As the old addage goes, you only get one chance to make a firstimpression. The world of screenwriting is no different. I am sure we have all heard many people hammer on the importance of the first ten pages of a script. I agree with them. You also may have heard others talk about the first five pages and how important they are. I agree with them, too. However, I wouldn’t consider your first five or ten pages “first impression material”.
In sales, you understand that those first few words, that true first impression, is your life. Whether you’re on the phone, over the internet or in person, most people have made up their mind about you and what you are selling in the first fifteen seconds of your interaction. You have all of fifteen seconds to win them over. If you’ve hooked them in those 15 seconds, your pitch is just icing on the cake. If not, your pitch won’t change their mind (if you’re even lucky enough to get them to listen).
Screenwriting is no different. You have one page to make a first impression. Not five. Not ten. One.
Really, you have one paragraph.
Now, you may have a kick-ass script that comes around at page 10 and really kicks into gear. That script may sell (if the concept is good enough), and you may make some decent cash. Still, if you’re like me, you can’t be content having a great script with a lackluster opening. There is always room for improvement, and I believe we should be doing everything we can to make our scripts as amazing as possible. Half-assing will get you nowhere.
So make those first words count. That first page (really, that first paragraph) is your first impression as a writer. It will frame how the reader thinks of you as a writer. It’s not just about your script. It’s about you. Personally, by the time I’m a quarter of the way down the first page of a script, I know if I want to spend 100+ pages with the writer. I think that is the case with most - if not all - readers.
The thing is, you can recover from a less-than-great opening…
…but why would you want to do that to yourself?
Sure, if a guy’s on a first date he can make up for being chubby with his sense of humor. Thing is, when the girl he’s courting has 100,000 guys after her this year alone, why wouldn’t he just go to a fucking gym?
Put forth the effort from start to finish, or you’re showing to everyone who reads your script that you don’t really give a shit. You may think I’m being rash, but I assure you I am not.
This business of ours is as cutthroat as they come. You need to bring your absolute A game, or don’t bother showing up at all.
And don’t even think about pointing to sold scripts or produced movies as evidence that “crap sells all the time”.
I want to clarify that I am not saying the first page, five pages or ten pages of your script are all that matter. As I stated above, you need to bring your fucking A game. All of it. From FADE IN: to FADE TO BLACK.
That said, right now I’m focusing on your first impression as a writer - your opening page. Over the next six entries, I will be posting the opening page of various sold scripts (along with links to the scripts as a whole) and analyzing them. I will be discussing what works, what doesn’t and why. My hope is that you can see the difference between a great first impression and a mediocre one. If you’re really lucky, I’ll throw a real turd in there for good measure. lol.
I just wanted to let you all know I’m not gone. I have a post that I hope to have up in a week or so. I would have it done already, but I’m up to my eyeballs in projects.
After finishing the first draft of my latest spec, I realized I had two totally different scripts on my hands. lol. Both great scripts, but it’s just one more thing stacked on my plate.
So now I have two scripts I’m working on at the same time (one a contained supernatural thriller and the other a sci-fi action bonanza). Add to that the pages I need to get out to my artists for the comic I’m working on, the book I’m ghostwriting, the other book I’m editing and my marriage/personal life… aaaand my blog finds itself at the bottom of a very large list.
But I assure you a post is coming, and it’s pretty damn important if I do say so myself (which I always do, don’t I?). lol.
I just wanted to take a second to point you all over to a friend’s site. It just started up in the past few days, but it promises to be quite worth the read.
It’s called Matriarchal Script Paradigm. Basically, Kristy reviews scripts that she gets a hold of (much like our mutual friend Carson). Her site is intriguing because, well, let’s face it - the fairer sex has a different take on things then those of us with too much testosterone.
It is rare that a knowledgeable female screenwriter would take the time to post in depth script reviews on a regular basis. Sure we have Scriptgirl, but one could hardly call her reviews extensive or in depth. Not knocking on her, we all know she’s great. I’m just saying it’s nice to have a female voice speaking so extensively about what does and does not appeal to them in the scripts they read.
Personally, I find that kind of insight beneficial. Especially considering that a screenwriter has (if I’m not mistaken) something like a one in five chance that the agent, manager, producer or production exec reading their script is a female (a percentage, I might add, that should be much higher).
So when you have the time, hop on over and read Kristy’s reviews. She has valuable insight - not simply because she is a woman, but also because she knows the craft. She is a voice worth listening to.
While I may be an internet persona, I am still somehow human.
It seems my vehement critique of Umbra has rubbed some people the wrong way. Honestly, I’m okay with that. My writing is caustic in nature for a reason.
Still, I wanted to take this time to clarify that I don’t hate Karczynski. I will not recant any of what I wrote, because that’s not what this blog is about. It’s there, and I’m fine with it. I will, however, take the time to clarify my position and apologize to Karczynski in the (very) off chance that he read my blog and was bothered by it.
I would like to also take this time to clarify to new and existing readers that I don’t hold back on this site. I take great joy at the opportunity to write unabashedly about the craft I love so much. In other words, this is the first time I’ve done something like this, and it’ll probably be the last.
I’m doing this because I wouldn’t want people to think I somehow hate Karczynski for any reason. Hell, I don’t even know the guy. I have no feelings towards him one way or the other as an individual. In fact, I admire the hell out of his ability to create and build tension. As I said, he had me on the edge of my seat for the entire first half of the script. My anger was not pointed at him (though it perhaps came off that way in my writing). It was pointed at the lack of a quality ending for what would have otherwise been one of my favorite scripts of all time. Seriously, the first half of Umbra is just that good.
I’m a fanboy by nature. I’m not afraid to admit it. If something I love gets fucked with, I tend to get a little ruffled. I honestly fell in love with the first half of Umbra. That rarely happens with a script. I usually decide I love a screenplay after I’ve read the whole thing. I’ll say it again: Umbra’s beginning is just that good. So when I got to the third act and everything fell apart and none of the promises were paid off, I felt robbed. Like the real ending was out there, and someone had stolen it from me. Also, I am sure the frustrations of spending all day wrestling with my latest script fed into my rage and made it seem more amplified.
So if you read this, Karczynski, I hope my jabs did not wound you. I know we writers can be a vulnerable bunch. I have confidence that the rewrite process will fix any and all issues people may have had with the script. Also, kudos on that first half, man. It is something truly special. Give us an ending that is equally amazing and I will love you forever.
On Monday, my friend Carson over at ScriptShadow posted a review for a script called Umbra. The industry buzz the script was getting lured me in, so I dove in head first (before reading Carson’s review)…
This isn’t a review. It’s a rant. I’m just gonna vent. The script pissed me off that much. This is also an examination of what made the end of this script so damn infuriating. Conveniently, it ties in with my last post.
Last things first: What a disappointing ending. I was loving the script until the moment at the airstrip. It was all down hill from there, spiraling into an eternal darkness with weeping and gnashing of teeth and flames that burn and worms that devour flesh where one pleads for death but never finds it.
For the most part, I really liked the way the script was written (despite the massive blocks of text, typos/grammatical errors and constant use of progressive “ing” verbs). It was compelling enough that my “rule nazi” instincts took a back seat for the ride. Karczynski really drew me in with the mystery of it all.
That said, there were some lines that made me want to stab my eyes out. Example:
INT. CAR - DRIVING - DAY
David looking around.
DAVID
This is good.
Really? “Looking” around?
How about looks, Karczynski? David LOOKS around! “David looking around” isn’t even a proper sentence!
For the majority of the script, he used progressive verbs in proper context and active verbs for the important stuff. Then in the third act he just got lazy (with story as well as his writing). Only one sentence of action in this entire scene, and it’s a fragment with a progressive verb. Seriously, I can’t get past it. Thank God someone was there to grab the spoon from my hand before I shoved it behind my eyeball and popped it out of the socket, only to repeat the process on its twin. Fuck.
But I will try to move on. Now about the ending…
****SPOILERS****SPOILERS****
The whole girl/paper/names thing:
The girl was his ex-gf. The paper was a list of baby names. She was preggers with his baby (apparently a girl). That’s what he “wasn’t ready” for. From what I gather, both the gf and the baby died in labor.
Karczynski should really have played this better, and made it more clear than,
The Supervisor reads it. Not concerned. Seems to know what this is.
It’s great that the supervisor knows, Steven, but how about you let us know, too? lol. I hope Karczynski’s inability to close doesn’t filter into other areas of his life…
As for the rest of the ending… utter bullshit. Homeboy threw so much terminology at us without explaining it (granulocyte macrophage, anyone?), which leads me to believe dude had no idea what he was talking about. He probably stumbled across some Wikipedia articles and though it would make him sound smart (not if you don’t explain it, jerk).
That’s the thing that paralyzed David with fear, made him weep like an infant, vomit on the floor and pass out?
“They were being… disposed of”??
Disposed of?
THAT’S FUCKING IT????
That is not a fucking ending. It’s a piece of demon shit wrapped around molten lava shoved down the throat of everyone who has the unfortunate chance to read your script.
I don’t have a problem with us never seeing what David sees (the row of humans waiting to be “disposed of”). I have a problem with the “solution” to this great mystery. It’s not a fucking solution. At all. Karczynski tries to pass it off as some kind of crazy, awesome, mind-blowing, world-altering revelation… but it’s really just a flaming bag of shit.
****END SPOILERS****END SPOILERS****
See, the problem was that Karczynski didn’t leave us with enough mystery. Nothing in this world could live up to the hype of this script’s first half. We’re talking the most devastating secret the world has ever known. Not only is that far too subjective to really pay off for the viewers, but it’s something you will never figure out. It’s too big. Too illusive.
The sad thing is, Karczynski didn’t even bother to pull off a Da Vinci Code level reveal (which wasn’t even that earth-shattering). He just took a dump in the middle of the room and called it dessert.
You see, it is sometimes necessary to embrace the beauty and terror of mystery. It would be far more chilling to leave the theater never knowing what the fuck those alien things were doing.
Here’s an anecdote to emphasize my point:
When I was a kid - real young - I went on the “Great Movie Ride” at the Disney/MGM Studios @ Disney World in Orlando. There’s a segment where you find yourself on the Nostromo “with the cast of Alien“, as the announcer would proclaim like some joyous harbinger of death. My parents had me cover my eyes (since I was a youngin’). See, the ride had a few animatronic aliens that would pop out of random places and freak everyone out. My parents didn’t want me having nightmares…
In the dark, hidden “safe” behind my hands, I heard the gnashing and chomping of teeth (and what I swore was the cracking of bones and ripping of flesh), felt the alien’s warm saliva drip on me from up above, felt its breath on the back of my neck…
I never actually saw the alien that night, but I carried the fear of that moment home with me. It lingered in my room for months, possibly even years. We would go back to the park and I would ride the ride again. For years I couldn’t bare to uncover my eyes on the Nostromo. The terror of that mystery - the places my mind went imagining the horrors that waited just beyond my clenched fingers - was just too overwhelming.
Eventually I hit puberty. I felt stronger, braver, more awkward… so I decided it was time to take this monster head on. Like Alex in that infamous chair, I dug my nails into my knees and braced myself for the horror I was about to face with wide, frightened eyes.
Then I saw it: the rubber, animatronic alien popped out of the wall - its little mini-mouth snapping in my general direction…
…and I laughed.
That was it? That is what I was so scared of all these years? It’s just a fucking ROBOT! Then I looked at it closer and realized it was pretty fucking cool. I went home no longer afraid the alien would burst from my AC vent and chomp through my skull. I watched the movies, read the books (and comic books)… it just wasn’t scary anymore (though the movies were still hella suspenseful).
If I had gone my whole life without ever opening my eyes, I could very well be walking around today with that same paralyzing fear burdening my shoulders. Instead, the mystery was shattered and I knew there was really nothing to fear.
The end of Umbra is that rubber alien. Fake, disappointing, fear-shattering. And let me tell you, I was on fucking EDGE the first half of this script.
On. Fucking. Edge.
But… if you can’t live up to the hype then perhaps the solution is to leave it alone. Leave us with the mystery.
The biggest mistake the team behind The House on Haunted Hill made was “showing” the “spirit” (that stupid black mass of smoke in the trailer). It was cheesy, disappointing and ruined the movie. Karczynski’s ending for Umbra does the same thing.
It’s a shame Karczynski didn’t embrace the mystery as much as he should have.
Of course, there is also too much mystery. The trick is finding that sweet spot. There is a healthy ratio of “what the fucks” to “oh shits”. Fuck with that ratio and you risk alienating or disappointing your audience.
