Tuesday Talkback: Calling all Star Wars fans who love the prequels

It occurred to me this week that in May, we will reach the 15th anniversary of the release of The Phantom Menace.  Yes, fans, the prequel trilogy is a decade and a half old.  If you'll recall, when that movie first came out, a lot of fans who grew up with the first trilogy derided the more juvenille film as a film that played like it was made for eight year-olds.

Well that means that those eight year-olds are now 23. College graduates.  Maybe some of them are even readers of this blog.  In fact, I hope they are.

I've heard George Lucas often quoted speaking anecdotally about young fans who came to the series via the prequels and as a result, they find the original trilogy outdated and boring.  It also seems there's a decent subset of fans whose entry into Star Wars was The Clone Wars series.  Lucas claims that some of those fans don't even seem to be aware of the films.

When I was growing up, Star Wars was pretty much three films.  That was it, unless you want to count the "extended universe" of novels and games that sprung up in the 90s.  But generally speaking, until 1999, most everyone experienced Star Wars the same way.  And because of that, a lot of people of my generation have similar reactions to the elements that came after.

But now that the youngest of the prequel viewers are now older than I was when the prequels came out, I'm sort of curious to hear the perspectives of the audience the films were aimed at at the time.

So if your introduction to Star Wars came by any means other than the three classic films, please sound off in the comments, particularly if you're among those subsets that prefers the prequels or the Clone Wars animated series.  How did joining the series via those on ramps affect your perception of the story as it played out in the original trilogy? 

It would be nice if we could keep the prequel bashing to a minimum, at least from the members of my generation.

Tuesday Talkback: So what have you done this year?

We've begun the final month of the year.  The clock is ticking on those screenwriting goals you laid out in January.  How many of you will be rushing to keep resolutions of that nature?

My completed writing goals include:

- completing several drafts of a new screenplay.  Much to my relief, it's been met with good reviews from some of my writing peers and even some professionals who have read it.  I've got high hopes for this one.

- Completed a massive overhaul on a comedy pilot I'm working on with a co-writer. Notes are coming back on that and revisions are underway.

- Completed an entirely new pilot, for which I will be getting reactions very soon.

And though they don't count as much, I've begun outlining a couple other ideas which will be on my agenda for 2014.

What have you accomplished?

Tuesday Talkback: The Prestige and ambiguity

In recent weeks, I happened across two separate articles about The Prestige - both of which seemed to have been written under the assumption that a critical plot point happened a particular way.  My beef - that's not how I've seen the movie at all.  When I took to Twitter to clarify that my interpretation was right, I found plenty of people who agreed with me, but a surprising amount of people who clung to an alternate interpretation.  There was also one guy who felt I'd blown his mind by making him examine the film a different way.

The point of contention: The magician played by Hugh Jackman has paid Nicola Tesla to create a device that will transport him from one place to another, making it the signature act of his stage show.  The first few times Jackman's character tests the machine, he's frustrated that his test subjects - top hats - go nowhere.  At least that's how it appears until after several attempts he goes outside and some 30 yards away, there are a pile of hats.  Thus, it's not a transporter, it's a duplicator which sends the duplicate some distance away.

This is reinforced later when Jackman tests the machine on himself, only to have a duplicate appear, which he promptly shoots dead.  After that, Jackman figures out how to use this in his show.  As the machine is activated, a trap door is also triggered beneath it, which leads to a water tank wherein the person standing on the platform drowns.  Thus, when Jackman steps into the machine the trick ends with one Jackman materializing at the other end of the theatre, while the other one falls to his death - every night.

Here's my assertion - the duplicate is the one who materializes at the back of the theater.  Thus, the Jackman who finishes the trick is NOT the same Jackman who steps into the machine.  The Jackman who steps into the machine dies every night.  However, since the clone carries all the memories of the original, he never experiences that death and thus, would regard himself as the "real" Hugh Jackman.  But he's a clone several times over.  The original Jackman is long dead, having given his life in service to the greatest magic trick he'd ever accomplish.

Other people seem convinced that the duplicate is the one who ends up in the water tank every night.  That Jackman is merely murdering his duplicates again and again.  For this to be accurate, the machine would have to transport the original Jackman, while leaving behind a duplicate in his exact position and also accomplish that so seamlessly that the original article appears not to vanish - not even for a second.

That's hard for me to believe. (It also means that the "real" Jackman dies unceremoniously when his first clone shoots him as described above.) It feels more convoluted when the simpler solution is that the original stays where he is and the duplicate is projected elsewhere.  I'll concede that the film doesn't make explicit how the machine works.  We know what Jackman believes to be the truth, but that's not the same thing as being certain he's right.  I also think it's no accident that the film leaves open my interpretation of events.

What strengthens my conviction in my interpretation is that it simply makes for a more resonant story.  Jackman killing his clones again and again is little more than a shocking plot twist, but it doesn't resonate.  But a man who's essentially committing suicide night-after-night in service to his art? That's potent and dramatic, especially if he doesn't even recognize the full weight of that.  After all, the Jackman who takes the bow has the memories of stepping into the machine and ending up at the rear of the theatre.  From his point of view he's immortal.

But in practice, his life only lasts as long as the time in between shows.  Tell me that's not a better ending.

Even better - John Gary pointed out to me that something I failed to appreciate.  Early in the film, Jackman's wife dies when a trick goes wrong.  More to the point, she drowns during a failed water escape.

She drowns.  How does Jackman commit suicide every night?  What method does he choose to snuff out the inconvenient "extra" Jackman?

He drowns him.  Every night, Jackman steps on stage and takes his own life in the same way his wife tragically lost hers. It's like a penance he cannot ever fully pay.

All of this galvanizes my resolve that my interpretation is most likely the "correct" one.  The ambiguity is there so that we can discover it for ourselves rather than have it pounded into our heads directly.

That said, there are people who cling to their alternate interpretations rather firmly.  So for today's talkback, I thought I'd solicit the audience about instances where they came away from a film with one firm interpretation, only to encounter someone who had a completely different understanding of the story.

Tuesday Talkback: What franchise would you want to pull a FAST 5 on?

FAST & FURIOUS 6 is released this week, and expectations are high considering the previous two films broke records for opening weekends in the months when they were released.  Given IRON MAN 3's major opening weekend, I can't imagine FURIOUS 6 will top that, but it'll still make plenty of cash.

The funny thing is if someone told you this five or six years ago, you'd never imagine it.  The first FAST & THE FURIOUS did okay business, but a Vin Diesel movie about street racing was never going to get respect.  2 FAST 2 FURIOUS was... not remembered fondly and pulled the series so low that the next film TOKYO DRIFT, didn't feature any of the old stars in major roles.  That one played so much like a direct-to-video flick that it seemed inevitable that any future releases would be lucky to be theatrical.

And yet somehow, the series revived itself by bringing back the old cast in the fourth film and then completely reinvented itself as a heist film in the fifth movie.  It's got to be one of the all-time most impressive and unexpected comebacks for a franchise.

So my question this week is - what franchise do you think could be capable of pulling off that reinvention and how would you save it if you were given the reigns?

Tuesday Talkback: Does Amazon Studios have any idea what it's doing?

Long-time readers probably remember I took great exception to the original mission of Amazon Studios, which seemed to be attempting one of the most egregious exploitations of amateur writers that I'd ever seen attempted.  Beyond that issue, I had the distinct impression that the people behind the then-new venture had little understanding of the industry they were attempting to "revolutionize."  While it would be improper to go into any great detail about some off-the-record encounters I had with those behind the scenes, I will say that nothing I learned through any channel - both official and unofficial - dissuaded me from that feeling.

But as Amazon Studios seemed to give up on their attempts to seize rights to all the amateur scripts willing to dive into its maw, I found less motivation to focus on their dealings.  The rules for those amateur submissions seemed less draconian, and more importantly, they seemingly did a pretty thorough job of alienating most amateurs by so clearly focusing on projects from established writers.

And yet, even after two and a half years and all those changes to the program, I still feel like the guys in charage are way too naive about the TV and film business.  What makes me say that?  Quotes like this from Amazon Studios director Roy Price:

TV Guide Magazine: Why did you cast and produce these pilots during network pilot season, when competition for talent is fierce? 

Price: That was not intentional. That's just the way it worked out. I guess if we had really planned it by the calendar then maybe going off cycle would have been a good idea. Maybe we'll try that in the future.

Did Price just admit they didn't put a lot of thought into the timing of their venture? They they were completely ignorant they were competing with network pilot season? That would be like failing to realize that you accidentally scheduled your Great Britain Appreciation party for the Fourth of July!  You can't have more than 12 months of experience in this business and NOT have an appreciation for how all-consuming pilot season is.

It would be one thing if they made a deliberate decision to go head-to-head with the big boys. (I don't know WHY they would, but at least it would be an informed choice.)  Price's phrasing indicates that they're only focused on their venture and not accounting for it's position relative to the rest of the ecosystem they inhabit.

That's... troubling.

Addendum - 1:00am PST: Just to toss this into the mix too - compare Amazon Studios foray into streaming programming with Netflix's.  Netflix brought in people like Kevin Spacey, David Fincher and Eli Roth - creators with strong visions.  Those are guys used to having creative control and all indications are that Netflix gave them fairly close to a free reign in developing their shows.  Meanwhile, Amazon's method is more along the lines of test-marketing and focus-grouping the hell out of their pilots.

Netflix = few-to-no notes.
Amazon Studios = mountain of notes.

Which one seems more conducive to the creative process?  Which one would you rather be working under when you ascended to the rank of show-runner?

So what do you guys think? 

Tuesday Talkback: Dialogue

Okay, I've tried answering this email a number of times and I honestly don't know where to begin.  So I'm pushing it off on you guys.

Despina writes:

i hate to ask this question as i'm sure i'm revealing my freshman status as a screenwriter, but i have to ask... i am having serious problems with dialogue and character development and i have no idea why. i realize that sounds elementary and more experienced writers will scoff, but please keep the eye-rolling to a minimum and bear with me. i have always been a "scene" person - i think and conceptualize based on a single scene my brain conjures up based on a real life scenario or incident or music... and whether that scene is something pivotal, an action scene, or something seemingly simple and understated, i have that scene and try to create a story or plot to make that scene a reality. most of my scenes come from a vibe or feeling a piece of music creates (rock, opera, jazz, whatever) and i think "wow that would be a killer/cute/poignant scene in a movie." i'm essentially basing a movie off of what my idea of a great soundtrack would be. sound looney toon yet? i promise i'm not shallow.

it's come to a point in my life where i finally want to write this stuff down and see if i can knock out some screenplays based on those little scenes. needless to say, all those little scenes are sitting, lonely, in their own files on my desktop in hopes i eventually circle back and love on them. these little scenes have no real character development or dialogue, so i've yet to practice this or give anything or anyone a voice within these little scenes.

now that i've given the craft more study and thought, i'm trying a different approach. i found a logline and a 'call' to write a screenplay based off that logline. at first i brushed it off, but i had to go back because some exciting ideas unexpectedly came from it. so now i've just had two days in a row where i literally just threw up a multi-page story and rough plotline, breaking it up (as an outline) into scenes and acts with little pertinent bits of dialogue along the way (nothing really substantial, however). i understand writing as a craft with archs and subtext and whatnot, and i've been able to break these ideas down, but now that i have to put a voice and words to these characters' mouths... i'm blank. i'm holding myself to such lyrical gangsta levels of those i admire (Coen Bros, Wes Anderson, Tarantino) that i doubt myself completely in doing this.

i've read many of your blog posts and interviews and roundtables (i only just discovered your blog last night and have been obsessed for the last 24 hours) and i've been able to fully connect with what they're describing in their own ways of screenplay development, but i can't, for the life of me, find anything to grab onto regarding dialogue. should character development be one of the first things you do before going into the story? am i just ignorantly lacking the intellect to create good characters? why don't i have the capacity to give my characters dialogue? honest to goodness meaningful dialogue? should i go ahead and jump off of the screenwriting ledge?

i swear i'm not a dull creature... this just vexes me so. if you have any archived posts i've yet to discover or know of any good resources i'd be much obliged for the direction.

apologies for the long-windedness of this.

Dialogue is hard, and for me it's been the most-strongly self-taught aspect of the craft.  I feel like you need to just write, then say it out loud, then keep rewriting.  You're probably going to write a lot of bad dialogue before you write good dialogue.  Really it's something that comes with trial and error.  I'm not bad at identifying bad dialogue, and sometimes I can even offer suggestions on how to improve a scene.

But straight-up telling you how to write good dialogue? It's a more elusive lesson.  It's not that I haven't touched on dialogue before, but the full context of your question reads like you're really looking for the theory of writing good dialogue, and I confess I don't know if I have the capacity to give that broad of an answer.

What I will say is that you can't let this paralyze you.  Don't feel like your first-draft dialogue has to be brilliant.  Just get it on the page and give yourself something to work with.

What do you guys think?

Tuesday Talkback: How can Australian producers get scripts?

This is another email I got where I don't feel like my answer is terribly useful, so I'm opening the floor up to you guys.

Michael writes:

Been following you on twitter for a while now, love getting your updates. I'm a young-ish producer based in Australia, and I've been working with my creative team for roughly the last five years. In the last three we've launched and grown our production company working mostly in advertising and corporates, all whilst doing the odd short to hone our narrative skills with the look out to some day doing a feature. 

Finally we've gotten to that point where we are saying 'lets pick a project' and we'd love to option a script preferably written by a writer outside Australia - with the location of the story no real concern to us, and genre being something we don't feel we are defined by - with good writing, and developed characters being I guess just two of the many other factors we'd be looking for. 

Anyway the reason for this email is to ask your advice on the best process to getting our eyes on scripts. Should we be making ourselves known to literary agents based in LA, contacting writers directly, trying to get our own agents -- or some other course?! Would love it if you can share some insight on this!

Honestly, I think that your best bet is to reach out to literary agents, but if you don't have any produced works to your name it might be a bit of an effort to get their cooperation.  You'd probably have a better bet with some of the smaller agencies and management firms.

Having said that, I'm not sure I understand why you're looking for a writer outside Australia.  It seems to me that it might be a lot easier to find someone close to home, make a name for yourself producing a low-to-medium budget film, and use that cache to open some doors in LA.

But what do you guys think.

Tuesday Talkback: Does an MFA in Screenwriting mean anything?

As some of you may have discovered, I've been pretty terrible about keeping up with emails the last few months.  Part of this is due to me being over-extended and part of it is the result of me putting an email aside if I don't think I have enough experience to answer it effectively.  But a few of these are good questions that I imagine others would be interested in, so for now, I think I'll feature some of these questions on Tuesday Talkback.

Today's question comes from Malcolm:


I'm a 20-something, inexperienced, aspiring writer, and I'm hoping you can shed some light on MFA screenwriting programs. Specifically, do you think there's much value in the opportunities presented by these programs, in terms of getting a "foot in the door" upon graduation? 

When someone tells you "I got my MFA in screenwriting from AFI," does that really mean anything to you or anyone you know? Any insight on the topic of film schools would be much appreciated. 

For me personally, hearing someone got an MFA in Screenwriting doesn't impress me.  There are great screenwriters who are self-taught, plenty who didn't go to grad school, and some who didn't even study writing in college.  

Having said that, I have no direct experience with MFA writing programs.  I can see the value in going to a graduate-level film school if you're looking to be a director or a producer, but I think it's less essential if you're aiming just to be a screenwriter.  I don't doubt that those programs offer some great insight into the writing process and probably offer a structure that many aspirings find valuable.  And if that works for you?  Great!

But would it be necessary?  Would the mere credential open doors for you?  My gut says no.  (Well, unless your goal is to teach screenwriting.)

But as someone who hasn't gotten his MFA, I'm willing to entertain the notion that I'm way off base here.  So if you've got something to add to the conversation, please do so.

Tuesday Talkback: A follow up to the VHS post

I have an interesting post-script to yesterday's "challenge." V/H/S producer Brad Miska actually got in touch with me via Twitter yesterday, reaching out to reply. Those of you who follow both of us may have seen this go down. As this was a public Twitter conversation, I don't think he'd have much issue with me sharing some of his reaction:

"One response: should we add female directors just because people demand it? That would be like saying happy birthday to someone after they reminded you that you forgot. It has to be genuine and from heart. We didn't avoid female directors, and adding a woman "just because" is insulting to females." 

That is a valid concern to raise, and I understand other points made about not wanting it to feel like a woman was brought in to fill a quota. That sort of thinking rarely leads to rewarding creative work. However, the way I approach the situation is that the first batch of filmmakers was recruited seemingly because their work suggested a diverse range of strengths and the first V/H/S also set a precedent by including up-and-comers Radio Silence.

Let me be clear, I don't think it was sexist that all the directors on the first V/H/S were male. For all Bloody Disgusting knew, this was a one-time experiment that might disappear into bargain DVD bins almost immediately. I don't blame them for bringing in mostly directors with whom they had an existing relationship. However, now that it's certain that V/H/S is an ongoing franchise that has diverse filmmaking points of view hard-wired into its DNA, I don't see anything hinky about seeking out a female point-of-view to add a different voice to the chorus.

If I understand Brad correctly, he's already working on that, as he further tweeted, "I've been incredibly open to press as to which female directors I want to be included. And it's not because they're female. I want these specific female directors to be involved because they're supremely talented, not because it need[s] [to] fill [a] quota. Again, we don't have a clubhouse with a giant sign that says 'no girls allow[ed].'"

I got the sense that Brad had gotten some drubbing over this issue before, and I noted that it was hard to ignore certain themes that arose (albiet mostly unintentionally) from the first film. Even though each segment was produced in isolation from the others, when you put them together leads to certain connections in the viewer's mind. When certain tropes recur within minutes of each other (the "obligatory tit shot," for one), the audience is likely to become more aware and more sensitive to some of the more uncomfortable meanings.

The point I'm trying to eventually reach is, the whole takes on a deeper resonance than the individual parts. It's basically the difference between listening to a great song as a single and then appreciating it in context on the full album. Putting those six shorts together causes their meaning to undergo a transformative experience. Things that weren't designed to connect end up reinforcing each other.

I tweeted a distilled version of this reaction, which Brad seemed to understand, "Oh, for sure. Although, nearly every female in VHS is secretly the protagonist and gives the men what they deserve. If anything, to me, VHS is about the male gaze and how WE act."

I agree with that to a point, but I'll only go so far as to say that couldn't have been the intended theme from the start, for each of the directors worked in isolation.  However, I can accept that that is what the film itself says about the people behind the camera.

But I'll throw it to you guys.  Is Brad right that can be construed as sexist to seek out female directors specifically for their gender? For those of you who have seen the film, does it make a difference if you approach it the way Brad does, as a commentary on the male gaze?

Let me also say this - Brad made a point of saying that he listens to his critics, and one area in which we were in agreement is that you can't shut out critical reaction entirely.  A film is a conversation with its audience.  I think it's important to be receptive to that sort of dialogue.  That doesn't mean every critic is going to be right, or that one needs to bend over backwards to please those critics.  Make the film you want to make, but if your creation provokes a reaction, engage it.

So whatever you think of Brad's position, at least respect that he was open to the dialogue.  (That's my way of saying engage this debate as you see fit, but let's try not to get too personal here.)

Tuesday Talkback - Worst retcon?

I saw the pilot for The Carrie Diaries a while back and was somewhat surprised to discover that I found it rather cute and charming.  Given that I can't take more than 30 seconds of Sex & The City without wanting to vomit at the terrible acting and the worse puns.  (Full disclosure: thanks to my wife being a fan, I've seen about six full episodes... and one of those I've ended up seeing at least three times.  If your curious, it's the one with SJP and her current boyfriend having their cabin weekend ruined by Detective Logan from Law & Order.)

Anyway, I read a few reviews of the show today and one of them led me to this article complaining that Carrie's backstory in The Carrie Diaries is incompatible with what audiences learned of her history on Sex & the City.  And now an entire generation of Manolo Blahnik-wearing fans get to learn a term familiar to anyone who's read comics for any decent length of time: retcon.

"Retcon" is short for "retroactive continuity."  Basically, it refers to when some element of backstory is reestablished after the fact.  Over the years, it's mostly been used to call out examples when the new elements clash with older elements (as in the above example), but it can also refer to instances where the new detail fits in perfectly and brings new depth to the story.  Darth Vader being revealed as Luke's father is an example of this.  When Vader was introduced, it wasn't set in stone that he was going to turn out to be Anakin Skywalker, so the decision to go in that direction in Empire Strikes Back is a clear retcon.

This sort of thing happens a lot in comics, where new creators love to come in and say "Everything you know is a lie!"  Sometimes they work, but often they just make stories more confusing.  I don't know WHY comic creators like meddling with characters origins.  All I know is that whoever gave Jeph Loeb (in 2000's "Return to Krypton") and later Mark Waid (in "Superman: Birthright") permission to muck around with what had been a consistent Superman origin since 1986 deserves a kick in the balls.  That really ruined several years of stories as later writers tried to make sense of the mess they left.

I'm sure everyone reading this has seen some kind of retcon, so what are your least favorite examples?  TV is full of minor examples like the Cunninghams having an older son who only existed for a few episodes on Happy Days, or Jerry Seinfeld referring to his sister on Seinfeld before later episodes reaffirmed he was an only child.

But the big ones can really put you off of a show.  The example that leaps immediately to mind for me is from the TV show Brothers & Sisters.  I had checked out the show early in its run due to the involvement of Greg Berlanti, who among many other great shows, created Everwood, one of my all-time favorite series.  The first few eps didn't grab me, but I was motivated to return about 2/3 of the way through the first season when they added Everwood's Emily VanCamp to the cast.

VanCamp was introduced as Rebecca, who soon discovered she was the illegitimate daughter of the Walker family's deceased patriarch.  This led to a lot of conflict with the Walker siblings, but Rebecca soon was welcomed into the family... for about a season.  Towards the end of the second season, the writers reversed course and revealed that - SURPRISE - Rebecca was never a Walker at all.  So a full year's worth of stories about the family coming to terms with her presence and Rebecca dealing with gaining such a large family suddenly seemed to be rendered null and void.

(Supposedly this change was made so they could capitalize on the chemistry between VanCamp and David Annable, whose relationship on the show was that of siblings until the Rebecca retcon removed any hint of incest.)

At that point, I felt like they'd pushed an unneccesary reset button on Rebecca, and as she was the character who had gotten me into the show, I found myself with little incentive to stick around much past the start of the following season.  It's a shame because the show was generally well-acted and the writing was usually pretty solid, but that twist broke a lot of my investment in the characters.

Actually, that was the real shame.  I wanted to keep enjoying the show and there was a lot there that still was working (evidenced by the fact it ran a further three seasons).  The Rebecca aspect was just one aspect of a very large show, after all.  Thing is, there's a risk that comes with taking chances and sometimes your audience isn't going to be able to follow you after certain choices.  A viewer less invested in Rebecca's story might have rolled with the punches better.  For me, it had been one of my favorite aspects of the series, so the change-up was a bitter pill to swallow.

So do you have any similar examples?  What retcons have earned your ire?

Tuesday Talkback: Getting started and choosing process

So I'm curious about your process.  I'm currently wrestling with an idea for a film that I really like.  I've got a really good set-up and I like how the characters are being fleshed out.

The problem is - as always - Act Two.  I've got a few different directions I can go in to get from Act One to Act Three.  The difference mostly is a matter of the degree of escalation - slow-building tension, versus just going for the big boom earlier and letting people react to it.

Basically, I have two potential movies that seem to share the same set-up, and I'm not totally 100% sure of either one.  Only once have I started a script without knowing the direction it was going to take.  That experience proved to be interesting, but I don't think it's an approach that would be advisable with this story.

So here's today's talkback discussion topic: Have you ever found yourself torn about which direction to take a script? And if so, do you prefer to resolve that at the outline stage, or have you ever tried writing the script up until you reach that point and then seeing which way feels right?

Tuesday Talkback - which shows have improved since their pilots?

It was reported earlier today that the ABC sitcom The Neighbors has secured a full-season order.  Not to sound like a dick, but that was not a headline I expected to see after viewing the pilot earlier this year.  I also have to admit that I didn't anticipate the success of Revolution, which I had pegged as this year's The Event.

When watching a pilot critically, it's important to be able to tell the difference between a weak pilot that has immense potential for growth and a weak pilot that is so misguided that it would be nearly impossible for a series to recover.  This year, it seemed like there were a lot of shows that fell into the latter category.  I don't want to name names, but most shows of this type were easily distinguished by the unflinching and often amusingly brutal reviews that the critics posted.

I've only kept up with a few new shows this season, so I have to admit I'm curious if anyone stuck with any of the iffier shows and was rewarded with improvement.  Did The Neighbors find a way to make the premise play beyond one joke?

666 Park Avenue was another show where the pilot didn't blow me away, but of the new fall shows, it seemed to have some of the strongest potential for improvement, provided the writing staff that was hired figured out a way to develop genuine tension and build to unexpected payoffs.  There were the building blocks of a better show there, but the story presented in the pilot was a little too tepid for my tastes.

I also wrote off Guys With Kids because it too seemed to be built around a one-joke premise that was already well-worn territory years ago.  Did they find their creative groove or is it just a case of the show being placed in the right timeslot?

So let me know what shows have gotten better since their pilot, and if possible, explain why you think the changes they made facilitated this.

Tuesday Talkback: Are you joining Black List 3.0?

Due to the way posts were scheduled last week, I never really got a chance to ask this - how many of you are considering or have already joined Black List 3.0?

Tuesday Talkback - Most anticipated shows of the new fall season

As the fall TV season gets underway, I'm curious - what new shows are you most looking forward to and why.

As we've discussed before, my favorite new drama of the fall is the fantastic Last Resort.  Nashville also has a lot of promise.  I was surprised by how much I liked the pilot, as after seeing the trailer, I had dismissed it as little more than "Country Strong: The Series."

The comedies seem to be a weaker crop, at least based on the pilots, though I really liked The Mindy Project and Go On seems to hold some promise.

What appeals to you?

Tuesday Talkback: Biggest Summer Surprise

Now that summer is over, what wide release surprised you the most?

For me, it was probably The Amazing Spider-Man.  I was pretty skeptical of a reboot coming on the heels of the fairly strong Sam Rami series that launched a mere ten years earlier.  The fact that the newest adaptation was made in large part to ensure that Sony held onto the rights rather than let them revert back to Marvel also suggested a rather cynically-produced production.

And then there was the fact that they were retelling the origin in detail.  That seemed to promise that the film was going to cover ground already excellently done in the first Rami film, or that it would make changes largely for the sake of being different.  To be fair, I did get a distinct whiff of the latter, though it wasn't nearly as detrimental as it could have been.

And yet.... there was a lot I ended up liking in the film.  I still think Rami's first film is a stronger origin and I prefer the tone and style of that movie to the new one.  Also, no one will ever convince me that The Lizard is less ridiculous than the admittedly silly Green Goblin outfit - but despite that the film worked well enough for me.  In particular, I thought that Emma Stone was a big step up as the romantic interest.  While Andrew Garfield comes up even with Tobey Maguire performance-wise, Garfield's chemistry with Stone is absolutely a cut above the pairing in the previous series.

A close second for me would probably be Ted. This is largely because I'm not the biggest fan of Family Guy's style of storytelling.  (You know the episode of South Park where Cartman rails against Family Guy?  I'd voiced a lot of those criticisms for years before that episode was produced.)  Thus, I was pleasantly surprised to see that Seth MacFarlane didn't rely on the non-sequitir type of humor much at all in this film.  (The flashback that riffs on Airplane is pretty much the only concession in this direction.)

So how about you guys?  What suprisingly worked or didn't work for you?

Tuesday Talkback: Any luck with contests?

Since I'm talking about contests this week, have any of you had any luck with contests?  Please feel free to share your experiences and if you'd submit to any of them again.

Tuesday Talkback - If you know a mistake exists, why not fix it?

I got a question from a reader named Norm recently:

I have a question though as a professional reader in Hollywood. Does grammar matter in a script? There's this debate raging on the forums over at Stage 31 at the moment and people are swearing that grammar is in fact not important at all in a spec and that studios will simply hire people to fix it. I would love to get the opinion of an actual script reader on this. If you read a script with bad grammar, would you still give it the stamp of approval?

I'm sure we've kinda discussed this before. Most questions of this nature can be boiled down to these guidelines:

Make your writing look as professional as possible.  Thousands of scripts come into each company a year.  It's a deluge - and most of those scripts are bad.  So people are going to have ways of thinning the herd.  Some of you are going to argue that it's not fair that someone might toss your script aside without giving it a full read.  To that I say, "When someone on American Idol has the wrong look, the wrong attitude and their voice is not only weak, but completely lacks technique, do you really need to hear them sing a three-minute song in it's entirety?"

Don't give your reader any reason not to remain engaged with the story.  If your grammar is so atrocious that one has to re-read some passages over and over again to understand what happened, that's not a good thing for you.

If someone retorts "I read a Tarantino script and he misspells everything!  No one cares!" punch them in the face.  YOU are not Tarantino.  When you write a film that grosses $100 million, jump-starts several careers and gets nominated for Oscars, then fine, get lazy and write it your way.

If the script is a great story, brilliant concept and flawless characters, and it happens to have poor grammar, then yeah, I'd probably still give it a Consider.  But here's the thing - writers who care enough about their work to turn in something that exceptional aren't going to invest that much care and then shit the bed when it comes to grammar.  The people who stand out from the crowd well enough to break in almost always agonize over showing their work in the best possible light.

Why buy a tux and then wear sneakers with it?

My Talkback question to you:  Why does this question keep coming up?  Why must this be a debate on screenwriting boards?  If all of you are intending to be professional writers who take pride in your work, why are you not kicking the assses of the lazy hacks looking for validation on how to cut corners?

The biggest fights I see on screenwriting forums are over little pissy shit like this: should sluglines be bold?  How much should I underline and italicize?  Readers like me often jump in with suggestions or guidelines on how to make your script more appealing.  Most people are appreciative, but there's one asshole who says, "You wouldn't flunk David Koepp over a formatting and grammar nitpick, so ergo formatting doesn't matter!"

Actually, that belligerent asshole probably doesn't know the meaning of the word "ergo."

My point is, I get the curiosity.  I get seeking the advice of people on the inside.  What I DON'T get is why you guys waste so much energy fighting over this stuff.  If you really believe grammar doesn't matter, then don't waste your time berating everyone.  Hell, let them waste their time getting their grammar perfect while you beat them across the finish line.

Similarly, if you know there are benefits to a more professional look to your script, and some jerk in the forums tells you that the gurus know nothing, the bloggers know nothing and that you're an idiot for caring so much, why do you need that dickhead's approval of your method?

Tuesday Talkback: Great speeches

If you follow me on Twitter, you probably saw some conversations I had this weekend with screenwriter F. Scott Frazier about great dialogue scenes.  Well, we got a lot of great submissions, but it also sparked a sideline debate about if monologue scenes should count as dialogue scenes.

So why not use today's thread to list some of our favorite monologues and speeches?  I've posted this next scene on Twitter a few times, but it's one of my all-time favorite speech scenes.  This is from Other People's Money, written by Alvin Sargent, adapted from a play by Jerry Sterner.


I first saw this movie when I was 12 or so.  I admit, the more inside details of the plot - centered on Danny Devito's "Larry the Liquidator" mounting a hostile take over of a factory run by Gregory Peck's Gorgy - were kind of lost on me.  But what wasn't lost on me was the brilliance of the climactic scene.  I can't possibly explain it better than Roger Ebert does in his review:

"The takeover bid climaxes in a shareholder's meeting inside the factory, at which both Jorgy and Larry make speeches. Gregory Peck's words and delivery here reminded me of the key scenes in a lot of the Frank Capra classics, where the little guy stood up and defended old-fashioned American values, and got a standing ovation, and the movie was over. In "Other People's Money," after Peck sits down, DeVito stands up, and defends greed. It is amazing how good an argument he makes."



I know this is a long clip, but it's really, really smart writing. Take 12 minutes out of your day and take in these monologues.

What are some of your favorite speeches and monologues?

Tuesday Talkback: What do you want from the webshow?

So as the last few weeks of 12-Step Screenwriting are winding down, I'm looking forward to new things for the YouTube show.  I've got a TV-related interview that's in the can, but I'm holding off on posting that until the new fall season debuts.

So I'd like to survey you guys and really find out what you'd like from the show.  I can't promise that every idea will be doable or feasible, but I'd really appreciate hearing from you what you think works and what you think doesn't work.

Do you like the short info segments like those in 12-Step Screenwriting?  Would you like to see further series like that which focus on specific aspects of screenwriting?

How about interviews?  Would you be interested in seeing longer interviews with writers and directors, presented in short, 4-minute pieces?  And I'm not talking about EPK-type promotional interviews.  I'm more interested in having a real conversation about the creative process, sort of akin to what you might find on Inside the Actors Studio.  How many of you would be interested in that, even if the writer wasn't necessarily someone you were familiar with?

What haven't I thought of that you'd like to see on the show?

Tuesday Talkback: How soon should inner conflict be introduced?

So as I was going through my inbox looking for interesting questions that I've neglected over the last few months, I came across this email.  For whatever reason, I've got a bit of a mental block on this question because any time I've tried to answer it, my brain just goes blank.  I really hate that I've left this guy on the hook for a while, so I've decided that I'm just going to crowdsource the answer.

This is from Glenn:


I have a question for you regarding the introduction of the protagonist's inner conflict. It has been brought to my attention that my current comedy script needs to have it flushed out better and introduced sooner in the story.


Is there a standard how early inner conflict should be revealed in a story such as the first act? The protagonist in my current script wrestles with choosing what is more important in his life; material wealth and status in his town verses placing a greater importance on the well-being of his family members. I'm trying to avoid wedging inner conflict into this story before the reader/audience would understand why this conflict is an issue in his world.


I believe I've watched good movies that didn't bring out inner conflict until the second half of a story. Conversely, some movies feel they have to smack you over the head several times to make sure everyone knows what it is.


Any information you can share with me will be greatly appreciated.

So what say you?  My gut reaction is that it's helpful to reveal inner conflict early on (just as one example, Marty's lack of self-confidence, as revealed within the first fifteen minutes of Back to the Future), but it's not essential. 

I think in most cases you're going to see that inner conflict established well before the turning point into Act Two, but can anyone come up with exceptions along the lines of what Glenn is asking for?