Save the Cat! Strikes Back: More Trouble For... (4 page)

DARK STREETS – A veteran detective is on the trail of a serial killer whose identity challenges the detective's belief in the law — and the supernatural.

Let's start with the fact that I'm proud of all three of these writers. They have done the job, and I applaud them. There are stories here and they've “said it” succinctly. Each gave us:

► a
type
of protagonist

► a
type
of antagonist

► a conflict and…

► an open-ended question (what will happen?)

Not only are the form, information, and rhythm of these sentences right on, they're each
kinda
close to grabbing me. They even hit on the other key needs of a good logline:

► irony

► a mental picture that blooms in our minds

► a sense of audience and cost, and…

► a title that “says what it is”

Yet each of these, in different ways, falls short. You probably get that sense, too, but remember The Smell of the Rain on the Road at Dawn? These writers are right in the thick of it, road dust filling their nostrils, the sun just breaking on the horizon. So let's see if we can help them see it from our POV.

The first logline is a great example of what I mean when an idea is “too plain.”
Quickie
is comedic and we get what's going on. But that's about all we get. Yes, there is a situation. Yes, it has possibilities. But there is an overwhelming urge on my part when I hear it to say: “So what?” What about this logline is unique? What about it is compelling me to run, not walk, to my local Octoplex?

And if you say, well, it will be different when you read the script… no. Scarily enough, whenever I read scripts that come from these loglines, it's more often than not the same experience. Since it all starts with the idea, if your logline is too plain, odds are your script will be, too. Yes, there's a story here, and yes, it has the prerequisites of drama, but it's kind of dull. This is especially apparent with
Quickie
in light of
The Hangover
, in which marrying the wrong girl is just one of
six
problems faced by the best men who have lost the groom in Vegas.

Too plain.

The second logline is a great example of “too complicated,” which usually starts with confusion. I was pitched
Partly Cloudy
by a good friend, a writer who has more winning concepts than most people I know, and I apologize for picking on him with this one because 9 out of 10 of his ideas are home runs. But this leaped out at me as a perfect example of how easily we go crazy at our key-boards. When he pitched this idea via email, I smiled. It seems like a fun comedy; there's a sense of comic chaos anyway. Can you spot the problem? It should be fairly obvious.

What's “reverse 911”?

You may know, but not everyone does, and if I don't, I won't be interested. And so, still smiling, I emailed this writer back with that very question. His response made it even worse! He explained that reverse 911 is “a service you can sign up for and get alerts sent to your phone. My idea riffs off of that.”

Okay, so far so good.

But then he went on to say, “The hero of my story gets phone alerts, then signs on for the optional chip implant…” Huh? Well, now I'm
really
confused. Not only am I on shaky ground with the technology he's pitching, but he's adding in something fantastic that throws me off even more.

But the real problem here is: By getting so involved with the “thing,” the device that sets this story into motion, my pal completely lost the human part. How does any of this relate to a caveman like me? How's this affect the hero? What's it
about
?

Again, good thinking! This writer has an eye for ideas. But…

Too complicated.

This leads to what the third idea has wrong with it, and the concept of “hiding the ball.” I love this final example because it's not just we spec screenwriters who have to confront this problem, moviemakers have to deal with it all the time.

And it costs a lot of money when we make a mistake.

Hiding the ball is really the psychological quirk writers demonstrate when they have a “secret” or a big reveal in their story. What they've got is such a whammy, such a
Sixth Sense
boffo element, they don't want to tell us about it for fear of ruining the “surprise.”

But it leads to our not caring.

That's what happened to the writer of
Dark Streets
. When I got this email, I wrote back saying “too plain.” There is nothing about this idea I couldn't see on an average episode of
Law & Order
. Well, she wrote back, it's because she didn't want to “give it away.”
Give what away?
Well, about the reincarnation story.
The what?
It took six emails to drag the real story out of this writer, and each time, she still didn't want to tell me the secret — that it's really about a cop who discovers the killer he's chasing is… himself. There's a lot of mumbo jumbo I won't go into, but the bottom line is, even when pressed, she held back from saying it! She didn't want to ruin “the best part.”

Well, I've got news: I will not ask to see that script based on what she gave me, so she'd better figure out a way to say it.

She was being too cute by half. She was hiding the ball.

And I encouraged her not to. If it's about reincarnation, tell me! If the cop is the killer, then at least give us a hint!

I love this dilemma because it even happens to the pros.

The Island
is my favorite example of orb obfuscation. This is the film that came out in the summer of 2005. Directed by Michael Bay, the studio spent $150 million to make it, and another $50 million on advertising. Here in Los Angeles, there is a giant storage building near Santa Monica and La Brea and the whole face of the superstructure was devoted to the pulchritude of the movie's star, Scarlett Johansson. It is a poster one might see on the side of the Pyramids or The Hanging Gardens of Babylon. I dream about it late at night. Still!

They just had one small problem: The filmmakers couldn't tell us what
The Island
was about. And the title sure didn't help! (Is this about castaways? Is Dr. Moreau involved?) And as a result, it brought in just $35 million at the box office.

What went wrong?

The problem was the story was a secret. It's about clones who discover they're being used as spare parts for their “real,” other selves. It's “
Logan's Run
with organ donors.” But they couldn't say that because they didn't want to “give it away.”

In my opinion, I think the movie would have done a whole lot better if they had given us a clue about the plot. If I knew going in that our heroes were being used like this, and had to run for their lives to escape being put under the knife, you've grabbed me — and even knowing this, I still don't know what happens, so I've got a reason to find out!

But the makers of
The Island
chose to hide the ball.

When pitching me, or anyone, your job is to identify the best part of your movie idea and push it to the forefront. There are other things that stop us from getting what you're saying:

►
Tone
- “Is it a comedy or a drama?” If I ask this, if I can't tell whether to laugh or cry, you are not communicating.

►
One Joke
- Your idea, while interesting, is limited. If I can't see where it goes beyond the gimmick, I won't ask for more.

►
No Stakes
- One cause of me saying “Who cares?” is there isn't enough on the line for the hero. I have to sense importance.

►
“What does the giant eat up there?”
- This line came from an agent who heard Colby Carr's and my pitch for a
Jack in the Beanstalk
update, and he was right! Any logic flaw in your pitch is fatal and stops us all from “seeing” it.

►
“Heaven” movies
- This goes for “Angel” movies, “one-last-chance-to-make-good-on-earth” movies, and movies where we go into “the future” or “a fantasy world.” We can't root for dead people is one problem; the other is not knowing what your “world” is.

If you try to assuage me because “It's like
The Chronicles of Narnia
!”, I'll tell you:

a. Write a beloved international bestseller

b. Sell the rights to the movies.

Then I'll buy
you
lunch.

The way out of this conceptual miasma — and the exercise that will help you take the next step in turning your glimmer of an idea into a full-fledged script — has been created by our own José Silerio, my Development Director and right-hand man when it comes to script consultations. José took the basics of the
Cat!
method, including key points of the “Blake Snyder Beat Sheet” (which, if you haven't read my first two books, we'll discuss in
Chapter 2
), and put them into a single sentence for anyone who wants a little more
oomph
in his logline. And though it is no substitute for the simple pitch I prefer when I first hear your idea, it's a great way to take your idea-vetting process to the next level.

I still want to be pitched in one sentence, and I prefer the pithiest, easiest, way to say it. But if you have an idea that's not working, or if yours is too plain, too complicated, or hiding the ball, by plugging your story elements into this template, you will quickly see where you're coming up short — or why your idea might be a non-starter!

The template:

On the verge of
a
Stasis = Death moment
, a
flawed protagonist Breaks into Two
; but when the
Midpoint
happens, he/she
must
learn
the
Theme Stated
, before
All Is Lost
.

What do each of these phrases mean?

Let's start with “On the verge of.” It's one of my favorite logline boosters. “On the verge of” describes where a hero is when
we begin the story; often he's going in a very different direction from where he ends up. This handy phrase also sets up what's at stake for him.

“Stasis = Death” we will be discussing shortly, but know for now it's the moment early on when the hero suspects his life is deficient, an emotional starting point implying needed change.

Why “flawed” protagonist? Same thing. Any deficit suggests there will be a “filling in” of that flaw during the story.

What sets this story into motion? That's “Break into Two,” where we see what your “poster” is — and get excited about it!

The key plot points are “Midpoint” — the “no-turning-back” part of your story — and the “All Is Lost” beat, that moment when the hero is “worse off than when this movie started.” “Theme” is what your movie is “about.”

And if you don't believe these simple components can be used to troubleshoot your logline, take a look at these examples:

On the verge of
another “suit and tie” assignment, a tomboy FBI agent goes undercover as a contestant in the American Miss Pageant
; but when the
pageant receives a new threat
, she must learn
to be a woman
and
tough, before she's thrown off the case and out of the bureau
. (
Miss Congeniality
)

On the verge of
returning to Earth after another routine mission, a rules-obsessed warrant officer lets an unknown alien species onto the ship
; but when
the creature kills one member of the crew and begins to grow in power
, she must
do what is right rather than what she's been told
or else
all on board will meet the same deadly fate
. (
Alien
)

On the verge of
missing Thanksgiving when his flight is diverted, an uptight ad executive is forced to travel by any means possible with a zany salesman with a secret
; but when
he loses the last rental car to get back home
, he must learn that
family is more important than his job
, and
get back in time or bust
. (
Planes, Trains & Automobiles
)

Still need more information?

Believe it or not, we can also add to this simple logline template by including
The B Story
— the love interest, mentor, or group that “helps” the hero learn the lesson — and
Catalyst
, the event that sets the story into motion, and even the
Antagonist
— our hero's nemesis or obstacle and subject to his own flaw. The enhanced template is ideal for those who have a finished script to pitch:

The enhanced template:

On the verge
of a
Stasis = Death moment
, a
flawed protagonist
has
a
Catalyst
and
Breaks Into Two
with
the
B Story
; but when the
Midpoint
happens, he/she
must
learn
the
Theme Stated
, before
All Is Lost
, to defeat (
or stop
) the
flawed antagonist
(f
rom getting away with his/her plan
).