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Movie Reviews

The Predator Review: They Were Shooting In All Directions… and Hit Nothing

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(Spoiler-free)

There’s no need to go over the amount of anticipation that comes with this one, or the fact that comparisons to the first one are unavoidable. Let’s just get into whether it delivers or not…

Like the original, it opens with a Predator ship entering Earth’s orbit and delivering a creature to the surface. But this time, instead of just a quick shot to set up the premise that we’re dealing with an alien, it’s a more convoluted space chase that ends up being a significant setup for a later reveal. In this intro sequence, we get a lot of stuff happening, information thrown at us that we should store for later, and nothing too engaging in any of it. I’m sorry to say, this is an apt microcosm of the entire movie.

We’re soon introduced to protagonist McKenna (Boyd Holbrook), an Army Ranger sniper who is mid-op with his team, when they get attacked by the recently arrived Predator and we’re given another rushed and crammed sequence in which they essentially try to do the first movie in about two minutes or less. McKenna’s team gets wiped out, which he lets us know he’s upset about in a few lines of dialog, but we didn’t get to know them at all, so who cares?

This necessitates McKenna being brought to a secret government lab full of scientists and mercenaries who have been studying the Predators for years, want to maintain their secrecy, and are wondering why the visits are rising in frequency. He is transferred there with a group of combat-hardened misfit military prisoners that will become his new team, and this is where the wisecracks really start flying, the action set pieces start popping off, and one of the greatest flaws of the movie becomes glaringly obvious….

It’s packed with misfires. The humor doesn’t land, the spectacle doesn’t excite, and the characters don’t draw us in. What’s worse is that it’s made blatantly obvious what we’re supposed to be feeling and when, particularly in a few moments that are intended to be especially dramatic, but it just isn’t happening. Like the acquaintance constantly uttering bad jokes and leaving pauses where you’re expected to laugh, but it just isn’t in you.

The 1987 masterpiece got us attached to seven characters effortlessly in a short helicopter ride, with almost no talking among them. Here we’re introduced by a quick exchange of quips and a bit of clunky exposition, which is usually the kind of setup given to expendable fodder, but in this case we’re actually expected to care what happens to them without any proper emotional foundation.

We have McKenna. He’s tough, and everything he does and says reminds you of that. His kid is part of the story (who admittedly manages not to not be too annoying). He’s a genius, and everything he does and says reminds you of that. Moonlight’s Trevante Rhodes is McKenna’s instant best buddy, who has his back, and everything he does and says reminds you of that. Thomas Jane (is wasted) as the crazy guy, and everything he does and says reminds you of that. See a pattern emerging here?

So then we’re onto the main conflict, which involves a Super Predator, because the regular one isn’t formidable enough, more one-liners, explosions, some disturbingly odd-looking CGI, awkward shots (the flat-angle medium shot used to introduce Olivia Munn, the hot, tough lady scientist, is laugh-out-loud-worthy), a lot of plot-convenient occurrences, choices and actions without clear motivations (from humans and extraterrestrials alike), and it all goes by at such breakneck speed that is easily outpaces the audience’s interest.

In the end, we’re left with a wholly unsatisfying mess of a movie, and they also hit us over the head with an asinine politically-charged theme to add insult to injury. However, a few witty digs inspire some chuckles (especially from Keegan-Michael Key), and some actions scenes rise to the level of “that was kinda cool, I guess,” but that’s about as good as it gets here. It’s not a pleasant things to report, but my bleak predictions from the trailer came true, and then some. This does more (or less) than not live up to the hype. It’s likely to disappoint committed fans and newcomers alike.

Screenwriting Issue of the Day

Writer’s Bliss: The Creative Breakthrough

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Rewriting is, by and large, problem-solving. We clip the stuff that isn’t necessary, add the things that are missing, rearrange and refashion the ideas that aren’t being expressed with maximum clarity and effectiveness, and generally engineer a narrative that will hopefully instill in the reader/ audience the same roused fervor that incited us to write it in the first place.

This means a lot of whittling and fiddling. We spend hours contemplating solutions to ideas that aren’t working and sentiments that aren’t coming through. We list the alternatives, draw out mind maps, watch or read the greats, stare at the wall, etc. Maybe we get flustered and step away to reorganize the DVD collection, clean the bathroom, or think about starting another script. It’s a fight to push through all this resistance and commit to the trial and error of making those needed alterations and get the story going in a more cohesive and engaging direction.

I think the best of us revel in this process, regardless of the individual’s workflow. As exhausting as it is, the wherewithal to inflict this mental, emotional, and intellectual self-torture on a regular basis separates those who could have a career and those who become a statistic.

BUT…

There are also those moments that come along and remind us why we do it, and why we fancy this more than anything else. Those precious nuggets that make the process – not only not miserable – but a great pleasure in itself. The pinnacle of these is the creative breakthrough.

This is a different animal from the typical hard-won story fix that materializes from the aforementioned grind. These are those ideas that spring forth, maybe as a result of some serious brainstorming, perhaps after spending some much-needed time away from the piece, or most intriguing of all, without warning while we’re focused on something else. And they have some amazing attributes that truly set them apart…

They’re simple: So many story logic issues, overwritten tangents, flat sequences, disagreements between character or plot actions, etc. necessitate a bunch of explanatory fluff as a vain attempt to square those circles. When a breakthrough hits, it irons things out, streamlines the operation, obliterates the anomalies (and the fluff right along with them), leaving action and dialog that are more intuitive, coherent, visual, and concise, which brings me to my next point…

They’re economical: Early drafts (mine, anyway) carry a compulsion to explain every last feeling, motivation, gesture, and tick to combat the bugbear of “they won’t get it.” What’s left is a 145-page eulogy to the human imagination. But after one of these amazing boosts of inspiration, we’re left with a more intriguing sequence, with more for the reader to decipher, at a lower page count. It’s a fantastic moment for a fledgling writer when the true meaning of “say more with less” really hits home.

And coolest of all…

They fix other issues: This is the magic ingredient that let’s us know we’re really onto something. We get one idea out of the crapper and it touches on other story elements that were either missing or not doing their job, and sets off a chain reaction of plot repair.

I’ll use this example of a recent breakthrough I’ve had to illustrate my point:

Problem: I have a character in my script, a friend of a friend to the protagonist, who is a doctor, and ultimately ends up giving our hero the help he needs to fight his ailment, complete his arc, and achieve his goal. Since this doctor is a relatively small (but important) supporting character, she seemed to just show up when needed, do exactly what was required to progress the narrative, then disappear, rinse and repeat. So she wasn’t a character at all, but a flimsy plot device. I had developed her relationship with the hero’s friend, but the dynamic between her and the hero was an afterthought, and it showed. In trying to round her character out, I had fabricated a bunch of plot interruptions where he had to visit her for help, and attempted to justify it with convoluted discussions and circumstances.

Breakthrough: Turn her against the protagonist. Make her hate him and resist helping him at every turn.

Once I made this change, it did so much to straighten out my story. Now this character wouldn’t piss on him if he were on fire. Their interactions have become terse, conflict-laden, and they keep things moving, because they come up much more organically as the consequences of various accidents and calamities that befall the main character, and neither of them is happy about it. These new hardships and obstacles subject him to a great deal more suffering through the middle of the movie, creating a much more interesting series of events.

Without my initially realizing it, this also filled in an element that was missing before. The main conflict of the piece arises from a mistake made by the protagonist, stemming from his main flaw. While a sense of guilt slowly builds in him throughout, there was no one to hold up a mirror to him, force him to take a hard look at himself, put him at a dramatic low, and make him realize he needs to change. But now there is. This character now dovetails so nicely into this task, it seems as if I’d planned it for her from the beginning.

Oh, and as a casual aside, she now feels like a real person that has a rightful purpose in the film. Her contentiousness toward the hero, contrasted with her protective affection for the friend, adds a realistic complexity to her that makes her someone the audience would (hopefully) like to get to know. It also allowed for a much-needed arc for their relationship, in that (you may have guessed) he manages to earn her respect and a certain amicable understanding develops between them. This, of course, also added another layer to him.

This kind of beneficial butterfly effect from one snap flash of inspiration can’t be expected to happen all the time. Perhaps even the opportunities for them recede over time as greater experience precludes one from leaving such gaping chasms in the story that require this type of drastic solution. Whatever the case, these occasions bring a true thrill to someone in the early stages of exploring their creativity.

How about you? Has something like this happened to you? What have been the biggest leaps, bounds, and setbacks in your process? Let us know below!

Screenwriting Issue of the Day

Moving Forward With Backstory?

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A screenplay is not a novel, right? Especially for us spec (unpaid until and unless someone likes your work) screenwriters, page count is a huge consideration. While many of the current top-earners at the box office are running well over two hours, we’re still hammered with the notion that 120 pages (at one page per minute of screen time) is too long. 110 is better. Under 100 is ideal.

So, after we’ve strived to keep the description terse and make the dialog lean and to-the-point, comes the brutal rewrite step of “killing your darlings,” “love cutting,” whatever cutesy phrase you want to use. It’s time to remove everything that isn’t absolutely crucial to getting the story across. This puts a lot of pieces on the chopping block, and according to many, one of the first things to go should be extraneous backstory, which frequently shakes out to mean – any backstory at all.

Backstory is the childhood trauma that made it impossible for her to trust anyone. It’s the toy his father gave him at age 5 that he would kill to hold on to. It’s that “thing” that happened in the war. It’s the “what” from the past that supplies the “why” in the present. And therein lies the problem. Its purpose is to tell the audience something, which we should always avoid in favor of showing them. (Like in a flashback? Come on, get serious.) And what’s worse, it’s telling something that’s outside the story’s timeline. Can you hear the guillotine dropping?

It’s said that backstory is essential knowledge for the writer, in properly fleshing out the characters before the writing begins, but that’s largely where its usefulness ends. Little if any of it should make it into the actual script. The character’s traits guide his/her/its actions, which drive the plot, which tells the story, or something like that.

So, I’m thinking that backstory should only creep in to plug any logic holes about why a character is taking certain actions, and only if leaving it out would render the character under-developed and lead the reader/audience to start asking those horrible “why would they…” questions. But just where is that line of necessity?

Is the fact that there’s a certain burning question on the audience’s mind about the origins of certain relationships, attitudes, and current happenings enough to justify the inclusion of slivers of backstory? What if these characters are in a peculiar situation, doing and saying unusual things, and something in their collective past will explain it all? Is such curiosity a handy, if a little sadistic (which I’m not against) tool to keep them engaged in the story? Or will it just be distracting and frustrating?

I know we should never aim to answer every question and tie up every loose end, but I’m wondering if too much is left unsaid about how these people got to where they are, and I wonder if a little more background is necessary to get the audience emotionally involved in what they see happening in the present.

Anyway, I’m about to send it out for the second round of notes, and I’ll let them be my guide. For now I’m sticking with convention and erring on the side of omission, for the sake of my instincts and my page count. If I’m getting consistent feedback from multiple sources demanding answers the the same chasms of information, I’ll sprinkle some more in there.

What do you think? How much backstory should go in there, and how much should be withheld? And how much do specific factors like genre, style, and idiosyncrasy play a role in this? Let me know below!

Inspiration

Tarantino’s Writing Process!

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Love him or hate him, this guy is one of the most influential screenwriters living today. This is the best peek at his process I’ve ever seen.

Book Reviews

Review: Tough Love Screenwriting: The Real Deal From A Twenty-Year Pro by John Jarrell

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Well, I feel like I’m about to explain a lot about something that doesn’t require much explaining. (What does that say about me as a writer? Oh well, let’s press on.) We find ourselves buried in books on HOW TO WRITE, and when I review them, I try to own up to my responsibility to inform you about which aspects of the skill set are emphasized, from what angle the author approaches the writing process, what individual styles and tastes it might cater to or not, etc. Here, we have a very different specimen. Tough Love Screenwriting: The Real Deal From A Twenty-Year Pro by John Jarrell is about BEING A SCREENWRITER. That’s a different matter entirely, and the title couldn’t possibly do a better job of stating exactly what you’re in for.

Maybe you’ve picked up a few vague tips and pointers about the film/TV business as the closing thoughts or afterward of other screenwriting books; clues about making sales, getting writing assignments, and networking in general, but don’t they all seem to have a “from the outside, looking in” flavor (begging the question of whether or how often the authors have actually achieved these feats)? Enter John Jarrell, a man who’s been there, done that, and is generously (?) willing to dish it all out, raw and unfiltered.

Jarrell pops the hood, pulls the curtain back, gives us a peek through the keyhole, pick your cliche, exposing the Hollywood screenwriting mechanism exactly as he’s experienced it. Tough Love‘s tone is playfully brutal and the veracity is beyond question. Nothing with this disorderly blend of starry-eyed triumph and gut-wrenching, disillusioning, debacles could possibly be made up. All of this, combined with Jarrell’s sharp, snarky delivery, and you could say that the entertainment value alone is worth the price, but that’s not nearly the crowning virtue of this book, not for anyone who wants into the business.

The true value here is the insights into the Hollywood system. All of the stuff you haven’t thought of yet – the anatomy of deals, the influence that one person’s mental disorder can have on a production, the system for deciding who gets writing credit on a movie and why it matters, how to conduct yourself in the face of clueless and vindictive development execs, and a host of other survival skills that you won’t find mentioned in any other screenwriting literature I know about.

But don’t take all of this to mean that it’s all abstract, “down-the-road” stuff. There’s plenty for us aspirers to chew on as well. This book induced me to incorporate several extremely beneficial things into my writing education and habits. Among them, I read Screenplay: The Foundations of Screenwriting by Syd Field, studied and gained a greater understanding of craft from the Training Day screenplay, and began using the classic note card method. These examples alone have immeasurably moved my writing forward.

And that about does it. I warned you about the over-explaining. If you want the straight dope from someone who is where so many of us want to be, this one is not to be missed.

Software Reivews

Save the Cat! Story Structure Software 3.0 Review

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For the present day screenwriter, the notion of a writing workflow devoid of software has gone the way of, well, the typewriter. Not only is a screenwriting application absolutely vital to proper formatting of the script itself (only a crazy person would type it out on a standard word processor and manually tab, indent, and capitalize to fit industry standards), but there are software suites available for practically every component of the process; outlining, plotting, word-smithing, character profiling, location visualization, you name it. Each of these steps can be ironed out more smoothly and efficiently with the aid of a specialized program as a guide or assistant. Of course one of the most important and challenging bumps in the road from idea to movie is story structure. In this area, many of us can use all the help we can get. It would be great to have a software program to organize, plan, strategize, and map out our structure in a clean and orderly way. Enter Save the Cat! Story Structure Software 3.0.

Let’s get this out of the way first thing. Blake Snyder’s Save the Cat! books are the subject of some controversy in the screenwriting world. Some find STC’s accessible and grounded approach of applying proven story principles derived by reverse engineering some highly successful blockbusters to be extremely useful. Others call it rote, overly-formulaic, and stifling in its rigid “rules” of screenplay construction. Regardless of where you stand on this, the STC Story Structure Software is a truly modular tool that can provide some monumentally time-saving hacks in getting you to your destination, wherever that may be. How rigidly you stick to the method and philosophy detailed in the STC books is entirely up to you. This program is a great boon to anyone, including those who choose to abandon Snyder’s approach altogether.

The only “mandatory steps of the process” are the first few, which involve filling in a title, logline (for which templates are available), genre (which is an interesting classification unique to STC, not your typical genre labels), and approximate page count. These can be quite helpful to start on the right foot, or they can simply be fudged for later modification, and then you’re off to the races…

There is also an outlining, or “beats” area, which many find a helpful starting point. In addition to listing the beats, you can produce, edit, and update catalogs of characters, locations, setups, and payoffs. You can easily toggle between these lists for referencing, rearranging, troubleshooting, or whatever you need to do.

The main thrust of the software is that it serves as a digital means to plot out your script on a set of virtual index cards laid out in the “board area.” This practice was first made famous in Syd Field‘s Screenplay: The Foundations of Screenwriting, and while I agree that there’s no substitute for real, physical cards, their editable electronic counterpart is a welcome supplement. There are a number of valuable features added to the layout here. Each card is an interface that can be marked with various story devices, such as the emotional arc of the scene, setup and payoff bridges between scenes or sequences, and which plot (A,B,C, etc.) is served by the particular card. This all allows some hyper-meticulous plot planning, if that’s your thing.

We all know that the writing process entails “killing our darlings,” or removing anything that doesn’t serve the story, even if we’d rather not do so. For all of those elements that we know we should cut, but see some chance for their resurrection in a different form or maybe a different scene later on, there’s the “Litter Box.” Here you can temporarily discard scene cards, while keeping track of where they came from in the structure. Simply drag and drop them in.

If you can’t wait any more, and those perfectly planned-out scenes are screaming to get out of you, there is a script window, complete with sluglines generated from the scene headings courtesy of the cards on your board, where you can begin to write the screenplay itself, and at any time you can export it to Final Draft and continue there. The downside here is that the formatting, while not completely manual, isn’t quite as automated as in Final Draft or other screenwriting programs. It takes a bit more work on your part to keep it straight (lots of pressing “tab.”) If that works for you, have at it!

Now we come to the window where I’ve admittedly spent most of my time; the general notes section. This is simply a digital free-hand bulletin board where you can place infinite, color-coded, virtual post-its to organize your thoughts, store referential materials, and basically pour your subjective process out onto the interface in whatever fashion you choose. External files in nearly any multimedia format can be attached here, and linked to scene cards in the board to customize a story logic web, attach research data to your outline, or just keep yourself on track with simple self-generated reminders. It also includes a “Greenlight Checklist,” formulated by Snyder in Save the Cat!® Strikes Back: More Trouble for Screenwriters to Get into … and Out of, of factors that he deemed important waypoints in the story. You can refer to it or not, but it’s there!

And there you have it, folks. These are the main features of Save the Cat! Story Structure Software 3.0. Some of the big-picture features include the option to backup and retrieve from the Save the Cat! online storage cloud for use on multiple devices, a special function to send and retrieve it from your iPhone version of the app, and the ability to import from and export to Final Draft.

I have found this program hugely helpful in my writing process, and it’s always open in the background as I’m banging away on my script. It’s what I look to in order to stay on course, and where I log my progress, sticking points, and session agendas. One minor gripe is that it’s not the most intuitive software I’ve ever used, and took some getting used to in terms of usability. But, beyond that point, it’s been a key contributor to my process. Regardless of your method or objectives, I believe it can be the same for you.

Screenwriting Issue of the Day

The Rewrite Workflow Labyrinth

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First, the good news: I’ve reached a magical milestone in my rewrite. I’ve completed a draft that, if a deadline were imposed on me today, I could submit without utter shame and embarrassment (only predominant shame and embarrassment).

This comes after a protracted slog to align the plot of my story to the point where a reader could get from Fade In to Fade Out, and and have a fairly clear sense of what had happened. The disposable henchmen have consistent names and actions despite their relative unimportance, the events of one scene don’t obviously counteract or undermine those of a previous one, the payoffs are more or less set up and vice versa, and the main characters are somehow different at the end than they were in the beginning as a result of what’s happened to them. (Of course, this is according to my own judgement of my own work. Am I right? That’s for the next guy to decide in the upcoming phase: getting external feedback.)

As I reach this point of the game, a lesson emerges that I believe will be of extreme importance to my career: How could I have gotten here sooner? What if I were on, say, a realistic professional screenwriting timeline? I’d need to come to these answers and solutions that I’ve pored over for months and months in a matter of weeks.

My process thus far has worked like this: write a draft, find a problem, brainstorm some solutions, mull it over, do other stuff while continuing to mull it over, brainstorm some more solutions, get inspired, rewrite the scene. Now, this has been a wonderful experience of exploring and cultivating my creative inspiration, but it’s not gonna cut in a business of strict, merciless deadlines. So…

This is the tough part when it comes to formulating some kind of regular streamlined system for working out these issues: it seems to be a highly subjective element. I’ve delved into many writing books and a few courses, and I’m afraid the magic bullet isn’t in there. While they do an awesome job getting us acquainted with structure, theme, characters, and all the stuff that makes up the initial steps of deciding what to write, banging out the first draft, and some very broad-stroke rewrite guidelines, they don’t quite get us to where we can confidently and consistently tackle and eliminate more intricate story problems with ease. I think the reason for this is that there is no magic bullet. There are likely as many workable processes for this as there are professional writers.

However, there’s more good news, maybe. I have no doubt I’ll be faster on my next script purely from some lessons learned on this one, even if I didn’t change anything about my process. Ironically, it seems that it’ll just take time and patience to get faster. But more importantly, perhaps the mere identification of this as a screenwriting puzzle to solve is a crucial first step. This awareness and the desire to work out an efficient scheme to put out the best material I can in short order should put me on the right track to improve this facet of my writing. After all, what else can I do about it?

How about you? What’s your rewriting system? What’s the big, obvious answer that I’m missing? Let me know below!

Screenwriting Issue of the Day

Too Many Steps?

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A movie is a story, and a story is a journey, right? We (usually) want to relate to a hero on a quest to accomplish something. We want to see the struggles, the triumphs, the defeats, the

levities, the tragedies, and the breakthroughs that befall our hero along every step of the odyssey. Well, surely not every step. And here

in lies today’s issue…

Am I including too many incremental nudges toward

the end game, and bogging down my plot?

There’s a fine line between showing what’s necessary, so as not to leave logic gaps and have the audience scratching their collective head, wondering how point A lead to this point C, without the necessary point B (and maybe also wondering why bother to continue reading/ watching); and slogging through mindless and unessential details, painstakingly and pitifully trying to address every last doubt about the story’s logical credibility and plead with the audience, “It all makes sense, I promise! Please like me, and my story!”

I’m just not sure where that line is…

Do we need to see the discovery, analysis, and follow-up of EVERY single clue in the course of the investigation?  Surely some can be implied, or presented in retrospective dialog (without being overly-expository, of course), but which ones? Where’s that threshold of relevance that tells me if it should be shown or referenced?

I’m going through my scenes, and attempting to elevate the drama in each of them to ensure that every moment matters, and I can’t help but question whether a few of them should just go. I know some schools of thought say that as soon as the question enters your mind, cut it; but I’m not so sure my instincts are honed to that level.

On this pass, my emphasis will be on making sure something (somewhat) vital is introduced into the story at each turn that we actually see (read). And, for now, I’m pretty much leaving it all in, because…

This puppy is almost ready for another set of eyes to scour it for faults. I’ll be trusting in that step to solve some of the aforementioned riddles. I’m just hoping for some sweet, sweet consistency in the notes, particularly about issues like this one. If three people are telling me that we don’t need to see the helpful rent-a-car clerk expounding that one suspicious transaction, then I’ll have my answer.

Anyway, your thoughts? Let me know below!