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Hello everyone. Welcome to another week of Scriptshadow! This week we’ll be tackling some sci-fi, one of the greatest comedic screenwriters of all time, and…pirates?? Oh yeah, you bet. But right now, Roger’s going to review another Black List script. So let’s get on with it!

Genre: Historical Adventure, Heist, War
Premise: A spy and twenty Union soldiers in disguise board a train in Georgia to execute a scheme that could bring a quick end to the U.S. Civil War.
About: In 2005, Chase Palmer was profiled in Filmmaker Magazine’s article, “25 New Faces of Independent Film”. Palmer has several projects set up around town. Among them are Evolution’s Captain, a film about Charles Darwin for Academy Award-winning producer Cathy Schulman (Crash) and Dune for director Pierre Morel.
This is a script off the 2009 Black List and is being produced by Kevin Misher (Public Enemies, The Interpretor, Dune) for Paramount.
Writer: Chase Palmer

“No Blood, No Guts, No Glory” is based upon the real life Civil War commando mission that inspired Buster Keaton’s The General. It’s a fictionalized account about America’s first special forces operation and the gallantry of the men who were awarded the first Congressional Medal of Honor. I knew none of these things until after I had finished the script.
Nor did I know that the writer, Chase Palmer, is the man working on the adaptation for Frank Herbert’s Dune for director Pierre Morel.
I opened the script based purely on the logline. A few pages in and I couldn’t stop reading. Apparently, I was in the mood for a gritty heist story set against the backdrop of the American Civil War.
Oh yeah, when this script becomes a movie, there’s a chance that the finished film will have the most ambitious and epic train chase yet to be captured on celluloid.
What caught your attention to keep you reading in the first ten pages, Rog?
The first sentence is, “A bridge burns with lusty violence.”
Prose fiction instructors always talk about first sentences, but you never hear screenwriting instructors talk about first sentences.
Isn’t that odd?
The first sentence is a promise.
Not only is this a tale full of lust and violence, but the story delivers on the promise of the first line, striking the thematic bell in every scene, all the way up to the bloody finale, which takes place on a burning bridge called The Devil’s Tightrope.
The bellum atmosphere invited me in, but I particularly appreciated the character introductions. It was like walking through an open door to find a room full of people I wanted to know more about.
Whom do we meet first?
Well, a mother and her two daughters. They’re in the middle of stitching a torn jacket for their absent saboteur pater familias when the villains kick open the door of their East Tennessee cabin.
The first words out of Lieutenant Vickers mouth are, “Don’t move, cunt.”
His superior, Colonel Danville Leadbetter, “steps across the threshold like the devil on an Easter stroll”. When the mother refuses to dish out the whereabouts of her husband, Vickers loops his belt around her head and chin while Leadbetter sews her mouth shut.
The husband eventually returns to find his daughters locked inside cages that have been built into the Strawberry Plains Bridge. Not long after, he and his bridge-burning unit are perfunctorily impaled on ten foot stakes.
In front of their caged children.
As I read the sign with the words, “Welcome to Chatta-Fucking-Nooga”, I couldn’t help but wonder: Was I immersed in The Brigands of Rattleborge all over again?
OK. So who is our hero?
You mean anti-hero.
We’re told, “If John Wilkes Booth had Sinatra’s panache, he’d be this man and we wouldn’t give a shit if Lincoln were shot twenty fucking times. Meet JAMES ANDREWS.”
That just won a contest in my head as the most daring character description I’ve seen in a screenplay. If that doesn’t tell you enough, picture a handsome scoundrel in a black, ankle length duster.
A smuggler who’s working both ends of the Civil War forces for personal gain, we meet James at a Confederate hospital where he gets into a dispute over quinine he’s just delivered. He pisses off Captain Whitsitt and his quartermaster when he refuses to accept bluebacks (Confederate dollars) as payment.
He wants gold or Union dollars.
Whitsitt accuses him of being a Union spy, and the next thing we know, a saber is batted away and everyone finds themselves in a Mexican stand-off in the middle of the hospital.
The stand-off is interrupted by the stately and stunning Miriam Leadbetter, the Colonel’s wife. A true lady of the South, she strolls into the hospital to visit the wounded but soon finds herself flirting with the charming rogue while everyone has guns pointed at each other.
In exchange for holstering his weapons, Miriam invites him over to the Colonel’s house for dinner where they can talk about the gold he’s owed.
And if she’s full of shit?
“Well, then you’ll be in my home and in a position to take whatever you want.”
And he does.
But first he’s threatened by Leadbetter and listens to the Colonel talk about the importance of Chattanooga to the Confederacy. It’s a major railway hub that controls the flow of munitions, troops and supplies all across the South.
If Chattanooga falls, so does the Confederacy.
And Leadbetter is the guy tasked without protecting the city from Union forces. He’s convinced that the South possesses a quality that the North doesn’t.
Guts.
The North may have more men, money and industry, but every act of daring in this struggle has been by a Southerner. It’s a detail Leadbetter seems obsessed with.
When Leadbetter has to step away from the table to check on a suspicious stable fire, James grabs Miriam by the hair, and “without a kiss, or a word, he begins to finger her against the desk.” You know where this is going. (James violently fucks Miriam while “she clutches gold coins between her white knuckles” in her husband’s office.)
Holy Lusty Violence, Roger! So isn’t this about a heist?
Pay attention. Leadbetter shares James’ aversion to Confederate dollars. While the other loyal Southern gentlemen were turning in their gold for war bonds and bluebacks to ensure that the Confederacy has the warchest it needs overseas, Leadbetter has been hoarding gold.
Eight hundred thousand dollars, to be exact.
“What if I told you I got a line on eight hundred thousand in gold that if it went missing, the cocksucker it goes missing from couldn’t alert the authorities without exposing himself as a hypocrite, possibly a traitor and definitely an asshole.” That’s what James tells Cole, an old friend he recruits as partner.
But, how are they gonna move that much gold fast and far when the Colonel has an entire army at his disposal?
By stealing a train, of course.
James strolls into General Mitchel’s Union camp. Yep, it’s “Old Stars” Ormsby Mitchel, a general nicknamed for his fondness of gazing at the stars through a telescope.
James convinces Mitchel to attack Chattanooga, telling him that his forces will outnumber Leadbetter’s three-to-one. But what about the Confederate forces that will come in from Atlanta?
No worries, James is going to steal a train in Marietta and torch bridges, tear up track and cut telegraph wire all the way to Chattanooga, “Your troops will be dug in with one hundred miles of fucked-up rail between them and the nearest Confederate cocksucker who can do one Goddamn thing about it.”
It’s quite the suicide mission, but if it works, it will put an end to the war.
Doesn’t James need about twenty raiders?
Yep, and he gets ’em. But they are the dregs of the bunch. Mitchel gives him all the fuck-ups and headcases.
Among them are Private Shadrach, a soldier we meet while he’s luring a duck to come eat out of his hand. I know, it’s cute. But you’re wrong. Shadrach seizes the duck by its neck, douses it in hair tonic, and says, “Now this boys is what I like to call a Kentucky sparkler.”
He it ablaze and hurls it into the air while laughing hysterically, appalling the soldiers around him.
There’s a civilian named Campbell, a brute caught hiding out with an enlisted friend. His story? He killed a Sheriff’s deputy in Louisville. With one punch. Accidentally.
The only capable man seems to be Corporal Pittinger, an English teacher from Ohio who has been serving as a wartime correspondent for his local paper. Not only is he being tasked with chronicling the secret operation for posterity, but he’s to assassinate James should the smuggler choose to jeopardize the mission.
So the rest of the script is pretty much a train chase?
Yeah. Once James and Cole rob the bank in Marietta and walk away with Leadebetter’s fortune, the script becomes a hundred mile train chase.
James and the raiders steal The General, “a melody cast in wrought iron metal”. It belongs to the conductor, William Fuller, and it’s heartbreaking when his beloved fireman, Cain (a slave who has bought his freedom), is lynched during the theft.
The Confederates accuse Cain of being a Union spy after he’s tossed out of The General by the raiders, and everything goes to shit.
Fuller is going to get his train back no matter what the cost, and in a way, the story is as much about him as it is about James.
There’s a lot of stomach-churning deaths in this script, but there’s a lot of blood-pumping action as well.
There are bridge battles, a Gatling gun massacre against all odds straight out of Peckinpah’s The Wild Bunch, and a spectacular swashbuckling sequence involving the infamous Confederate marauder, Nathan Bedford Forrest.
Forrest, the first Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan, sees a bridge explode and says, “Mount the fuck up, lads. Someone’s throwin’ a party and we just got invited.”
It’s satisfying for a Civil War geek to see James engage in a fight with the The Wizard of the Saddle armed with nothing but his bare hands while the psychopath is trying to decapitate him with a sword.
Just saying.
What’s the verdict, Rog?
You know, James has a helluva goal with impossible odds. He’s playing two sides in a war against each other so he can steal a man’s fortune. Even the men who are supposed to be helping him are a question mark at best. Who will try to backstab James? Will anyone rise up to become a true hero?
It’s not very heroic, it’s a mission borne of greed.
And it gets very chaotic, and we feel culpable for all the casualties of James’ greed. But somewhere along the way, the motivation changes. It’s not about the money anymore. It’s about completing the mission.
It becomes about glory.
In a way, this is kind of the twisted moral sibling to Edward Zick’s Glory. That movie is about sacrifice and true heroism. It’s lofty. For the most part, we empathize with all the characters and there’s true transformation. “No Blood, No Guts, No Glory” is more about charming men who do bad things, characters that we may not like (though we like to watch them), yet we can appreciate their courage in the face of certain death.
In the end, I was moved.
[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[x] impressive
[ ] genius
What I learned: Heist movies are interesting because they usually aren’t really about the goal or prize, they’re about the obstacles and the impossible odds the characters have to overcome to pull the heist off. The more impossible, and the higher the stakes, the more involved we become as an audience. The audience will stick around to see what’s going to happen at the end. In that way, heist flicks do what we’re all trying to accomplish in our screenplays, regardless of genre: They keep the audience around long enough to see what happens.
This script also reinforced the power of effective character introductions. From the introduction of Leadbetter and James Andrews to the individual introductions of the raiders, I automatically wanted to know more about these men. The introductions were dramatic. They were intriguing. They were entertaining. All the men were doing something that told me about who they were as people. There was so much good grace I stuck around for more, even when the casualties of the men’s greed was taking an emotional toll on my sympathy.

Come back for script on Saturday.

Genre: Fantasy/Adventure
Premise: (from IMDB) The mortal son of the god Zeus embarks on a perilous journey to stop the underworld and its minions from spreading their evil to Earth as well as the heavens.
About: After discussing the original Empire Strikes Back draft before Kasdan came along and turned it into a classic, I decided it would be nice to look at something Kasdan wrote today. And it turns out he wrote a couple of drafts of Clash Of The Titans, the long rumored remake which is finally making its debut in theaters this Friday. The writer who worked on Titans before Kasdan and who is said to have really taken it to the next level, is none other than Travis Beachem, who broke onto the scene with his much beloved “Killing on Carnival Row” (which you’ll be seeing on tomorrow’s Top 25 list).
Writer: John Glenn & Travis Wright – Revisions by Travis Beachem – Current Revisions by Lawrence Kasdan
Details: 120 pages (May 28, 2008 Draft) – This is not meant to be a review of the movie. We are critiquing an early draft of Clash Of Titans, and that is all we’re critiquing, just the script.


There are a lot of shitty ideas as far as remakes going around these days. They’re remaking “My Fair Lady,” for Christ’s sakes. I’ve never actually seen My Fair Lady. But even as someone who’s never seen it, I know it shouldn’t be remade! Clash Of The Titans is not one of those ideas. It’s actually the perfect film to remake. The effects in that 1981 film were so brutal as to be unwatchable. And what better film to remake than one whose hopes and ambitions were so much bigger than what the budget and special effects could afford at the time?

But man, I did not expect to actually be wowed by the trailer. And that’s what happened. My lips parted and went “wow.” No sound was actually emitted. It was a silent “wow.” A “wow” without sound. And as everyone knows, those are always the most powerful wows.

So good it was that I decided it should have been an official summer release instead of a wimpily served up pre-summer appetizer. But eight years ago when the studios staked their 2010 summer movie plots, the biggest thing Sam Worthington had done was a “Beware Of Dingos” PSA, and thus left the studios unaware that they’d be promoting a film with the hottest movie star on the planet. All this is not to say Clash is a slam dunk. There aren’t many things I remember about the original, but one scene that’s stuck with me over the years is the Medusa scene. Not sure how it would play today but that shit terrified me as a kid. The remake must not only top that scene, but tap into the charm and heart the original, even with all its deficiencies, somehow managed to muster. Does Kasdan’s draft of “Clash Of The Titans” succeed?


Rape. That’s how Clash of The Titans starts out. With the god Zeus raping a mortal Queen. There’s a plan to all of this, of course, but this is not the Zeus I know. If he isn’t careful, he’s going to end up in a bad bad place, or worse – Celebrity Rehab.

Flash to 25 years later and we’re hanging out with the Olympians, a.k.a. the gods, who are distraught over this endless war between them and the mortals. Too many people have died and Zeus wants to put an end to it, a truce. So he calls upon his half-son, the village fisherman, Perseus (who, if you’re keeping score, is the result of the aforementioned rape) to marry Princess Andromeda, thus ensuring a bond between the land dwellers and cloud surfers that will solidify peace.

Only problem is, the snotty Princess would rather go bungie jumping without the chords than marry this half-God stick-flinger. Perseus isn’t so high on the Princess either. He’s too busy trying to figure out when he became a half-God responsible for the biggest truce of all time. A few days ago his biggest duty was deciding between worms and bait.


Complications ensue when the Bitch God Of The Ocean, Tiamut, hears the Queen tell her people that her daughter, the Princess, is hotter than Tiamut. In what may be the most jealous overreaction of all time, Tiamut charges through the gates and lets everyone in the kingdom know that unless they sacrifice the princess to the ocean, she will unleash the Kraken on the city in 30 days. Yikes. Talk about self-worth issues. Did they have shrinks in 805?

Naturally nobody wants to sacrifice the Princess, even though it’s been well-documented that she’s worthless, so they entrust Perseus to go off and find an elusive but “300-worthy” army to protect the city against the Kraken. Perseus and his Fellowship head off into the desert, navigating strange lands and strange creatures to find these modern-day marines and get them back to Jobba before the 30 days are up! Perseus isn’t keen on the journey and is way out of his league, but it’s not exactly like he has a choice.

Along the way the crew encounters beasts, elephant-sized scorpions, eye-less witches, and of course, Medusa. And with each new obstacle, the reluctant Perseus is expected to more aggressively find the leader within himself. Will he? What will the team do when the army they came for can’t fight? Will the city, and more shockingly, the king himself, buckle before the Kracken shows, offering his daughter up to save the city? Aggghhhh! You’ll have to wait until Friday to find out.


Clash of The Titans takes its cues from…well from the very times its set in since that’s when the whole “Hero Journey” thing was born. This well-tread approach, which you might recognize from movies like “Star Wars” and “The Matrix” has a “chosen one” character plucked out of obscurity and thrust into a leadership role before he is ready. He must find the strength within himself before the final battle arrives or risk losing everything…for everyone!

What was strange about Clash Of The Titans, and something I bet they addressed in rewrites, was just how uninvolved Perseus was in the story. I mean full-out blocks of script would go by without him so much as saying a word. Everyone else is dictating the journey, occasionally looking back at Perseus and going, “This okay with you?” I understand he’s not ready yet, but for the first three-quarters of this script, the guy could’ve been a painting and exuded more presence. Of course once we get to Medusa and the finale, that changes. But is it too little too late? Not sure.

The script itself was fairly straightforward, but made two interesting choices. The first was the dilemma the writers put the king in. We routinely cut back to the city during the journey, and each day they get closer, the king has to make the impossible choice of whether to save his daughter or save the city. Remember what I always say. Your script is most interesting when your characters have to make tough choices. And when I say “tough choices,” I mean choices where the consequences are extreme. What’s more extreme than the death of a city vs. the death of a daughter? So that was a nice surprise.

The other interesting choice, and one I’m not as on board with, was telling us how Medusa became Medusa. She was a pretty girl who was also raped by a God (man, those Gods are not nice – I tell ya), and it led to her becoming this hideous cursed ugly thing. And when Peseus goes in to kill her, it puts a whole new spin on the battle, since we have some sympathy for how Medusa ended up in this predicament. It was just a strange unexpected touch that added some complexity to a situation I wasn’t thinking would be complex.


So there’s definitely some good stuff in here, enough to distract us from Perseus being a fairly passive protagonist at least. Nobody nailed the story, but the hammer and the wood are within arm’s length. And really their job was to just not fuck this up. Gods and warriors and beasts and krakens inside a vessel that actually makes sense is pretty hard to fuck up. And they didn’t.

What’s great about Clash, is that it feels different from everything else being released right now. And that’s such a big advantage in this superhero-obsessed market. This could be a massive hit, sneaking (if it’s lucky) into a coveted Top 3 spot for the summer. That’s a big prediction but outside of Iron Man 2, what’s coming out this year? “Cheech and Chong’s ‘Hey, Watch This.” ???

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

What I learned: What do you want your audience to feel at a given moment? This is a question you have to ask yourself if you want to convey the right emotion at the right time. Leading up to the big Medusa fight, the writers had a choice. They could tell you Medusa’s horrific backstory, in which case you’d sympathize with her. Or they could tell you nothing, allowing Medusa to symbolize pure evil, in which case you wouldn’t sympathize with her at all. In the last decade, writers have been pushed to exercise the former choice. Give your villains a backstory. Make them real and complex. And in most cases, that’s good advice. But know that it is not a blanket rule, and sometimes you don’t want your audience feeling sympathy for the bad guy. Sometimes it’s okay for the bad guy to just…be bad. I bring this up because I’m not sure I would’ve wanted my audience feeling bad for Medusa in this scenario. I want her to be terrifying, cruel, evil, and mysterious. Giving up that backstory erases some of those intended reactions. Always consider the emotional ramifications of your choices, as it’s up to you to decide what you want your audience to feel.

NO LINK!

It’s Day 4 of Alternative Draft Week, where we look at alternative drafts from the movies you loved (or hated). In some cases, these drafts are said to be better, in others, worse, or in others still, just plain different. Either way, it’s interesting to see what could’ve been. We started out with Roger’s review of James Cameron’s draft of “First Blood 2“. We followed that with my review of “The Last Action Hero.” Then I reviewed the original Ron Bass draft of Entrapment. And today we have a biggie. A really big biggie. The very first drat of The Empire Strikes Back ever written.

Genre: Sci-Fi Fantasy
Premise: While Han Solo goes in search of his Father-In-Law, Ovan Marekal, who has political ties with Darth Vader, Luke Skywalker heads to the Bog Planet where he meets a frog-like Jedi named Minch, who teaches him the ways of the force.
About: This is not the widely circulated “4th Draft” which has Leigh Brackett and Lawrence Kasden’s name on it. This is Brackett’s original first draft of the movie, titled, “Star Wars Sequel.” Brackett was best known (outside of her contribution on “Empire”) for scripting the films, “The Big Sleep,” and “The Long Goodbye.” She was also a prolific science-fiction writer, writing over 200 stories of various lengths in the genre. As a novelist, she wrote crime stories and westerns as well. It was in 1978 that Lucas gave Brackett the first shot at his sequel to Star Wars, which at that time, he apparently didn’t have a title for yet. This was based off the success of Brackett’s space opera novels, though she had never written a science fiction screenplay at the time. Sadly, Brackett died of cancer soon after she turned in this draft.
Writer: Leigh Brackett
Details: 128 pages (2-17-78)


So you ever wanted to watch a lightsaber duel between Obi-Wan and Yoda? Well, if Leigh Brackett had her way, you would’ve gotten it.

Sort of.

Heh heh.

Read on.

First of all, I love Star Wars. It’s movie-perfection for me. I could go on about how much I love it but I’d just be rehashing what billions of people have already said billions of times. I’m also not going to give my opinion on the prequels as movies, as that too has been discussed to death. I will, however say something about the screenwriting side of the films. I simply don’t believe Lucas wrote enough drafts of each script. I’m sure he did plenty of nipping and tucking, but every one of those films feels like the beginning of an idea as opposed to a finely tuned execution of an idea. While everyone has their opinions on why the films missed that spark, I simply wish he’d just put more time into the writing process. I honestly think Lucas could’ve figured it out if he’d given the scripts more time. But it looks like he was more interested in the filmmaking side of the prequels. And as a result, the movies are what they are.

Okay, let’s get to The Empire Strikes Back, a film many consider to be the best in the series. It’s a fascinating film to study in screenplay form because it’s a bit of a structural black sheep. It starts out firing on all cylinders, and then descends slowly, over the course of two hours, into a dark almost trance-like meditation on humankind’s obsession with evil. It breaks a ton of rules, both universally and, one can argue, in the Star Wars universe, and still comes out a great film. It is also, commercially, the least successful film in the franchise, and that’s obviously because of a lot of those rules that it breaks.


There’s been a lot of speculation as to how the story for The Empire Strikes Back came about and I’m not sure this answers that speculation, but it’s a fascinating look at the early seeds of what would eventually become one of the most beloved movies of all time. It’s also a particularly great script to read for one’s screenwriting education. You have one of the most well-known stories in history, and you get to compare it to a similar version where hundreds of different choices were made. Since screenwriting is all about choices (Do I make my character do this or that?), we can see how easy it is to make the wrong one.

Now regardless of all that, just as a Star Wars geek, this is fun. I mean, there are some real gems in here. And as messy as this first draft is, we get a few shocking moments. In particular, there are a couple of entire cities that were axed from the film. Darth Vader has a damn castle. And Yoda has a different name! What the fuck?? Anyway, let’s get to it, shall we?

We start off, just like in the movie, in the ice base. But the planet they’re on isn’t called “Hoth.” “Hoth” actually ends up being the name of the planet that houses Cloud City, which is no longer called “Cloud City.” It’s called “Orbital City.” But I’ll get to that later.

A really nice touch I liked, and something that Lucas was accused of abandoning as the series went on, was that we meet Luke looking over this huge beautiful ice ridge. He’s transfixed by its beauty. And it’s a moment very reminiscent of his moment staring up at the two suns back on Tantooine. Just like in the finished film, Luke then gets cut down by a Wampa monster, and dragged back to its lair.

The script starts deviating from the film almost immediately after that however. Han’s Jabba The Hut sub-plot has been scratched. Instead, we learn that Han’s step-father is a man named Ovan Marekal, a huge political bigwig who’s carefully aligned himself with Darth Vader to protect the people of the galaxy. The Rebels believe that if Han can get to him, he may be able to convince him to fight against Vader, giving the otherwise helpless Rebel Army a fighting chance.

The Imperial Walker sequence is also not here. Instead, after they recover Luke and hear his story about the Wampa, they determine that these creatures are a huge threat to the base. And indeed, almost right away, they begin infiltrating and killing the Rebels group by group (kinda like Aliens). If you read the fourth draft, which is much closer to the finished film, you can see that this is actually carried over into that script. So that while the Rebels must deal with the approaching Imperial Walkers, they are also getting attacked from within by the Wampa creatures, who have breached their base. It’s a way cooler scenario, but obviously scratched for budgetary reasons.

Wampas attack base!

When we meet Darth Vader, we meet him in a castle on the planet of Ton Muund, a huge city planet, maybe an early version of Coruscant? The presentation of this city is much more sinister however, and was likely also scrapped for budget reasons. Interestingly enough, we meet the Emperor here for the first time, and he’s wearing a golden robe. The Emperor tells him to go find Luke Skywalker, the man who destroyed the Death Star, because he believes he possesses the force. This is a great screenplay lesson right here, as it’s a mistake a lot of screenwriters make. In the finished film, we see Darth Vader out on his ship, actively searching the universe for Skywalker. His storyline has already begun, the pursuit of his goal clearly in place. Whereas here, we meet Vader waiting around, hanging out, essentially doing nothing. In screenwiting, you want to come into each character’s storyline as late as possible. If Vader’s waiting around to begin with, then you have to waste all this time getting information to him, having him gear up, and finally see him go after his goal. In that case, he might not even get started with the pursuit until halfway through the screenplay. In the film, he’s already started, which is one of the reasons that the movie has one of the best opening acts in history. No doubt this slow start comes from Brackett’s background in novels, where you have a lot more time to explore each character’s storyline. In screenplays, that doesn’t work.

So Han, Leia, Threepio, and Chewie head off in search of Marekal, and Luke ends up flying to the “Bog Planet.” Since Ben doesn’t tell him to go here in this version, I’m confused as to how he knew to go. But he goes anyway. Once there, he immediately meets a frog-like creature named “Minch.” Lucas must have known fairly specifically what he wanted here because most of the Minch/Yoda training sessions are the same, but there are a few key differences. When Minch/Yoda is explaining the ways of jedi swordfighting, he calls on Obi-Wan, who appears, and then Obi-Wan and Minch/Yoda have a lightsaber battle. Not sure how a ghost can battle something real, but it was cool because it was Obi-Wan battling Yoda! Or Minch! Then later, when Luke takes on “Pretend Vader” as his final lesson, the swamp disappears, and the two find each other in the vastness of space. Vader, while explaining the dark side to Luke, even lifts his hand, grabs some stars, and lets them pour through his hand. It’s pretty trippy.

Minch?

And then, before Luke is to leave, Ben’s ghost tells him he wants Luke to meet someone. A second later, a man appears next to Ben. It’s LUKE’S FATHER! Right. Not Vader! But his real father! Or at least, his real father in this version. Luke’s father tells him about his sister, warns him about the dark side, and then lets Luke go on his merry way. At this point I was so confused I didn’t know whether to have a seizure or pass out. But I loved it. It instantly grabbed me if only for the reason that I now had no idea how this original version of The Empire Strikes Back was going to end.

Back with Han, just like in the film, he’s looking for refuge from the Empire, who’s been chasing him, and remembers his old friend, the Baron Lando Kadar. Before I forget, one nice touch I thought Brackett added in this version, was that Chewbacca is jealous that Han and Leia are spending so much time together. He disgustedly growls whenever the two look all doe-eyed at each other, and Threepio even chimes in and makes fun of him for it. I actually think it could’ve worked in the film.

Anyway, before Han finds Cloud City, he first goes to the planet’s actual surface and finds an ancient ruined city run by Avatar like natives called the “Cloud People,” white skin white-haired aliens who ride on flying Manta-Rays. They’re the ones who tell him about “Cloud City,” which is actually called “Orbital City” here. So up Han goes, where he meets his old friend Lando Kadar, and from here on out, the plot is pretty much the same. Kadar (Lando) has made a deal with Vadar to use these guys as bait for Luke. But there are no bounty hunters here so Boba Fett does not make an appearance.

Orbital City

The one difference, however, is that we get our first real glimpse into the specifics behind the clones (from the Clone Wars). And they are nothing like the clones from the prequels. Lando, it turns out, is a clone from the Clone Wars. Instead of procreating, he’s been using his blood to recreate himself over and over again over time. Whether Brackett came up with this idea on her own or Lucas still hadn’t figured out what the Clone Wars were is anyone’s guess.

Luke finally gets to Orbital City, using the Cloud People to help him sneak in, and the big lightsaber duel happens. The difference here is that Luke is a fucking badass, and HE is the one lifting pieces with the force and hurling them at Vader, beating the shit out of him in their duel in every way. But it’s all a ruse, and we realize the essence of this idea was moved into the final lightsaber duel in Jedi. Vader getting mauled is a trick. He’s allowing Luke to draw on his hatred so he’ll come closer to the Dark Side. All in all, the “dark side” plays a much bigger role in this version. It’s really hit on over and over again. And the film is almost exclusively a character study on Luke’s struggle to stave off that darkness.


Nobody’s hand gets cut off here. After Vader details his ruse, Luke escapes him, hops on the Falcon, and everyone flies away to some flower planet. And there you have it!

If you’re a Star Wars fan, this is a fun read, but as I mentioned before, it’s really a great screenwriting lesson as well. After reading this and watching the movie, you can see how dramatically the script was improved by adding a sense of immediacy and by raising the stakes at every corner. Vader isn’t hanging out back at his city. He’s out actively looking for Luke! The Rebel base isn’t being attacked by puny Wampa monsters. It’s being attacked by the Empire! Han isn’t just being followed by the Empire. He’s being followed by the Empire AND bounty hunters!

Kasdan also understands the conflict between Leia and Han much better. Brackett didn’t identify that their back and forth banter could’ve added a lot of fun to the script, so she only barely touches on it. Whereas Kasdan obviously goes to town with the two, creating one of the more fun romantic back and forth’s in history.

I’ve heard that Lucas laid out the key story points for Brackett and she was responsible for everything else. This is why most of these plot points are still in the finished film, because Lucas had those in place from the get-go. But authors have written that none of Brackett’s contributions were included in the finished movie. I would actually argue that a key element of her draft made it to the final film, and that is the tone. It feels like Brackett set the tone here, and she really does take Star Wars to a darker place than the original film, which was quite a risk when you think about it. It feels like Kasdan recognized and kept that tone, using his more extensive screenwriting knowledge to build a great story on top of it. But since “Empire” is celebrated so extensively for that brave darkness, I believe Brackett should get some credit (and maybe that’s why she does have credit on the final film).

A very fun read if you’re a Star Wars fan. A very educational read if you’re a screenwriter. But as a script, Brackett’s draft wasn’t ready for the spotlight. It’s too bad she died. I would’ve liked to see where she went from here.

[ ] What the hell did I just read?
[ ] wasn’t for me
[x] worth the read (cause, like, it’s Star Wars!)
[ ] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: Let’s say you have a scene with a bunch of characters. Make sure every single one of those characters has a goal in that scene. The worst thing you can do is have your characters waiting around for something to happen. That’s not what movie characters do! They DO things. They’re ACTIVE. Being active is what makes them interesting! And it doesn’t have to be something humongous. It can be as simple as trying to find the phone number of an old friend. As long as it’s SOMETHING. Comparing these two drafts, in the Brackett Draft, we meet Vader hanging out on his throne, waiting for information. Compare that to the film, where he’s in his Star Destroyer, gung-ho searching the galaxy to find Luke. Which is more interesting? Or let’s look at the rule on a much smaller scale. In Brackett’s draft, when we meet Han, he’s sort of rummaging around the base, running into people and occasionally talking to them. Compare that to the film, where he’s desperately trying to get his ship fixed so he can get the hell out of here! Which one is more interesting? At the beginning of every scene, take every character and ask yourself, “What are they doing right now? What is their goal in this scene?” You do that and you’ll have a bunch of interesting characters engaging in an interesting scene. You don’t, and you’ll have a bunch of characters standing around doing nothing, waiting for their turn to talk. Which one is more interesting?

Another thing that caught my interest – the fact that budgetary reasons may have led to the key creative choice that jumpstarted this story. I’m betting that Lucas wanted to show Vader in his castle on that city. But when he realized he didn’t have the money, he had to put him somewhere else. Where? Well, on a Star Destroyer. But then he was forced to ask, if Vader is on a Star Destroyer, what is he doing? Where is he going? Obviously, he concluded that he’d have to be going after Luke, which informed his choice to have the Empire attack the base on Hoth. Don’t know if that’s the true genesis of the idea but I’m willing to bet on it after reading this draft. It makes perfect sense. And it may be why the Prequels were so boring in places. Lucas could put his characters anywhere, and by doing that, he didn’t have to have them doing anything, much like Vader in this draft.

It’s Day 3 of Alternative Draft Week, where we look at alternative drafts from the movies you loved (or hated). In some cases, these drafts are said to be better, in others, worse, or in others still, just plain different. Either way, it’s interesting to see what could’ve been. We started out with Roger’s review of James Cameron’s draft of “First Blood 2“. We followed that with my review of “The Last Action Hero.” And today we’re taking on Ron Bass’ draft of “Entrapment.” So enjoy.

Genre: Action/Espionage/Heist/Romance
Premise: An undercover insurance agent is sent by her employer to track down and help capture an art thief. But to do so, she must befriend him, gain his trust, and help him with his next heist.
About: Ron Bass wrote the original draft for this 1999 caper, which was widely praised. But over the course of a dozen drafts, Don Macpherson & William Broyles Jr. took it in another direction, creating what some believe was a lame excuse to pair together two hot actors at the time, Catherine Zeta-Jones and Sean Connery. Ron Bass, who we’ve reviewed before, began writing at the age of six while bedridden with a childhood illness. Although he loved it, he decided on a more practical career after his college professor told him he’d never be published. He graduated from Harvard Law and began a successful career in entertainment law, eventually rising to the level of partner, but the writing bug never left. So he returned to it and had his first novel published in 1978 (“The Perfect Thief”). Producer Jonathan Sanger optioned his third novel “The Emerald Illusion”, opening the door for Bass to become a screenwriter.
Writer: Ron Bass
Details: 118 pages (1st Draft, December 2, 1996)


It would be nice if I could lay out all these stories with the same kind of detail I did “The Last Action Hero,” but, contrary to popular belief, I don’t have access to the Hollywood Development Archives. Much of what I have here is cobbled together from lore and heresay. What I can tell you about Entrapment though is this: Ron Bass’ first draft is something I’ve been hearing about forever. Supposedly, he’d whipped together a wickedly sharp romance-caper that had everyone in Hollywood talking. Unfortunately, over the course of 12 drafts, much of the greatness that was in that early draft was left on the typing room floor – or so it is said. The big complaint was that the producers had taken a cool edgy flick and turned it into a mountain of cotton candy, a lame piece of Hollywood fluff. But fluff turned out to be exactly what the masses wanted (doesn’t it always?) The movie opened on May 7th of 1999 to a surprising 20.1 million, dethroning a little film called “The Matrix” from the top spot. It ended up making 220 million dollars worldwide, but was quickly forgotten three weeks later, like a lot of movies at that time, its memory swallowed up by the behemoth of George Lucas’ long-awaited return to Star Wars, “The Phantom Menace.” Either way, no one can argue that the movie didn’t do well. The question is, could it have done more? Would this draft have made Entrapment the kind of film we still talk about today? My memory of the flick is that of a geriatric old warbler and a woman young enough to be his granddaughter, running around and flirting a lot, which, to be honest, made me very uncomfortable. I also remember tons and tons of really cheesy dialogue. So I was interested to see if this initial draft was free of all that.

Gin Baker is a young sexy insurance agent whose job it is to recover stolen paintings for high-class clients. When an expensive painting is stolen out of a 70th floor John Hancock Building condo, the crime scene’s handiwork points to one person, Andrew McDougal, an internationally known super-thief. There’s only one problem. Andrew is 60 years old and has been off the thief-circuit for over a decade. Why would he come out of retirement to steal a relatively unknown painting?

Well that’s what Gin is going to find out. She travels halfway across the world and finds McDougal (or “Mac”) at a major art auction. She uses plenty of skin and her big smile to lure Mac in, but he’s immediately wary of her, knowing this game is full of people pretending to be someone they’re not. But Mac’s not immune to the temptation of flesh either, and allows Gin into his circle, at least for the time being. After an impromptu theft, the two head back to his suite for some seriously age-inappropriate sex.

Creeeeeeee-py

I’m not going to mince words. This portion of the script is awful. It amounts to two people trading cheesy supposedly sexually-charged barbs in the same 1-2 “setup and payoff” rhythm you’d get from a Sesame Street skit. There’s no spontaneity, no originality to the dialogue. It’s just “setup” “payoff” “setup” “payoff” over and over again. For example, Mac would say to Gin something like “Better get an umbrella. I hear it’s going to rain.” Her reply: “That’s okay. I like being wet.” Or Gin would say, “Escaping those guards will be hard.” Mac’s reply: “I’d rather be hard than soft.” That’s not real dialogue from the script. But it might as well be. This is what you have to trudge through in these first 50 pages.

This is exacerbated by the overuse of commentary in the action, where every single nuance, every single eye flicker, every inner thought is supplied in detail in between the dialogue. Here’s what I mean:

MAC
I stole your suitcase when I left you at the bar. I have since sent it on to the States, with three chips, well hidden.

Are you following.

MAC
Since you aren’t there to claim it, the bag will sit at Customs. Safe. Unless…

No smile. No smile at all.

MAC
They receive. An anonymous. Tip.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

GIN
That’s entrapment.

MAC
No. Entrapment’s what cops do to robbers.

We can feel her heart pounding from here.

That’s what it’s like for the entire script, or at least the first half. The biggest problem with this, especially when combined with the endless flirty dialogue, is that it makes the entire romance come over as if it’s trying too hard. We feel like it’s being forced down our throats: These two like each other! They really fucking like each other!!! And I understand that this is a first draft and that the tone and originality of the dialogue will be worked out over time, but it’s just I heard such good things about this script and I’d assumed that meant addressing my main problem of over-the-top cheesiness.

The real reason Entrapment made all that money?

The structure during this portion of the screenplay is a mess as well. Although we know that Gin is trying to retrieve the original stolen painting, we never met the person who had the painting stolen, and therefore don’t really care whether they get it back or not. Nor is there any specific urgency in obtaining the painting, no timeframe or time limit. For that reason, the only reason for the story to exist is to listen to an over-sexed Nursing Home patient and a playmate with grandfather issues to banter mindlessly amidst an occasional fuck.

It isn’t until Mac (spoilers here) “reveals” to Gin that he’s an art thief and wants to include her on his next job that the story picks up. But even here, as he trains her for the job, the plot device feels like an excuse to give these two more time to exchange sexual innuendos and flirtatious quips. The training sequences, which involve stuff like jumping out of planes, are devoid of any tension, because there are no stakes at all. We aren’t told what Mac’s after and therefore don’t care if he succeeds. It’s all really boring.

But then…

It’s as if Bass all of a sudden realized what his story was about (more spoilers) and the script does a complete 180. There’s a couple of well-executed twists, the primary of which is Gin revealing that she’s not really an insurance agent, but a thief. Her job is cover, as well as a sly way to figure out where and how to get the very paintings she’s supposed to be protecting. And that while Mac thought he’d been testing her to see if she was capable of pulling off his job, all this time she’d actually been testing *him* to see if *he* was capable of pulling off *her* job. And that job is what brought me back on board – the plan to steal 8 billion dollars.


And this is where the draft and the film differ. Whereas the film places the climactic heist in the Petronas Towers of Kuala Lumpur, Bass’ draft focuses on the 1997 Hong Kong change-over back to China. While the execution of this storyline is superior to the film version, I can’t help but notice that it’s a change that needed to happen. You can’t release a technology-heavy movie in 1999 about 1997. It would be like making 2012 in 2013.

Whatever the case, the last 50 pages of this script are really well-constructed. The twists are executed to perfection. The multi-stage heist (which includes invading a mountain guarded by an army) is both inventive and exciting. We see things we’ve never seen before in this type of movie. And whereas the first half of the script has zero tension, the pursuit of 8 billion dollars really gives the second half the kick in the ass it needs, since the stakes for pulling off the biggest heist in the history of the planet are naturally pretty high.

So to me, Bass’ draft is two separate screenplays, the lame first half and the sizzling second half, which I’m sure can be attributed to this being his first crack at the story. What isn’t solved, unfortunately, is the lame back and forth cheesy dialogue between the two main characters. That was always the big issue for me. And my impression was that this draft would come off as a smarter edgier version of what we saw in theaters. That wasn’t the case.

But you can’t deny the fact that this ending rocks, and if I were 20th Century Fox, I’d extract the big Tapei Mountain Sequence and put it into one of their other big franchises, cause it really is well done. The 8 billion dollar heist is also nicely executed. My experience tells me it should be impossible in real life, but Bass sold it well and I bought it.

Anyway, another interesting peek into development, and an excuse to run to the video store, grab Entrapment, and do some serious procrastination on whatever script you’re working on. But you’ll have to beat me there, cause I’m going right now. :)

P.S. If you’re a fan of these kinds of films, don’t forget to check out my old review of Lovers, Liars, and Thieves.

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

What I learned: Chemistry between your romantic leads is essential, but chemistry isn’t as simple as nailing the casting. It needs to start on the page. Now there are exceptions to every rule, but one that’s fairly consistent is: keep your leads from kissing and/or having sex until the third act. Why? Because chemistry is built on the unknown, on our curiosity of if they’re going to consummate the relationship. Think about how sexually charged your relationship is with that certain guy or girl. Why is it that way? Cause you haven’t done anything about it yet! Once you “do it,” the unknown disappears. That sexy spark which permeates through every sentence goes bye-bye. Characters in screenplays are no different. Making them sleep together = losing the fun. Gin and Mac sleep together within the first 40 pages here (I don’t remember if they did this in the film or not) and there’s no doubt that something is lost in the process. Now I’m not saying this is a blanket rule. In a movie like “The Notebook,” for example, which is a memoir that takes place over an extended period of time, the plot dictates that we experience that first kiss and that first sexual experience fairly early. But here, in a movie like Entrapment, which is basically built on the chemistry of the leads, that choice is disastrous, cause you eliminate the big thing we’re all wondering if they’re going to do or not. Interest over.

It’s “Alternative Draft Week” here at Scriptshadow, where we look at alternative drafts from the movies you loved (or hated). In some cases, these drafts are said to be better, in others, worse, or in others still, just plain different. Either way, it’s interesting to see what could’ve been. Yesterday, Roger reviewed a James Cameron draft of “First Blood 2.” Today, I’m reviewing one of my favorite spec stories of all time, Penn and Leff’s draft of “The Last Action Hero.”

Genre: Action-Comedy
Premise: A high school kid finds himself inside the world of his favorite action star’s new movie. He uses his extensive knowledge of action films to help the hero, Arno Slater, navigate the story and beat the bad guys.
About: Zak Penn and Adam Leff wrote this as their very first screenplay and sold it soonafter. It was subsequently rewritten by Shane Black, which is the draft that made it to theaters. The story goes that those who originally championed the project felt that a cool edgy flick was turned into a silly watered down PG-13 piece of garbage. There are still hurt feelings about the project to this day. Penn has gone on to write the two X-Men sequels, Elektra, and The Incredible Hulk. Leff wrote another script with Penn, PCU, as well as Bio-Dome.
Writers: Zak Penn and Adam Leff
Details: 124 pages (9/9/91 draft)


The Last Action Hero saga is one of my favorite Hollywood stories, and something I’ve written about before. This shows exactly how a seemingly good idea (relatively speaking) can get stirred and shaken and slammed around in Development to the point where it becomes an utter piece of shit, resulting in the kind of movie that convinces the average movie-goer that anyone can write a Hollywood film. For those who don’t know about the way it all went down, settle in and enjoy yourselves. This is a good one.

It all started back in 1991, when Zak Penn and Adam Leff, two college students, thought they could slap together a screenplay and sell it for a million bucks. The idea was to write a screenplay spoofing the action films of the 80s. They called it, “Extremely Violent” and it was about an Arnold Swarchenegger-type action star whose world was rocked when an extremely movie-savvy 15 year old magically crossed from the real world into his film. They thought it would be great to have a guy saying all the things that the audience was thinking, such as, “You should go save your wife now before they use her as a pawn against you later!” Basically the action equivalent of Scream before Scream was made.

The two had one of those “friend of a friend” contacts in the business, who read the script and liked it enough to recommend it to an up-and-coming agent by the name of Chris Moore (yes, Project Greenlight Chris Moore). For those who argue that Hollywood is all a game of luck and chance, this next portion of the story is your ammo. Being Hollywood’s Golden Boy at the time, Moore had hundreds of scripts he was supposed to read, and probably the lowest script on the totem pole was some garbage by a couple of college kids who obviously only got their script on his desk through a friend trying to help them out. Since Moore rarely had any time to read anyway, it was likely this script would never be read. But it just so happened that on that day, his lunch date canceled, and he had nothing to do for an hour. “Extremely Violent” was sitting on the top of the pile, so he thought “What the hell?” picked it up, and started reading it. He instantly fell in love with it. Thought the tone and the story were perfect. And it immediately become his number 1 priority project.

So Penn and Leff got the call of a lifetime (which they, of course, thought was normal, having no Hollywood experience). A big agent loves your script. They’re going to try and sell it. The script goes out, and low and behold, it SELLS for hundreds of thousands of dollars! Two college kids are living the dream. It’s true! Anybody can write a screenplay! (that’s the sound of me sighing)

Zak Penn

But Moore didn’t want to just sell this thing. He wanted to get it made. So began the next step, which was to package the script with the kind of talent that would bring buzz to the project. Of course at that time, there was no bigger name in the writing world than Shane Black, the author of such films as Lethal Weapon and The Last Boy Scout. Now the irony here was that Penn and Leff wrote the script parodying Black’s writing style (in the same way that the movie parodied action films). But all that was white noise. Moore knew if he could get the hot Black onboard in some capacity, the film would have a shot at getting made. So they sent him the script, and low and behold, Shane loved it! He immediately decided he wanted to produce the project.

Now even though Shane was on as producer, the unspoken hope of everyone was that Shane would rewrite it. With Shane being the hottest writer in town, a script written by him was guaranteed to be made. Although Shane resisted at first (he’d never rewritten anyone before) there was a key piece of the puzzle that needed to be addressed. For this project to be a sure-fire go-picture, they needed an A-List star. And the obvious choice to play the main character in the movie was the biggest movie star in the world – Arnold Swarchenegger. The likelihood of Swarchenegger signing on to a script written by two nobodies was slim. But if Shane Black rewrote the script….then maybe – just maybe – they could nab him. And so the rewrite process began.

Everything started off wonderfully. Shane told Penn and Leff that all of their ideas were welcome. He would send them pages, get their take, and a collaborative effort would be made to bring this thing home. After the very first exchange of pages however, Penn was livid. He felt that even in these small doses, Shane had already ruined a lot of the key things that made the script work. After a couple more meetings, things became so heated that fights almost broke out. In retrospect, the reason for this is fairly obvious. You had a writer who had never rewritten anyone before. And you had a writing pair that didn’t understand how the development process worked (just the fact that they were *invited* to participate in the rewrite should’ve been cause for celebration). Since there was obviously no way the project could continue this way, Penn and Leff were told to take a hike.

Here is Penn’s explanation of why the changes Shane made were so terrible…”They added mobsters. They’re taking the movie out of the strict action movie genre and trying to make it a parody of many different kinds of movies. Some of it’s a parody of James Bond movies, some of it’s a parody of action movies, and some of it’s a parody of buddy camp noirish movies. It’s pretty astounding to see how badly they screwed it up,” Penn said, laughing.

Zak felt that Shane shifted the parody of the hero to much more of the Mel Gibson-Bruce Willis archetype. The “wisecracking, angry down-on-his-luck cop, which is a pretty enormous change and pretty much pervades every line of Arnold’s dialogue. I think, frankly, that it hurts the movie tremendously, because the whole point of the movie was the counterpoint between the kid who’s smart and like us, and the other character who’s a fantasy character, who’s an idiot, who’s literally one-dimensional.”

Shane shot back that Penn can say what he wants, but the reality is that his draft is the one that got Arnold on board, and therefore ultimately got the movie made. Now whether the script got Arnold on board because Arnold genuinely liked it, or because Shane was the biggest writer in town and his vision was more trusted, we’ll probably never know (unless anyone’s got a direct line to the Govenator). But this brings up a larger issue, and one of the major failures of the development system – which is letting an actor influence or change key aspects of a story. Most actors don’t understand how to craft a story, just like most writers don’t understand how to craft a performance. Any time you allow an actor to change major story elements, you’re playing with fire, and this is exactly what happened when Swarcheneggar demanded changes.

Shane Black

Arnold was initially disappointed that his character was too “two-dimensional” and wanted his character to be deeper. On the surface this sounds like a smart request. “Three-dimensional character” is a buzzword the industry lives by. But the whole point of Arnold’s character WAS that he was two-dimensional. That’s why he does all these dumb things. That’s why he needs the help of a 15 year old kid. That’s the exact thing the movie is making fun of, the fact that these action characters are so two-dimensional. So by adhering to this request, the writers and producers were knowingly making the movie worse. Of course, what was the alternative? Let the biggest action star in the world walk? Of course not. You gotta do what he says.

The final straw in the original writers’ eyes was to change the kid’s age from 15 to 12. This ended up sanitizing the harder edge they were going for and officially turned the movie into a kiddie film. The thought behind the choice was, younger kid equals broader appeal which equals larger box office, but the opposite actually happened. The audience sniffed out that the producers were trying to please everybody, and stayed away in droves (though I’m not convinced this decision wasn’t influenced by the fact that the John Conner character from Terminator 2 – released just two years prior – was closer in age and tone to the Danny character from Penn and Leff’s draft – maybe they were afraid the characters would come off as too similar?).

But I think the ultimate question here is, was the spec draft really any better than the script that became the film? Or was this a misread from the get-go, a silly idea that never should’ve been turned into a movie in the first place? Interestingly enough, Chris Moore still talks about the project, haunted by the fact that it turned out so bad. He still believes it could be made into a great movie, and looks forward to the day when everyone’s forgotten it, so he can remake the thing and try again.

THE REVIEW

Now I was told the draft I read was the original spec but looking at the title page, it’s titled, “The Last Action Hero.” Since we know the original spec was titled, “Extremely Violent,” this may be one draft removed from that spec. Chances are it was probably an attempt to clean up the script before they sent it out to the big names, like Shane Black. Anyway, something to keep in mind.

“The Last Action Hero” introduces us to 15 year old Danny, a clever but introverted kid who embraces his loner label by escaping into the beautiful city of New York, or, more specifically, an old rundown movie theater where he watches as many movies as they’ll play in a day. His favorite films are those starring super action star “Arno Slater,” whose new movie, “Extremely Violent” is coming out next week.

The reclusive projectionist of the theater (and Danny’s only friend) sets up a private screening for him so he can watch “Extremely Violent” before anyone else. During the screening, a tear in the screen causes a cosmic merging of reality and fantasy and sucks Danny into the very movie he’s watching. Before he knows it, he’s standing right next to his hero, Arno Slater!


The two are immediately attacked by the film-within-a-film’s bad guys, “The Twins,” and not only do the Twins promise to kill Arno, they promise to kill his new friend (Danny) as well! For this reason, Danny and Arno have to stay together so Arno can protect him.

Danny figures this is probably a dream and decides to ride it out. He warns Arno that because of the collateral damage he caused in his previous action scene with The Twins, he’s about to be screamed at by his always-angry captain, but Arno doesn’t know what he’s talking about (he’s a movie character and therefore has no idea what’s coming around the corner, even though it’s obvious to all of us). He’s completely shocked then when they get back to the station and he’s screamed at by his captain! Danny was right! But how did he know that? This is followed by another typically 80s action movie scene where Arno goes home to his purposefully cliché wife who only exists to dress his wounds and tell him everything’s going to be okay.

Danny becomes acutely aware that this world he’s in operates exclusively under movie conventions, and realizes he can prevent a lot of the unnecessary danger and violence that Arno would encounter. He points out that the real issue isn’t the Twins, but the big ultimate conspiracy. If they can figure out the conspiracy now, they don’t even have to deal with The Twins or any other nonsense. In essence, they can cut straight to the end. All this does though is make Arno’s head hurt because he doesn’t think three moves ahead. He thinks like an action-movie hero, in the here and now. And the here and now usually involves shooting a bunch of bad guys and figuring out the consequences later.

This sort of back-and-forth is the central conflict of the story. Danny tries to teach Arno how to think three steps ahead and avoid all unnecessary violence, and Arno resists, preferring to shoot the hell out of anyone who gives him a mean look (again, very similar to Terminator 2, which makes me think that a lot of Black’s changes were out of his hands – he had to make them to differentiate the dynamic between the two films).

The Last Action Hero is actually a good idea for a movie. Part of the fun of watching popcorn films is predicting what’s going to happen next, which, even if you’re a minor movie buff, is fairly easy. To create a character who essentially says what all of us are already thinking is the kind of device that plays well if done right. Especially back in the 80s when every action film was so mindlessly predictable.

But my biggest problem with the script is that it doesn’t take advantage of this opportunity. For example, when Danny and Arno go back to the precinct, Danny observes, “You’re about to get chewed out by your captain.” Where is the drama inherent in a random observation like that? Why aren’t we using Danny’s “powers” to create drama? For instance, it would be much more interesting if, say, he offered: “No no. You can’t go back to the precinct. Your captain’s going to yell at you and take away your badge and then you won’t be able to stay on the case!” Now Arno has to make a decision. Does he listen to the kid or ignore him? Because a choice is involved, the moment is dramatic. Same goes for the following wound-dressing scene. It’s sorta funny to see a paper-thin female lead exist only to dress Arno’s wounds, but if it’s just observational, then all we’re doing is spoofing action flicks a la “Scary Movie.” Danny doesn’t even need to be there for that. And if Danny doesn’t need to be there, what’s the point of having him in the first place?

This eventually changes later in the script when Danny starts calling the shots. He tells Arno they need to go get his wife so the bad guys can’t use her as a pawn later (which is kinda funny because the wife is so used to being used as a pawn that she actually resists being protected before she needs to be). And then, instead of going into a lair full of bad guys where he’ll surely get hurt, Danny advises Arno to go to a public place and call 50 policeman for backup so there’s no way the bad guys can possibly hurt him. Now we’re taking advantage of the concept, but it was a full 75 pages into the story, and in my opinion, too late. By that point, I’d checked out.

I’m also surprised, taking into account the nature of the story, Penn was so pissed about Black’s decision to turn Arno into more of a “Gibson/Willis” archetype. Swarchenegger wasn’t known for being a cop in his films, so the fact that Penn and Leff made him one already went against how we identify Swarchenegger. So Black extending that into the Gibson/Willis arena was at the very least a natural progression of what they’d already started.

Anyway, my guess is that “The Last Action Hero” is one of those scripts that was lucky to be written in the golden age of specs, when a great concept was all you needed for a sale. It likely wouldn’t have a chance in today’s stingy market. Though in fairness you could say that about most specs of yesteryear.

So which draft do you like better? Or should this script even have been purchased in the first place?

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

What I learned: Well first of all, I think you need to exploit your concept to the fullest. Whenever you come up with a great movie idea, you want to sit down and write out all the possible scenarios that will best take advantage of that idea, then include all the “hits” from that list in your script. But because this script is really about deconstructing clichés, it’s a good reminder to always perform a “cliché check” run-through of your script. Read through it with the specific intent of asking yourself at every stage, “Will the audience know what scene is next?” “Will the audience know what line is next?” Because stories have a certain pattern, there is going to be an inherent predictability to your story. But the key moments should be unexpected and original.

For those who want to hear Zak’s reaction to the ordeal, follow this link.

The story behind “The Last Action Hero” comes from the book, “The Big Deal,” by Thom Taylor, which details the development process on a number of spec screenplays. You can find the book on Amazon here.