Star Wars: The Force Awakens

Episode VII came out in December of 2015, three and a half years ago. It was the first live-action Star Wars film in theaters since 2005. I remember going to watch it at least three or four times. I was fascinated. Yesterday, I watched it again, and I can confirm it holds up.

First of all, old vs new. This film was written by Michael Arndt [Little Miss Sunshine (2006) and Toy Story 3 (2010)], J.J. Abrams [Super 8 (2011) and Mission Impossible III (2006)] and Lawrence Kasdan, the writer of, arguably, the best two Star Wars films ever made, Empire Strikes Back (1980) and Return of the Jedi (1983). If a man knows how to structure a Star Wars film, that’s Lawrence Kasdan. This film feels Star Wars from beginning to end, and we can see it in the structure. The underachieving, lonely hero (Luke, Rey) receives a call for action that pushes him/her into adventure (Leia’s hologram, the map to Luke). He meets a group of misfits (Han & Chewie in both movies, Finn in the Force Awakens, Obi Wan in A New Hope). Then, along the way, they must escape the dangers of outer space, until finally reaching their destination, with sets-up for the climax in the third act (destroying the Death Star, destroying the Starkiller base as well as rescue Rey). What I love about this structure is how it respects the original but also dares to twist it just enough. Unlike The Last Jedi, this film isn’t radically different, which was one of the main complains. In my opinion, this was no mistake. This was done on purpose, so it wouldn’t feel like the prequels felt; like The Last Jedi felt, where they try very hard to be different when they don’t get that opportunity. Let me explain. One can write an original film and twist clichés or common tropes, and it can be a huge success. Writers don’t get to do that with Star Wars, because they’re working over something the audience is very familiar with, and has strong expectations on it. Kasdan, Arndt and Abrams knew that. This was no accident. But this was no laziness either. This was a smart, thoughtful decision.

The new characters. Now, let’s avoid confusion here. This has similarities with the originals, no doubt. But this is no remake. We deal with very different characters. Where Luke was a whiny, know-it-all adolescent, Rey is a humbler, more empathic hero that dreams high (and yes, Rey is easier to empathize with than Luke). And we’re shown this when she eats her portions outside a destroyed AT-AT and puts on an old rebellion helmet. We’re shown this when she sees BB-8 in trouble and goes to rescue him. Then , reluctantly, let’s him stay for the night. We see this, when she refuses to exchange the droid to Unkar Plutt for 60 portions! This particular scene works because we had been set-up to the fact that the most she gets is half a portion. Unlike with Luke, where it was just fear that was holding him back, we get a more tangible reason as to why she wants to stay at Jakku. She’s feels her parents will come back any day soon, and she wants to be there to receive them and see them again. This is her arc, her internal need. Next is Kylo. He’s no Darth Vader. He even gets an internal motivation greater than ‘being evil’. He wants to be as great as his grandfather. He wants to prove himself. He fears to fail. He’s insecure, afraid, and he hides that behind his mask. There’s still light in him. He’s not as powerful as Vader, and that’s why Rey, who we had already been told had something special inside her (in a conversation between Snoke and Kylo, actually) is able to defeat him. The moment when he kills Han, is extremely powerful, because we get to see there’s still light in him. There’s a real struggle in killing his own father. This is not a pleasing experience for him. We can see the pain. Finn has also a greatly defined character. I find his comedy the most effective. He’s just a deserting stormtrooper, who wants to get as a far from the First Order as he possibly can. When he’s fleeing with Poe in the TIE, and Poe says he wants to go to Jakku, Finn’s reaction feels authentic. When he pretends to be a resistance member just to impress Rey, because he likes her, that feels authentic. Steve Kaplan, in his book “The Hidden Tools of Comedy”, mentions the best comedy appears when it comes from character and when you let your character try to win. Finn is a desertor, he wants to flee, so when he knows Poe will take them to Jakku, his reaction of disappointment and frustration feel authentic, that’s good comedy. Finn likes Rey, so the writers let him try to win by letting him pretend to be this important, noble guy to impress her. Now, granted, Finn is used as sort of a plot-convenient character who knows where everything is in the First Order, but I don’t see it as bad. If he wasn’t there, we would just get that the resistance had access to the database of the Starkiller base or that they got an informant from the inside, so I don’t see using Finn this way as a flaw. In fact, I think it strengthens the plot.

The classic characters. Episode VII had a very important task to do. Re-set-up for us the old characters we knew and loved. The script had to show us how they aged, while keeping it realistic to their characters. Han and Chewie went back to smuggling. I feel this as a great choice. “I went back to the only thing I was ever any good at.” says Han to Leia. He’s still the cynical cowboy. Except, he’s changed. He knows all the force mumble-jumble turned out to be true after all. He has a son that turned evil. He had a wife he loved but, after the past events, they had to go their own ways to deal with the pain. Han & Chewie’s return to the Millenium Falcon is one of the best scenes. Nostalgia hit me hard on that one. Han also got the chance to shoot at Kylo when he was taking Rey in Maz’ castle, but didn’t have the strength to do so. Leia is no longer a queen, but a general. She’s still fighting for what she believes. Unlike Han, she doesn’t get too much screen time. I think this is right. Abusing of the old characters would have taken them from iconic and legendary to overused, and would’ve stolen the thunder from the new heroes. The main reason why Han gets so much screen time, besides being a sort of mentor for the new heroes, is to set-up for his death. It impacts us even more to see him die after we shared not only the whole original trilogy with him, but this new adventure as well. Luke I don’t think there’s much to talk. He’s used more as a cliffhanger. I liked how the question was left as to ‘why did he leave’, I liked how the film ends when Rey returns Anakin’s lightsaber to him. C-3PO and R2-D2 have brief appearances. It’s sad to see R2 off, and it’s happy to see him on again near the end. I liked how 3PO is still the annoying, fearful droid we all hate and love.

The structure. The first act is quite long, around 30 minutes until Rey and Finn leave Jakku on the Millenium Falcon. It works, because we’re set-up to a lot of things ans because the story is always moving forward, right from the start. This duration shouldn’t scare us, since A New Hope‘s first act is around 40 minutes long. Then, we proceed to the adventures of the second act, where Rey and Finn leave Jakku, are swallowed by Han’s ship, then go to Maz Kanata after barely escaping from bounty hunters. In Maz’ castle, we get the midpoint of the story, which is when Rey has her visions with the lightsaber. The stakes are also raised, when some of the guests in the castle inform both the First Order and the Resistance that their droid is there. We see the starkiller base in use for the first time as it wipes out the planets of the republic. Finn, who was achieving his goal of fleeing to the Outer Rim, sees this and decides to stay. Rey and Kylo meet for the first time as we get an epic fight between good and evil, and Poe returns. Kylo takes Rey, Han meets with Leia in a very emotional moment. Meanwhile, Kylo fails to get information from Rey. She improves in her use of the force and gets a stormtrooper (Daniel Craig, no more no less) to free her. Finn helps the rebellion to plan the way into Starkiller. They get in and we learn that Finn doesn’t actually have much of an idea as to how to lower the shields, and reveals he’s just there to save Rey (“We’ll use the Force” “That’s not how the Force works!”). Then, they meet with Rey, plant bombs on the base, Han meets with Kylo, who kills him in the All is Lost Moment, right before the climax. Finn, and then Rey, fight Kylo and defeat him. They flee back to the rebellion hideout after the starkiller base is blown up. R2 comes back to life, the map is complete and we get the final scene when Rey meets with Luke. The film is very well structured, the plot points are all there, the story’s always moving forward, always dealing with the characters motivations and fears, like when Han offers Rey a job (“You’re offering me a job.” “I’m thinking about it”), but although she really wants it, she rejects it, because she still feels tied to Jakku. This is the kind of decisions that shape a character. It’s not from dialogue, but from actions and choices.

Overall, I think the movie is great. I know I’m not 100% objective, how could I? But, in my best attempt to be so, I see the movie as an exciting, emotional journey from beginning to end, with endearing characters, old and new, that keep you hooked to the story at all times. If you haven’t, you definitely should check it out, even if you’re not a Star Wars fan.

Thanks for reading,
The Screenplayer.

Reservoir Dogs (1992)

I just saw Tarantino’s first film the other day. It was a lot of fun. Immersing almost from beginning to end. This is a heist movie where you don’t actually see the heist. So let’s talk about it.

Tarantino shows his great writing abilities in this movie. He starts by showing us the group’s relationship, witty, close, almost like a friendship. Then he cuts to where the movie really starts: Mr. Orange bleeding out while Mr. White drives him to the rendezvous. Now, I really like this about Tarantino. He throws us into a messy, confuse situation where we have no idea what’s going on. This forces us to (and makes us want to) give him our whole attention. Then, he gradually releases bits and bits of information to us until the end of the film.

The key in this movie, what it is about, is the question ‘who set the group up?’. In retrospect, the guilty one always had to be one of the first three we meet in the beginning: either Orange, White or Pink. This makes the revelation more emotional and powerful, because it’s a character we’ve know the whole movie. But we don’t know that yet.

On our way to the revelation, conflicts between the group arise. The conflict in the story flows very naturally. We can all understand the feeling of not knowing what’s going on or who we can trust. The climax is great: a four-way Mexican standoff that builds up until the moment where the four characters pull the trigger. We can feel the pain when White sacrifices himself defending Mr. Orange, only to find out he was, in fact, a cop all this time. So then, he shoots him and they all die, save for Mr. Pink, the most professional of them all. The coldest, most insensitive one. The perfect man for the job.

The movie intertwines the post-heist with backstory scenes, explaining us how it all started, a little background for the characters. Now, I’m no one to criticize Tarantino. He’s one of the most successful writers and directors in history. However, there’s one thing I didn’t like about this movie. Eight minutes, to be more precise. Mr. Blonde’s backstory felt, for me, dull. The point of it is making us aware that Mr. Blonde has a close relationship with Joe and Nice Guy Eddie, that he just got released from prison and that he can be trusted. But the film takes full eight minutes of pure exposition and no conflict at all, to give us that small piece of information. And, even worse, does this in the middle of a very exciting moment, when, in the post-heist, we had seen that the criminals had a hostage cop to question him. So, for me, this particular scene is added in an unfavorable moment, and is bad for five reasons: slows down the pace, cuts the action of the post-heist, lacks conflict, is pure exposition and is way too long.

Overall, watching the film was a great experience. Save for the eight minutes mentioned before, there’s non-stop action, rising conflict and a compelling set of characters and situation that you just can’t stop watching.

Thanks for reading,
The Screenplayer.

Writing character: VICE (2018) vs Captain Marvel (2019)

Marvel (2019) / Annapurna Pictures (2018)

I just finished reading VICE’s screenplay. I didn’t have the chance the watch the movie, since it was in theaters for a very short period of time in my country. However, it caught my attention something that was present in VICE and wasn’t in the last film I saw, Captain Marvel. And that is: empathy for the characters.

So, to recap. VICE is the story of Dick Cheney, a manipulative politician, who is, overall, a greedy person that wants power. Captain Marvel is the story of Carol Danvers, a superhero who stops bad people from getting away with their plans. It’s very clear that Carol is the one audiences should empathize more with and would want her to win more, right? Well, not for me.

One of the fundamentals in writing characters of any kind, is to give the audience opportunities to build empathy with him/her. Blake Snyder called it the “Save the Cat” scene. In Eric Edson’s “The Story Solution” and Karl Iglesias’ “Writing for Emotional Impact” , it is not one simple moment or scene, but many different moments in which you show the best of your character to the audience. These empathy-generating techniques go from showing your character risking himself for others, giving them desirable characteristics (power, charisma, leadership, making them the best at what they do), show them acting in nurturing ways, being persistent, regretting their mistakes, having a change of heart or loving other people.

Let’s review what each script tells us about their very opposite characters. In VICE, we know early-on that Dick loves his wife and his children. He starts as a drunken, irresponsible man, but is willing to change his way of living for the woman he loves. (change of heart, loving other people). We’re also shown he accepts his daughter’s sexual preferences, even when he’s been pushing conservative politics (he risks his political career by accepting his daughter’s preferences, he acts in a nurturing way). He’s the best in what he does, which is manipulating people and situations to his favor. He’s got power, charisma and leadership. He’s very intelligent, even if it’s in a perverse way.

Now, let’s see which of these techniques are used for Carol in Captain Marvel. She has mighty powers, granted, but she doesn’t even uses them that much until the third act. One might argue she’s witty with her dialogue, but it comes more as arrogant. She has very minor set-backs, if any, so it’s hard to actually consider her a persistent character. There’s a couple scenes in which I’ll admit she has empathy-building moments: one, when she decides to go back to save Nick Fury, instead of leaving in the Pegasus facilities. However, I don’t feel this moment is given the importance it deserves, and, as a consequence, we don’t feel this is an important moment. Two, the moment where she defeats the Supreme Intelligence at the beginning of Act Three. As I mentioned in my Captain Marvel review, it’s the most powerful scene in the film, precisely because we see her finally fighting against the odds, finally vulnerable, and we’re finally allowed to build some empathy with her. Sadly, it’s too little too late.

Karl Iglesias makes, in page 67 of his book, a very interesting statement: “The second a character shows up on screen, we start building an opinion about that character […] This is why you want empathy as soon as possible.”

If I were to describe each character, I’d say Dick is persistent, very intelligent and powerful. He’s a leader, people follow him everywhere, and he has charisma. He’s perverse and manipulative, but he loves his family to the point where he’s willing to change his entire way of living and risking his very own political career for them. To describe Carol, I’d say she’s very powerful and slightly arrogant. So, it’s not only that we don’t know many good traits about Carol, but that we don’t know much about her character at all. We get to know a character by the decisions he or she makes. Carol makes very few decisions in the script. Dick has plenty of different moments to prove his character by making decisions, whether good or bad.

Character is very important because story is following character. If we don’t care about who the story is about, we simply don’t care about the story. Period.

Thanks for reading,
The Screenplayer.

Captain Marvel (2019)

A lot has been said about this film. “It’s a masterpiece.” “It’s horrible.” “It’s feminist propaganda.” Good or bad, people have gone to see it. So let’s talk about it.

First of all, I think the superhero formula is becoming not only too predictable, but tiring. There’s at least two or three superhero films released per year just by Marvel, that essentially share the same structure. So I think this impacts on how I rate Captain Marvel.

I’ll start by talking about the things I liked about the movie.

Opposite to what I’ve read online, I think Nick Fury was very enjoyable. In fact, I think it’s his performance the single thing I enjoyed the most about this movie. Fury’s character is refreshing and very different to the tough, serious patched-eye guy we know from past films.
Another thing I appreciated was the plot twist of the real villain. It was well written in the sense that the script carefully put us in Carol’s P.O.V. by creating this fighting scene in the beginning where the squad is ambushed by skrulls. This puts us in her shoes and, from then on, we see the green aliens as evil, making that revelation scene effective.
The scene in the climax of the movie, where she confronts the Supreme Intelligence was very well done. The way we’ve seen these flashbacks of different moments of her life as she falls, and how they show us in that moment all of those same moments as she gets up, was moving and powerful. In fact, this was the most emotional moment in the film for me.

Now, I’ll mention those things I didn’t like.

Carol Danvers’ character is flat. There’s nothing memorable about this character. I don’t think there’s one likable trait I can mention from the character, aside from ‘powerful’. I think this problem could’ve been solved by doing a couple things: First of all, adding a scene (or couple of scenes) that focus on making us create empathy with Carol. Whether it’s showing us how she suffers an unfair injury or doing something honorable. Second, making her, in some point of the movie, have to fight against the odds and what’s more, hit bottom. We never have the feeling that all hopes have vanished. There’s no All Is Lost moment and this impacts in our empathy with her. It never makes us care because she’s always doing alright. She has no character arc and urges one. She starts perfect and ends perfect. It’s harder to relate with someone who has not a single flaw. If these two things had been in the movie, I can almost guarantee, that powerful scene I mentioned where we see her getting up after every time, would’ve been twice, maybe thrice as powerful.
Carol’s sarcasm. I also found her unlikable at some points of the movie, with her unnecessarily sarcastic dialogue. This is not to say that a character cannot be sarcastic and likable. But, in order to make her that way, there should’ve been some good traits shown first. Take Iron Man, for example. He’s as sarcastic and maybe even more dislikable, but we’re shown how he’s suffered and how he cares for the people near him. This really adds up to create a more complete and likable hero.
The main villain has no depth. They say heroes are as great as their villain. If that’s the case, then we have serious problems here. Jude Law’s character is cliché and unidimensional. His only trait is that he’s evil. What’s his motivation? I don’t think we’re ever really told or shown. He just does things because he’s evil. That’s not as compelling. And the guy isn’t even good at being evil. I guess this shouldn’t come as a big surprise, given Marvel’s history with flat villains.
The second half of the second act is almost conflict-less. I’d have to rewatch the movie, but I think the midpoint of the movie is when Talos lets Carol hear the black box audio from the plane, then the flashbacks come and we’re revealed who the true villain is. After this, she has a debate with Talos about whether he’s evil or not. Then comes the preparation for the mission (no conflict). Afterwards, the daughter tries to convince her mother to go on the mission, still not much conflict. Carol changes her uniform’s colors. They take off. No conflict yet. Then, Jude Law kills the skrull science guy, which adds some conflict. Then, they fly up, find the invisible ship, they enter, the skrull family come out of hiding, cute reunion, but no conflict. Then, it’s until Jude Law and his squad invade the ship that the real conflict starts, only to push the plot into the third act. The first half of the second act has a lot more conflict than the second half, when it should be the other way around. I think this makes for a long part of the movie becoming boring, because there isn’t something really interesting holding our attention.
The third act felt too long. I don’t have the running time of the third act, but it felt long. We’re shown, at the very least, 4-5 different fights: Fury and Maria trying to escape from the ship flown by the blue girl, Carol distracting Jude Law and his friends with the lunchbox, then another air battle when Jude Law chases Fury and Maria, then, the most useless scene in the entire movie: Her ‘confrontation’ with Ronan. Afterwards, Carol blasts Jude Law back on land and sends him back to his planet. The thing here is, as so many battles take place, it becomes tedious. In part, because there isn’t a real emotional connection with most of the characters. And the Ronan scene is a very poor attempt to set-up things for a sequel. It adds absolutely nothing to the plot and doesn’t even add conflict, since Carol very easily gets rid of the missiles. This particular scene should’ve been in the after credits, instead of the cat spitting the tesseract. It’s like they tried to compensate for the lack of conflict in the second half of act two but went too far with it.

In conclusion, I don’t think the movie was horrible. It wasn’t great either. It definitely wasn’t feminist propaganda (it barely even deals with that subject, in my opinion). Captain Marvel is a fine movie, that will get lost in the universe of the tons of Marvel movies.

Just to finish, I just want to say that I’m very curious as to how Captain Marvel is going to be handled in Avengers: End Game. She’s what I would call a ‘Superman Paradox’, in which you have a hero so powerful there’s basically nothing that can stop him. Superman, at least, has kryptonite. What does Carol have?

Thanks for reading.
The Screenplayer.

Facing the Giants (2006)

This is a sports movie. More specifically, a football movie. It’s about a loser coach working with a bunch of young, non-caring players. This movie gets exponentially better as it goes on. The needs and personalities of the characters are successfully established in the beginning of the film. However, it is in the first half of the movie where the worst dialogue of the script is. It’s on the nose, lacking subtext, over-explanatory and unnecessary at times. I’d also throw ‘preachy’ in. Every scene involving the shy boy, David Childers (Bailey Cave), and his father (Steve Williams) are awkward and preachy. The old man keeps throwing in motivational dialogue that feels shallow and too on the nose.

This is a movie that deals with God and religion. I don’t think there’s any problem per se in that, but I can say it isn’t an easy task. God stories usually work with miracles. But, in a script, working with miracles is very tricky, since everything must be justified and must have been set-up earlier. No sudden, spontaneous miracles are allowed in a screenplay. There’s a scene where, suddenly, the whole school dramatically starts believing in God, preaching and becoming faithful, just because. This feels preachy and unsatisfying because there isn’t any specific reason that justifies it. Now, this is not to say that miracles can’t happen in a screenplay. But they must be justified. We must be able to understand why they happen, and we must feel the characters that benefit from them actually deserve it and have done their deed. This is successfully done in a couple scenes of the film: The pregnancy scene, and the moment where the team loses in the playoffs, but then qualifies to the next round after their rival team is eliminated for cheating. Both of these moments feel, at least to some extend, justified, because the characters fought for it, and did what was in their hands to deserve it.

There are also some tell don’t show moments in the script. We’re told the team is apathetic in the beginning, but we only see they’re bad playing football. A small scene showing us they don’t care about the team would’ve been enough and, since this is an important beat for the film, since many of the coach’s actions are directed to fight this apathy, it should’ve been established clearly.

The film has its good moments. There are powerful scenes, like the one where the big guy of the team (Jason McLeod) crawls across the whole field blindfolded, with his teammate on the back. There’s also the climax, which is very well executed. The third is the most powerful act of the film. It’s exciting, emotional, satisfying, and it gives every important character something to do in order to fulfill their arcs. The empathy built with the coach (Alex Kendrick) is also well done. We can feel his pain, his sadness, his fears. Overall, if you can get past the preachiness and bad dialogue of the beginning, you’ll be rewarded with a good film and a satisfying third act.

Thanks for reading,
The Screenplayer.

Love Actually (2003)

My favorite movie of all time is About Time (2013). If you haven’t, you should watch it. And if you have, you should rewatch it. Seriously. It will change your life. Anyway, that film was written and directed by Richard Curtis, the same man behind Love Actually, so my hopes were high on this one.

The film is an ensemble. I love this kind of movies, because a character that would be a support character in another film, gets his own main plot in these films. I also like them because they show how the world is a small place, and how everyone, one way or another, is related with each other. I think those are the two basic elements an ensemble has to fulfill. Love Actually does. It has a ton lot of plots. And here’s where I think it fails. Writing an ensemble film is no easy task. You have to give each character roughly the same importance, each of the plots must be equally strong, and you have limited screentime to do it. Having so many characters, forced Curtis to cut short some of the plots, omit important beats or end them too early/fast, which makes it feel incompletely. For example, the plot about the Portuguese lady and Colin Firth (Kingsman: The Secret Service), feels forced. The characters can’t understand each other and, even then, they fall in love. Other example, the ginger guy who travels to America to meet girls. He succeeds with no trouble whatsoever, which makes this plot feel like a waste of time, since it adds nothing to the plot or characters. A special case is the plot of Sarah. She sacrifices love for her brother. This plot ends on a low note, which is not bad. However, it ends way too early in the film (At 1h 36m of runtime, where there are still 38 minutes to go). And this brings me to a subpoint of the last statement: The script ends some of the plots in a harsh, hurried way. Alan Rickman’s subplot, where he kind of cheats on his wife, ends with a simple, bland recognition that he’s been stupid and a reunion at the airport. I also had a lot of trouble processing the end of the film, the scene in the airport, where I couldn’t understand how some characters know each other. This might be only me, but I felt it wasn’t showed properly and screenwriter Richard Curtis just wanted to save that explosion of reveals ’til the end.

Of course, the movie is by no means bad. The good things exceed the bad ones. The comedy is good, specially in the porn/relationship plot with Martin Freeman. The conflict is good, specially when revelations are added to it. For example, when Colin Firth finds out his girlfriend is cheating on him with his brother, the scene doesn’t upfront tells us that’s his brother. Instead, it gradually shows us that there might be some cheating going on, and then it presents us with subtext that implies they’re brothers. Other example is when the guy in love with his best friend’s wife tries to hide this fact. We know he’s hiding a secret on his video recordings, but when Keira Knightly’s character finds out, it is a compelling and tense moment. The plots of Hugh Grant and Liam Neeson’s characters are both emotionally satisfying. Also, Rowan Atkinson’s couple cameos steal the scenes. He’s brilliant as ever.

Overall, the film fulfills the basic expectations one would have of an ensemble. It’s a good film that entertains and has some powerful plots (The Liam Neeson/his stepson one was the most satisfactory for me). However, I think it needed more time or fewer plots to be able to go the extra mile. It just feels too crowded and that affects most of the plots’ quality. I think a film that better expresses this feeling is Crazy Stupid Love.

As always, thanks for reading.
The Screenplayer.

Confessions of a shopaholic (2009)

I’m studying finances in college. I was looking for a light film that wouldn’t demand much effort from me, to pass a couple hours. Combining theses two things is how I ended up watching Confessions of a shopaholic, with very low expectations. The truth is, the film knows what it is, and succeeds significantly on it.

The story goes like this: A young journalist in New York buys stuff she doesn’t need with money she doesn’t have. She loses her job in a gardening magazine and she’s forced to find a new one. She sees this moment as an opportunity to finally go to that fashion magazine she’s always wanted to work for, but ends up working for a personal finances one, and she has no idea about finances.

As I mentioned above, the writing of the film succeeds in most of what it attempts. The characters are well defined, specially Rebecca, the main character, who has a very satisfying character arc. Funny enough, it was with this film that I finally learned the importance of considering having more than one antagonist in a script. Confessions of a Shopaholic benefits from having three, each of which attacks a different front of our hero. This helps the movie have constant conflict and giving the feeling that there’s always something happening. There’s a scene where Rebecca is standing next to one of the antagonists in an elevator, but neither knows each other physically, which gives us a nice moment of tension and conflict building up.

Talking about moments, another scene I think reflects great writing in the movie is when Rebecca is forced to choose between two dresses. One of them, given to her by her best friend, and the other one by her boss. The stakes are high, since the dress she doesn’t choose will affect that area of her life (either friendship or work). Instead of having Rebecca articulate the words of her choice, the screenwriters Tim Firth (Kinky Boots) and Tracey Jackson (The Other End of the Line) make us wait until she appears on TV, to see her decision. It might not be very clear with my explanation, but if you watch the film, you’ll see what I’m talking about. This scene also uses the dilemma, a device that I’ve mentioned before I really like, since it forces the character to make a decision and, therefore, show character, and makes her face the consequences of the decision.

Naturally, the script isn’t perfect. I felt it could’ve spend more time fleshing out the romantic-interest character, Luke, since he’s also got an arc in his own subplot. His desire was somewhat ambiguous, so if the script had stated it more solidly, it would’ve had a more satisfying effect when he finally achieved it. I also felt the first act and the start of the second act of the film were slow, to the point where I considered changing the movie. This was mainly because of the lack of conflict, something the screenplay corrected correctly for the rest of the script.

Overall, the film had a slow start, but it got better after that, with things escalating quickly, stakes raising, conflict building up, and a very satisfactory ending in the third act. It’s not a perfect film, but it isn’t awful either.

Thanks for reading,
The Screenplayer.

Steve Jobs (2015)

I don’t think there is a screenwriter out there today that masters dialogue as much as Aaron Sorkin (A Few Good Men, The Social Network). His style is very easy to identify and he just knows how to do it right. This film relies almost exclusively on its characters. It shows us three major events in Steve Jobs’ successful career. But that’s not really what this story is about. Instead, it deals with Jobs’ relationships with people around him: Steve Wozniak, his assistant Joanna Hoffman, Apple’s CEO John Scully, his ex-girlfriend Chrisann Brennan, and specially his daughter, Lisa, who he refuses to recognize at first, and around whom Jobs’ character arc is based.

It’s very impressive to see how most of the movie deals with characters talking, what most screenwriters would consider a sin, and yet it never gets boring. One of the keys for this is how Steve’s character has a very conflictive nature. Conflict is inherent in him and every interaction he has with other person. The dialogue is extremely good, because it carries emotional and conflictive weight, and not dull exposition or flat words that explain how a character feels. Because, even though the film has a lot of dialogue, the conflict and the emotions are always shown, and not addressed directly.

This is a great example of how to write a character-driven story successfully. I don’t usually enjoy a movie that deals with a lot of talking heads, but Sorkin demonstrates that, when done exceptionally well, there’s nothing one can do else than sit back, eat popcorn, enjoy and learn.

Thanks for reading,
The Screenplayer.

Mortal Engines (2018)

This is an interesting one. I saw the premise being harshly criticized, but I found it interesting. In a post-apocalyptic future, cities are not static anymore. Instead, they’re huge machines that roam the world, eating smaller cities. Interesting.

The first act of the movie is probably the most compelling one, as screenwriters Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens show us how life in this ‘cities’ work. It’s interesting as we get to see a society in miniature. After Plot Point 1, when we enter into the upside down world of the second act, I think it turns into a very different movie.

I consider one of the biggest mistakes of this screenplay, to be the protagonist/main hero. The screenplay tries to tell us in the first act that Tom is our hero. They make a good job filling the first act with moments to empathize with him. And then, in Plot Point 1, they introduce the real hero, or heroine in this case. It’s Hester who has the most compelling motive, not Tom. Tom’s just a guy who got caught in a cross fire. It’s Hester, and not the character who we followed during the whole first act, who takes the main role during the climax and defeats the main villain. Tom gets a few, flat scenes on a plane shooting at a thing in a Star Wars kind of scene.

Another thing that bugged me about the story was the whole Shrike subplot. As the movie explains, Shrike is a sort of cyborg, who took Hester when she was left alone. He saw her suffering, so he tried to convince her to become a cyborg like he did. She decides not to and runs away, and that’s the whole reason why now he wants to kill her. Up to this point, the subplot is strange, but could still be acceptable. The point of no return is the wrap-up of the subplot, where Shrike finds out Hester is in love with Tom, so he just suddenly decides not to chase her anymore and then dies.

As for the ‘plot twist’ or reveal in the climax, where the evil Thaddeus Valentine confesses Hester he’s her father, this felt wrong for two and a half reasons. Number one, this had already been implied with flashbacks before. Number two, it really has no effect on the plot or the audience, since we don’t feel a connection strong enough with the characters to actually be impressed. And the last, half reason is Star Wars. This was already used in Empire Strikes Back. The difference is it worked back then. That’s because the characters were interesting enough for us to care, and it hadn’t really been implied before in the movie. Besides having an effect on the audience, it also had an effect on the plot. In Mortal Engines, this was an unnecessary reveal, and felt, at most, awkward and cringy.

The third act felt too long. They present us a whole new world of static cities hiding behind a wall, a preparation for the war, they come up with a plan, they fight in the climax and then the denouement. It felt too long and it wasn’t being that interesting anyway.

Overall, I didn’t hate the film. It just felt like they (either the author of the book, since I haven’t read it, or the screenwriters, or both) tried to make the story over-complicated and stuff it with more characters, more worlds and more subplots to make it last longer. The film, 2h 8m, could’ve lasted probably 1h 30m, and have been a lot better that way. ‘More is less’, they say. Specially in screenwriting. The main plot is interesting, the visuals are stunning, but all the condiments on top harm the film more than what they add.

Thanks for reading,
The Screenplayer.

Crazy Stupid Love (2011)

The film I’ll write about today is one of the best romantic comedies out there. If you haven’t watched it, you definitely must. It completely twisted the genre and, as Blake Snyder would say, ‘gave the audience the same, only different’.

First of all, this is not a story of ‘boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back’. Instead, the first scene of the movie is ‘girl’ asking ‘boy’ for a divorce. Here starts the adventure of Cal, our hero, to try to move on.

What makes this movie different is the way it works with subplots and intertwines them perfectly. There are at least four subplots, that occur at the same time and each and every one of them has an impact on the main plot. This gives us a greatly paced story that never feels boring.

With the subplots, come the revelations, mostly in how the subplots actually relate with the main story. For example, by the midpoint, we learn (or at least I did, since I wasn’t aware of this) that the son’s teacher is actually the woman our hero decided not to call again, which causes a great scene of conflict that explodes in the face of Cal.

Working with four subplots is not easy. Intertwining it successfully, even less. The screenwriter Dan Fogelman (Tangled, Cars), demonstrates his amazing ability, delivering a story that is always moving forward, with amazing characters that suffer from believable flaws, and nicely executed arcs for each of them. The scene where all of the subplots intertwine together in the third act was my favorite. It makes the audience laugh, feel frustrated and surprises us with a revelation. It shows just how great of a writer Fogelman is.

Thanks for reading
The Screenplayer.