Is this the best unknown screenplay in Hollywood?

Genre: Drama
Premise: In 1971 Alabama, a poor, gifted, teen living in a trailer with his abusive family is shocked when the prettiest girl in school pays him a visit and asks him if he’ll do her a giant favor. 
About: This script was sent to me for a consultation by a director named Ravin Gandhi. The writer, Elyzabeth Gregory Wilder, originally wrote it as a play. She has since adapted it into a screenplay. Wilder has had her plays produced at the Royal Court in London, Alabama Shakespeare Festival, Denver Center, the Hartford Stage, amongst many others.  She’s now looking to expand into a screenwriting career. You can learn more about her at her website. By the way, there are a lot of twists and turns in this script. So I encourage you to read it before the review so you’re not spoiled. The link to the script is at the bottom of the review. :)
Writer: Elyzabeth Gregory Wilder
Details: 111 pages

Emily Blunt loves acting on the stage making me think she’d be perfect for this stage adaptation.

Okay, a little backstory here. Director Ravin Gandhi made his first film a couple of years ago and the biggest lesson he learned, during that process, was how important it was to have a great script. You have a great script, you get better actors. If you have better actors, you get a bigger budget. You have a bigger budget, you get a better team. You get a better team, you get better production value. And, of course, all of those things lead to a bigger and better distribution deal.

So, for his second movie, he made it his number one priority to find a great screenplay. After scouring every corner of the internet and as many agencies that would give him the time of day, the casting director who’d worked on his first film told him she knew a really great playwright who’d written this amazing play. Would he like to take a look?

Ravin said sure with zero expectations, read the play, and was blown away by it. That’s where I came in. He sent it to me, basically wanting to know from the guy who’s read everything, if the script was as good as he thought it was. I hate being put under that kind of pressure because 99 times out of a 100, I have to tell the person, ‘No, it isn’t as good as you think it is.’ But this time, it was.

Spirit of Ecstasy takes place in 1971 Alabama and follows 17 year-old Sammy, a poor shy boy who attends a local private school on scholarship. Unlike almost anyone else in Alabama, Sammy loves to draw, loves to create, loves to explore art. Unfortunately, because he’s poor and likes all these weird things, he doesn’t have any friends.

Sammy lives on a salvage yard in a trailer with his unabashedly “white trash” family. There’s 16 year-old troublemaker Luke, as cool and handsome as Sammy is shy and anxious. There is Lainie, Sammy’s mother, a once optimistic local beauty who’s been relegated to cutting coupons and staring at advertisements for nice neighborhoods she’s never going to live in. And then there’s Lowell, a local football star who’s become a beer-guzzling waste of space.

After Sammy comes home from school one day, we learn that he’s secretly fixing up one of the cars in the junkyard so that, when he’s old enough, he can leave this place. That opportunity may be coming sooner than he thinks. That night, there’s a knock on the door. Lainie goes to answer and is baffled at what she sees standing there – a beautiful girl.

This is Rachel, the most popular girl at Sammy’s school. Lainie isn’t sure what’s more surprising, that someone from the “right side of the tracks” is visiting them or that Sammy knows a girl. She immediately invites Rachel in and begins her southern hospitality routine. Later, once Rachel is able to get Sammy alone, she asks him if he’ll do her a favor and drive her to New Orleans. Sammy doesn’t know what to say.

As dinner rolls around, an increasingly pale-looking Rachel scurries off to the bathroom to throw up and that’s when we learn the true reason why she’s come. She’s pregnant. And she needs to get to New Orleans to get an abortion. She can’t have anybody in town knowing about this, which is why she’s come to the one family nobody cares about.

As Rachel carefully orchestrates the evening so that she can stay the night, she begins to see how abusive Sammy’s family really is. There are things going on behind closed doors that shouldn’t be happening, which only increases the urgency of her and Sammy having to leave.

After giving Sammy the first kiss of his life, she conspires with him to make a run for it before dawn, which Sammy agrees to. But we can’t help but wonder if Rachel’s adoration for Sammy is all just a ruse to get what she needs. Once she’s taken care of her problem, will she ditch him? We may never find out because Lainie discovers their secret plan and goes into nuclear preventative mode to stop her son from leaving her. Pulled between Rachel and his mother, Sammy will have to make the biggest decision of his life. What will he do?

There are soooo many things I liked about this script.

Let’s start with the plot. You guys have heard me go full hater-mode on drama scripts. Writers seem to think that the Drama genre gives them permission to be boring. Look no further than yesterday’s script, Rewired. The Spirit of Ecstasy shows you how to do it right. What’s the big difference? They use a time constraint.

This story doesn’t take place over a summer, a month, or even a week. It takes place in one night. That urgency covers up all of the problems that usually sink drama scripts because we know the issue is going to be resolved within the next 12 hours. That’s how you do drama. It’s the same idea behind 1917. A typical movie about World War 1 in 1917? Nobody cares. But make that story real-time and all of a sudden, “Wow, this is cool.”

That’s initially what pulled me in – just how fast a drama script was moving. I’m not used to that.

Next up, I loved the dramatic question at the center of the story. Dramatic questions are questions you can pose in your script that, if they’re compelling enough, make the reader want to stick around to find out the answer. The dramatic question in Spirit of Ecstasy that hooked me was, “Is Rachel conning Sammy?” Is she pretending to like him because she’s desperate to fix this problem she has? Or does she really like Sammy? Or does she go in planning to con him, but then actually starts to fall for him?

The fact that I was never entirely sure kept me flipping the pages. I had to know if Rachel was honest or not.

From there, the script exhibited an authenticity regarding the time and place that I rarely see. I’ve read scripts about the south in the 70s before. They all fall into the same stereotype traps. From everyone’s super religious to everyone’s a hick to they’re all walking around with guns. This feels different. Sammy is far from your typical southern stereotype. He’s smart and artistic and dances to the beat of his own drum. Even when the characters in Spirit do move towards “stereotype” territory, their actions and dialogue are so specific that it never feels fake or “written.”

By the way, that’s how you avoid cliche. You emphasize specificity. The more specific you can be about a time or place and how people act, that’s what makes your script feel real. The more vague you are, the more cliche you will be. It’s the difference between saying a tennis player “hits a forehand” and a tennis player “slides across the red clay, crushing a forehand down the line, past the outstretched racket of his opponent.”

Which leads us to the biggest star of the script – the dialogue. It’s been a while since I’ve read dialogue this good. The best way for me to identify good dialogue is when I never once am aware of the dialogue. Typically, when I read a script, I can feel the writer’s thought pattern as they’re writing the words of their characters. You sort of see them working out in their head what the characters need to say in the scene.

That never happened once in Spirit of Ecstasy. Every time people spoke, I became lost in their conversations. So much so that I would encourage anyone who wants to be a good dialogue writer to read this script. Because there are so many dialogue lessons you can learn from it.

Take this early conversation from page 9. We’ve just come into the trailer for the first time. We’ve been introduced to his parents, Lainie and Lowell. Lowell is watching the football game, making Sammy hold up an antennae to keep the picture clear. Meanwhile, Lainie is going through the newspaper, looking at houses and cars for sale. We pick up the conversation mid-scene…

This is a dialogue tool that all of you should have in your arsenal. A lot of amateur writers get tripped up in assuming that dialogue must be logical. It must be a ‘your turn, my turn’ exchange of information where every question must be answered with a cohesive insightful response. No. Real life conversation is much messier than that. One of the cool ways you can take advantage of this is by writing conversations where the characters rarely, if ever, respond to the other character, which is what you see here.

But it’s not just a cool trick. Notice how this dialogue does three things. One, what Lainie’s talking about – wanting to get a nice new car so that she can look respectable – tells us EXACTLY who her character is. We know Lainie after this scene. Two, what Lowell talks about – his obsession with the game, his not so subtle racist remarks – tells us exactly who he is. This is a simple man with a simplistic view of the world. And three, it tells us exactly who these two are AS A COUPLE. Their (non) conversation tells us everything we need to know about this marriage within a minute.

That’s what great dialogue is. It’s entertaining in and of itself. But it’s also teaching us things about the people saying the words.

Another one of my favorite dialogue exchanges happens later in the script. **BIG SPOILER contained in the below example** We’ve hinted, at this point, that Lainie is sexually abusive towards Luke. But this is something that’s never spoken about in the house. In this scene, Luke has gotten ready for bed and is passing by Sammy and Rachel, who are on the couch.

Good dialogue does more than one thing at a time. At first glance, this scene is about Luke making fun of his brother regarding his lack of sexual experience. The dialogue is funny, albeit in an uncomfortable way. But take a closer look and pay attention to what Luke is saying. Luke’s sexual experience is limited as well, exclusively to his mother. So even though he’s offending Sammy here, what he’s really talking about is his own sexual abuse.

This is highly advanced stuff that I rarely see in screenwriting these days. Nobody understands subtext. Or, the ones who do, are too busy rushing through the script to come up with any clever ways to explore what’s happening beneath the surface. The writer is telling us, without having to ever tell us, that Luke is being abused by his mother. In bad scripts, writers will have their Luke character walk straight up to their mom and say: “You need to stop sexually abusing me mom!” “I’m not sexually abusing you.” That’s an uninteresting way to explore the issue. Instead, you want to talk around it, talk under it, talk about it abstractly, hint at it in conversations with other characters. Not only is that more true to life, it leads to much more interesting conversations.

I could go on about this script for a long time. I think the characters are, honestly, the kinds of roles that win actors Oscars. The structure is so tight that it makes what’s, essentially, a bunch of characters speaking for 90 minutes, go by faster than you can snap your fingers. And the dialogue is consistently awesome. It’s kind of reignited my belief that there are really good screenplays out there waiting to be discovered. Check it out for yourself and let me know what you think in the comments!

Script link: Spirit of Ecstasy

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

What I learned: This reinforces my belief that dramas can almost become de facto “thrillers” if you add a really tight time frame. For that reason, I encourage anyone writing a drama to consider tightening the time frame of your story. You may be shocked at how much it improves the script. As I told Ravin, “This doesn’t work if it takes place over one week. Or even two days. It works specifically because it takes place over 12 hours.

Genre: Biopic
Premise: Harvard. 1959. A young Ted Kaczynski is experimented on by Dr. Henry Murray during a secret CIA psychological study that may have led to the creation of the Unabomber.
About: This script finished on last year’s Black List with 10 votes. Both of these writers have done a little TV work as well as written some indie features.
Writers: Adam Gaines & Ryan Parrott
Details: 91 pages

Asa Butterfield for Kaczynski?

One of the most common things you’ll be tasked with as a working screenwriter is finding angles on topics that have no business becoming movies. Hollywood is so focused on snatching up life rights, biographies, and IP that they don’t actually ask if the ideas are something worth turning into a movie.

The Empty Man, which I spoke about yesterday, is a perfect example of this. It was some dumb comic book that nobody read. Yet someone decided to buy it. And then they pitched it to director David Prior, who went off to read it, came back, and said, there is no way I will make this movie because this comic is stupid as hell (paraphrasing). But I will keep the title and make my own movie. They wisely said, ‘fine.’

The problem with making a movie about Ted Kaczynski is that he’s an unpleasant wacko who possesses zero qualities that would make him a good movie character. He’s a disturbed weasel who sends bombs to people with crazy-person messages attached. That character can never ever be a protagonist.

And yet, here is the sickness that permeates the industry. Everyone is so desperate to get movies through the system, they’re willing to pluck these unpleasant, but popular, topics, off the idea tree, thinking that a sad bleak boring name is better than no name at all. And so we get a screenplay about Ted Kaczynski.

One of the weirdest things about this screenplay is that we’re never told, until the very last line of the script, what Ted Kaczynski did to deserve the treatment of a movie. If I’m 25 years old reading this, all I’m thinking is, “Who is this guy and why are we following him?”

I suppose this could’ve been an artistic choice. But something tells me the writers assumed that everyone would know who Ted Kaczynski was. Which is something you should never do as a writer. I didn’t know even know who Ted Kaczynski was. I thought he was the Oklahoma City bombing guy. While you may spend 200 hours researching someone and therefore know them intimately, a majority of readers will have no idea who they are when they first lay eyes on your script.

“Rewired” focuses on Ted’s life when he was 17 years old attending Harvard in 1959. He was a math prodigy who got recruited by a pretty teacher’s assistant named Barbara Martin into a psychological experiment at the university being run by a psychology professor named Dr. Henry Murray.

Murray asks Ted, along with the 50 other students in the program, to give him a thesis on how to live life and Ted comes back with a paper that basically states too many people in Harvard don’t need Harvard because they’re already set for life. Meanwhile, poor people like him have to scratch and claw just to keep up with their scholarship requirements and then, when they graduate, they’ll have to start all over again, since they don’t have a network of rich people to help them.

Murray then recruits a lawyer from the legal department and tells him to debate everyone in the group, breaking down their life theses, and making them feel as bad as possible about their ideas. His plan seems to be to destroy their beliefs to see if he can then build an entirely new belief system within them.

Halfway through the experiment, Barbara visits Murray’s home, only to discover that he’s babbling incoherently and randomly painting his walls with a long black stripe. Needless to say, this man should not have been conducting any experiments. But it was the 50s so there weren’t a lot of checks and balances.

Barbara tries to warn Ted that Murray’s experiment is evil so Ted goes to Murray’s office to quit. But Murray takes advantage of Ted’s youth and naiveté to convince him to keep going, which basically amounts to a lot more psychological abuse. Ted heads home for the holiday and is violent for the first time to his brother. His parents are concerned that something sinister is going on at the university and encourage Ted to drop out.

I’m not clear on if he did drop out or not because the last few pages of the script are vague. But I think he may have? And then we get a closing title screen that tells us Ted killed three people with mail bombs and injured 23 others. The End.

I mean… (my head drops to the desk)…

I don’t understand why people write these scripts.

This script is so f$%#%ing depressing and sad and rote and boring and nothing happens! It’s two people sitting across from each other for 90% of the movie.

Even the script’s intention doesn’t work – to build sympathy for Ted Kaczynski – because Ted is such a bummer himself. He lugs himself around campus, staring at the ground, talking to no one, when he does talk to someone he’s scolding them or getting upset. Why would we care about this person? They’re extremely unlikable. I don’t mean that in a screenwriting sense. I mean in a person sense. Like, I hate these kinds of people. So why would I care about a movie that follows one of them?

And this goes back to the point I made at the beginning: Not every well-known person in history is meant to have a movie made about them. Just because somebody did something spectacularly good or spectacularly bad does not mean that a film must be made about them. And yet Hollywood can’t help themselves. No soul left behind. No matter how boring or rote or unlikable or annoying or eye-rolling a famous individual is, we must make a movie about their life!

What I’d be curious about here is if any of what I read is documented – if these interactions between Ted and Murray came from a transcription – or if the writers just made them up. Because the conversations certainly felt made up, with the bad guys sounding like mustache-twirling villains from the 70s.

At one point the lawyer says to Ted, “Your father. Average sausage maker. Master bowler.” Ted replies, “How did — how did you know that?” The lawyer says, “Grinding it together as it grounds him down. You must know those casings are made from intestines. Tell me… do you help your father clean the intestines? So he feels like less of a failure?”

I apologize if these words are on record but I sincerely doubt it. They feel made up. If you’re going to tell a story this serious, you can’t just have a bunch of made up gibberish as it undercuts everything you’re trying to accomplish – which is to write a convincing portrayal of how this kid was manipulated. That’s the only thing the movie has going for it, is that authenticity.

Another issue I had with this script is that they’re squaring a Harvard professor off with a kid to challenge his ideas. However, Ted is psychologically weak from the get-go. He’s lonely. He doesn’t have confidence in himself. He doesn’t even really belief in his thesis. For that reason, the conversations are all one-sided.

Psychological battles are entertaining when the two parties are an equal match. Without that, it’s basically like watching a bully come into a room and beat up someone smaller than him again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again. It’s masochistic. It’s unpleasant. I just… I’m so baffled about why anyone would think this would be entertaining.

Which brings us back to… yes, you guessed it: the fault of basing your movie on a weak idea. There’s honestly a more entertaining movie in two people trying to figure out how to spell Ted’s last name. We have to stop blindly putting scripts like this on the Black List because it means we will only get more of them.

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

What I learned: This is one more example that you cannot fix a bad idea. Whether it’s a bad fictional idea or a bad subject you’ve chosen. Writers lose years of their lives trying to make scripts work that will never work because the subject matter doesn’t work. This is one of those scripts. Nobody should ever make a movie about Ted Kaczynski. You can’t make him sympathetic. You can’t make the story entertaining. Anything you come up with will be bleak and sad. Nothing about this script works.

These horror submissions were shut out of Horror Showdown. Why?? Also, stay til the end because I announce the next SHOWDOWN!

I always say that running a contest is one of the worst things a person can do. You make one friend and 999 enemies.

And I get it. You see the entries that made Horror Showdown last month and you think, “My concept is better than those.” First off, you’re probably wrong. However, a few of you might, indeed, be right.

Therein lies the immeasurable conundrum of subjectivity. You might have a cool idea that I’m just not into. I’m not a fan of movies about magic, for example, like Harry Potter. I find them abracadumb. But, obviously, there are people who love Harry Potter and whom might anoint your magic concept the best idea they’ve ever seen.

Also, whoever’s running the contest is looking for a specific type of script. Nicholl celebrates high-minded fare where theme takes precedence over everything. The Black List is turning into a site that celebrates social commentary. For me, right now, I’m looking at concepts and asking, “Is this a movie I’d want to make?” If the answer is no, I don’t need to deliberate any further.

Both of those things – subjectivity and could this be a movie – are driving 95% of my choices. Just because your script didn’t win those two battles doesn’t mean it’s a bad idea. So don’t get down on yourself if you didn’t get picked.

With that said, there are concepts that are just straight up weak. And the purpose of today’s exercise is to help writers identify why a concept or logline doesn’t work and what you can do to improve your concepts moving forward. Let’s get to it!

Title: One Night in the White Mountains Under a Black Sun
Genre: Drama/Horror
Logline: In 1936 the lives of seven strangers violently collide when they become snowbound in an Italian hotel while one of them must stop a Nazi plot that would destroy the world.

Analysis: I wanted to get Felip’s entry in here because I could sense his audible frustration at not making the showdown (I love you, Felip!). This script actually finished in the top 15 because I thought the logline was intriguing. But the reason I passed on it had more to do with the Why You Should Read – “I just wanted to spin a decent yarn with Nazis and underground cults and black magic and werewolves and aliens.” Once I saw all that, I knew it was too much for me. There have been a few times in Scriptshadow history where I’ve liked “everything and the kitchen sink” scripts. But usually, I’m not into them. And once you have werewolves, Nazis, aliens, cults, and black magic? I just knew that wasn’t going to be for me. I tend to like simpler more direct concepts.

Title: THE PROJECTIONIST 
Genre: Horror 
Logline: A group of teens discover an old movie theater projector abandoned in a barn and inadvertently unleash a wave of horror after they switch it on.

Analysis: At first glance, this sounds like it could be a movie. But there’s one issue holding the logline back. We go from A to C instead of from A to B to C. We start with an old movie theater projector. Okay. There’s something a bit mysterious about that. However, how does switching it on unleash “a wave of horror?” Was the projector owned by someone dangerous? Maybe if there was a bit more information about WHY the projector unleashed this horror, I might’ve given this one a shot.

Title: Blood
Genre: Horror / action
Logline: A former combat medic, now providing rapid-response medical assistance for LA’s criminal underworld, takes on a trafficking gang harvesting teenagers’ organs for sale on the black market.

Analysis: I get the feeling that Ben tried to sneak an action script into the horror showdown here. So that’s the main reason I didn’t pick it. But I’m highlighting this concept to warn people off “organ trafficking” storylines. This is a 20 year old idea at this point. I know specifically how the town feels about organ trafficking because a couple of years ago I found a really good script about organ trafficking and I tried to pitch it to a bunch of people. Nobody would read the script the second they heard “organ trafficking.” it’s just a dead subject matter. If you’re going to do it, do it like they did it in Squid Game, where it’s a Z-story.

Title: Slaughterhouse
Genre: Horror
Logline: A documentary crew goes undercover to expose the horrors of factory farming, but things turn grisly when their project is discovered by a group of brutal farmers. 

Analysis: This is a perfect example of how subjectivity plays into choosing scripts. I can’t stomach anything where animals get hurt. It just gets me thinking about all the animal harm going on in the world and I get really depressed. So this was a ‘no’ for me immediately. But from the writer’s e-mail, he pointed out that this script has gotten him a lot of meetings. So, obviously, other, less-sensitive people, have no issue with the subject matter. I just want you guys to see this so you don’t get too down about a rejection. There could be something in your idea that someone is simply sensitive to. I know people who won’t read anything about rape. Or abortion. There’s nothing you can do about that so there’s no reason to get down about it.

Title: The Malignant Shift
Genre: Psychological Thriller / Horror
Logline: One year ago, a fringe religious sect vanished into the wilderness of an undisclosed location. Today, a group of idealistic documentarians set out in search of them for the story of their lives. Tomorrow, they discover that some things are better left undisturbed.

Analysis: I wanted to highlight this entry for a specific reason. It contains a classic logline mistake that I see writers make over and over again. The logline starts off strong then dissolves into nothing. It amounts to, “Some documentarians set out to find a fringe religious sect who vanished into the wilderness a year ago… and then scary stuff probably happens.” The end of of a logline shouldn’t be a teaser. You want to tell us what happens. If the sect turned into cannibals, tell us that. If they were eaten by giant wolves that are now hunting our documentarians, tell us that. If the woods trap them until they starve to death, tell us that. The “exciting first half logline” that then becomes the “vague ending logline” is one of the biggest logline mistakes you can make. You gotta be specific about what happens.

Title:  The Doppelgänger Suite
Genre: Horror
Logline:  A paranormal team — headed by a grieving estranged married couple who’ve suffered a family tragedy — shoots their season finale at an accursed New Mexico hotel plagued by a century-long string of physically impossible suicides. Unless the married couple can reconcile and solve the mystery, they and their team will become the hotel’s next victims as their blackest secrets, desires and agonies take human form in a murderous game that must conclude by dawn.

Analysis: I passed on this one for one simple reason. Too long of a logline. I know everyone hates writing loglines. I used to hate them too. But being able to write a cohesive logline that quickly conveys the concept indicates to readers that this writer has been at the craft for a while, understands that writing loglines is a necessary evil, and knows what they’re doing. When I see a logline this long, 99.9999% of the time, the script is messy. Here’s the thing. Once you learn how to write a strong concise logline, you also learn how to be a concise storyteller. You’re more focused, both with your overall screenplay, as well as the scenes within your screenplay. Someone recently asked me how long a logline should be. There’s no universal number, but somewhere around 30 words is ideal.

Title: THE FUMIGATOR
Genre: Horror
Logline: A highly ritualized serial killer uses his fumigation services to isolate and torment a troubled family in their own home.

Analysis: Shout out to Brett for this entry. Always love to see Brett enter. Here’s my issue with this one. The concept borders on comedic. If you explain to me that someone would use those big house coverings to hide their killings, that does make sense. But those tents all look like something you’d see at a carnival. The title “The Fumigator” comes close to sounding like a horror parody. And, also, I couldn’t figure out how the killer’s plan worked. The families all have to leave the house while it’s being fumigated. So how could the killer trap them if they’re already gone? It was just one of those ideas that didn’t quite work for me.

Title: Monster Bait!
Genre: Horror Comedy
Logline: While on a family ski trip, a teen’s efforts to win over his girlfriend’s dad go horribly wrong when a curse makes it so that every time he masturbates – a monster kills the object of his lust.

Analysis: Okay, “Monster Bait” is a funny title. But when it comes to horror comedy, my bar is higher than the elevation your last flight flew at. A horror comedy idea has to be absolutely amazing for me to bite. And this one didn’t make a lot of sense to me. I thought a curse just makes things happen. I wasn’t clear why a monster needed to appear (for example, when I think of a curse, I think of Tom Hanks in “Big.” He becomes an adult. That’s the curse. There aren’t also demons flying around trying to kill Tom Hanks). There’s a logic-chain to these concepts that needs to be clean and this one was too messy for me.

Title: The Slaying at Rustic River
Genre: Slasher Flick
Logline: Five college friends vacation at a remote cabin in the woods, however, they soon find themselves hunted by a killer whose motives are fueled by an unspeakable event linked to the group’s past.

Analysis: Another classic example of a logline not giving us enough information. It’s being vague. Loglines must be SPECIFIC. It is the SPECIFIC that intrigues the reader, not the GENERIC. Here’s the key problem phrase of the logline – “are fueled by an unspeakable event linked to the group’s past.” TELL US THE EVENT. Don’t talk around it. The event from the past is the hook. Without it, what’s unique about this concept?

I wish I could’ve gone through all of the entires but I only have so many hours in the day! So what do you think?! Should any of these have made the Horror Showdown? Who should’ve gotten in? Who should’ve been pushed out?

***ANNOUNCEMENT***

Finally, the official announcement of the next showdown will be in the newsletter. But here’s the unofficial announcement. The next Showdown is titled ANYTHING GOES SHOWDOWN. That means any script, any genre, any concept – it’ll be open to every script. We’re going to fold “WEIRD SCRIPT SHOWDOWN” into ANYTHING GOES SHOWDOWN. And I am going to be paying special attention to those weirder ideas. One or two of those will definitely make the showdown. So you did not write those scripts in vain. The deadline is FEBRUARY 3RD. So you have exactly three months to get your scripts in shape. GOOD LUCK!

Sorry to say but there will not be a Scriptshadow post today (Tuesday). However, there is a big fat 6000 word newsletter in your inbox. You know how shocked everyone is that Squid Game was rejected for 10 years? Well in this newsletter, I discuss a project that took 30 YEARS to get made. I also talk about the season premiere of the amazingly written Succession. I give you a Kinetic update. I discuss the latest scripts to hit the market in October. I give you a sneaky good show no one knows about on Apple TV. I analyze all the latest trailers. And, finally, I review a really heartfelt feel-good holiday script.

If you want to read my newsletter, you have to sign up. So if you’re not on the mailing list, e-mail me at carsonreeves1@gmail.com with the subject line, “NEWSLETTER!” and I’ll send it to you.

p.s. For those of you who keep signing up but don’t receive the newsletter, try sending me another e-mail address. E-mailing programs are notoriously quirky and there may be several reasons why your e-mail address/server is rejecting the newsletter. One of which is your server is bad and needs to be spanked.

The writer of The Martian attempts to remake Interstellar… with an E.T. Twist!

Genre: Sci-Fi
Premise: A science teacher is chosen for a deep space mission that will save the earth from a virus that is slowly darkening the sun.
About: Andy Weir, who’s responsible for one of the biggest self-publishing success stories ever – The Martian – is back in his wheelhouse with his third book, which currently has a staggering 37,000 reviews on Amazon. The movie adaptation will star Ryan Gosling and be directed by Phil Lord and Christopher Miller. Drew Goddard, who adapted The Martian, will adapt this one as well.
Writer: Andy Weir
Details: 482 pages

From what I understand, Project Hail Mary was originally conceived as a space opera, like Star Wars. However, after writing 75,000 words of this space opera and thinking it was terrible, Weir abandoned the novel and went off to write Artemis instead (his second book). But he couldn’t get some of the ideas from Project Hail Mary out of his head so he went back and repurposed the story to be more like… well, the book that made him famous: The Martian. Let’s see what the results were.

Ryland Grace wakes up in a windowless techy white room. He has no idea how he got here. But he does notice there are two other people in the room with him and they’re both dead. He senses he was part of some sort of crew which means that he must be in space. Why is he in space? He doesn’t know that yet.

He starts exploring the multi-module ship and finds a science lab. He’s supposed to work on something scientific. But what? The book is set up to jump back in time as Ryland remembers the pieces of his past, which come sparingly. The first thing he remembers is that the scientists of the world realized that the sun was getting darker. And if this continued, in about 30 years, humanity would be extinct.

Uh oh.

Back on the ship, Ryland starts doing experiments and realizes that the stuff that’s darkening the sun is called astrophage. And boy is this stuff nasty. Because it’s not just darkening our sun. It’s darkening all of the nearby suns in our galaxy. That’s when Ryland realizes that he’s not in his solar system, he’s in a completely different solar system called Tau Ceti. He’s been sent here because Tau Ceti is the only star that isn’t darkening. And his team – aka, him – needs to figure out what it’s doing right.

While Ryland is trying to figure out how to conduct experiments on local astrophage, he sees another ship! But this isn’t Star Trek where you just call them up on your space Skype. This is an Andy Weir novel. Everything is realistic. There are no phones. So these two ships have to figure out how to communicate some other way.

After a long drawn out process, the other ship docs to his and Ryland meets the sole occupant of the other ship, a spider alien he names “Rocky.” Several long chapters are dedicated to the two species learning each others’ languages (again, this is an Andy Weir novel where everything is dealt with realistically) and Ryland learns that Rocky is here for the exact same reason he is. His planet discovered the same thing, that Tau Ceti is the only solar system that isn’t affected by astrophage.

(Spoilers) Long story short, astrophage was created here. And because it was created here, it has a natural predator that can kill it. Which means all these two have to do is pack up some of these predator particles and head back to their respective homes. However, when something goes wrong at the last second, Ryland will be tasked with either going home to save mankind or going back and saving his new friend.

One of the things I’m a big proponent of is figuring out what you bring to the table that nobody else does and then writing scripts that lean into that strength. Think about it. Why would we show up to see something that feels exactly like everything else we’ve seen? We seek out material, in written and produced form, that has a distinctive voice.

Weir’s voice is science. Literally NOBODY else is doing what he’s doing. Let me repeat that because it’s important. NOBODY ELSE IS DOING WHAT HE’S DOING. If you’re the only one who’s doing something, you are a commodity. The studios can’t go to JJ Abrams or Quentin Tarantino and say, “I want a movie like The Martian that is steeped in hardcore science.” They wouldn’t be able to do it. They can only go to Andy Weir.

So now I ask you – what can studios only get from you as a writer? What is your unique commodity?

But Weir’s talents don’t stop there. If he only gave you science, you’d be bored out of your mind. He’s created a unique ability to package science in a fun easy-to-read way. Part of it is that he knows he has to move the story along so he never dwells for too long on anything before jumping to the next plot beat. But, also, he has an insane love for science, which comes off in the way he writes.

That’s worth something, by the way. Readers can feel when a writer is passionate about what they’re writing. It often adds an extra level of energy to the story.

That doesn’t mean Weir doesn’t have weaknesses. He does. Project Hail Mary has a huge weakness. Weir wants to write a thriller. He wants to keep the pages moving. But he also has to explain all this backstory so you know why he’s doing this. And writing a thriller in first person with extensive backstory doesn’t make sense.

So Weir cheats. He creates this amnesia storyline whereby Ryland only remembers the past bit by bit, and each time he remembers, we cut back to the past to get that new piece of information. Conveniently, these pieces of the past come to him in perfect linear order, allowing him to tell a perfectly linear story from the past as he intercuts to the perfectly linear present.

It’s a sloppy device and it almost derails the story. I mean here’s a guy who can spend ten pages on the importance of why a door corner must be measured by the Pythagorean Theorem in space lest the entire ship blow up, yet the rules of amnesia just happen to align perfectly to the extent that each bit of remembered past matches up perfectly with the story’s structure.

I think the big question coming out of Hail Mary is, can this be adapted into a movie as good as The Martian? And the answer is I honestly have no idea. I suspected, after reading The Martian, that we’d be bored hanging out with Matt Damon in a single room through that entire second act but I was wrong. So I’m not going to write Project Mary off.

But the make or break part of Hail Mary is, without a doubt, going to be Rocky. It isn’t just creating Rocky that’s going to be difficult. It’ll be the tone. Because he kind of sounds like a slightly smarter version of E.T. But the focus here on genuine science would imply that they’d want Rocky to feel more realistic. And yet, the way he’s written, he’s like a spider-dog that communicates through singing. I’m just not sure how you make that work onscreen.

I’m getting some Jar-Jar Binks vibes – or, gasp, Mac and Me – where he could inadvertently come off as comical. If he works, the movie will work. If he doesn’t, Ryan Gosling is going to be memed to death for the rest of his life. I would go so far as to guess that they’re going to change this alien to something more human. I just don’t know how you make a spider dog with no eyes that sings work.

All in all, Project Hail Mary is a fun book. It reads like a movie. It’s got a lot of fun little twists and turns along the way. If you liked The Martian, I see no way you wouldn’t like this too. It does have some weaknesses but they never overwhelm its strengths.

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

What I learned: I hear a lot of writers share stories similar to Weir’s experience on Project Hail Mary, where they start off writing something and, once they get deep into it, realize it sucks. When that happens, it can be very difficult for the writer to give up because now they have the sunk cost fallacy in play: You’ve already written so much of the story. Therefore, even if it sucks, you should still finish it. However, I think the better option is to do what Weir did. Understand that just because a novel or a script isn’t working, that doesn’t mean giving up on it now means giving up on it forever. What often happens when we get some distance from our failed stories is that we realize there are still some kernels in them that could be used to create a different better story. We can then extract those kernels and write a book like Project Hail Mary, which was pretty darn good. That’s a better option than spending years trying to make something work that’s inherently flawed.