Logline Central is an irregular segment that takes a deeper look at loglines of scripts or projects that have just been purchased, as listed on DoneDealPro.
Today's chosen logline highlights not necessarily the world's most engaging idea, nor is it an original spec (it's adapted from a comic book), but it has one thing going for it that's particularly worth looking at - a hook. Take a look.
Title: The New West
Logline: Nine months after a bomb creates an electromagnetic pulse causing all technology to stop working in Los Angeles, an ex-detective with a horse and a sword tries to find the kidnapped Mayor in a near deserted hostile environment.
Writer: Jimmy Palmiotti (creator), Phil Noto (illustrations)
Prod. Co: Benderspink, Black Bull Media
More: Option. Comicbook published by Black Bull Media. Benderspink’s Chris Bender, JC Spink & Jake Weiner and Black Bull Media's Gareb Shamus will produce.
Ok, so maybe you're thinking it sounds kind of cool. Or, perhaps you're thinking, "what a sell-out, that's such an easy idea. I can do that." Then do.
I like what this edition represents, because it's exactly the kind of thing my manager was encouraging me to strive for. (And, full disclosure - the notion of people in modern society reverting back to Medieval infrastructure, tools, and weapons intrigues me a lot; I actually had a very similar idea a while back, even involving an electromagnetic pulse, which I didn't spend much time further developing.)
Something that's recognizable/bankable, but with a hook - that was the goal when I was developing new material. Obviously, I wanted it to be something that engaged me and seemed worth my time, so I didn't just want to do "knights in space" or something likewise ridiculous. And, with The New West, we have a prime example. An ex-detective is quite recognizable and tried and true (and even my protag is one of those in the post-Apocalyptic spec I wrote a few years back), but a world where guns are no longer viable and society has been seemingly set back 400 years is a unique twist.
The objective is to mesh the tried and true with the twist in such a way that you the writer will want to devote months or years to it, and that you the audience member will want to spend $13.50 and 2 hours going to see it in theaters. Would I see The New West? Maybe. I skipped out on Cowboys and Aliens, which for some reason comes to mind when thinking about this, though in a way it is the revers of this one, but if I was hearing good things I would probably check it out. It's not the idea that's most blown my mind this year or this month, but it's a prime example of what the industry is looking for now.
Have you ever written out your goals for each act of your screenplay? I hadn't - nor had I really heard of the idea before, that I can recall - until this weekend. I've been outlining my demon thriller spec, and the going was a bit slow to begin with. In order to kick things into gear, I decided it might be worth the exercise to write out my goals for each portion of the script before actually setting beats down.
Boy, did it help. I had a very loose document with some scattered thoughts here and there, and some ideas for what had to happen in Act Three, but little concept of how to get there. (I'm still stuck on Act Two, but hopefully that will sort itself out by the end of this week.) So, I thought, "what the hell, might as well give it a shot." I started small, bulleting goals such as, "introduce the main target," "explain that demons are real," and "introduce his best friend and hint at their history." Some things were a bit more complex, like "showcase the rules of eternally damning people," for example.
Bit by bit, though, the objectives for those first 25-30 pages started becoming clearer and clearer. Shortly into the goal-laying process, the means by which to attempt to accomplish those objectives started to become apparent. I knew I could open with a particular scene, which would naturally segue into a second, then a third scene, and a fourth would shed light on what happened in them. I would start with a mysterious, cryptic hook, and then piece it together for the audience in a way that tackled four or five Act One goals at once. I wouldn't flat out explain everything (in fact, I wouldn't have to flat out explain anything so directly), but I'd offer enough for attentive viewers to pick up on what was happening, while capturing the interest of less discerning audience members. By the time act one ends, ideally, the basics are in place, and more specific details will be set up to come out later in Act Two.
I'm not quite sure how many pages, roughly, I've outlined yet, but I have a sneaking suspicion I'm looking at a shorter first act. That's ok, to start. Now, I just have to get cracking on Act Two, and see where this story takes itself. The thing I'm enjoying so far, which has surprised me a bit, is how visual the idea is becoming. Before, my emphasis had been on the dialogue I anticipated I'd get to write. The focus is shifting toward the visuals at the moment, and I have to admit I'm quite enticed by them. I think this is going to be a fun script; hitting that realization marker is always a good step in the right direction.
Finally, I decide to try opening with a title card for the first time. (I attempted once before, but that project required little more than a time and place title card; this script requires a bit of a setup.) I found a particularly apt quote from the Bible, which I think will go a long way toward setting up the situations I'm writing about. Hopefully, a week from now, I will have a full outline to show for it.
The League had its February meeting last night, and once again we focused primarily on my demon thriller. Everyone else is in some stage of development on their latest script or novel, so there weren't many tangible pages presented for the gathering. So that we'd have something to read and discuss - and since it would help me craft the plot of this increasingly logistically difficult script - I sent out the rules of the world that I'd worked on a couple weeks back.
The discussion was pretty fruitful. Doing their duty as scrupulous readers, they brought up some good questions about the machinations of the characters and their interactions. If this happens, then why do they need that to be a rule? Why do they have to submit to this power? How will you reveal all this?
This last question - the one that asks me to elaborate upon how I'm going to convey all the various rules and nuances - is pivotal. Luckily, my group members are astute and clever visual thinkers, and as a group we were able to piece together a few strong approaches to showing and not telling. Still, their ruminations made it clear that I still have a great deal of work to do in prepping how to best inform the audience of the ways in which my world works. Take, for example, Children of Men, a movie I enjoy. However, there's a blatantly expositional scene early on in which Michael Caine's character informs Clive Owen of the whys and hows of their society, despite the fact that Owen's been living in it for nearly two decades. This is clearly just for the audience, but too simple a device to seem organic. It is also the exact type of thing I wish to avoid.
During the meeting, I brought to the group one of the largest question I had and still have about the material. Namely, it deals with the ending of the movie. I've figured out how I want it to end and what it would mean for this ending to happen, but I was and am unsure of technically how it will occur in the story. Normally, I would let the writing take care of that. However, the ending and the rules that govern it is so contingent upon rules set up in the beginning of the script that I can't just wait to get there to work it out. More than with any other script I've written, the ending in this one is dependent upon hard and solid rules, which I am still working out.
The group offered me a great suggestion that not only makes certain things easier to convey, but actually ramps up the stakes at the end, as well. Naturally, I decided to adopt this new approach. Yet, I am still left with the gaping hole before me of what in their world enables the protagonist to defeat the antagonist in a reasonable manner.
All told, this script is shaping up to be quite a unique one for me of late. There are next to no guns or fighting in it. The material will be dialogue-cenric. And, what's more, I can't move forward with it until the rules and machinations are clear as day to me. Part of me feels that such an involved script is the wrong direction to go in, when I'm at a time where I'm trying to get something to my agent as quickly as possible. However, if I pull it off, I have a good feeling that this could be a very strong piece of screenwriting.
Time will tell.
Rules are one of the most important part of any screenplay. If you're setting your story in a new, original world, then what are the rules there? Is gravity different? Is society? Are the laws? If it's set in this world, but there are people with special powers or knowledge or abilities or allegiances, then what are the rules that govern their actions, strengths, and weaknesses?
The Matrix is a perfect example of the utter necessity of rules. What can one do in the matrix that can't be done by ordinary people? How do Neo and his allies learn new tricks and skills? What are the agents' limitations? The rules are integral to effective story telling in a case such as this. As an audience, we certainly won't know all the rules going in, but things such as, "if you die in the Matrix, you die in real life" are fundamental to the plot and the world. We - by hearing that - know the stakes. So do the characters.
Even simple seeming stories have rules. They have to. Otherwise, what's to stop the writer from relying on a crutch or a deus ex machina to expedite or wrap the story? With my demon thriller, the rules were something I had yet to solidify when I showed an outline to my manager. I'll admit that was a bit of a rookie mistake, and then move on to a point where I can learn from it.
After talking with the League last month, I took some time recently to hammer out the rules. They might not all be down there on paper, and those that are perhaps seem quite obvious, but I think it's essential to put them down in writing. And, after a prolonged period of inactivity, I have to admit that it also felt very rewarding and refreshing. I wound up writing out about two pages of bullet-pointed rules. Though I have the ability to alter them later, their presence will really prove a very solid guide to hold my hand through the upcoming re-outlining stage. I think that, from here on out, getting the rules down on the page is going to prove a necessary part of my writing process.
On another note, I read on Done Deal Pro today a bit of unsettling news. I hadn't read the site in a while, and what with the month over at the end of the day, I wanted to get caught up on January sales. Unfortunately, something I'd been dreading came a bit to a head today - there was an idea that was disturbingly similar to my post-Apocalyptic spec. I figured that had to happen at a certain point, and the stories are not identical, but the basic premise (i.e., the Apocalyptic event) is close enough to my own to warrant nervousness. I immediately emailed the discovery to my producer, and she reached out to the rest of the team. The sale in question is actually the acquisition of book rights to a novel that is slated to drop this summer. In some respects, that's good news: a) the script for the adaptation is almost guaranteed not to have been written yet, so my project could land first and b) just because the film rights were picked up, that doesn't mean a film will actually get made from it.
I'm looking at this two ways. First, and least desirable, is that this will effectively quell any interest or heat regarding my script. The more optimistic alternative is that a rival production company will be in the market now for something similar, and the emergence of this novel will light a fire of urgency not only under my team, but under buyers. What with this project now on the table, buyers might come back to my script with renewed interest. I'm sure there's a right way to spin this in our favor; I don't know what it is exactly, but that's what my team is there for. Fingers crossed that this book isn't one of the last nails in the coffin on my post-Apocalyptic spec. While I've prepped for that, I'd hate to see it come to pass.
Forgive the delay - it's been a busy week. After much speculation, the 84th annual Academy Award nominations were announced this past Tuesday. As you probably know, the rules were changed for this year's awards show, leaving open the possibility of there being anywhere between five and ten Best Picture candidates. Essentially, a film must earn at least 5% first-place votes in the nomination process in order to get the nod as one of the Best Picture contenders. In theory, this allows the Academy to recognize more than just five films as being potentially the "best" in a particularly strong year - a lot of people still feel it was the omission of The Dark Knight that least to the expansion back up to ten - but also affords flexibility in terms of not having to nominate ten in a weak year. (I'd argue that this was a weak year, but nine films still made it onto the list.)
The 2012 Oscar candidates for Best Picture are:
The Artist
The Descendants
Extremely Loud & Incredibly Glose
The Help
Hugo
Midnight in Paris
Moneyball
Tree of Life
War Horse
I've seen all but The Help. Of those listed - and don't worry, I won't launch into a verbose analysis of them all now - I think that The Artist is my favorite and the one I'll be rooting for. I liked Tree of Life a lot, and Hugo a healthy amount, but I don't see Tree taking it (I'd be happy if it did, though, because as a holistic work of cinema, I think it's incredibly strong).
I'll be absolutely pissed if War Horse takes top prize. I dragged myself to that and Extremely Loud yesterday (didn't want to see either, but I felt compelled to because of the nominations). Extremely Loud didn't get great critical reception, but I loathed it less than I did War Horse, which was already cresting Top 10 lists before it even premiered.
War Horse is utter crap. To sound like a critic - and I would bet good money that someone's said this before - it has zero horse power. It's a dull, drag of a movie where the director's hand is as visible as the fifteen hand horses. The music swells into a crescendo at the most obvious moments, and the instruments playing in the background might as well be swapped out for Spielberg's voice, urging the audience to, "cry now, please, and enjoy this touching moment." Only, the moments aren't touching. They're saccharine, phony, and strive to be manipulative. "We need to feel good here, so here's Albert's dim-witted friend cracking a joke and sharing in the Joey love." And before you get on my case, I'm not knocking the story or its sentiments. I was fortunate enough to see the play and was absolutely blown away by it - a kid watching theatre for the first time, marveling at what was unfolding before my eyes. But the movie's not the play. It's weak drivel, an example of a filmmaker relying on technical crutches (music, lighting, and a properly focused teary eye) to engender a response from the audience. Spielberg produced a sleeper here, and I'd hate to see it take the cake.
Let's take a look at the writing nominations, since we're obviously a collective of writers here (and as one of our readers, I imagine you're into that, too).
Best Original Screenplay:
The Artist
Bridesmaids
Margin Call
Midnight in Paris
A Separation
Best Adapted Screenplay:
The Descendants
Hugo
The Ides of March
Moneyball
Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
I have been less proactive about seeing the nominees in the above categories as I should have been, so I can only comment from experience on six of them. For our purposes now, I want to focus on the original works primarily. I was lukewarm on Midnight in Paris - bits of it I thought were fairly predictable or easy, not that I'd ever try to tell the master how to write. Woody Allen has an incredible career and one I won't question; this film of his, though, while enjoyable, doesn't top my list.
I actually love that Bridesmaids is on there, and while The Artist is my favorite among the Best Picture nominees, I wouldn't mind seeing it lose out to Bridesmaids. For one, Bridesmaids is a welcome nod to the ever under-represented comedy genre. More so, it's also great recognition for women. Working in theater, I hear all too often about the lack of opportunities for women writers. Neither Wiig nor Annie Mumolo are exclusively writers, but their nomination pleases me in a way few others do. I hope they take it home, since Bridesmaids was both a commercial and critical success - and a last minute addition to many pre-nomination prediction lists. I think they've earned it.
What are your thoughts to the nominations?
I'll admit I didn't do a whole lot of writing in Panama, though I did get the chance to talk shop with a few people. Our second night in Panama City, I met a real estate agent who is passionate about screenwriting and takes some of the Gotham Writers classes toward that goal. He has a pretty ideal setup - traveling four months of the year and writing, while working in the city the other two thirds of the time. I'd sure as hell like that kind of arrangement. Anyway, we chatted a bit about writing, mainly swapping ideas (admittedly not something I really enjoy doing, especially with strangers, so my end of the conversation was a bit quieter than his), and talking a bit about our hopes and goals for our careers.
Not long after that, I moved on to Bocas del Toro, a small Caribbean Panamanian archipelago an hour by plane northwest outside the city (amazing, gorgeous - if you ever get a chance, I highly recommend going). To be quite frank, it was pretty difficult to do much there at all, mentally. Apropos of the weather and overall way of life on the islands, coupled with the ever-present calming lull of the eternal surf, I found it hard to concentrate on much other than sitting on the beach, getting up in time for a swim, and forcing myself to my feet when my empty beer can necessitated movement and replenishment.
However, I did get an interesting email from one of my producers while there. We (or shall I say, they) are still hoping to set the post-Apocalyptic spec up for TV. In fact, that seems to be the main goal now, having overtaken the drive to see it launch as a feature film. Yet, what with Sundance and the fact that television companies are sorting through already existing pilots in an attempt to decide what to set up for mid-season, summer, and fall debuts, this is apparently not a very good time to try and ingratiate one's self into a television production company's sightline.
That, though, wasn't the intriguing part of the email. What was? A mention that we might look to get the spec set up at a network akin to SyFy (as an example). At first, I'll admit, I wasn't too keen on the notion. Then, I spoke with my friend a bit about it, and he helped me see the silver lining. First - my gut reaction was that a TV network might not be able to pull out the big guns necessary for this kind of project. Would I have to dumb it down? Would we lose important or compelling elements? More selfishly, would the pay be the same? Would I want to make my appearance in made-for-tv-movies, rather than Hollywood blockbusters? There's no doubt that the film could be made on a smaller budget. Even I've been tempted to go out and try to shoot it myself should it come down to that. More than anything, this was a question of ego.
My friend made the very astute point that getting my script produced anywhere would be something to be incredibly proud of. Everyone has to break in (everyone who works in the industry has to start somewhere, that is), and if this is my big break, then why not embrace it. If a television original film is the way to go, then why not explore that route? Is it a big film with A-List talent premiering on 3,000 screens? No, but neither are the vast majority of movies that get made (even some with huge stars get very little visibility on the big screen). My producers have both my and the project's best intentions in mind, and I've no doubt that if this is a route they'd like to pursue, it's one they've thought long and hard about the pros and cons of. I'll trust them, and hopefully that trust will earn a sale and a produced film - wherever that might come from.
Despite the fact that no member of The League had any pages to present at this month's meeting, we made it a point to remain on track and gather last Tuesday anyway. (I highly recommend that any group do this; sticking to the schedule - even when there are no physical pages to talk about, is a great way to maintain order and regularity, both as a group and as individual writers.) Surprisingly - or perhaps not so - it was actually one of our more productive meetings.
We went around, BSing for a long time, as is allowed. When we meet, everyone brings some food (mainly appetizer type things) and beer or wine for anyone drinking. We meet at someone's apartment - the same one, not on a rotating basis. It's a good time for friends to gather who might not otherwise see each other too often; it's also a laid back setting, which makes giving and getting notes comfortable and easy.
Once the snacking and catching up is done, it's down to business time. Normally, if there are pages on the docket, we'll start with whoever submitted first and go from there. Someone will say, "ok, you're up, Zach" (if I was the first to send, that is), and then the conversation kicks off. Each person receives however much time is necessary for everyone to get their opinions out. This usually takes about an hour per note-recipient, sometimes more if there is only one project on the table.
This past week, since there weren't pages, we just went around the circle and solicited updates from everyone one-by-one. Some people didn't have too much to say, "I'm working on this or that, but I'm not too far along. Here's a basic idea, but I hope to have an outline out by the next meeting." Others, like Jon and myself, were looking for a bit more in-depth analysis on our projects. I was still a bit stalled on my demon thriller, so I asked the group to help me talk through it a bit.
I have to say, what I got was really valuable. I was looking for feedback on some of the bigger and more important rules of the world and the characters' motivations. By going around the circle after I explained briefly what I was looking for, the group was really able to weigh in and help me come up with some great solutions. I think I'm at a much better place now than I was before the meeting, which is a great feeling. If you're ever stuck, or if no one in your group has any pages, I genuinely advocate getting a meeting together anyway. Sometimes spitballing is the best remedy for writers block.
For now, though, I'm gearing up to head up to the Bocas del Toro region of Panama for some (hopefully) quality beach - and brainstorming - time.
Adios, amigos.
