Just wanted to let you know, I’m hosting and moderating Mediabistro’s “Pitch Slam” next Monday, October 5… and for anyone working on an idea for the next “Royal Pains,” “30 Rock,” or “Kitchen Nightmares,” this is an incredible opportunity!

Here’s how it works: we bring in a panel of TV industry experts… you show up and pitch your idea to the panel… the panel gives you feedback on your pitching technique, your presentation, your idea, etc. 

You also get to watch everyone else’s pitch—and they get to watch yours—so it’s a terrific way to learn about pitching, and what people respond to, even when you’re not in the hot seat.

It’s been a while since the last “Pitch Slam,” and we’ve got an incredible panel lined up…  Jill Young, a creative executive at The Littlefield Company (former NBC president Warren Littlefield’s production company with ABC Studios); Alan Moore, an alternative/reality TV agent at APA; and BJ Ford, a TV literary manager/producer at Roar Entertainment, one of the hottest new management firms in Hollywood.

We’ll be doing pitches for all kind of TV: comedy, drama, reality, and everything in between.  So if you’re interested, here’s the scoop… hope to see you there!

PERFECTING THE TV PITCH + PITCH SLAM

Pitch Your TV idea to Producers and Agents

So you have an idea for the next Mad Men or The Big Bang Theory? Do you want to be the new Larry David or Damon Lindelof? Do you think you're ready to run your own hard-boiled procedural or sexy soap? Well, before you can create the next great TV show, there's something you gotta do first. Pitch it!

In this pitch slam -- limited to 20 attendees -- you'll have the chance to pitch your TV idea to a panel of television's top agents, execs, and producers. Whether you're developing TV's next big comedy, drama, or reality show, this is your opportunity to bounce it off some of Hollywood's smartest, most influential buyers and sellers.

Everyone who signs up will get one chance to pitch their idea to our panel of guests, followed by a round of feedback. While we can't promise you'll sell something, we do promise you'll get top-notch, no-nonsense constructive criticism guaranteed to make your idea -- and your pitching skills -- better, stronger, and more sellable.

Panelists will include:

-- Alan Moore, alternative/reality TV agent, APA

-- Jill Young, creative executive, The Littlefield Company/ABC Studios (Keen Eddie, Love, Inc., Like Family, Do Over)

-- BJ Ford, manager/producer (TV Lit), Roar Entertainment

Click HERE for more information…

WHEN: Monday, October 5, 7-9 pm

WHERE: Los Angeles, CA (details to come upon sign-up)

COST: $65 ($50 for avantguild members)

TO SIGN UP: Call 212-547-7890 or click HERE

http://www.mediabistro.com/courses/cache/crs5146.asp

Sunday, September 27, 2009 12:07:53 AM (GMT Daylight Time, UTC+01:00)    Comments [1]

I have spent the last weekend thinking about this bizarre battle of words with Josh Olson.  I’ve talked to writers of all levels: amateurs, professionals, writers in different mediums.  Some people agree with Josh; some people don’t.  Others agree with me; others don’t.  Some think Josh was right on the money; others think he was too extreme and unnecessary.  I have reread Josh’s original post, as well as all the responses on The Village Voice, across the web, and in my personal inbox.

But the comment that helped me the most came from a conversation with a friend, a professional TV writer, who said…

“The first time I read Josh’s post, I thought he was an arrogant prick.  The second time I read Josh’s post, I thought he was an arrogant prick.  The third time I read Josh’s post, I thought, ‘He’s not being a prick, he’s begging for mercy.  He wanted to do the ‘right’ thing, help this acquaintance, and he got shafted.  He wants us to understand why he can’t do this anymore.  And yeah—it’s painfully frustrating.  He would LIKE to help this guy… and others like him… but every time he does he gets hurt.’”

Now, keep in mind—in my original post, I agreed with almost everything Josh said.  I said, “It’s unprofessional, and a massive imposition, to ask strangers or acquaintances to read your work.”  I said, “Part of your job as a professional writer… is to be able to gauge relationships and know when to ask favors.  If you can’t do this, you’re not ready to work professionally.”  I even agreed with Josh’s anger toward the “inappropriate screenwriter.”

My ONLY issue was: I have no problem encouraging people to write for the sheer sake of writing.  I have been soundly smacked for this, by Josh, Kay Reindl, and a host of other people… but I stand by it.  I wish more people—talented or not—DID write… and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with encouraging this.

Having said that… when reading Josh’s piece through my friend’s lens, something interesting happened…

I didn’t see Josh as someone who wanted to discourage people from writing.  I saw him as someone who constantly WANTED to be encouraging-- or at least honest and supportive, even if that honesty and support came in the form of hard-to-hear criticism-- but every time he tried, he got hurt.  He would give feedback, advice, suggestions… and in return, he got insulted, screwed, rebuffed.  Reading his “friend’s” treatment was the last straw.  He just couldn’t be encouraging anymore.

And as I thought about this more, here’s what struck me:

Josh's article has dredged up scorn and resentment on both sides... 

Some people are resentful that Josh has “forgotten where he came from.”  Others, those who champion Josh, feel emboldened to wield scorn or resentment toward aspiring, unprofessional writers.

They’re both wrong.

I don’t think Josh is trying to convey scorn or resentment at all.  I think he’s trying to convey the agony and frustration of a man who feels tortured.  A man who wants to do the right thing, help, support, and even-- when appropriate-- encourage other writers, and can’t.  Because whenever he does this favor, he winds up feeling abused, insulted, taken advantage of.  This experience with his "acquaintance" is just the latest incident.  He's begging us to understand his position and let him off the hook.  “Please don’t ask me to read your script.  It’s unprofessional, it damages us both, and I can’t do it anymore.” 

He’s angry... but he's also HURT.

People on BOTH sides have misread him.  Again, some have viewed Josh's piece as a personal, scornful attack… and others have taken his piece as a permission to BE scornful. 

Kay Reindl on her blog: “…You suck as a writer. How do I know this? Because I've read your fucking script. I read it when you submitted it to an agent or a TeeVee show or, God help me, a screenwriting competition.”   HankG in the Voice's comments: “Here's a strategy all for you bitter little screenwriter wannabes… if you're interesting and generous and not too annoying, maybe, just maybe, that professional [screenwriter] will OFFER to read your shitty, pathetic script.”  Michael Zavis: “Enjoy crawling over each other in the Valley of Obscurity, losers.” 

NONE of these seem to echo Josh's initial attitude, when he agrees to read his acquaintance's script, give some feedback, and offer suggestions.  He doesn't necessarily want to do it, but since he agrees, he wants to do a fair and honest job.  In fact, it's a big leap from Josh's "Do you have any idea how hard it is to tell someone that they've spent a year wasting their time?... You want to make absolutely certain that it comes across honestly and WITHOUT CRUELTY" to "You suck as a writer"... "your shitty, pathetic script"... "the Valley of Obscurity, loser."

In other words, people on both sides have picked up on the same element-- a tone which, whether you call it "arrogance" or not, is certainly in the piece.  And whereas some have taken it as a personal affront, others have taken it as the RIGHT to arrogance.

So whose fault is it, if fault is to be given, for misunderstanding?  Is it readers’ fault, including mine, for not reading Josh's piece closely or thoughtfully enough?  Maybe.  Josh’s piece was clearly meant to be provocative, to elicit a strong response… but maybe people ran with their instant reactions of hurt, indignation, or righteous superiority and didn’t bother to read further.

Is it Josh’s fault?  If the piece didn’t accurately convey what he was feeling/thinking, then it certainly didn’t fulfill its intent.  And I’m not saying the piece DIDN’T fulfill its intent; I’m just saying that Josh has taken a lot of heat and continues to defend himself, and—at some point—you can’t just claim, “People are missing my point.” 

(And if Josh’s detractors are missing the point, so are the supporters who use his piece as license to mock and disparage other people.)

So where does this leave us?... 

I will admit: I have a new understanding and appreciation of Josh's post, even if I don’t necessarily agree with how Josh said all of what he said… and I think his tone sometimes muddies his message.  (Josh claims he's only on the "receiving end" of arrogance, but it's certainly been easy for readers, both Josh's detractors and supporters, to find arrogance in that piece.  It may not be intentional, but even his "friends" seem to find it.)

I also stand by what I’ve said this past week.  More people SHOULD be writing… and should be encouraged to write… and many-- perhaps sadly, even mistakenly-- took Josh’s piece, or parts of the piece, as a massive, personal “fuck you” to all aspiring writers... or as permission to echo a "fuck you" to aspiring writers. 

I don't think this was Josh’s intent, although I certainly think this was the intent of some of those who responded in support of Josh. 

And if Josh is going to take issue with people who misread his piece in one way, I hope he takes issue with those who misread it in another.  Using his words as a license to spit on, insult, and mock aspirants is as much a bastardization of his thoughts and intent as anything else.

So ultimately, I think Josh’s piece… or parts of Josh’s piece… were misread because they were so easily capable of being misread.  I don’t know if that’s a writer’s fault or a reader’s fault, and it’s probably a bit of both.

(And two final thoughts:

1:  Attacking Josh for a best ADAPTED screenplay nomination (or for doing Peter Jackson's Halo adaptation) is ludicrous.  Adapting someone else’s work-- whether a graphic novel, a short story, or a video game-- is just as difficult—and sometimes MORE difficult—than writing something original.

2:  Josh—attacking me, however subtly, as a teacher is also ludicrous.  We can disagree and debate the points and topics in these writings, which your piece launched in a very public forum… we can even disagree on the merits of McKee or screenwriting classes in general… but having never taken one of my classes, it’s not fair or relevant of you to suddenly comment on my qualifications as a teacher.  I may be the best teacher you’ve ever seen… or the worst… but you certainly don’t know.)

Monday, September 21, 2009 5:02:32 PM (GMT Daylight Time, UTC+01:00)    Comments [3]

First of all, huge thanks to Mary for her comment pointing out Kay Reindl’s Seriocity blog post “ripping me a new one!”  (Kay wrote a response to my response to Josh Olson's Village Voice piece, "I Will Not Read Your Fucking Script.")  Josh Olson then posted a response to this blog in Kay's comment section. Click HERE to read Kay's response and Josh's comment (once you're there, scroll down a bit to read Josh's comment).

Secondly, huge thanks to Kay and Josh for reading this blog and responding… even if you gave me a whipping.  I genuinely appreciate you guys taking the time to respond, even as you’re kicking my ass.

Having said that…

KAY — I think you misunderstand me as much as you contend I misunderstand Josh.

In response to my notion that “you should encourage everyone” who wants to be a writer, Kay writes…

“I do NOT believe everybody should be encouraged. That kind of thinking leads to what we have now, which is a grandiose societal sense of entitlement. THIS IS BAD. No, you DON'T get encouragement if you suck at something. And if you are desperate to keep doing it, then you GET BETTER AT IT. You prove them wrong. And guess what? The win is greater. People treated you like a capable adult. They didn't lie to you and hold your hand and tell you that even though you have no talent at this, YOU STILL DESERVE A SHOT JUST AS MUCH AS SOMEONE ELSE. That's bullshit.”

You are totally correct.  That IS bullshit.  And that’s also not what I said.  (Or as Josh suggests, I never said we should “encourage people to do what they can’t.”)

I don’t believe in telling someone their crappy script is gold.  I don’t believe in telling someone who’s talent-less that they’re talented.  I don’t believe we should give overall deals to people who win reality shows.  AND I DIDN’T SAY THAT.

What I’m saying is…

IT DOESN’T MATTER IF THEY’RE GOOD OR BAD… AND YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE TO PUT YOURSELF IN THE POSITION TO FIND OUT.  As Josh would say, “Don’t read their fucking script.”  (In fact, I'm pretty sure I agreed with this, saying, "You don’t have to read someone’s work… and, to be honest, I think you’re perfectly right not to," and "It’s unprofessional... to ask strangers or acquaintances to read your work," and even-- "Part of your job as a professional writer... is to be able to gauge relationships and know when to ask favors.")  BUT…

You can still applaud them for writing.

Most people leave high school or college and are TERRIFIED of putting pen to paper… as perhaps they should be, because it’s FUCKING HARD.  Like Kay says, “it's a CRAFT, people. And a craft needs to be practiced and perfected. A craft does not just happen out of nowhere. The anonymous writer who sells the big spec probably did not crawl out of a swamp with 120 pages of magic in his flippers. That guy's got ten other scripts that didn't sell. He's been working in the business for awhile, either as a writer already or in production or development.” 

You are totally right, Kay.

But those that can’t hack it will fall to the wayside with or without your encouragement.  Hell, not a day goes by that I don’t think of falling to the wayside.  This business SUCKS.  It kicks the shit out of me.  But I also can’t imagine doing anything else.

Having said that, every struggling screenwriter out there was US not too long ago.  And by “us,” I don’t mean A-list screenwriters, because I’m certainly NOT… I simply mean anyone who has ever made their living with their words: TV writers, screenwriters, journalists, non-fiction writers, novelists. 

I also say that as someone who—quite honestly—would love to have either Kay OR Josh’s career.

(Not to mention, every struggling wannabe could be us AGAIN.  How many great screenwriters have been at the top of their career one day, then pounding the pavement, begging for a job, the next?)

And the truth is: I DO want more people writing.  A) If they’re good, I want as much great writing in the universe as possible.  B) If they try and fail, maybe they gain a new understanding of exactly how hard it is, both creatively and professionally, to succeed as a writer.  And C) Whether it’s aspiring screenwriters, brilliant journalists, unpublished novelists, terrible poets, or private diarists… YES—I THINK EVERYBODY SHOULD BE WRITING. 

I don’t care if you fail.  I don’t care if you succeed.  JUST WRITE.  Put your thoughts on paper for your kids, an agent, an editor, your husband, your mom—I don’t care.  Express yourself through a screenplay, a short story, a song… whatever puts a little truthful piece of you into the world.  And if you’re terrible—FINE.  Do it again.  And again.  And again.  Whether you sell something or not, you’ll get better at understanding your own thoughts and how to convey them through words.  You’ll develop a love and passion for playing with language.  You'll start to understand why stories are told the way they are and characters work the way they do.  You’ll learn hidden secrets about yourself you never before knew.

None of that is “insulting” the profession.  I think we have the greatest profession in the world.  It’s hard, it’s painful, it’s brutal... but if you have the talent, passion, and perseverance to succeed, it’s totally worth it.  And “success” is not defined by making a million dollars.  If you publish a poem—AWESOME.  If you sell a magazine article—CONGRATULATIONS!

Success if USING YOUR WORDS TO MOVE SOMEONE.  And more people need to do that.  (If you can move someone enough to pay you-- even better.)  Sure, more people need to respect the craft and hard work of professional writing… yes, I go crazy when I hear someone say, "I think I'm gonna pound out a spec script this weekend"... absolutely, it’s unfair to misguide someone by telling them writing’s NOT hard… but people also need to NOT BE AFRAID OF THE SIMPLE ACT OF TRYING TO EXPRESS THEMSELVES-- whether that's in a story, an essay, a haiku, or a screenplay.

I also don't believe that simply asking someone to read your screenplay means you're a crappy writer.  It's a faux pas, definitely.  It's a sign of immaturity, sure.  It means you're not yet professional enough to navigate this business, without a doubt.  But it doesn’t mean you don’t have talent and can never make it… it just means you’re GREEN.  And being green shouldn't earn you the scorn and derision of your “superiors,” people you admire. 

I mean, come on, Kay-- "...You suck as a writer. How do I know this? Because I've read your fucking script. I read it when you submitted it to an agent or a TeeVee show or, God help me, a screenwriting competition."

Sure, these aren't the best or most professional ways to break in.  But not everyone doing this is-- as you say-- an "asshole" or "liar" who simply "wants that million dollar check."  There are certainly assholes and liars out there, yet I think most people are just green... or over-eager... or live in Topeka... or don't mind trying any dead-end route they can to realize a dream.  But does entering a contest mean they "suck as a writer?"  Does that mean we should condemn them for TRYING?  Is their mere attempt really that "fucking insulting" to you?  I mean, hey-- maybe they haven't learned their craft, but maybe they were inspired to try by watching or reading something YOU wrote.

So by saying to someone, “Great job-- I applaud you for simply sitting down and WRITING,” you’re not saying, “Hey, kid—I think you deserve to be in the game.”  You’re simply saying, “I know how hard this is… so whether you make the team or not—and frankly, I don’t give a shit—I hope you come to try-outs.”

You can even say, "Listen, kid-- I won't read your script.  And when you ask strangers and acquaintances, you look like an immature amateur.  I'm telling you this not to be a dick, but because if you're genuinely talented, I truly hope you make it.  God knows the world need more good writing... and maybe you're the one to provide it."

If saying THAT to someone is insulting or threatening, your issues might run deeper than simply taking pride in your craft.

JOSH — re: your comment that I have a “lack of respect [you] find to be common among people who think a little success qualifies them to teach.”

You’re right… I only have a “little” success.  However, you are COMPLETELY WRONG to suggest that “success” has ANYTHING to do with teaching ability or qualifications.  And to borrow a concept from Kay, THAT is insulting to the profession of teachers.

Writing and teaching are two completely different skill sets… and I have to believe that you know that. 

Writing is writing; it requires structuring skills, dialogue skills, knowledge and experience and hard work in plot and character development, joke-writing, etc., etc., etc.

Teaching requires an understanding and appreciation of a subject—whether it’s biology, history, math, or screenwriting.  You have to know how to articulate ideas… make them understandable and applicable to novices…  you have to inspire people to try things. 

I have taken screenwriting classes from professional, top-notch screenwriters who couldn’t teach to save their lives and had no business being in a classroom… but they’d been hired because they had impressive writing credits.

I’ve also taken classes from people who had meager credits as writers… but had a MASSIVE talent for connecting with people, conveying complex ideas, inspiring students to try new things.

Robert McKee has barely worked as a screenwriter… but it’d be tough to deny that he’s an AMAZING TEACHER.

Personally… I teach because I love it.  I love helping people, I love passing on knowledge and experience, and I love talking about a subject I adore: writing.  And frankly, I’m pretty good at it.

Maybe I’m not as good as Robert McKee… and as a writer, I may not be as good as Joss Whedon or Tony Gilroy… but if I keep plugging away, and don’t get discouraged… maybe someday I will be…

Friday, September 18, 2009 7:50:36 AM (GMT Daylight Time, UTC+01:00)    Comments [3]

I was chatting with my friend Mark the other day, a playwright who’s recently started writing and directing his own short films.  He’d sent me the latest cut of his new short, and we were going over some notes I’d written for him… and he made a pretty astute comment.

“I learned two things on this project,” he said.  “One: how much you can change and affect your movie in editing.  And two: how important it is to have your script 100 percent ready-to-go before you start shooting.”

Now, I know these two thoughts sound obvious… but until you’re actually directing and/or producing your first movie, it’s tough to realize just how IMPORTANT each of them is.  And it made me think of a good book I recently read, which I wanted to pass along to you guys (and to Mark)…

The Invisible Cut: How Editors Make Movie Magic

I found this book really valuable for two reasons:

1)  It gives great insight into how editors do what they do, creatively.  It talks about how editors string together shots to create pace, tension, story.  It talks about how use B-roll and cutaways to “cover” moments that may not work.  It talks about how they interact with directors during (and before) principal photography to make sure they have all the footage they need to make the movie work.

One of the most helpful things the book includes is a large section of actual scene analysis, where it breaks down actual scenes and shots from movies like Chinatown and Twelve Angry Men to look at how editing helps the movie work, both narratively and visually.

This was great to read, not only because it gives such wonderful insight into editors’ creative processes, but it understanding how editors work—and being able to speak their language—is an immensely valuable tool for any writer, director, or producer.  Editors, as Bobbie points out, are the “final storyteller” to affect the film, and as a writer/producer/director overseeing your baby through its last stages of development, you need to be able communicate effectively with your editor.

2)  I was STUNNED (although I shouldn’t have been) at how much of the book was outstanding (yet totally unintentional) writing advice!  One of the chapters, for instance, is called “Cheating Time,” and it details how editors condense time to speed story up or stretch it to build tension.  While Bobbie is talking about editing, all the tricks and techniques she discusses also apply to screenwriting and general storytelling.  And while some of these things seem elementary, it was a great reminder of simple storytelling techniques and how similar all storytelling really is, whether you’re a writer, an editor, a director… or even a novelist or playwright.

Anyway—if you’re a writer embarking on making his first movie… or want to think about your writing from the perspective of other types of filmmakers… or simply like delving into the various filmmaking processes, check out The Invisible Cut—and lemme know what you think!  (And by the way—I keep singing “The Invisible Cut-eh,” like the Genesis song, every time I see the cover!)

Wednesday, September 16, 2009 7:27:48 PM (GMT Daylight Time, UTC+01:00)    Comments [1]

A few days ago, I posted a link to screenwriter Josh Olson’s Village Voice column, "I Will Not Read Your Fucking Script,” in which he rails against an aspiring screenwriter who asked him to read his script.

Now, first, let me say this… Josh is fairly vitriolic in this column… and on certain points, Josh is right.  For instance…

It’s unprofessional, and a massive imposition, to ask strangers or acquaintances to read your work.  This is why writers groups are valuable… or a tight group of friends, fellow writers, whom you can always go to.  Part of your job as a professional writer (whether you’re getting paid or not) is to be able to gauge relationships and know when to ask favors.  If you can’t do this, you’re not ready to work professionally… no matter how talented you may be.

Josh is also right that most people trying to be writers will never make it.  But so what?  If everyone could make it as a writer—or painter or lawyer or bricklayer or soldier—it probably wouldn’t be a goal worth pursuing.

I also think Josh is justified in his anger toward this inappropriate screenwriter.

However, there’s one place where Josh is wrong.  100 percent WRONG.

He writes: “…not only is it cruel to encourage the hopeless, but you cannot discourage a writer.”

And while you can’t discourage a real writer, I disagree that you should discourage ANYONE.  In fact, I think you should ENCOURAGE EVERYONE.

A)  Today’s shitty writer could turn into tomorrow’s Ernest Hemingway… but only if they keep writing.  At some point, Michael Chabon, J.J. Abrams, Virginia Woolf, and Josh Olson were all terrible writers.  But they kept at it.  Relentlessly.  And to do that they needed encouragement.  Or at least, they didn’t need DIScouragement.

B)  You could be wrong about someone’s script.  Years ago, I was working at a TV production company and my boss handed me a feature script for a teen comedy called Grand Rapids.  It was one of the WORST things I had ever read… I couldn’t even finish it.  A few months later, it came out as a movie—American Pie—and it was one of my favorite movies of the year.  I had been totally wrong about the script… not necessarily because it was a bad script, but because scripts sometimes need to be read by someone with the right eye to understand what they are.  Clearly, I had the wrong eye; Chris and Paul Weitz didn’t.

C)  Why would you NOT encourage artistic expression?  Whether it’s a screenplay, a novel, a magazine article, a poem, or a personal diary—why would you not want to encourage someone to WRITE?  To express themselves creatively?  Personally, I think MORE people need to write!  Who cares if they never get published, produced, bought, or read?  Isn’t the simple act of writing, of plumbing our inner-most fears and desires something everyone should spend more time doing?  In fact, more people—and it sounds like Josh especially—need to write for the sheer joy of it, for the fun and thrill of exploring who they are.

Personally, Josh, if you think writing is something best left to the professionals, or the “non-hopeless,” you’ve forgotten what writing is all about.

So you don’t have to read someone’s work… you can turn them down when they ask… but it’s an insult to your craft and your fellow writers to DISCOURAGE them… especially people who admire and respect your work enough to ask your opinion.  You don’t have to give it to them—and, to be honest, I think you’re perfectly right not to—but how hard is it to say…

“Unfortunately, I can't read your script.  If I read every script handed to me, I wouldn’t have time to eat.  However—the fact that you’ve taken time to FINISH a script… and that you have the courage to put it out in the world… says you’re already miles ahead of your competition.  So if this script is meant to get made, it will.  And if it’s not, it won’t… and you’ll sit down and write another one.  Immediately.  Because that’s what real writers do… they never stop writing.  And I can tell you’re a real writer.”

So you’re right, Josh.  Aspiring writers have a responsibility to act professionally.  But professionals have responsibilities, too… and one of the main ones is not to discourage people who want to be in your shoes.

Monday, September 14, 2009 9:04:01 AM (GMT Daylight Time, UTC+01:00)    Comments [6]

Quick rundown of the story:  9 follows a band of human-like dolls (known, according to Wikipedia, as “stitchpunks”—although this is never referenced in the movie) as they fight they fight for their survival on post-apocalyptic Earth.  Stitchpunks are the world’s last “living” survivors, hiding in fear from an evil mechanical brain and its legions of grotesque animal-like robots.

The actual plot begins when one of the stichpunks, 9 (stitchpunks are numbered instead of named), inexplicably come to life in the laboratory of the scientist who created him and discovers six other dolls living secretly in the ruins of the surrounding city.  9 also has with him a strange talisman he discovered in the lab… but when it’s stolen by a giant robotic dog, which also kidnaps one of 9’s new friends, he and the other stitchpunks set out to retrieve them both.  What follows is a Lord of the Rings-inspired adventure as the stitchpunks attempt to retrieve the mysterious talisman and save their world.

And… that’s about it. 

You get some tidbits of backstory, briefly explaining how the brain and its machines took over the world, but this movie’s biggest problem—and its biggest lesson to screenwriters—is that it’s lacking storytelling’s most important element: STORY.  It has plot, a structured sequence of events, but it lacks the context it needs to give those events meaning or relevance.

I.e.—we never know what the machines want, why they’re destroying the stitchpunks, why they destroyed humanity, or what the stitchpunks want (aside from survival; what would they do to the world if they could eradicate the evil machines?).

As a result, nothing in the movie has any meaning.  There are some chilling and creepy visuals… and some clever action sequences (and a nice creepy moment where the giant brain lumbers toward the stitchpunks while “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” plays in the background), but it’s hard to be interested when we have no larger context for what’s going on.  We never even know, until the final moments, why the stitchpunks’ talisman is important.  THEY don’t even know why it’s important!  They simply know that it IS… and only at the very end of the story do we learn why it’s valuable.

We slowly get some hints to the context and backstory as we go along, but it’s hard to care about a mystery when the ultimate answer to that mystery is an explanation of WHY we should have been caring all along.

In other words… there’s no Macguffin in this movie, nothing the stitchpunks are chasing or trying to solve.  The reason they’re going on this adventure… is to learn why they’re going on this adventure.  And even when we get that final answer, it makes little sense.  It has something to do with souls, yet the explanation is so flimsy it’s essentially a non-answer.  Which is ironic, because ultimately, this movie about the soullessness of machines turns out to have no soul itself.

One other important screenwriting lesson… and something I think, as writers, we often take for granted when putting together a story (or at least, I do… and this movie reminded me not to stop thinking about it):

9, the main stitchpunk, has virtually no arc.  He does not change or grow at all  He starts the movie as naively heroic, determined to do the right thing because… well… it’s right, and he doesn’t recognize the dangers that will stand in the way.  And at the end of the movie… he’s the exact same person, a naïve hero (I guess he’s arguably slightly less naïve because he’s now faced some monsters, but this hardly seems like an engaging arc… especially because it’s not dramatized in any way).

There were plenty of opportunities for the filmmakers to give 9 an arc… he could’ve begun as a coward and ended up finding heroic strength and courage.  He could have begun as a blind optimist and ended up jaded and world-weary.  He could have begun as a hero who will stop at nothing to get what he wants and ended as a pragmatist who learns some battles aren’t worth fighting.  He could have begun complacent or apathetic and ended up righteous and passionate.  But no… he experiences none of these emotional journeys. 

…And neither, sadly, does the audience.

Anyway, here's the trailer, which-- strangely-- gives you more information up front than the actual movie does in the first hour...

Sunday, September 13, 2009 8:55:12 AM (GMT Daylight Time, UTC+01:00)    Comments [0]

Hey, everyone—

Huge thanks to David, a loyal reader who submitted his screenplay synopsis to the Pitch Workshop!

Here’s what David writes, open the floodgates for feedback…

Working Title: Hacktivism

Genre: Thriller

Logline:

An honest young programmer loses his job and finds out his wife is pregnant in the same night - and must save his family by hacking the world bank for an egotistical madman.

Synopsis:

When young programmer Jack unexpectedly loses his job, he dejectedly goes home to tell his wife Brooke - but stops short when she reveals news of her own: she's pregnant. Desperate to find work before the medical bills pile up, Jack takes the first job offer that comes his way, a position at an internet start-up headed by Bruce, an intense man with a passion to change the world.

But it quickly becomes apparent that all is not as it seems, as Jack's new job turns out to be hacking into banks, stealing from the rich to give to the poor. Meanwhile his relationship with Brooke is strained by lies, as he's unable to tell her of his new job - or risk ending up like Tom, a coworker who had befriended him but is now destitute and living in the slums thanks to Bruce's sense of 'justice.'

When Bruce asks Jack to hack the world bank, throwing the world into mass chaos leaving him to remake it as he pleases, Jack wants out. But with Bruce threatening him and his pregnant wife, and his relationship at home all but destroyed by lies, Jack must make a choice: save his life, or save his soul.

There you go, folks—critique away (but please remember—no bashing; constructive criticism only!)…

Monday, September 07, 2009 2:12:48 AM (GMT Daylight Time, UTC+01:00)    Comments [3]