Genre: Comedy
Premise: (from Black List) A depressed, progressive woman stuck in a conservative small Texas town starts micro-dosing the entire town with marijuana to make them all get along.
About: This script finished with 10 votes on last year’s Black List. Noga Pnueli has written one of my Top 25 scripts – time loop comedy, “Meet Cute.” So I’ve got high expectations today!
Writer: Noga Pnueli
Details: 112 pages

I think the above video best conveys how subjective comedy is. It’s one of the reasons I don’t review a lot of comedy scripts on the site. I always feel like the x-factor of whether I, personally, believe the writer is funny, gets in the way of me being able to accurately assess the script.

A comedy script can be perfectly executed in terms of structure, theme, and character. But if the comedy’s not my cup of tea, I’m still going to hate it. And things get even trickier when you’re trying to assess whether the writer’s not funny to you or not funny period. Because it would be nice if you could definitively say, “Comedy is not your strong suit. You should write in another genre.” But then someone would have to explain to me how people enjoy The Trevor Noah Show and Adam Sandler movies.

The good news is, I *KNOW* today’s writer is funny. She’s got a script in my Top 25 called “Meet Cute,” a time loop rom-com. So I know we’re going to get some mad comedy lessons. At least I hope so. When in doubt, place your faith in Noga Pnueli.

30-something Estee lives in Jacksboro, Texas. Estee is a “lifer.” That means you’re one of these people who gets stuck in the small shitty town you grew up in because you’re too afraid to leave.

But it’s even worse for Estee because she’s the only liberal in town. She works at a bakery where her boss won’t even bake a cake for a gay couple that comes in. This infuriates Estee so much that she gets in an argument with her boss and he fires her.

While stumbling through town hating life, Estee sees that Jacksboro just opened up their first marijuana dispensary. Estee’s never smoked pot in her life so she tries it out and “ohmmmmmmm,” all of a sudden she’s as relaxed and happy as she’s ever been.

So she gets an idea. She makes pot brownies and starts handing them out to people so that they can experience the same things she did. And they do. Which inspires her to make bigger batches of pot brownies. And then pot cookies. And then pot cakes. Which she delivers to everyone. Except, they don’t know they’re all being drugged.

Amazingly, when they figure it out, they’re not mad. They want her to continue low-key dosing them up. You see, as God-fearing Christians, they can’t be seen buying marijuana in town. This way, they get to to get high without the stigma.

When the pot store owner, who kind of has a crush on Estee, realizes what she’s doing, he informs her that he can no longer take part. Which means her entire operation of “Make Town Happy” will fall apart. Which means everyone will be angry and miserable again. Including Estee. So she has to figure out if there’s any last-minute substitute that can provide people with true happiness. What she ends up finding is the last thing she expects.

Initially, I liked High Society. When it comes to comedy, you want a writer who’s actually comedic. I know that sounds obvious. But you can tell a comedic writer by the way they write. For example, here’s an early excerpt from the script….

ESTEE, 30’s, is what is locally referred to as a LIFER, aka a woman who never left her pathetic hometown and whose wasted potential has made a home atop her shoulders like a ton of bricks.

She is currently avoiding her existential woes by baking complicated SOURDOUGH RYE BREAD in her kitchen.

Pay particular attention to that second sentence. Because there are thousands of ways you could’ve written it. You could’ve written, “Estee is currently baking bread.” “A miserable Estee shoves bread dough into her oven.” “Estee kneads the dough for some bread she’s making.”

You get the idea. These sentences convey the same thing Noga wrote. But they do so in a non-comedic manner.

The phrase, “is currently avoiding her existential woes” is a lot more clever, thoughtful, and funny, than simply saying, “is currently baking bread.” The word “complicated” is also relevant here. “Complicated” paints more of a picture for the reader than if the word wasn’t included. It creates a bit more of a comedic edge, particularly when you combine it with the phrase preceding it.

Funny phrasing and word choices, as long as they’re not overused, are a great way to “write funny.”

Unfortunately, despite Noga’s inherent comedic talent, she runs into the most common comedy problem of them all, which is that she doesn’t have a potent enough premise.

Comedic premises can be deceiving. They can seem funny. But a funny logline doesn’t mean you have 100 minutes of funny. It may only mean you have 30 minutes of funny. And the only way to learn this, unfortunately, is to write a handful of crappy comedies. Only through the process of failure do you get a feel for how long a comedic concept can last.

High Society is a 30 minute premise. How do I know this? Because it’s a South Park episode. They have a very similar episode on South Park. And even they struggled to get their concept to the 23 minute mark.

Why doesn’t this concept have legs? Well, we get to the part where everybody is consuming marijuana and chilled out before the midpoint of the script. So, then, what’s left? We’ve already achieved the funny part mentioned in the logline. What now?

The next plot development is: will the town realize they’re being drugged? Is this a funny development? I would argue it isn’t. There is some conflict involved because there are consequences to what Estee has done. So there’s a dramatic reason for us to keep reading. But I wouldn’t say there was any *comedic* reason for us to keep reading. The script isn’t presented in such a way where this reveal will be treated with a laugh.

Then, we finally get that reveal and guess what? Nobody has a problem with Estee doing this. In fact, they all like it. So, ummmmmm, where is the conflict in the movie? Estee literally has zero problems now. She’s drugging people. They like it. Why, exactly, are we still watching this movie? There’s nothing left to be resolved!

Noga seems to realize this so she comes up with this minor conflict whereby the marijuana shop owner says he’s not going to sell her pot anymore. But, at this point, I don’t care. Too much conflict has been sucked out of the story.

If there’s one thing to learn about comedy today, it’s that if you don’t take care of your plot, your comedy won’t matter. If your characters aren’t engaged in some level of compelling conflict that has genuine stakes attached, then we don’t care what happens to your characters. And people won’t laugh if they don’t care what happens to your characters.

I don’t even know what Estee wants in this movie. Why is she even doing any of this? It’s an important question because, if we don’t know, then we don’t know why it’s so important for her to succeed. And without a need to succeed, there are no stakes. The guys in The Hangover cannot, under any circumstances, lose their friend eight hours before his wedding. The stakes are so high that we’re extremely engaged in their mission.

Not so with this one. I get that it’s pot comedy and that this type of comedy is a little more chill. But I’ve seen pot comedies with high stakes and lots of activity (Pineapple Express). So while I’ll give High Society a puff. I’m not giving it a pass.

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

What I learned: Make sure that your comedy concept provides stakes that will last 100 minutes. I see too many comedy writers who dive into a comedy script with stakes that get you to page 40. And then they spend the rest of the movie flailing about trying to be funny. This is important, so pay attention. Characters are the most funny when they have something to lose. Therefore, if it’s muddy or unclear what your characters have to lose, chances are, nobody’s laughing. I wasn’t ever clear what Estee had to lose in this movie.

Oh man, going through these loglines was equal parts awesome, frustrating, flabbergasting, and hilarious. One of my biggest laughs happened when I read this logline: “The search for a cure lands a doctor and her terminally ill husband alone on a boat, in a fight for their lives when the ‘super steroid pills’ intended for him are eaten by a plague of rabid, starving RATS.” For some reason, I misread “super steroid pills” as “sexual enhancement pills.” The movie I was imagining in that moment was unlike any movie I’ve seen before.

There were a ton of ‘ALMOST’ loglines. At their core, they were high concept. But something about the way they read indicated they weren’t quite where they needed to be. For example, here’s one that almost made it – “A disgraced bomb disposal expert struggles to escape the mind games of whoever trapped him inside a mascot suit and an explosive vest in New York Times Square.” I loved the irony of this setup. But I don’t know if this leans into the level of seriousness implied by the situation if our hero is in a mascot suit the whole time.

I want to thank everyone for submitting. I wanted to included every submission, of course, but there were only six slots (I had to add one more!) available. I’m sure many of you believe your concept is better than these. It very well might be. There’s always an element of subjectivity to this. For that reason, feel free to pitch your logline in the comments section. We’ll see if the other readers agree. Also, next Thursday, I’m doing a “Why Your Submission Didn’t Make It” article for five entries. If you would like your entry to be on that list, let me know in the comments. The goal of these articles is always to help the writer understand how to write better loglines and better submissions. So it’s very helpful.

If you have never played Amateur Showdown before, five scripts compete against each other below. Read as much of each script as possible and vote for your favorite in the comments. Votes close Sunday night at 11:59pm Pacific Time. The winner will get a review on the site next week.

Want to compete in a future Amateur Showdown? I have good news for you. I will be announcing the next Amateur Showdown Category MONDAY. So be ready for that!

And now, it’s time for the FIVE – MAKE THAT SIX! – CHOSEN ONES TO COMPETE.

Congratulations if you made the cut. And good luck to all!

Title: BLAST RADIUS
Genre: ACTION THRILLER
Logline: A desperate man fleeing a failed robbery carjacks an old Sedan and speeds away, only to realize he’s now driving a car bomb, and it’s ticking…
Why You Should Read: I’ve tried to write the ultimate GSU movie. I’ve written it in a VERY terse style, trying to tell the story with as few words as possible, so (I hope) the script will read as fast as the movie is designed to play.

Title: The Watchtower
Genre: Contained Thriller
Logline: An amateur true-crime podcaster takes a job manning an isolated fire watchtower in a remote wilderness area, where she’s convinced a series of recent disappearances is the work of a serial killer.  Her investigation is turned upside down when she’s forced to take in an injured hiker – a man she suspects may be the killer she’s been obsessed with finding.
Why You Should Read: Big concept on a small budget. True-crime podcasters are the Clarice Starlings of today. And, in our pandemic world, thousands are heading to the great outdoors to find our “safe place”.  Essentially a two-hander, this thriller is set in the unique world of fire-tower lookouts, otherwise known as “freaks on the peaks” – where the extreme isolation is known to bring out the best – and darkest – side of any personality. It’s a story about the duality of human nature.
In the wilderness, there’s no place to hide from yourself.

Title: Nine Lives, or The Infallible Guide to Extracting Revenge on Your Enemies
Genre: Dark Comedy/Drama
Logline: After getting hit in the head, a bipolar man starts collecting an army of cats at the behest of his dead childhood cat’s spirit to get revenge on those who’ve wronged him.
Why You Should Read: I know “high concept” is a bit nebulous for most, but in my mind, the main component that a high concept film needs is an elevator pitch that immediately marks it as something distinct, (even within its own genre) so people hear it and are compelled to see how things unfold for themselves. — My script doesn’t have any time travel or big reveals; it just takes an unusual but honest setup of a man and follows the path of the story, hopefully delivering a tight, well-contained character study with the backdrop of craziness (literally and figuratively) and several “did he really just do that?” type moments carrying it beyond a run-of-the-mill character piece.

Title: HAG
Genre: Horror
Logline: A woman suffering from night terrors seeks treatment at a sleep disorder clinic, only to discover that the shadowy creature tormenting her is real… and it will never stop until it steals away her breath.
Why You Should Read: Dealing with ‘Old Hag Syndrome’ (a state of paralysis where the sleeper awakens completely frozen but conscious, convinced a supernatural entity is sitting on their chest), this script introduces us to the Hag: a malevolent, body-distorting embodiment of nightmares that will surely go on to become a new movie monster franchise. The story mixes horror with psychological drama and creepy creature action. Set in a clinic on an island, featuring a small cast, this is a contained horror script that boasts a memorable, crowd-pleasing monster that will still be economical to shoot!

Title: MAELSTROM
Genre: Black Comedy/Thriller
Logline: When a freak storm hits a couples therapy retreat and turns all men in its path into predatory killers, a devoted wife and her new female allies must fight to save their lives, as well as their relationships.
Why You Should Read: MAELSTROM is a satirical contained thriller that takes the idea that the weather has the power to negatively affect our behaviour and amplifies it to 11. But what if we took it one step further still? What if it only affected male behaviour? And what if the affected men’s behaviour sorta, kinda, a teeny bit mirrored the behaviour displayed by asshole men the world over, resulting in a social commentary that explored themes of self-love and emotional independence in a battle royale of the sexes? Welcome… to MAELSTROM.

Title: Dinosaurs on the Beach
Genre: Comedy / Adventure
Logline: After discovering a living baby T-Rex, a failed paleontologist decides to evade the corrupt local authorities and raise the dinosaur himself. Jurassic Park meets E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial. 
Why You Should Read: You like Jurassic Park. You like E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial. Why shouldn’t you read this?

I’m currently editing a screenplay, something I haven’t done in a while. And one of the things I’ve become obsessed with during the process is script rhythm. What is rhythm? Rhythm is the pacing of a script. It’s a combination of how long scenes last and how you balance longer and shorter scenes.

One of the things I’ve realized is that some general screenplay rules don’t mesh with the natural rhythm of a screenplay. For example, one of the first rules you’re taught, as a screenwriter, is that when you write a scene, you want to start the scene as late as possible and leave the scene as early as possible.

For example, if you had a job interview scene, and you were to utilize this advice, you would start in on the interviewer saying, “So tell me about yourself.” And we’re right into the meat of the scene. After they go through the applicant’s resume, the interviewer smiles and says, “We’ll be in touch.” END OF SCENE.

You’ve just written a technically perfect scene.

But is that the best scene you could’ve written?

Let’s imagine another scenario where the interviewer invites the applicant in, tells him to sit down, but before she starts the interview gets an important e-mail. “Hold on,” she says. “This will just be a second.” While the interviewer replies to this e-mail, we now get to sit in the applicant’s growing anxiety. He needs this job. And the longer he sits here, awkwardly, without saying anything, the more nervous he gets. And the more nervous he gets, the more he starts to sweat. And because he has to make sure he doesn’t LOOK nervous, he keeps trying to wipe the sweat off his forehead without the interviewer noticing.

Finally, she finishes, and because the applicant is so nervous, he starts babbling when asked questions. The writer doesn’t give our nervous applicant a way out though. He forces him to sit in those uncomfortable silences after he’s said something stupid. Eventually, things go so bad, he apologizes and asks if he can have a do-over. He’ll come back tomorrow. The interviewer offers a pinched smile and says, “I think we both know that won’t matter.”

Which is the better scene? I would argue the second scene is. Yet if we lived by the “start as late as possible, leave as early as possible” rule, we never would’ve written that scene.

Or take a look at the scene I broke down last week from I Care A Lot. That scene, which follows a lawyer trying to persuade a guardian to release one of her patients, didn’t start at the latest point either. There’s a bit of gamesmanship from the lawyer character before the real conversation gets started.

What we’ve learned? That some scenes need time to get the most out of them.

However, if you only write these types of scenes, your script can quickly begin to feel like it’s moving too slow. That’s because it’s harder to write long scenes and most writers don’t know how to construct them in the most dramatically compelling way. I recently read a party scene in a script that lasted 8 pages. There wasn’t any dramatic component to the scene at all. It was just us meeting characters. Even if a scene like that has a couple of nice moments, readers are going to get impatient.

It’s a reminder that, even though it wasn’t applicable in our interview scene or I Care A Lot scene, the “start as late as possible and leave as early as possible” tool is often the best option. You only want to bust out the really long scenes (8-10 pages) every once in a while.

Generally speaking, you want to write a few short (1 and a half pages) to medium (2 and a half pages) scenes, then a longer scene (3-5 pages), then a few more medium to short scenes, then a really long scene (8-10 pages), then some more shorter scenes. And so on and so forth. The appropriate balance of length is the key to getting the rhythm of a script right.

So what happens when you only write long scenes? Well, we actually have examples of that. This is how Quentin Tarantino writes a lot of his movies. I believe Pulp Fiction and Inglorious Basterds are one continuous series of 10 minute scenes. And, obviously, the movies work. So we’ve just proven your theory wrong, Carson. Rhythm is whatever scene-writing system you come up with.

Here’s the thing with Tarantino. He knows all the little dramatic tricks to keep your interest. He knows that when Nazi soldiers show up at a farmer’s house who’s hiding Jews, you’re going to want to see what happens. So his scenes are almost like mini-movies. They all have their own beginning, middle, and end. Therefore, when you go to a Tarantino movie, you’re watching a series of short films from a guy who understands storytelling better than 99.9999999% of Hollywood. In other words, he’s a bit of an anomaly.

If someone else were to write twelve 10-minute scenes for their movie – say, in yesterday’s Mortal Kombat script – people are going to be like, ‘What the f%$# is going on right now?’ The rhythm would seem all off.

Conversely, what happens when you only write short scenes? We actually have examples of this as well. Michael Bay lives by the rule of start the scene as late as possible and end it as early as possible. Go pop in 6 Underground on Netflix. Try to keep up with what’s happening in that movie. It’s impossible because the rhythm is so fast. It’s boom boom boom boom boom. We don’t have any time to breathe.

I bring this up because I realize that one of the main directives of screenwriting is to keep the story moving. Go go go all the time. And that gives screenwriters the wrong message. If all you’re doing is rushing along relentlessly, the reader never gets to sit down and learn about the characters, or understand and relate to what they’re going through. That’s what happened with Tuesday’s script, The Post Office, or whatever it was called. I found myself not caring because the plot was so relentless. The writer didn’t balance enough longer character-driven scenes with the 1 and a half page plot-driven scenes.

Rhythm is balance. It’s the ability to balance the long, the medium, and the short. As far as how many of each you’ll put in your script, that’s going to change depending on your genre and subject matter. For example, I just read a drama screenplay that followed a white trash family going through a rough spot in their life. In a script like that, you’re going to have a lot more longer scenes than short quick scenes. Conversely, in a script like Mortal Kombat, you’re going to have more short scenes than quick scenes.

What you’re looking to avoid is only relying on one. Or only relying on one specific page length for a scene. For example, if every scene in your script is exactly two pages, that’s going to feel weird. And the shorter your “default” scene length is, the weirder it’s going to feel. If you write 30 straight pages of 1 page scenes? People are going to throw your script down. Nobody can handle that. You need balance, a nice mix of short, medium, and long.

One of the biggest reasons for improper pacing is when writers start to trim scenes down to meet a certain page length. So, let’s say, they have 50 scenes in a 130 page screenplay. And they want to get it down to 120. What they’ll do is they’ll go into each individual scene and trim it. A 2 page scene becomes a 1 and a half page scene. A 3 page scene becomes a 2 and 1/4 page scene. And they do this again and again with all the scenes until the script hits that magical 120 page number, which makes them feel like they’ve accomplished something. But, in actuality, they’ve f$%#d up the rhythm of their screenplay because now everything is super short. What they should’ve done instead is eliminate scenes. That would’ve got them down to the page count without decimating all their individual scenes.

A good habit is to write down the length of every scene in your script in a spreadsheet and do a little investigating. If you have an endless number of ‘1 pagers’ I’m guessing your rhythm is off. Same deal if you have seven 10 page scenes and the final 40 pages are a bunch of short and medium scenes. That rhythm’s going to be off as well.

Rhythm is balance. Keep that in mind when you’re working your way through a script.

Genre: Action
Premise: Following in his murdered mother’s footsteps, Michael Griffiths enlists in the United States Postal Service… only to discover a mail route full of surprises and a job that means maybe, just maybe, saving the world.
About: This script finished with 11 votes on last year’s Black List. This writer is just getting started. He does have some Hollywood experience though, being Nicholas Stoller’s assistant on both Neighbors 2 and Storks. It looks like Amazon Studios may have purchased this to produce. It also appears to be an original spec. It isn’t based on anything that I know of.
Writer: Perry Jane
Details: 122 pages

Damon Wayans Jr. for Michael?

Before I dive into this one – because I’m going to warn you in advance, it wasn’t for me – I want to say something positive. Which is that it was nice to see a big fun movie on the Black List for once. The Black List has become… I don’t know… weird. Some of the scripts that make the list defy explanation. So it’s cool that something your average moviegoer would pay for got on there.

Unfortunately, for script snobs like me, The U.S.P.S. was more “general postage rate” than “Express Mail.”

When word gets to 20-something security guard Michael that his mother died on her postal route, he’s already feeling guilty about not spending more time with her. But then Michael gets a security box key, and that’s where he learns that his mom was a lot more than your average postal worker. She was an agent who used her postal office cover to take down bad nasty people. His mother didn’t die. She was murdered!

Michael is quickly recruited by someone named Sinda, who knew his mother well. She takes Michael to a secret underground location where he’s instated as a trainee in the U.S.P.S. program – The United States Program of Spies!!!!! (“Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night, nor threat of suffering and death, stays these agents from the swift completion of their mission.”)

Sinda believes that Michael’s mother was killed by a woman named Bonnie Jo Boone, who has just sent a message to the U.S. government that they have to give back 5 trillion dollars to be dispersed to all the poor people in the country that it was “stolen” from. Bonnie Jo works with six modified humans that are basically like, cyborgs, I guess. Translation: she’s serious.

Michael doesn’t get the gig right away, though. He has to try out against a bunch of other prospective spies. So he has to do things like sneak up to a house and deliver mail without anybody noticing.

When Bonnie Jo accelerates her plan, Sinda realizes they have to do the same. So Michael is promoted to a spy on a ‘probationary period.’ Michael is sent to a suspicious bank in the middle of Manhattan, where he discovers Bonnie and her team, waiting to rob it. The postal spies attack, which sends everyone on a crazy car chase through New York, complete with an old postal truck that transforms into a super-car-weapon-thing.

Bonnie Jo is able to get away. But Sinda learns something even worse. That Bonnie Jo is working with someone from the inside! They have a traitor in their midst! So off they go to the supposed traitor’s party (someone at the FBI) where they look for clues to take him down before Bonnie is able to commence her bank-draining plan that will move 5 trillion dollars out of the hands of the wealthy and into the hands of the people!

What is plot?

Plot is the sequence of events that push your primary story forward.

The spacing between these “plot beats” will dictate whether your script is designated as “plot heavy” or “plot light.” Smaller movies tend to have more spacing between their plot beats. Big Hollywood movies tend to have less. The reason is obvious. People who go to see a big Hollywood movie are expecting to be entertained consistently the whole way through. So you’ll see a lot of plot beats in Fast Furious, Iron Man 3, Star Wars.

Here’s the problem, though. If you erase all spacing between plot beats, your story loses its soul. If the only thing that is happening in your script is you’re racing your characters from one plot marker to the next, it’s hard for the viewer to connect with the characters. And that’s my problem with The U.S.P.S. It’s plot plot plot plot plot plot plot plot and plot.

Now the writer of The U.S.P.S. may argue that he does have some slower moments. We see Michael get drunk one night thinking about his mom’s death. I think there are a couple of more scenes like that throughout the script. Here’s the thing, though. You don’t get points for trying. For character-driven moments to resonate, you, the writer, have to care about them. If you’re just putting them in there because a screenwriting website told you to, or because you want to avoid someone giving you the note that you didn’t focus enough on character, they’re not going to work.

For character stuff to work, you have to be interested in the internal workings of your characters. You have to want to be exploring something with them that you’re just as curious about as your plot. One of the reasons the last two Avengers movies were so popular is because of Thanos. This is a guy who truly believed in what he was doing and had to make some horrible choices, including killing his own daughter, to succeed at his mission. There was something going on in that character. Something he was battling inside.

This is a major difference between the screenplays I read that are good and the ones that are bad. The good screenplays are almost always the ones where the writer is curious about the human condition with at least one of their characters. They want to know what makes a person tick, not how many ticks to the next plot twist. They’re interested in what it feels like to be Wade Wilson (Deadpool), who’s forced to stay away from the love of his life because he’s been burned beyond recognition and is ashamed of how he looks. They don’t care about the flashy Deadpool fight scenes. Well, they do, but they know those won’t work unless they get the character right.

And what’s so hard for writers – especially new writers – to understand, is that you can’t fake it. You can’t show a character looking sad remembering their dead parent if you haven’t sat down and thought about how that death has shaped them as a human being. Because it’s that shaping that’s going to come out in every scene they’re in. If you have to remind an audience that a character is affected by a traumatic event, you probably haven’t figured out who your character is yet. Characters LIVE those events.

Look, this script wasn’t bad. It’s like an American version of Kingsman. So if all you care about is eye entertainment, it might be fun. It’s a little out-there. A bit goofy for my taste. But it should make for an interesting movie.

I guess my issue is that U.S.P.S. felt like a writer who had 52 beats he had to stuff into a 120 page package and his mission, instead of writing something that explored the human condition in an entertaining way, was to make sure all 52 beats got in there through hell or high water. For that reason, the script couldn’t breathe. It was always about getting to the next checkpoint. And that’s why it wasn’t for me.

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

What I learned: I want to talk about bolded underlined sluglines for a second because I see them being used occasionally, including here. One of the goals of a writer should be to make the reading experience as easy as possible. The more your eyes flow from left to right and down the page, the better. Bolded underlined sluglines create the effect of blockages on the page. That big ugly black line feels like something you have to burrow through or go around. If your script is light on locations (and therefore doesn’t have a lot of sluglines), this might not be a big deal. But if you’re switching locations a lot? If you’ve got 3 or 4 on a page? Those bolded sluglines can start to look like giant blockades in the middle of a street. It’s not pleasant. It’s something you should definitely think twice about.

Has Scriptshadow become the “I Care A Lot” channel? Is tomorrow a 5000 word breakdown on Peter Dinklage’s character in the film? No, but the Golden Globes are so weak this year (it feels like the bronze medal game at the Olympics) I don’t have anything to say about them other then they should come up with a new category called, “Most Boring Movie” and just put all the movies in that category because that’s how good these movies look.

On the plus side, this gives me an opportunity to talk about my favorite topic: “I Care A Lot,” a movie I just highlighted a scene from last week. At that point, I had only watched half the movie, mostly because everyone said the movie “fell apart in the second half” and that didn’t exactly motivate me to finish it. But this weekend I sat down and gave it a full watch and you know what?

You were all wrong.

This is a good movie from start to finish and I’m going to explain why. Now, you should know that this is a twisty turny flick and, therefore, you should check it out before you read this because I’m going to be spoiling the bejesus out of everything. But if you’re okay with spoilers, let’s continue.

“I Care A Lot” attempts to walk one of the thinnest tightropes in screenwriting – building the story around an unlikable protagonist. Marla is someone who makes her living off of conning old people. These seniors are perfectly healthy. Yet she thrusts them into assisted loving homes without their permission so she can take control of their finances and rob them blind.

The reason it’s so hard to make scripts like this work should be obvious. If we’re not rooting, in some way, for the main character, nothing else matters. You can have the most amazing plot in the world and it doesn’t matter if we detest the protagonist.

I want to highlight something I’ve never seen any other screenwriting enthusiast talk about. Which is that there are three degrees of unlikable protagonists. I bring this up because a lot of writers push back when you talk about unlikable protagonists and say that as long as they’re “interesting,” you can build a story around them.

But it’s actually more complicated than that because the different degrees of ‘unlikable’ dictate how hard you have to work to get the reader to root for your hero. The first and most common unlikable hero is the ‘bad but not really bad’ protagonist. This would be someone like the Mandalorian. He’s not very nice to anybody. He only does things if it helps him. He doesn’t talk a lot. But let’s be real. He loves Baby Yoda and at the end of most episodes, he’s helped someone else out. Readers will always root for these characters because they know, deep down, they’re good.

The second type of unlikable protagonist is the “genuinely bad” protagonist. This is someone slightly more sinister than the Mandalorian and truly in it for himself. A good comp would be Melvin Udall (Jack Nicholson) in As Good as It Gets or Louis Bloom in Nightcrawler. These characters can be downright nasty, saying mean things to people or constantly screwing those people over. Still, if you know what you’re doing as a writer, you can keep us rooting for characters like this.

The third type of unlikable character is the “truly bad” protagonist. What separates this character from the others? These characters are morally bankrupt. Not only do they hurt others, but they hurt people who are lesser than them. Children. Old people. The poor. Underlings. This is what Marla is and this is the single hardest character to make an audience give a shit about.

Which is why so many viewers had a problem with I Care A Lot. We watched this despicable character get away with destroying numerous old peoples’ lives and then, once she’s finally met her match (the son of one of the old people she screws over turns out to be a crime boss), the writer asks us to get behind Marla and root for her in the last 45 minutes.

One of the best tricks you can use when you have an unlikable protagonist is to make the antagonist even worse than they are. That’s the method writer-director J Blakeson used when constructing this movie. He brought in crime boss, Roman, who was even nastier than Marla. Theoretically, at least. Roman tries to kill Marla and her girlfriend, but Marla survives and wants revenge.

Where Blakeson gets in trouble, in my opinion, is that Roman isn’t bad enough to make us Marla’s number one fan. What you have to remember with screenwriting is that how you introduce your character influences the lion’s share of how the audience perceives them. Even though Roman’s a big fat heartless meanie to Marla, we haven’t forgotten how horrible Marla is. How horrible are we talking? Well, I recommended this movie to a friend and she stopped me halfway through the pitch saying, “Oh, that’s horrible,” in response to what Marla was doing to people. She then said she wouldn’t watch the movie.

In other words, your villain has to be EXTREMELY TERRIBLE for the average viewer to change their mind and root for Marla.

While at first I thought Marla and Roman ending up on the same level was a mistake, I began to think that that was Blakeson’s plan all along. This feeds into why the movie works for me. After Marla survives, she kidnaps Roman and brings him to the brink of death, leaving him out in the middle of nowhere, which results in the police finding him, bringing him to the hospital, and labeling him a ‘John Doe.’


We then learn that when a John Doe is found and can’t take care of himself, a legal guardian must be assigned to them. And guess who that legal guardian is? That’s right. Marla. — When movies fall apart, it’s because the writer didn’t come up with a plan. So as they race towards their ending, they throw in a bunch of craziness hoping it’s enough to distract the reader from the fact that they have zero plan. But by creating this twist that pays off Marla’s job, the writer clearly had a plan in mind.

Next up, Marla says she’ll release Roman from her care if he gives her 10 million dollars, which is the amount of money she’s wanted all along. Roman comes up with an alternative idea. Expand her care-taking business. Enough of this small-potatoes shit. Let’s lean into the American dream and go national with this business model of yours. He’ll fund it. She’ll build it. They’ll become partners.

It’s an admittedly zany development. But here’s what I respected. Blakeson understood that neither character should win. They were both too despicable. If she destroys him, we’re upset. If he destroys her, we’re frustrated. The one direction we do not expect the plot to take is a team-up. And the more you think about it, the more sense it makes. They’re both greedy. Of course they want to team up to make even more money than they could separately. It’s the right choice for the story.

What Blakeson also knows is that you can’t have a negative character who doesn’t change over the course of the movie be rewarded. The audience won’t accept it. They need “the right thing” to prevail so they can leave feeling like the world is fair. And so Blakeson has one more payoff. After Marla becomes a multi-millionaire, she’s heading to her car when a crazed man who we recognize from the opening charges at her screaming that his mom died and because of her, he never got to see her, and he shoots Marla dead.

The wicked witch is dead. Order has been restored.

I was told that everything that happens in the last 40 minutes of this movie was random and dumb. But I didn’t see it that way at all. It was all clearly and cleverly constructed with setups and payoffs that make sense. Blakeson knew what he was doing, delivered the movie he intended, and I’m here to tell you he pulled it off. In fact, I would go so far as to say that the reason so many people are so passionate about this film not working is why it works. A movie only truly doesn’t work when our response is apathy. Passion, positive or negative, only comes when a movie affects us in some way. And while this movie made some unconventional choices, the fact that you care a lot about discussing it tells me it worked. :)