100 pages because the writer knows they gotta keep the story moving. It sounds like that could’ve helped here.

Genre: Legal/Action/Drama
Premise: (revealed in the review)
About: Original draft written by hotshot Kurt Wimmer. Current draft written by screenwriting God Frank Darabont. This project made headlines late last year when Darabont dropped out of directing duties. I’d tell you who replaced him and who’s starring in it, but I don’t want to taint your reading experience with big Hollywood faces. If you just have to know, go to IMDB. But I’d recommend jumping in the pool naked.
Writer: Frank Darabont

It’s about time. It’s about fucking time. I’ve been yearning for a script I could wholeheartedly endorse for weeks now. Sure I’ve given a few “impressive” reviews along the way but nothing where I could stand up and demand my readers sit down…and then read! In comes the late 2008 headline grabbing Law-Abiding Citizen. One hell of a script.

Now I’m going to give you some advice. As is the case with most scripts I enjoy, I knew nothing about this one going in. And the twists and turns are so fun that I’m going to advise you do the same. Go down, grab it, read it. Come back and read the review.

Clyde, a loving husband, comes home one day to find both his wife and 10 year old daughter murdered. Nick, the District Attorney assigned to the case, learns that while two men were at the scene, it’s unclear which one did the murdering. So when one of the men agrees to testify against the other, sending one murderer to jail and another to freedom, Nick essentially makes a deal with the devil. Clyde, the poor husband and father, begs Nick to take the case to trial and get both men indicted. But Nick doesn’t want to go through the trouble. A deal is so much easier. Here is Nick and his team discussing why it would be a bad idea (in a nice little example of invisible exposition to boot):

[scrippet]
Nick glances back at Sarah.

NICK
What do you think?

REYNOLDS
What are you asking her for? She’s just an intern.

SARAH
(deer in the headlights)
I am just an intern.

NICK
You were top of your class at Yale, don’t give me that shit.

CANTRELL
Young lady. Someday you might have our jobs. You know the issues of the case before the court. Speak.

SARAH
Okay. Um. You can take both men to trial, spend a year and millions of taxpayer dollars, and probably lose. Or you can cut a deal and at least put one of the men who did the crime on death row. It’s a no-brainer. You make the deal.
[/scrippet]
And therein lies the issue of Law-Abiding Citizen. The justice system is just that: a system. And any system can be manipulated as long as someone has enough money, information, or power. The problem is, the system just screwed over the wrong man. As Clyde watches one of the men who killed his family shake Nick’s hand and thank him for the “deal” that set him free, there’s a moment where Nick catches Clyde staring at him. It’s a chilling moment. And it’s a look that tells us…this isn’t over.

Cut to 10 years later where we’re about to witness the first killer’s execution via lethal injection. Now since this is Darabont, you know this isn’t going to be your average execution (anybody see Green Mile?). But nothing can prepare you for the horrid gruesome way in which the murderer is killed. When the chemicals are injected, we can see immediately that something is wrong. His body starts smoking. He screams in pain. His skin turns black. His veins burst. The chemicals in his body are so toxic, men can’t even go in the room without being poisoned.

Meanwhile, the second murderer, the free one, only wishes he could’ve died that easily. In a great scene with an unexpected twist, he’s kidnapped and hauled back to an abaondoned barn. There Clyde, using as many drugs as possible to keep him alive, proceeds to tear apart his body piece by piece. The man is awake during the whole process, forced to watch as he’s chopped to pieces.

So does Clyde try and hide the death? No. He actually videotapes it and sends a DVD of the killing directly to Nick’s house.

In one of Citizen’s many great scenes, Nick brings Clyde in for an interrogation. The awesome thing about the scene is that Nick knows Clyde is guilty. Clyde knows he’s guilty. And Clyde knows that Nick knows he’s guilty. So this should be a pretty straight-forward conversation, right?

[scrippet]
Nick and Dunnigan prepare to go in. Dunnigan takes off his gun and holster, lays them on a table, as Garza activates the VIDEO. Cantrell finds a chair by feel, sits down, as – Nick and Dunnigan enter. Dunnigan melts into a corner to observe as Nick sits across the table from Clyde.

CLYDE
Counselor.

NICK
Mr. Clyde.

CLYDE
Why so formal? We go way back. Call me Benson. Or Ben.

Nick sits across the table from Clyde, settles in.

NICK
Well. I’m here. So?

CLYDE
So. Maybe you can explain what this is all about.

Nick almost laughs — not what he expected to hear.

NICK
I think that’s obvious.

Clyde spreads his hands questioningly — not really.

DUNNIGAN
You murdered two people. Rupert Ames and Clarence Darby.

CLYDE
(shifts his gaze)
Detective…?

DUNNIGAN
Dunnigan.

CLYDE
Dunnigan. I thought I’d made it clear I would only speak to the gentleman across the table from me. Dunnigan glowers at him, looks to Nick.

NICK
You murdered two people. Rupert Ames and Clarence Darby.

CLYDE
Darby? I knew about Ames, of course. I’ve been following the news about his horribly botched execution. But Darby too? Quite a coincidence.

DUNNIGAN
Cut the shit. We know you did it. Save everybody a lot of time and trouble and just confess.

CLYDE
Are you going to continue to insist on being part of this conversation?

DUNNIGAN
Yes.

CLYDE
(beat, gives in)
Fine. Far be it from me to be rude.

NICK
Clarence Darby was found on your property. Old abandoned shed?

CLYDE
I didn’t know I had one. It’s 150 acres, uncultivated. The other day I found a creek I never knew I had. Hunters trespass all the time. You going to try to pin the dead deer on me too?

-Observation Area-

SARAH
I don’t believe this guy.

CANTRELL
That man is frosty.

– Inner Room –

CLYDE
It occurs to me that an even moderately clever person could try to frame me for the murder simply by killing him on my property. One of Darby’s drug rivals? That’s an unsavory world.
(off Nick’s stare)
A jury would have to weigh that possibility. What else you got?

NICK
(temper flaring)
How about video of you dismembering Darby while he was still alive?

CLYDE
That’s odd. See, if I were to do such a thing, I’d probably wear something so I couldn’t be identified. Some kind of mask maybe. But you say it’s actually me on the video? Did the camera capture my good side?

Nick snaps, lunges across the table, grabs Clyde.

NICK
You sick fuck, you sent it to my house! My daughter saw that video! It fucking traumatized her! She couldn’t stop sobbing!

Dunnigan moves in fast, trying to pull Nick off (but failing)-

DUNNIGAN
Whoa-whoa, Nick, ease off!

CLYDE
No trouble here, Detective, we’re fine. Thank you, though.

Dunnigan backs off. Clyde turns back to Nick, who’s still got him in his grasp, their faces close.

CLYDE
Your daughter is, what, ten now? That’s a wonderful age. My daughter was always so busy at that age, so interested, so into everything. Jumping around. I called her “Bean,” she jumped around so much.

Nick is easing off by inches, subtly and ineffably weirded out, unable to break Clyde’s gaze.

Softly-

CLYDE
I am sorry, Nick, that your daughter experienced that. You’re right. That video should not have arrived that way. The person who sent it should have thought twice.

Dunnigan moves in again, gently but firmly pulls Nick away.

DUNNIGAN
Okay, enough.

CLYDE
Unless there’s hard evidence tying me to these crimes — forensic or otherwise — why am I here? Why are we having this conversation?

NICK
We know you did it.

CLYDE
It’s not about what you know. It’s about what you can prove in court.
(off Nick’s look)
Your words. Like when you called it a justice *system*. You know the thing about a system, Nick? Any system can be played.

NICK
You think you can play us? You gonna take me on?

CLYDE
Clarence Darby did. And I’m much smarter than he was. Or you.

Nick advances, furious, held back by Dunnigan:

NICK
I’m gonna bury you, fucker!

CLYDE
(lunges to his feet)
That’s it, that’s what I want! That fire in the belly! That’s what I wanted ten years ago! Do it, Nick! Bury me!

DUNNIGAN
(shouting at Clyde)
Sit down! Sit the fuck down!

Clyde does, settles in, speaking calmly –

CLYDE
Or. Set me free.

NICK
What?

CLYDE
Did I stutter? Make your case. Or. Shake my hand on the courthouse steps and send me on my way.
(off Nick’s look)
I’ll even make it easy on you. I will confess, how’s that?

NICK
You’re gonna confess.

CLYDE
Let’s start tomorrow after a good night’s sleep. We’ll all be fresh and rested.
[/scrippet]
And this is where the story of Law-Abiding Citizen finally takes shape. Clyde is determined to make the system work for him, just like it worked for the men who killed his family.

It’s a great premise because we’ve all thought it before. Our justice system is a joke. An officer can forget to read someone his Miranda Rights and a murderer is back on the streets within days. What if someone angry enough, someone with the capability and know-how, someone with the resources, decided to exploit this joke of a system for what it was? And what if he was willing to go to any lengths to do it? That is the premise of Law-Abiding Citizen.

I have a feeling this description is going to come back to bite me but I see this as sort of a hyper modern-day version of Silence Of The Lambs. The similarities are limited in most respects, but the memorable bad guy pulling the strings and manipulating the system really brought me back to that initial feeling of watching Silence Of The Lambs.

The only reason this doesn’t get genius status and a higher place on my Top 25 is because of the ending. And it’s not that I didn’t like the ending. I did. But the last 15 pages were the only time in the script – regardless of how absurd it got- where I was actively wondering if what was happening was possible. When we find out Clyde is sneaking out of the jail to perform some of these murders…………eh, I don’t know. This is a man who’s killed dozens of people. Wouldn’t you have a couple of guards down by his cell watching him at all times? Or at the very least a camera? Incidentally, you only end up noticing this because the rest of the script is so damn good.

If done right, this has the potential for greatness.

[ ] trash
[ ] barely kept my interest
[ ] worth the read
[x] impressive (near genius)
[ ] genius

What I learned: There’s no real traditional Act 1 turn in Law-Abiding Citizen. A series of really interesting twists and turns keep happening, but the true nature of the plot doesn’t reveal itself until around page 45. This is just a reminder that the 30 page point is a rough placemarker for when the plot is supposed to kick in. But if you can keep a series of mysteries going, the readers will be more forgiving and allow you to take more time to begin your story.

postscript: So, if you went to IMDB you saw that the movie is now being directed by F. Gary Gray, and stars Gerard Butler and Jaime Foxx. I’m not sure I like the casting here. I would’ve rather seen someone like Patrick Wilson in the Nick roll and a young John Malkovich type in the roll of Clyde. But hopefully these guys pull it off. I know I’m rooting for them.

Genre: Drama
Premise: A civilian who wins the chance to join a NASA shuttle flight finds himself adrift in space when the rest of the crew dies.
About: Orbit is being produced by Fox 2000 with Thomas Bezucha (The Family Stone) to direct. It is adapted from the John Nance novel of the same name and is slated for a 2011 release. The writer, Sheldon Turner, has a ton of projects he’s working on, including Up In The Air (with DiCaprio attached), Law-Abiding Citizen, and X-Men Origins: Magneto.
Writer: Sheldon Turner

I love scripts with interesting concepts. But you know what I love even more? Seeing what the writers do with those concepts. A concept is easy. It can come to you in a flash. You write it down a minute later and there you have it: your concept. But to turn that into a 120 minute piece of living breathing cinema?…now that’s difficult. So whenever I grab one of these “great concept” scripts, I eagerly anticipate getting to the “hook”, because from that point forward, you can no longer depend on your “neat idea”. You must craft an emotionally engaging story. It is in this vast horizon where screenplays live or die.

Orbit has an intriguing concept. A civilian wins a contest to go up into space, but once he gets there, he finds that his entire crew is dead. What do you do when you’re up in a space shuttle all by yourself? You can’t pilot it back to earth. That’s absurd. Nobody can save you. There’s no way they could mount a rescue mission in time. To be honest, I didn’t think it was possible to take this story in an interesting and plausible direction. Which is exactly why I wanted to read it. I wanted to be proven wrong.

Matthew and Cindy are going through difficult times. Their 13 year old son died two years ago and their current son would rather be at boarding school than stuck with them. The way Matthew deals with his son’s death is to pretend that it never happened. The way Cindy deals with the death is to think of nothing else but it. Because of this, the two have grown apart, and their marriage is hurtling towards the point of no return.

So when NASA, looking for a little publicity, chooses Matthew as the winner of a contest that sends a civilian into space, Cindy isn’t exactly thrilled. It’s one thing to head up to the summer home for some space. It’s quite another to actually *go* into space for some space. But Matthew insists he must do this. She relents. He goes through the training. And then…well, and then he goes into space. Unfortunately, once he gets there, he realizes that all five of his crew are dead. Matthew is all alone. On the space shuttle.

So the hook’s been cast (fishing phrase?). We’ve reached the premise point. That vast horizon of possibility is sprawled out before us. So what does our main character do?

Are you ready for this?

Are you sure you’re ready for this?

He starts blogging.

No, I kid you not. He pops out his laptop and starts blogging. Sure the radio is down so he can’t communicate with Houston. But, um…blogging? Seriously? How bout e-mail? An instant message. Maybe even a twitter: “Up here on the shuttle. Help.” But blogging??

/sigh

I’m sorry but at that moment, Orbit lost all credibility. And I was only on page 37.

Things go from bad to worse when Matthew learns that the oxygen tanks are busted and he has 24 hours to live. Eventually someone in Australia finds his blog, word spreads, and soon the whole world is riveted by Matthew’s predicament. So what do they do to help Matthew?

Uhh…

Are you ready for this?

Are you sure you’re ready for this?

They prep a new experimental shuttle to go up and save him.

/sigh

You heard that right. They prepare an experimental new shuttle in less than 3 hours to save him! I……….I can’t even begin to explain how logistically impossible this is. It takes these guys months of preparation to send a shuttle into space. Now they’re going to round up a new group of astronauts, pop out the new billion dollar experimental aircraft, throw it up on the launchpad, and launch it, all within 3 hours????? I mean come on. That’s not even within the realm of possibility.

Up on the busted shuttle, Matthew gets a lot of time alone to think about all the mistakes he’s made in life and to finally come to terms with his son’s death. It all plays out in an extremely melodramatic, cheesy, saccharine tone that tries desperately to tug at your heartstrings (but ends up tugging more at your stomach-strings). In the end, none of it works.

I hate to say that because I loved this idea. I really did. This was a disappointment.

No link.

[ ] trash
[x] barely kept my interest
[ ] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: If there’s one thing Orbit gets right, it’s the application of the “ticking time bomb” device. True, it’s pretty basic stuff: Matthew has 24 hours to live before his oxygen runs out, but it’s effective because the stakes are high. Unless he does something within those 24 hours, he dies. Not every story needs a ticking time bomb, but they help. In a smaller independent film, it might be that if the protagonist doesn’t find enough money to pay his mortgage in time, he’ll lose his house. In a romantic comedy it might be that the girl is moving to France in 3 days, which gives our protagonist 72 hours to make her fall in love with him. Anything that forces things to happen *NOW* creates an urgency that pulls the audience in. Most of your favorite movies use this device. Don’t believe me? Go back and read them. :)

Welcome to the first ever Scriptshadow Interview. I want to apologize in advance for how lame my questions are. See, I only asked Geoff things that I wanted to know. So you may or may not get anything out of this. But the good news is, there’s a link to a more helpful interview at the end of the post. Just remember, this is my first time. So be gentle.

Geoff LaTulippe is currently one of the hottest writers in Hollywood. His script “Going The Distance” sold to New Line late last year and was recently greenlit with Drew Barrymoore and Justin Long in the lead roles. Standing strong at number 9 on my Top 25 list, the script is a hilarious account of two people in a long distance relationship. Since the sale of Going The Distance, Geoff signed with Sarah Self at Gersh, has sold a couple of pitches, and is currently adapting a book for Diablo Cody titled, “Breathers: A Zombie’s Lament.” One of the reasons I asked Geoff for this interview is that he used to be a reader himself. This allows him to have a unique perspective on how a script gets sold. As much as that would be a good starting point, I wanted to begin this interview with a very relevant and topical question that I think gets to the heart of what screenwriting is all about.

SS: What was it like when you found out you were in Scriptshadow’s Top 10? How does that affect your day-to-day life?

GL: My first thought was, “Who is this Scriptshadow motherfucker and why is he illegally trading a script that is the copyrighted property of New Line/Warner Bros.?” And I meant to get really worked up about it, but then I just went off and did…anything else, really.

No, in all honesty…it’s flattering whenever you make a Best Of list, especially one that comes from someone who reads so many scripts and doesn’t seem to enjoy any of them. I’m glad that for a lot of people the script connected and it made them laugh. When you’re writing comedy, those are really the only two things you want to accomplish. The fact that you have it ranked ahead of 500 DAYS OF SUMMER is lunacy, though. There’s a simple, brilliant scene in that movie that I’m SO fucking jealous that I didn’t write that I can’t even explain it to you.

SS: You’ve read a million scripts, half as many as me. What’s the most common mistake you see writers make?

GL: There’s a macro answer and a micro answer to this one, and we’ve all made (and continue to make) both, even the best guys.

On a macro level, too many writers lack originality. They either parrot ideas that have been done a million times and fail to inject anything new or fresh into it, or they take a concept that could work and just write it in the most boring way possible. Most writers simply lack that innate element that gives them the ability to stand out, to be different, to (ugh) “have a voice”, and that’s why there are so few great scripts written.

On a micro level, the mistake I see the most is…well, kind of the same answer. It’s a little to easy to say “most writers are boring”, but that’s what it comes down to. Most scripts just aren’t interesting. They don’t engage. Of the scripts that are decent but lacking something here or there, I think a lot of writers don’t understand how to take strong first act and thereby project a solid second and third act. How many scripts have you read that you were digging up to page 30 or 40…and then it just fell apart? Some of that is not understanding how to develop character, some of it is not understanding how to keep upping the “tension” (in quotations because that can encompass a lot of things), and some of it that writers put all their good ideas into the beginning of the script and then have nothing left over.

I don’t think there’s a great generic answer here. I think, obviously, the macro is much easier to identify than the micro as the micro is more script-specific.

SS: Of all those scripts, can you give us a handful that you loved that never got made? And can you complement that with an e-mail to me with those scripts attached?

GL: I will send you NOTHING! All the PDFs I had went the way of the Dodo with an old hard drive that crashed on me, so I no longer have a stable of scripts to dump on you guys. Which is a shame. But you seem to do a pretty good job of finding all the stuff you need on your own, Dr. Networking McScripty, so quit panhandling.

I’ve mentioned this in a couple of different places, but my favorite script ever is called FOOLS RUSH IN (used to be UNTITLED BILL CARTER PROJECT). I think it’s beyond Oscar-caliber if they can ever put it together, which will be hard considering you have to recreate war-torn Sarajevo. Another script I loved is called PAPER WINGS. It’s a story about a rodeo cowboy and a country singer who fall in love. First of all, if you can engage me in a romantic drama, kudos to you. But if you can engage me in a romantic drama with a Country-Western theme, you are a goddamned magician. I would sell my mother’s dead ovaries for that kind of ability.

I love comedies about summer camp, so I’m always rooting for those to get made (if they’re good). One of the first scripts I recommended was called THE PNEMONIST, which was about a guy who, literally, couldn’t forget anything he’d ever seen. That was pretty sick, especially in the way the writer executed it. And just the other day on DD (Done Deal Message Board) I was talking about two scripts I really loved: one was REAPER by Gary Whitta (of BOOK OF ELI fame) and another was a vampire western (a genre that DESPERATELY needs to happen now) called BLOOD AND SILVER. Oh, also, there’s a script floating around out there called NINTENDO CHRISTMAS that doesn’t have the best execution ever, but it’s basically A CHRISTMAS STORY set in the 80s, and Nintendo is the Red Ryder Carbine-Action 200-Shot Range Model Air Rifle. And then that one reminded me of maybe the funniest script I’ve ever read called SANTA CLAUS IS COMING TO GET ME. I can’t imagine it ever getting made. Picture an R-rated comedy in which Santa is a total bastard who steals the wife of every male generation in an American family that he put a curse on…and then one man in that family has had enough, and he teams up with a gun-toting, bomb-wielding Easter Bunny to hunt Santa down. I swear to God this script exists, and if you can find it, it will blow your mind.

SS: Who do you think is better at reading? Me or you?

GL: Just at the act of reading? Probably me. But reading scripts? Me. Although, I will give you this: you’re only slightly worse at BLOGGING about reading scripts than me, and that’s because I don’t blog about scripts I’ve read. So you’ve got that going for you.

SS: Going the Distance is a town favorite. It got 14 votes on the Black List. But occasionally someone will come up to me and say, “Carson, what’s up with that Going The Distance script?” Of course I punch them in the face. But it is a type of humor that doesn’t appeal to everyone. How do you deal with criticism of your material?

GL: That’s a nice thing to say. Here’s the deal: comedy is, by gigantic leaps and bounds, the most subjective of all film genres. If you want to be a comedy writer and you don’t have an almost preternatural understanding that you’re never going to please everyone, you’re swimming without floaties. My writing is, always has been, and hopefully will always continue to be polarizing; I write bluntly, I tend to prefer mean humor, and I’m not afraid to push the bounds of taste. To me, there is little difference between, “Wow, that was great,” and “Jesus Christ on the cross, I fucking hated that!” Both of those are inspired reactions. On the contrary, the worst thing you can hear is, “I just didn’t get it,” or, “Eh, I didn’t really care about it either way.” That’s a lack of connection and, generally, that’s your fault as a writer.

I’ve had the good fortune that a vast majority of the people whom I’ve interacted with have really liked GOING THE DISTANCE. And I’ve talked to plenty who didn’t; these people don’t bother me at all. Negative reactions to popular material come from two sources: people who genuinely disliked it (probably about 75% of the group) and people who are just contrarians/followers/speaking out of turn (the other 25%). It’s ALWAYS important to listen to negative criticism because you get a chance to understand what about your writing didn’t work…and a lot of times the people who loved what you wrote won’t bother to tell you that stuff. All the same, if someone isn’t into your shit…what can you do? Be glad they gave you a shot and hope they dig the next thing you put out there. That’s it.

SS: You currently share representation with and are writing a script for Diablo Cody. Has she let you touch her Oscar? What’s it like working with her (if the answer is boring, please embellish)?

Unfortunately, my interactions with Diablo have been limited to a pair of story meetings. I didn’t get within ten miles of her Oscar, but I can say that we spent about 45 minutes discussing the intricacies and general genius of ROCK OF LOVE BUS. Incidentally, Bret Michaels went to my high school. And I didn’t even need to embellish that. So suck it.

SS: What’s the biggest thing you’ve learned about the industry since you sold Going The Distance?

GL: This will be my lamest answer of the interview (a tough competition, no doubt), but I couldn’t even pick what might be the biggest thing, and it wouldn’t even matter because I still have way too much to learn. I will tell you my FAVORITE thing that I learned: when I started taking general meetings with studios and production companies, I called my manager and asked what was accepted attire for such. He laughed at me and said, “No no no…you’re the TALENT! You wear whatever you want!”

He may or may not have been slightly joking or mostly joking, but I took that and ran with it. I have worn flip-flops and shorts to like every meeting since. It’s fucking great. I look at my poor bastard button-down shirts in my closet and just think about how bored they are. A couple of months ago I was in a meeting and John Cusack came in. He, too, was wearing just like a t-shirt and jeans, and I felt awesome, like, “Yeah, you CAN wear whatever you want.” And then I thought for a second and realized, “Geoffrey, you’re an asshole. That’s John Cusack. You’re still you.” It was one of my few “I’m Keith Hernandez” moments and hopefully one of the last.

SS: The closest I’ve gotten to a green light is driving to my local grocery store, and even then it’s almost always red. Most people have no idea how difficult it is to not only get your screenplay sold, but to then get it into production. It really is a one-in-a-million shot. Knowing that, how did you react when you got a green light for Going the Distance?

GL: You know, we had actually thought for a couple of months that we had a good shot to get a greenlight. The studio’s been really behind it since day one, talent responded surprisingly well, and the guys at WB had it on their radar. That said…when it actually happens…it’s awesome. I don’t know how else to describe it. I was SO fucking hungover the morning I got the call, but as soon as I heard the words I felt like a trillion dollars. I jumped up, took my dog to the park for an hour, and the smile hasn’t left my face since.

And I’ll say this and say it in all honesty: though I did write a script that a lot of people responded to, I never expected it to even sell, much less get a greenlight in nine months. The confluence of events that has to happen to get to a point that even APPROACHES the greenlight stage is daunting beyond belief. It takes a lot of people doing their jobs really well and a tremendous amount of luck. In reality, I’m easily one of the most fortunate people to ever walk the face of the earth.

SS: Why do you think your script sold?

GL: I think there were pretty much two factors, one of my perception and one of others. From the people I’ve met with, they all claim my “voice”. It’s a term I hate in general because I think it’s overused in the industry, but I get it. I don’t get that MY voice is special, though, because it’s always been mine. It doesn’t seem alien to me. I’m just consistently glad that people find me funny in any capacity. It also amazes me when people say that the script has “heart”, which I’m happy to say I get a lot, because that was one of the major things I was sure I hadn’t nailed when I wrote it.

For me…I think the script sold because of the universality of the concept. We were really, really lucky (again, I’m telling you, that’s not just lip service) that no one else had really broached the idea of the long distance relationship. We were doubly lucky because just a couple weeks after I sold the script I found out the two showrunners for THE OFFICE were planning on writing one of their own, and I’m sure that would have put mine to shame.

But it’s one of those things like KNOCKED UP – how many people do you know that have had a surprise baby? But how many films have approached that concept from such an observational angle? I think when people read the script it was one of those times when they thought, “I can’t BELIEVE there hasn’t been a movie made about this yet!” Everyone’s been in a relationship, and everyone’s been in or known someone in an LDR. It’s a profound yet shared experience (in that if you haven’t been in one, you’ve heard the stories of someone who has, so you feel like you know), so everyone can get into it.

SS: I saw in a recent Facebook update that you had to kill a 4 inch cockroach in your bathroom. Don’t you have enough money to pay for an exterminator now? And how do you plan to spend all this new money anyway?

GL: I am not in a place, psychologically, where I can yet talk about my run-in with the cockroach. Suffice to say that it was huge, it hissed at me, I spent thirty-five minutes running around my apartment like a crazy lady before I had the nerve to kill it with an aforementioned flip-flop, and I had to use the neighbor’s bathroom the whole next day because I literally didn’t have the nerve to go back into mine. I’ll thank you to never speak of this again.

I’m a big fan of spending money on experiences rather than things, though I have a compulsion with Blu-Ray and I did buy a ridiculous plasma. But mostly I paid off college, made some donations and use the surplus for various things. Dave (Neustadter, who developed GOING THE DISTANCE with me and who bought the script at New Line) and I hired a cover band to play a Christmas party for our friends. I bought ten tickets to the Rose Bowl and cried with friends and fellow PSU fans as we watched our mighty Nittany Lions get the shit kicked out of them. I’ve been to Vegas twice. And then I’m saving a massive chunk of it just in case that luck we talked about runs out.

SS: Once you sold Going The Distance, you did “the rounds” in Hollywood. I understand you sold a pitch or two. What’s the key going into those things? Cause if you’re smart, you can parlay one script sale into several.

GL: Unfortunately I can’t say too much about the pitches I sold, but one was a pre-existing story idea that I had with an exec at a studio. The other was just an idea that I mentioned in a couple of rooms and wasn’t even a quarter of a pitch. It was just another one of those universal themes that I wanted to tackle that I can’t believe hasn’t been done right yet. Another exec took a liking to that one and it sold.

Seriously – I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing. I just know it’s working right now and I just want to keep it working. Someone tell me how to keep it working. I don’t want it to stop working.

Help.

SS: So all these big doors opened when you sold the script. Once your script got greenlit, did a whole new set of even bigger doors open? How does that work?

GL: I honestly don’t know. It happened so recently that there hasn’t really been any fallout yet. What do I want to happen? I want Emmanuelle Chriqui to hear the news and fall in love with me. What will probably happen? People will keep asking, “How long have you been growing your beard?”

SS: Can you tell us what you’re working on now? In the future?

GL: Just the projects I mentioned above, which are keeping me more than busy enough right now. In the future I have a couple more ideas in the hopper. I’ve got a concept I’m really excited about that’s pretty much the polar opposite of the observational comedies I’ve been writing, so it’ll be fun to see the new and absurd ways in which I can fuck that up. There are also a couple of remakes I’d really like to look at – but not of stuff that already has a rabid, loyal fanbase.

SS: I hear in certain circles that you dated Script Girl. Are these rumors true? Can you get that bitch to mention Scriptshadow in her next video?

GL: Sweet Christmas, I wish that was really a rumor. Can we start that rumor here? I would love for that to happen. Is that really a rumor? Fuck, that would be awesome. Did she say that? What did she say? Can you find out if she was being serious? Ask her if she likes me. Find out! I like her, but don’t tell her I like her. OK, I’m gonna have a juicebox and ride my bike to the arcade.

SS: And that’s it! I can’t believe Geoff took all that time out of his busy schedule to throw me a bone. Thank you Geoff! Hopefully we can do it again sometime. For those who want more Geoff, he gives another great interview over at Done Deal where he answers more questions pertaining to breaking in and stuff. So if you want to read it, here’s the link.

Genre: Action
Premise: The Dirty Dozen in medieval times.
About: This sold to New Regency for 800k against 1.6m in March of this year. McG is attached as director.
Writers: Mike Finch and Alex Litvak

edit: I just wanted to APOLOGIZE to Scott and you guys. This is what happens when you read a script at 4 in the morning, try to cobble a review together, paste in someone else’s analysis, do your first “scheduled” blog post (as I would be asleep when I was supposed to post it). The formatting of Scott’s review was not his fault, it was mine. Anyway, it’s now been fixed. Sorry!

Welcome to the very first Scriptshadow Challenge. Scott Myers (from Go Into The Story) and I will each conduct a monthly analysis on a recently sold spec script and let you participate in the discussion. We gave you the script “Medieval” last Friday. You damn well better have read it. Now all you have to do is read our reviews and give us your thoughts in the comments section.

So I’m going to let you guys in on a secret but you can’t tell anyone. I…..I might’ve lied a little. Well, not “lied” lied. But a tiny minuscule white lie. I actually tried to read Medieval when it was sold. Yes. Yes. If you’ve been following the blog, you may have picked up that I do this a lot. I start reading a script and if it’s just dreadful, I can’t continue. I hurl it to the floor, scream obscenities at it, curse it for disrespecting my time, pray that the next script will be better, and move on. Which is why I am writing this review at 4:30 IN THE MORNING! Because I couldn’t bring myself to read it again. It was like that paper in that obscure history course you took in college that you just couldn’t bring yourself to write. That’s how I felt about going back to Medieval times and reading Medieval. But here I am. The city’s asleep and I have a deadline. Damn you Scott Myers. Damn you for forcing a deadline on me!

Sigh…

Okay, let’s try this again. The *idea* for Medieval is actually pretty cool. A monk, a knight, a samurai, a zulu, an Arab, a gypsy and a viking are all in a jail cell a la The Usual Suspects. But, like, you know, 500 years earlier. They’re bitching and moaning about how they got here and how they’re all going to be hanged tomorrow and whatever can they do to save themselves?

As if on cue they are visited by the “lawyer” (the writers aren’t keen on names if you haven’t noticed). Although this lawyer is sleazy, it turns out he’s even sleazier than your average sleazy lawyer. If the 7 of them can infiltrate the King’s castle and steal the crown, he says, he will let them all go free. Unbeknownest to the group, the food he’s given them is poisoned and the only one who has the antidote is him! If they don’t get the crown within 24 hours, they’re all dead. Did I say he was sleazy or did I say he was sleazy?

So they go on this Medieval Mission Impossible to steal the King’s crown, performing numerous badass slow-motion ass-kickings while evading Indiana Jones-like traps. But when they get to the throne room, there is a man in the process of assassinating the King. No! They’ve been set up! This man is supposed to kill the king while all of them take the rap!

This forces our group of seven to go on the run and escape the wrath of whoever’s plan this is – which looks to be the King’s extremely jealous twin brother (who missed out on Kingage by 40 seconds), Richard.

And there’s your movie.

Now here’s the thing with Medieval. The script is not all that bad but it’s not all that good either. It never takes itself seriously, proudly offering visual cues like “Imagine the Cantina in Star Wars” to set the tone for a location. Kinda shameless but it works in it own way. Really the whole thing is an excuse for as many sweet fight scenes as possible.

And that’s why it sold. Really cool f*cking fight scenes. And I’m not going to take that away from Medieval. It’s a director’s wet dream. I don’t know if anyone’s seen the very stylized Christopher Gans film “Brotherhood Of The Wolf”, but I imagine Medieval being directed identically to that film. And if it is, it’ll be one hell of a fun ride.

As for the story, to be honest, I had no clue what was happening after they escaped the castle. They try to get to this boat but then they’re attacked at the docks and then who knows where they were going or why…??? I didn’t care. You know what I did care about? A Sumo fights a monk. I cared about that.

So did I like Medieval? Kinda. But what I really like is the potential this has to be a great summer flick. I’m one of the few people who think McG’s a solid director and I think he’d do something fun with this. Oh, and you gotta love writers who, within the first five pages, have the audacity to use a flashback within a flashback. That’s worth 50 grand right there. :)

[ ] trash
[ ] barely kept my interest
[x] worth the read
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned from Medieval: If you can tap into a director’s imagination (God I hate saying this) you don’t need to execute your spec perfectly. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try! All I’m saying is that this proves it’s possible.

Although I yelled at Scott for trying to make me look bad, keep in mind that I write 5 reviews a week, and Scott writes 1 a month. Which is why his review is just a liiiiiiiiiiiiiitle longer than mine. And for context, neither Scott nor I see each others’ reviews until after we’ve written our own (especially Scott, who has to wait until literally the last second). Reading through Scott’s review now, I think he brings up a lot of great points, particularly about why the movie probably won’t be made. Here’s Scott:

When I plowed through “Medieval” — written by Mike Finch & Alex Litvak — last night, I had a strange sense of déjà vu. Because it felt like I had read this script before. Way back in 1990, I remember reading another spec script “The Last Boyscout” written by screenwriter Shane Black. And although the two stories have nothing much in common re their plots, they have just about everything in common re their narrative voice, tone, and style. Right there on P.2 with this example of scene description in “Medieval” — “Yep, he’s that good” — flashed me back to Black’s opus and some of his scene description from right up front — “Yes, honey, that’s your butt”. And immediately, my stomach twisted into a little knot. Not the whole breaking the 4th wall thing again! Thanks to Shane Black and “The Last Boyscout,” a spec script that sold for a then record $1.75M dollars, Hwood was flooded with Shane Black wannabes. That went on for way too long. But evidently with “Medieval,” the ghost of Shane Black wannabes is back.

Now there’s no real inherent problem with commenting on the action with SD like, “It’s not the years, it’s the mileage” or even breaking the 4th wall and addressing the reader like, “well, how would you feel if you were about to go on a suicide mission? Yeah. Kinda like that.” Indeed, writing like that can make a script a more entertaining read. And when Hwood’s threshhold guardians — script readers — their eyes bloodshot and souls savaged by reading one bad script after another, light upon something like “Medieval,” which actually provides them with some laughs in SD, you can understand why they might be more inclined to say “Recommend” or at least “Consider” when they turn in their coverage.

However, here is the problem: I’ve started off my analysis of the script by spending the first two paragraphs talking about the script’s narrative voice — not the plot, characters, theme, dialogue or anything else which is more important to the success of the story. But then, Messrs. Finch & Litvak are doubtless laughing all the way to the bank to the tune of $800K / $1.6M on the sale of “Medieval.” And Mr. Finch is writing this project for Bryan Singer, so I doubt very seriously they care what anybody thinks about their impersonation of Shane Black. For that matter, Shane Black probably doesn’t care either.

So let me sum up my thoughts on the writing style in “Medieval” thusly: It fits with Finch & Litvak’s iteration of this genre piece, and that’s finally all that matters. Their concept is an outrageous story in that everything about it is comic book big. Or more precise, videogame big. And make no mistake: “Medieval” reads like a great videogame. The plot, the characters, the dialogue, the stakes, twists, turns, and yes, even the narrative voice are over-the-top big, that kind of hyper-reality you find in a videogame. So bottom line, the writers’ choice of narrative voice fits in with their vision of the story. You may not like it, but it is an extension of what the overall mood, tone, and style they were going for — and in that they succeeded.

The Plot

On the whole, it tracks a pretty traditional three-act route with a couple of nifty variations. There are also a series of plot twists, some of which I anticipated and a few I did not.

Act One

P. 1-16: The introduction of the seven Co-Protagonists: Gypsy, Zulu, Monk, Viking, Samurai, Arab, Knight. The fact that the story takes this long to go through each characters set-up and backstory is noteworthy because it is unusual. Even the choice of using flashbacks — typically frowned upon by Hwood readers — adds to the psychological impact I got when reading the first several pages: “These writers are going to go balls-out in this story.” Of course, most of the backstory incidents do that right there in the action, but their choice as writers to take 16 pages and use flashbacks to intro their core characters underscores the writers’ ‘outrageous’ slant on the material.

P. 17-29: When the herald character (Lawyer) arrives, that marks the beginning of what I call The Hook, a plot point that spins the story in a direction that gives us a sense of where the plot is going. In this case, Lawyer makes the 7 an offer they — literally — can not refuse. Then comes the first sustained action sequence, which the writers note with “Chapter II: The Heist” (following Chapter I: The Gathering). In general, I found the action writing to be quite good. The writers make a conscious choice not to use SHOTS / SECONDARY SLUGS which would have made the action more readable, but I suspect they didn’t do that in order to keep the page count down (that might also explain why most of their parentheticals were placed within sides of dialogue, not on their own separate line).

P. 29 – 36: Realizing they have been set up and stuck with the Pageboy character, the 7 determine that “together we might have a chance,” seven against an army. And at that point, we have the end of the first act, what I call The Lock – because now the plot is locked down: It’s the 7 plus Pageboy against the Nemesis (Edward) and his enormous mix of bad guys in his armed forces.

Act Two

P. 36 – 47: This is the first of five extended sequences which comprise the second act. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if Finch & Litvak used the sequence methodology in cracking the story’s plot. Here the 7 and Pageboy visit the Gypsy’s nephew (Frederick) in a local tavern. This is essentially ‘down’ time, a change of pace from all the preceding action, and an opportunity to lay out some exposition and provide some additional beats in subplots, such as Arab and Knight. I should point out that the writers make good use of callbacks throughout the script including one between Gypsy and Frederick, as when Gypsy forces his uncle to drink poison, killing him: “You’d think you were the one who fucked my mother.”

P. 47 – 59: A big action sequence tagged by the writers as “Chapter IV: The Getaway.” Again quite good SD in general and a nice plot twist (which I guessed): That Pageboy is actually a female, the Queen-in-waiting Amelia. But I must say where the Shane Black approach in the first act didn’t bother me that much, there were several times in this sequence where the specific modern cultural references — “Bruce Lee vs. Odd Job” / “‘Black Hawk Down’ time” — and directing lingo — “CAMERA slingshots” / “We CRANE UP” — really lurched me out of the story. As compared to the very first pages where the writers used ‘modern’ lingo in dialogue — “Hey! I’m innocent! Hey! Hey! I was judge-fucked!” / Are you going to whine all night?! / Any time, gyppo” — to tell the reader, “Hey, this isn’t going to be one of those frumpy medieval language jobs, we’re taking poetic license and having some fun here,” I began to grow weary of the contemporary references in action description. Now let me point out that it’s the midway point in the script, and I don’t care about any of these characters all that much. Oh, I get what’s going on, what the stakes are, and I’m mildly amused by Gypsy, generally sympathetic to Viking, and somewhat curious about Monk, but none of these characters has approached anywhere remotely near three-dimensionality. But again, I think this is a conscious choice on the part of the writers because their inspiration for the story is the world of videogames. And per the type of videogame, the writer is responsible to give characters just enough to generate empathy and understanding toward them, as well as distinguish between them.

P. 59-67: The first scene in this sequence is actually my favorite in the script. There’s some good dialogue between Gypsy and Amelia that actually opens up these two characters, allowing a bit of their humanity to show through. Plus, befitting a scene in the middle of the script, what I call a Transition, we see a transition with Amelia: Where Knight begins to instruct her in the way of using a sword. This scene is followed by others to take advantage of another ‘down’ time: Viking and Samurai swap talk and ideas, as do Monk and Arab. These are all beats in subplots that we can expect to play out in the script ahead.

P. 67 – 81: Apart from the introductory pages, this is the longest sequence in the script, and it’s virtually all action. It also includes the worst (best?) Shane Black-ism in the script with this SD: “Remember the place we first met Zulu back on pg. 6? Deja vu.” If I’m not mistaken, Black did the exact same thing in “The Last Boyscout.” Amidst all the action — again well-written and visual — the writers drop in a critical bit of exposition: Monk’s confession of the truth about his background (P. 78: “I am a monster. I am a plague. I am the Devil”).

P. 81 – 90: The final sequence of the second act. It begins with Edward all pissed off. I should note the cuts back to Edward are a traditional device to (a) check in with the Nemesis to remind the reader they’re still around and (b) to provide a break by cutting away from the Protagonist ‘team.’ Two interesting things in this sequence. First, how Monk gives himself up to save the others. I wasn’t so much surprised by him doing that — his character’s arc would be to do something self-sacrificial — but I was by the specific circumstances involved: Poor people who only want one of the seven so they can get a reward in order to have food to eat. I thought that was a rather novel idea. The other thing is the suddenly budding romance between Gypsy and Amelia. Yes, they had their rather philosophical discussion back around P. 60 and a few other bits of business, but apart from them being forced to have their bodies clamped together in this action sequence, I didn’t really buy the chemistry.

Act Three

P. 90 – 98: What I call On the Defensive. And true to form, the group loses Knight. Beyond that, Edward confronts his would-be challengers and uses a bit of Gordon Gecko ‘greed’ logic to spin their initial estimation of what to do, eventually (and quickly) choosing to support him as King. But what really distinguishes this sequence is after what’s left of the 7 reaches safety, Amelia demands to go back — a nice twist. There’s her appeal to the remaining Co-Protagonists on P. 97, which you either buy or don’t. These type of speeches are tough to handle and after Blutarski’s broadside in Animal House (“Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor”), really what can you have a character say that can convince a cynical jaded script reader that those words would energize the other characters. But at least they had Gypsy hold out at the end: That was a measure of respect for the character’s inner conniving self and at least the writers let one soul not be immediately swayed by Amelia’s call to arms.

P. 98 – 109: On the Offensive. Once we realize that the group’s entire goal throughout Act II — getting to the boat to escape — was a Maguffin of sorts, we are in new territory as they head back into the jaws of danger. The requisite ticking clock — Edward’s ordination — then Amelia’s entrance and, what I thought, was some very smart dialogue, ticking off one piece of logic after another. All ending with Amelia assuming her rightful place on the throne. Or so we think.

P. 109 – 116: This may have been the niftiest bit in the script. Where we would typically be seeing The Final Struggle taking place, followed by the Denouement, what we get instead is an elongated variation of M. Night Shyamalan did at the end of The Sixth Sense: A series of flashbacks to show how Amelia set up the good guys. Topped off with an even niftier twist: The revelation of the Lawyer being “Niccolo Machiavelli.”

All in all, I thought it was an entertaining read. Moreover, I can see why the script sold:

* It’s a videogame wrapped in a screenplay. That means it can be turned into a videogame. And it will appeal (in theory) to all those godzillion of young male videogamers. Assuming that they cast Amelia with a hot voluptuous actress, they even got some eye-candy who kicks ass for the gaming fans.

* It’s an entertaining read. Perhaps too much of the Shane Black thing, but I suspect the writers in going balls-out decided that the script would not not sell because there was too much of that. They erred in the direction of having fun and being entertaining.

* It’s definitely big enough to be a movie. Potentially a really big movie.

* Since the plot and plot twists are big enough, the studio doesn’t have to hire A-talent (with gross profit participation deals), but a bevy of B-talent to fill the roles of the 7. As much bang for less bucks.

* It will make for a kick-ass trailer. Easy marketing campaign.

* Spin-off possibilities: Comic books, sequels, prequels. Clean it up substantially, you could at the end of its movie life turn it into a kid’s animation series.

I’m sure there are other reasons, but I’ll leave those to you.

Now let me go out on a limb here and make a prediction: This movie won’t get made. Why? First off, the studio has to make a critical decision: Shoot the film like it’s written, which is a definite R-rating (this would be going after hardcore teenage and up gamers, but would cut out a huge target demo of younger males), or pull out all the F-bombs and do mostly simulated violence, not the gore-fest as described in the script. If the studio goes that route, then they run the risk not only of losing the older gamer types, but also gutting the script of its edgy sensibilities.

That is the kind of fundamental choice that can drive studio execs crazy. They may hire one set of writers to de-fang it. Not like that result. Hire another set of writers to bring it back to a soft R. That may satisfy nobody. And going down this route can be the fast-track to Development Hell.

Another reason the movie may never get produced: As noted, the characters basically work for “Medieval,” the videogame. But as yet, a videogame is still not a movie. Even an over-the-top action flick like this needs characters with more depth than is currently written. Now I’m not even sure I believe that. But knowing development execs, I can virtually assure you that Finch & Litvak got notes on providing depth and texture to most if not all the seven lead characters. And again, that can be a slippery slope to Development Hell, too.

But chances are I’ll be proven wrong and the movie will get produced if only because New Regency is on the hook for $800K right off the bat (the purchase price). They hire one, two, or three more writers to rework the script, you’re looking at $2M in development costs. At some point, a director will get involved. And they’ll want their own writer on the project. Throw in a pay-or-play deal for the director and pretty soon, the studio starts getting real ‘pregnant.’ Plus, at any given point, their execs just need to step back for a few seconds and look at the project from the Big Picture standpoint and realize, they could probably shoot the thing as is and make back their money on B.O. and primary ancillary revenues alone.