I did another round of barhopping with my friend Craig last night. We were at a cool little spot in Beverly Hills, chatting away with the bartender/budding actor, when a gentleman plopped down onto the seat next to mine. He got himself involved in our high-spirited, somewhat geeky conversation about which actor portrayed the best James Bond. (By the way...though Daniel Craig is doing a fine job, James Bond will forever be Sean Connery. Don’t even try arguing with me about it.) Our new bar buddy, whose name is Darren Howell, was from England, was a screenwriter...and had just sold his first feature screenplay to Summit Entertainment. He was in town having meetings with producers, directors, and agents. Darren sat with us for more than an hour, discussing movies and, of course, the crazy/exciting world of professional screenwriting. He had a very interesting POV of being a UK writer selling to Hollywood, so I asked him if he’d like to be interviewed for this blog. He seemed pretty enthusiastic about it. Darren heads back to England this weekend, so I plan to conduct his interview shortly thereafter. Stay tuned.
Variety blurb about Darren’s script sale:
http://www.variety.com/article/VR1117984713.html?categoryid=1236&cs=1
FIRE!!
Universal Studios Hollywood suffered a bit of a loss over this past weekend. Once again, a major portion of the back lot burned down. (The same exact section of the lot burned in 1990.) I was on the road last Sunday, driving from Los Angeles to Dallas, Texas, when I got the call from a family member (who happens to live a couple hundred yards from where the massive conflagration raged). All I could think was, “Not again!” Then I got to thinking about the four years I spent working security on that back lot. I worked the graveyard shift and spent many a night patrolling those dark, lonely streets. I must say, of all the jobs I’ve had, that was certainly the most enjoyable. For a movie guy like me, and a guy who has no problem being all alone for hours on end, I was like a kid in a candy shop. I spent countless nights on the historical New York Street, Brownstone Street, and Courthouse Square. Yup, lots of fond memories.
Here’s a comical memory:
I was out on New York Street one Thanksgiving, desperately trying to eat my boxed holiday meal as a chilly wind buffeted me. I was really struggling to eat my meal. It was pretty pathetic. I got to laughing so hard, I nearly choked on my sliced turkey!
Here’s a weird memory:
One evening I watched an odd bluish-white light swirl in a high window in one of the upper floor façade windows. The light wasn’t coming from outside the building and I don’t see how it could’ve been coming from inside the building since there was nobody up there. So I called dispatch and requested a supervisor to come check it out. He arrived quickly and did a thorough search. He found nothing.
Here’s another weird memory:
One November night, about 2:00 in the morning, I confronted a dark human-shaped figure standing stone-still mere yards from me. I quickly got on my radio and called for back-up. When I looked back a moment later, whoever it was—or whatever it was—had vanished. My supervisor and a couple other officers did a thorough search of the immediate area, but found nobody. Kinda creepy.
Here’s a geeky memory:
There was the time when my security buddy and I reenacted the famous “Did he fire six shots or only five?” speech from the classic flick Dirty Harry. We performed the scene in the precise spot where it was shot for the movie. I played Harry and my buddy was the wounded bank robber. “Well do ya, punk?” Pretty geeky, sure, but fun for a movie guy like me.
Here’s a fun memory:
On more than one occasion, my pals and I would chase each other around the New York and Brownstone streets in our security vehicles. Sure, not exactly the smartest thing to do (something that could easily get a person fired), but hey, you gotta break the inevitable monotony of patrol once in a while.
Here’s another fun memory:
There were nights/early mornings when I’d put a little excitement into the lives of new recruits and pretend to be a trespasser. I’d remove my badge, or turn my jacket inside out, and wander around at the far end of the street. They had no idea who I was and would try to stop me...and that’s when I’d take off running. They’d chased me all over the place, screaming into their radios, “602 on New York Street!” (FYI: I told the gal who worked dispatch to ignore imminent calls about trespassers. Also, "602" is code for "trespasser.") I finally allowed the guards catch me. They sure had a good laugh when they discovered I was one of their own. Welcome to the team, boys!
Yet another fun memory:
One night I freaked out a new hire who kept hearing strange noises in one of the facades. I kept telling him the noises were just animals roaming around. He insisted they were not animals. I wanted to teach him a lesson, so I asked my supervisor to go hide in the façade and rustle around. When the new guy called in to report the noises, I responded. I had the new guy follow me into the eerily dark, eerily quiet façade. At just the right moment, as my flashlight beam searched high and low, my supervisor leaped out, screaming like a banshee. Man, that poor guy must’ve jumped about ten feet in the air. After he finally calmed down, he shook my hand and congratulated me on a good scare. He quit the following day. What a wimp.
Here’s a potentially malodorous memory:
One night I was posted on Courthouse Square (which is where the clock tower from Back to the Future is...um, was). I was sitting alone on a stage. I looked down between my knees and discovered a skunk directly beneath me. You can pretty much find every variety of animal life on that back lot—skunks, deer, snakes, raccoons, rabbits, opossums, and coyotes. Luckily, I was pretty used to being in close proximity of the lots’ skunk population, so I didn’t make any sudden moves. If I had, I’d probably still be trying to get the stink off me!
Here’s a cooooold memory:
There were all those nights, in the dead of winter, standing alone for an entire shift in 40 degree weather. (I know, all you folks in colder climates are saying, “A 40 degree winter? You call that cold?!” But still, pacing back and forth in 40 degree weather for 8 or 12 hours ain’t exactly a picnic in the park.) If I was lucky, there’d be a work lamp out on the street and I could warm my hands over it. Every so often I’d make a quick trip to the restroom on Brownstone Street and put my cold hands under hot running water. Ahhhh, it felt sooooo gooooood.
The aftermath...
I got back to L.A. on Tuesday and picked up my car from my brother’s house—as I mentioned, he lives extremely close to where the fire occurred—and my poor car looked like it gone through a war, covered in ash and burned bits of plastic. Scary.
I had four fun years on that studio lot and I’m sure sorry to see a big piece of it go up in flames like that. But fret not, friends, if the powers that be at Universal decide to rebuild New York Street, Brownstone Street, and Courthouse Square, they’ll have it completed in about three months. Trust me, those Hollywood guys in can do anything.
#
Here’s a comical memory:
I was out on New York Street one Thanksgiving, desperately trying to eat my boxed holiday meal as a chilly wind buffeted me. I was really struggling to eat my meal. It was pretty pathetic. I got to laughing so hard, I nearly choked on my sliced turkey!
Here’s a weird memory:
One evening I watched an odd bluish-white light swirl in a high window in one of the upper floor façade windows. The light wasn’t coming from outside the building and I don’t see how it could’ve been coming from inside the building since there was nobody up there. So I called dispatch and requested a supervisor to come check it out. He arrived quickly and did a thorough search. He found nothing.
Here’s another weird memory:
One November night, about 2:00 in the morning, I confronted a dark human-shaped figure standing stone-still mere yards from me. I quickly got on my radio and called for back-up. When I looked back a moment later, whoever it was—or whatever it was—had vanished. My supervisor and a couple other officers did a thorough search of the immediate area, but found nobody. Kinda creepy.
Here’s a geeky memory:
There was the time when my security buddy and I reenacted the famous “Did he fire six shots or only five?” speech from the classic flick Dirty Harry. We performed the scene in the precise spot where it was shot for the movie. I played Harry and my buddy was the wounded bank robber. “Well do ya, punk?” Pretty geeky, sure, but fun for a movie guy like me.
Here’s a fun memory:
On more than one occasion, my pals and I would chase each other around the New York and Brownstone streets in our security vehicles. Sure, not exactly the smartest thing to do (something that could easily get a person fired), but hey, you gotta break the inevitable monotony of patrol once in a while.
Here’s another fun memory:
There were nights/early mornings when I’d put a little excitement into the lives of new recruits and pretend to be a trespasser. I’d remove my badge, or turn my jacket inside out, and wander around at the far end of the street. They had no idea who I was and would try to stop me...and that’s when I’d take off running. They’d chased me all over the place, screaming into their radios, “602 on New York Street!” (FYI: I told the gal who worked dispatch to ignore imminent calls about trespassers. Also, "602" is code for "trespasser.") I finally allowed the guards catch me. They sure had a good laugh when they discovered I was one of their own. Welcome to the team, boys!
Yet another fun memory:
One night I freaked out a new hire who kept hearing strange noises in one of the facades. I kept telling him the noises were just animals roaming around. He insisted they were not animals. I wanted to teach him a lesson, so I asked my supervisor to go hide in the façade and rustle around. When the new guy called in to report the noises, I responded. I had the new guy follow me into the eerily dark, eerily quiet façade. At just the right moment, as my flashlight beam searched high and low, my supervisor leaped out, screaming like a banshee. Man, that poor guy must’ve jumped about ten feet in the air. After he finally calmed down, he shook my hand and congratulated me on a good scare. He quit the following day. What a wimp.
Here’s a potentially malodorous memory:
One night I was posted on Courthouse Square (which is where the clock tower from Back to the Future is...um, was). I was sitting alone on a stage. I looked down between my knees and discovered a skunk directly beneath me. You can pretty much find every variety of animal life on that back lot—skunks, deer, snakes, raccoons, rabbits, opossums, and coyotes. Luckily, I was pretty used to being in close proximity of the lots’ skunk population, so I didn’t make any sudden moves. If I had, I’d probably still be trying to get the stink off me!
Here’s a cooooold memory:
There were all those nights, in the dead of winter, standing alone for an entire shift in 40 degree weather. (I know, all you folks in colder climates are saying, “A 40 degree winter? You call that cold?!” But still, pacing back and forth in 40 degree weather for 8 or 12 hours ain’t exactly a picnic in the park.) If I was lucky, there’d be a work lamp out on the street and I could warm my hands over it. Every so often I’d make a quick trip to the restroom on Brownstone Street and put my cold hands under hot running water. Ahhhh, it felt sooooo gooooood.
The aftermath...
I got back to L.A. on Tuesday and picked up my car from my brother’s house—as I mentioned, he lives extremely close to where the fire occurred—and my poor car looked like it gone through a war, covered in ash and burned bits of plastic. Scary.
I had four fun years on that studio lot and I’m sure sorry to see a big piece of it go up in flames like that. But fret not, friends, if the powers that be at Universal decide to rebuild New York Street, Brownstone Street, and Courthouse Square, they’ll have it completed in about three months. Trust me, those Hollywood guys in can do anything.
#
HARVEY KORMAN 1927 – 2008
This post has nothing much to do with screenwriting, but it does have something to do with comic greatness. We lost the great Harvey Korman a few days ago. If you’re like me, you grew up watching him on the hysterical Carol Burnett Show back in the '70s. You’ll also remember him from the Mel Brooks comedies Blazing Saddles and High Anxiety. After watching any of Mr. Korman’s performances, you’d know he was certainly one of a kind.
Here’s a tribute video I found on YouTube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0Or25z5Pbc
Here's a very funny clip from the Carol Burnett Show (with the great Tim Conway):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q9T8i4FkNVo
I invite you to search YouTube for more fabulous Harvey Korman clips. I think you’ll like what you find.
Thanks for the laughs, Harvey!
Here’s a tribute video I found on YouTube:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0Or25z5Pbc
Here's a very funny clip from the Carol Burnett Show (with the great Tim Conway):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q9T8i4FkNVo
I invite you to search YouTube for more fabulous Harvey Korman clips. I think you’ll like what you find.
Thanks for the laughs, Harvey!
MY UPCOMING SEMINAR...
I’m currently preparing my next IMPROVE-YOUR-CHANCES-OF-BECOMING-A WORKING-SCREENWRITER seminar. The exact date is not set yet, but it’ll be in late August here in Los Angeles (North Hollywood). During this eye-opening 2-hour seminar, I will be discussing the many methods you can use and the mindset you must have in order to vastly improve your chances of becoming a working screenwriter. The cost is $49.00. Attendees will also receive a copy of my book, Q and A: The Working Screenwriter -- An In-the-Trenches Perspective of Writing Movies in Today's Film Industry.
For more information, e-mail Jim(at)theworkingscreenwriter.com.
This will be a fun and motivating event, so don’t miss out!
And now, just for fun, I present my semi-regular installment of...
Only in La La Land
Recently, my friend Craig and I were—surprise, surprise—barhopping in Beverly Hills. We were driving down Rodeo Drive, on our way to Mr. Chow, and there’s producer Joel Silver barreling past us, cellphone to ear. (As I’m sure you know, Mr. Silver has produced numerous movies, including Lethal Weapon, Predator, The Matrix, V for Vendetta, and the recent flopperoo Speed Racer). Alas, Mr. Chow was packed—besides, they don’t allow you at the bar if you’ve not eating there—so we went down the street to The Grill On The Alley. So Craig and I are enjoying a drink at the bar (as usual, I’m having cranberry juice) and he nudges me, saying, “Hey, there’s Neil Sedaka!” I glance over and, sure nuff, it’s ol’ Neal himself. Sitting with him were—drum roll, please—Judge Judy! Wow, Neal Sedaka and Judge Judy! My life is now complete! OK, so fast forward a few more days and Craig and I are doing yet another round of barhopping in Bev Hills. We’re at the bar at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. I’m sipping my drink (a Diet Coke this time) and I glance over and see—another drum roll, please—super-producer Jerry Bruckheimer! Like Joel Silver, Mr. B also had cellphone to ear. Man, what did guys like this do before cellphones?? All I can say is...only in L.A.!!
For more information, e-mail Jim(at)theworkingscreenwriter.com.
This will be a fun and motivating event, so don’t miss out!
And now, just for fun, I present my semi-regular installment of...
Only in La La Land
Recently, my friend Craig and I were—surprise, surprise—barhopping in Beverly Hills. We were driving down Rodeo Drive, on our way to Mr. Chow, and there’s producer Joel Silver barreling past us, cellphone to ear. (As I’m sure you know, Mr. Silver has produced numerous movies, including Lethal Weapon, Predator, The Matrix, V for Vendetta, and the recent flopperoo Speed Racer). Alas, Mr. Chow was packed—besides, they don’t allow you at the bar if you’ve not eating there—so we went down the street to The Grill On The Alley. So Craig and I are enjoying a drink at the bar (as usual, I’m having cranberry juice) and he nudges me, saying, “Hey, there’s Neil Sedaka!” I glance over and, sure nuff, it’s ol’ Neal himself. Sitting with him were—drum roll, please—Judge Judy! Wow, Neal Sedaka and Judge Judy! My life is now complete! OK, so fast forward a few more days and Craig and I are doing yet another round of barhopping in Bev Hills. We’re at the bar at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel. I’m sipping my drink (a Diet Coke this time) and I glance over and see—another drum roll, please—super-producer Jerry Bruckheimer! Like Joel Silver, Mr. B also had cellphone to ear. Man, what did guys like this do before cellphones?? All I can say is...only in L.A.!!
CONFESSIONS OF A COMPETITION WINNER...
I get the feeling many novice screenwriters think if they could just win a screenwriting competition—just one!—their career would be on a fast track to success.
If you’re a regular reader of my blog, or if you’ve perused my Working Screenwriter 2 blog, you’ll know I’m fairly dubious of the whole screenwriting competition route. I just feel budding scribes spend waaaaay too much time and effort trying to win those things.
What’s even more puzzling is why a writer would enter a no-name competition that offers little more than a few hundred bucks and a magazine subscription as a grand prize. It’s as if these writers are still in grade school and all they really want is to get that little gold star.
Personally, the only contest I want to win is getting Mr. Joe Producer to purchase my script, or perhaps having him hire me to write something on assignment. My trophy will be a produced movie with my name on it...or at least a nice paycheck. As far as I’m concerned, those are the only true prizes in the ol’ screenwriting game. Pats on the back and my name on some roster are fine, but they don’t pay the rent. But hey, that’s just my opinion. I mean, if little gold stars and magazine subscriptions are your thing, go for it.
Do I think there are competitions that are actually worthwhile? Sure, but only a very few. Nicholl would be one. But even winning top honors in Nicholl don’t guarantee anything.
OK, I know you’re saying, “C’mon, Jim, are you telling us not to enter script comps?” No, that’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m merely asking you not to focus so heavily on winning a screenwriting competition. Yes, submit to one or two of the big gun comps, but don’t forget your other avenues to success: sending query letters, making the all-important “face time” with industry insiders by attending industry events such as film festivals, or if possible, getting a low-tier job at a production company.
Remember: this is a business that’s pretty much run by connections...so go make ‘em!
I recently did a brief Q&A with Lorelei Armstrong, a novelist and screenwriter hailing from the beautiful state of Hawaii. Ms. Armstrong has participated in numerous screenwriting competitions over the last several years and her experiences are rather eye-opening. If you’re thinking about entering one of the many screenwriting comps (and there are many), then you’ll want to give a thorough read to Lorelei’s interview.
Q&A WITH LORELEI ARMSTRONG
Q: So, Lorelei, when did you start writing screenplays?
A: 1998. I wrote three that first year.
Q: Since 1998, approximately how many screenplays have you written?
A: Twenty-two.
Q: How many screenwriting competitions have you entered?
A: Around thirty.
Q: Of those (competitions entered), how many have you won outright?
A: Six.
Q: Name the specific competitions you’ve won.
A: The Screenwriting Expo Screenwriting Contest, The Contest of Contest Winners, The Filmmakers.com/The Radmin Company Contest, The Scr(i)pt Magazine/Open Door Contest, The Acclaim Film and Television Contest, The A Penny Short Contest.
Q: What is the largest prize you’ve ever won from one of these competitions?
A: $10,000 from the Screenwriting Expo.
Q: What other types of prizes (non-monetary) have you won from these competitions?
A: It still is a monetary issue, but reduced-price admission to the Austin Film Festival is my favorite non-monetary award. I’ve been a finalist or semi-finalist there three times, and had a great time. Beyond that, I’d advise caution to writers considering contests with non-monetary prizes. Story notes are often a paragraph long and written by a harried reader, and any contest that claims they will provide “exposure” is blowing smoke.
Q: Other than any material rewards, what have been the most satisfying aspects of winning a screenwriting competition?
A: It’s always nice to win. It’s tremendously encouraging. It is also nice to be able to pay the rent for a while from a contest win.
Q: Overall, do you feel it’s worth the time, effort and money to enter a screenwriting competition?
A: So long as you are clear on your goals. If you want to start your career, I would advise winning the Nicholl. Accept other contests for what they have to offer. Understand that Hollywood watches the Nicholl and only the Nicholl.
Q: Based on your experiences, what is the most POSITIVE aspect of entering a screenwriting competition?
A: Paying my rent for a year by winning contests. Note that I do not advise this as a sound business decision. But then, neither is trying to become a screenwriter!
Q: Based on your experiences, what is the most NEGATIVE aspect of entering a screenwriting competition?
A: My least favorite part of the world of screenwriting competitions is how many there are. There are hundreds. Many are a total waste of time and money. The sponsors take in thousands of dollars and the winner gets a nice certificate and maybe some story notes. Don’t give these folks your money.
Q: OK, let’s say you’ve just won one of the big screenwriting competitions. What can a writer expect to happen?
A: A nice phone call from your mother, if you’re lucky. Seriously, if you win the Nicholl, you will receive many, many script requests. If you win any contest other than the Nicholl, you will be lucky to get a half-dozen requests. Make your own calls and write your own letters, but don’t expect anyone to have heard of any other contest.
Q: Of all the competitions you’ve entered which do you feel was the most worthwhile?
A: Either the [Screenwriting] Expo or Austin, because the prizes were good. I’d like to say that one started my career, but I have had no success there.
Q: True or false (and please explain why): Entering a no-name competition is a waste of time.
A: True. You may feel good, you may value your prize, but it won’t move you forward in the business. Worse, you may be convinced that the script and the writing that won a small contest is good enough to make it in Hollywood, when in reality you have a great deal of learning to do.
Q: Explain what happened to you after winning the Screenwriting Expo.
A: Well, I was very, very happy for a while! I did get four requests for the script, two of which were part of “send all the finalists” group requests. One of those led to the worst rejection letter I think I’ve ever received. Thank you, Gersh! Within about forty-eight hours of winning, everyone I’d ever met knew I’d won. All my contacts, everybody. Everyone I’d gone to film school with at UCLA. The disinterest was extreme. Part of the problem is that the script is a large historical drama. Not exactly in high demand. I was only able to generate a handful of requests on my own. I went on to win four more contests that year, and someone at Scr(i)pt Magazine recommended me to a new agent. I signed with him. After a couple of years of his best efforts, he quit to go back to film school, and I have now quit to write novels. The only lasting effect of the Expo was that the check was large enough to attract the special attention of the business taxation people in my home state of Hawaii. I now have to pay 4% General Excise Tax (gross) on any future screenplay contest winnings. They have decided that winning contests is a business.
Q: If you had to enter just one or two screenwriting competitions, which would you enter?
A: I’ll name three: the Nicholl Fellowships in Screenwriting, the Austin Screenwriting Contest, and the Screenwriting Expo Contest.
Q: While you were actively submitting screenplays to competitions, were you also querying agents, managers and/or production companies?
A: Yes, I was actively querying, for what that's worth. And I was getting some requests based on the contests. I would say I had at least one script out there at all times for seven or eight years. And then I signed with my then-agent in early 2005, and he always had something out. I had the usual meet-and-greets, everywhere from funky office buildings in the Valley to on-the-lot prodcos. Plenty of the phony action to which Hollywood is addicted.
Q: If so, what type of responses were you getting, if any?
A: The most common reaction was that, whatever the person had read, they "loved it," but it wasn't quite right. My most winning script, Michelangelo, was too big for everyone. One agent I spoke to last year advised me never to mention the script to anyone, ever. Some folks wanted an adult to star in my kid comedy. Some wanted one comedy set in Los Angeles, so I rewrote it, and then nobody wanted a movie set in Los Angeles. A couple of places read my male-lead action/adventures and wanted to know if I'd written a romantic comedy (no). I've heard "too smart" and "too dumb." Someone read my thriller Ghostcatcher and asked "does she have to catch ghosts?" The usual noise.
Q: Do you feel adding "I won the Screenwriting Expo/Script magazine competition" to your query letters and/or telephone pitches engendered any additional interest from the agents, managers and/or production companies you queried?
A: The only folks who might have responded to "I won the Expo" were prodcos who were somehow involved in the Expo. Nobody else had heard of it. I won the third year of the contest; it might have gotten better since then.
Q: What is your current status as a screenwriter?
A: I quit screenwriting last fall, a month before the strike. I went out and picketed every day, but didn’t have to worry about what would happen to me afterward. I have a novel coming out in the fall, and after my book tour I will be leaving Los Angeles and moving home to Hawaii.
Q: Any parting comments/thoughts?
A: I’d like people to take a look at my screenwriting website (link is below). There is more information about contests there, as well as a lot of information about screenwriting and the business. My general advice is to go into screenwriting, and into screenplay contests, with your eyes open. This is a hard, hard business and the odds are overwhelmingly against all of us. Don’t let your hopes and dreams hurt you. Know the facts.
* * *
Well, there you have it—an interesting point of view from someone who’s actually been there. I’d like to thank Lorelei for participating in this interview, and I wish her the best of luck with her upcoming book!
***
No witches, no warlocks, no vampires. Just a sexy, rollicking story about a guy trying to hit it big in Hollywood.
"A great summer read!"
"A sexy Hollywood tale!"
"It's WHAT MAKES SAMMY RUN for the 21st century!"
Check out my book, Q & A: The Working Screenwriter! Interviews with 16 working screenwriters!
THE COMEDY SCREENPLAY: BUT IS IT FUNNY?
I’ve been wrestling with whether or not I even wanted to write this blog entry. I mean, comedy is such a subjective thing. Just because I think something is funny doesn’t mean you’re going to think it’s funny...and vice versa. But I felt that I should go ahead and write this entry anyway. I figured if I could help one or two budding screenwriters stop and think about their comedy script before sending it out into the world, well, I’ve done my job. So, without further ado...
BUT IS YOUR COMEDY SCRIPT ACTUALLY FUNNY?
For a relative handful of writers, comedy is a piece of cake. For other writers, other genres are a far more obtainable/realistic goal. But if comedy is your thing, if brilliant one-liners roll off your tongue, if you’re able to regale people with humorous anecdotes, if people have been telling you since childhood, “You should be a stand-up comedian!”...you need to know that having the ability to translate all your funny material to the pages of a screenplay takes a certain extra-special type of talent. Fact is, the comedy screenplay is very difficult to get right, and believe me when I tell you sooooo many wannabe comedy scribes have proven that statement absolutely correct. I’ve critiqued many “comedy” scripts in recent years and I found most of them to be about as funny as a traffic ticket. These writers—usually teenagers to early-20s—think “funny” is all about peppering a script with non-stop four-letter words and jokes about female body parts. Sorry, gang, but that sort of humor generally isn’t very amusing.
“OK, Jim, so what is funny?”
I realize comedy is a subjective thing. To be honest, I’m not really sure I can even fully articulate what goes into a well-written comedy screenplay. After all, they write entire books about this stuff—and I’m certainly not about to tackle it all here—but I think I’m a pretty good judge of what’s marketably funny and what’s not; what works and what doesn’t. I know there’s a particular structure and cadence to successful comedy writing. And I know this:
In comedy, timing is everything.
If you want examples of brilliant comedy structure, cadence and timing, then I suggest you turn to some of the comedy masters. There are many. Go read some scripts by Billy Wilder, Preston Sturgess, Woody Allen, or the brothers Zuker. You can surely learn quite a bit from those guys. There’s more recent brilliance from such writers as Wes Anderson and Judd Apatow. (Apatow certainly knows his way around the aforementioned “locker room” humor, but he does it with finesse and with heart.) Right now, let’s look at an excerpt from the script of the classic 1972 comedy What’s Up, Doc?, which was written by the inimitable Buck Henry. In the following scene, naïve, timid musicologist Howard Bannister (Ryan O’Neal) has inadvertently destroyed his upscale hotel room (smashing things, burning things), and now the stuffy hotel manager, Mr. Kaltenborn (John Hillerman), has dropped by to survey the damage.
INT. HOTEL ROOM – DAY
MR. KALTENBORN, the manager of the hotel, enters. He stands in the doorway, looks at the room in horror.
HOWARD (trying to be cheerful): Good morning.
KALTENBORN: No – I don’t think so. I’m Mr. Kaltenborn, the manager of what’s left of the hotel.
Kaltenborn is looking around the room. He looks like he might faint.
HOWARD: I’m awfully sorry about this whole mess here. Usually, this doesn’t happen.
KALTENBORN: Mr. Bannister, I have a message for you from the staff of the hotel.
HOWARD: Really? What is it?
KALTENBORN: Goodbye.
HOWARD: Is that the entire message?
KALTENBORN: We would appreciate it if you would check out.
HOWARD: When?
KALTENBORN: Yesterday.
HOWARD: That soon? Listen – uh – I don’t suppose there’s another room you could let me have for a few –
He stops as he sees the expression of utter disbelief on Kaltenborn’s face.
HOWARD: Ahh – well –
He finds his other shoe and puts it on. He pulls out the (Van Hoskins) case and stands up, holding it.
HOWARD (indicating case): These are my igneous tambula drums.
KALTENBORN (carefully, as to a madman): Yes, of course they are.
Howard goes out into the hall. Kaltenborn, with a last look around the room, pulls the door closed and the other half of the door handle comes off in his hand.
INT. CORRIDOR (17th FLOOR)
Howard and Mr. Kaltenborn walk toward the elevators, Howard carrying the case and Mr. Kaltenborn carrying the door handle.
KALTENBORN (hopefully): Where were you thinking of going now?
HOWARD: Well – my fiancée, Miss Sleep, is still burning. Uh – Miss Burns is still sleeping. And I thought – uh – maybe I could just sit in the lobby and wait until –
Kaltenborn shakes his head. The elevator arrives and Howard steps in.
HOWARD: Well – I really am sorry about the room.
KALTENBORN: Oh, that’s all right. We have plenty of others.
The elevator door closes. Kaltenborn looks sadly at the door handle in his hand, turns and goes back down the corridor.
Here’s another excerpt from the same screenplay:
INT. COURTROOM – DAY
[This scene takes place in a courtroom full of suspects in front of a very old and very frazzled judge.]
JUDGE: Officer – what are these people being charged with?
COP: That’s kind of hard to say, judge.
JUDGE: Give it a shot.
COP: Well, sir, we picked some of them out of San Francisco Bay.
JUDGE: Entering the country illegally?
COP: No, sir, they drove in.
JUDGE: Into the country?
COP: Into the Bay.
JUDGE (making notes): Okay – unauthorized use of public waters.
COP: Mostly in stolen cars.
JUDGE: Ahh – that’s better. Grand larceny.
COP: Then there was the shooting.
JUDGE: That’s assault with a deadly weapon.
LARRABEE: They broke into my home.
JUDGE: That’s breaking and entering.
LARRABEE (pointing to Eunice): They brought her with them forcibly.
JUDGE: That’s kidnapping.
EUNICE: They tried to molest me.
JUDGE (looking at her): That’s unbelievable.
JONES: Your Honor, I can clear all this up in ten seconds.
JUDGE: You do and you’ll get a prize.
JONES: May I approach the bench?
JUDGE: Yes. (to Bailiff) Watch him like a hawk.
As you can clearly read from these excerpts, the writing is clear, concise and punchy. Yes, this is typically what you want in any screenplay, but in comedy, it’s absolutely essential.
In comedy, the actual premise of your scene must also be funny. The idea of some poor sap, alone in his burned out hotel room and being visited by the quietly agitated hotel manager, is funny.
How many newbie scripts have I read where the so-called funny premise is nothing more than a bunch of goofballs sitting around smoking dope and jabbering endlessly about what a cool movie Star Wars is? Believe me, plenty.
How many newbie scripts have I read where the entire punch line of a scene was...well, actually, believe it or not, I’ve read quite a few “funny” scenes that had no punch line whatsoever. There was no real purpose of the scene other than to have people running around in hysterics. The writers of these scripts have failed at one thing you must have in a screenplay: focus.
WHO is the center of attention?
WHAT is their goal?
WHAT is the obstacle keeping them from that goal?
If I don’t know these basics, then why should I care? If I don’t care, chances are pretty good I won’t laugh.
Another thing you’ll see in an unsuccessful comedy screenplay: too many words getting in the way of the intended comedy. Again, this is something you want in any screenplay, but you really want your comedy screenplay to zip along. That means you need to spit out your funny lines—and descriptive passages as well—in the most efficient and linear way possible.
There’s that great scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark, when Indy looks down at the ground filled with slithering snakes and says to himself, “Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?” He doesn’t say, “Oh, man, those snakes are yucky! I hate snakes!” No, as spoken, the line was perfect. It was to the point. No fuss, no muss. That’s the kind of writing that can and will make or break your comedy screenplay.
In the classically whacky comedy Airplane, when Ted Striker (Robert Hays) asks Dr. Rumack (Leslie Neilson), “Surely you can’t be serious.” Then Rumack responds in that perfect deadpan manner, “I am serious...and don’t call me Shirley.” He doesn’t say, “Of course I’m serious. I’m very serious. And please do me a favor. Don’t call me Shirley.” A cumbersome line like that would’ve killed the joke.
But funny dialogue is just one component of a successfully written comedy screenplay. You mustn’t forget how your descriptive passages are actually delivered. An unsuccessful comedy script contains unwieldy descriptions that detract from the overall hilarity you’re trying to convey. (Say that ten times fast!) A big mistake most first-timers make is adding what I refer to as LBOB. That’s my shorthand for “little bits of business.” These are things that, in the mind of many novice writers, seem amusing, but aren’t. For example:
Joe crosses his arms, tilts his head to the left, nods, and laughs.
Sure, maybe it’s important to know that Joe laughs, but we probably don’t care that he crosses his arms, tilts his head to the left and nods. All that stuff just gets in the way. Let the actors figure out the “business” they’re going to do. That's why they get the big bucks. “Joe laughs.” Nuff said.
You can also under-describe a scene, not gaining the maximum impact of its humor. For instance, let’s say you have a scene where some dopey bozo comes out of a bar, walks down the sidewalk, and slips on a banana peel. Here are two ways you could do it:
EXAMPLE #1: “Joe walks out of the bar. He walks down the street and slips on a banana peel. He falls down on the sidewalk.”
EXAMPLE #2: “Joe steps from the tavern. A smile on his face, he gazes into the perfect sky on this bright, sunny day. He inhales a deep breath of fresh air...starts down the sidewalk, whistling happily as he goes. Problem is...he doesn’t see the BANANA PEEL right in front of him. His foot goes down on it – ZWOOOOP! He becomes airborne...”
I think the second example is more effective. If you thought so too, congratulations, you get a cookie.
Again, they write entire books about what makes a funny screenplay, so I sure ain't making any huge revelations in this blog entry...but I hope I've given all you first-timers something to think about before you tackle that comedy idea you’ve had percolating in your brain for the last six years. Good luck!
BUT IS YOUR COMEDY SCRIPT ACTUALLY FUNNY?
For a relative handful of writers, comedy is a piece of cake. For other writers, other genres are a far more obtainable/realistic goal. But if comedy is your thing, if brilliant one-liners roll off your tongue, if you’re able to regale people with humorous anecdotes, if people have been telling you since childhood, “You should be a stand-up comedian!”...you need to know that having the ability to translate all your funny material to the pages of a screenplay takes a certain extra-special type of talent. Fact is, the comedy screenplay is very difficult to get right, and believe me when I tell you sooooo many wannabe comedy scribes have proven that statement absolutely correct. I’ve critiqued many “comedy” scripts in recent years and I found most of them to be about as funny as a traffic ticket. These writers—usually teenagers to early-20s—think “funny” is all about peppering a script with non-stop four-letter words and jokes about female body parts. Sorry, gang, but that sort of humor generally isn’t very amusing.
“OK, Jim, so what is funny?”
I realize comedy is a subjective thing. To be honest, I’m not really sure I can even fully articulate what goes into a well-written comedy screenplay. After all, they write entire books about this stuff—and I’m certainly not about to tackle it all here—but I think I’m a pretty good judge of what’s marketably funny and what’s not; what works and what doesn’t. I know there’s a particular structure and cadence to successful comedy writing. And I know this:
In comedy, timing is everything.
If you want examples of brilliant comedy structure, cadence and timing, then I suggest you turn to some of the comedy masters. There are many. Go read some scripts by Billy Wilder, Preston Sturgess, Woody Allen, or the brothers Zuker. You can surely learn quite a bit from those guys. There’s more recent brilliance from such writers as Wes Anderson and Judd Apatow. (Apatow certainly knows his way around the aforementioned “locker room” humor, but he does it with finesse and with heart.) Right now, let’s look at an excerpt from the script of the classic 1972 comedy What’s Up, Doc?, which was written by the inimitable Buck Henry. In the following scene, naïve, timid musicologist Howard Bannister (Ryan O’Neal) has inadvertently destroyed his upscale hotel room (smashing things, burning things), and now the stuffy hotel manager, Mr. Kaltenborn (John Hillerman), has dropped by to survey the damage.
INT. HOTEL ROOM – DAY
MR. KALTENBORN, the manager of the hotel, enters. He stands in the doorway, looks at the room in horror.
HOWARD (trying to be cheerful): Good morning.
KALTENBORN: No – I don’t think so. I’m Mr. Kaltenborn, the manager of what’s left of the hotel.
Kaltenborn is looking around the room. He looks like he might faint.
HOWARD: I’m awfully sorry about this whole mess here. Usually, this doesn’t happen.
KALTENBORN: Mr. Bannister, I have a message for you from the staff of the hotel.
HOWARD: Really? What is it?
KALTENBORN: Goodbye.
HOWARD: Is that the entire message?
KALTENBORN: We would appreciate it if you would check out.
HOWARD: When?
KALTENBORN: Yesterday.
HOWARD: That soon? Listen – uh – I don’t suppose there’s another room you could let me have for a few –
He stops as he sees the expression of utter disbelief on Kaltenborn’s face.
HOWARD: Ahh – well –
He finds his other shoe and puts it on. He pulls out the (Van Hoskins) case and stands up, holding it.
HOWARD (indicating case): These are my igneous tambula drums.
KALTENBORN (carefully, as to a madman): Yes, of course they are.
Howard goes out into the hall. Kaltenborn, with a last look around the room, pulls the door closed and the other half of the door handle comes off in his hand.
INT. CORRIDOR (17th FLOOR)
Howard and Mr. Kaltenborn walk toward the elevators, Howard carrying the case and Mr. Kaltenborn carrying the door handle.
KALTENBORN (hopefully): Where were you thinking of going now?
HOWARD: Well – my fiancée, Miss Sleep, is still burning. Uh – Miss Burns is still sleeping. And I thought – uh – maybe I could just sit in the lobby and wait until –
Kaltenborn shakes his head. The elevator arrives and Howard steps in.
HOWARD: Well – I really am sorry about the room.
KALTENBORN: Oh, that’s all right. We have plenty of others.
The elevator door closes. Kaltenborn looks sadly at the door handle in his hand, turns and goes back down the corridor.
Here’s another excerpt from the same screenplay:
INT. COURTROOM – DAY
[This scene takes place in a courtroom full of suspects in front of a very old and very frazzled judge.]
JUDGE: Officer – what are these people being charged with?
COP: That’s kind of hard to say, judge.
JUDGE: Give it a shot.
COP: Well, sir, we picked some of them out of San Francisco Bay.
JUDGE: Entering the country illegally?
COP: No, sir, they drove in.
JUDGE: Into the country?
COP: Into the Bay.
JUDGE (making notes): Okay – unauthorized use of public waters.
COP: Mostly in stolen cars.
JUDGE: Ahh – that’s better. Grand larceny.
COP: Then there was the shooting.
JUDGE: That’s assault with a deadly weapon.
LARRABEE: They broke into my home.
JUDGE: That’s breaking and entering.
LARRABEE (pointing to Eunice): They brought her with them forcibly.
JUDGE: That’s kidnapping.
EUNICE: They tried to molest me.
JUDGE (looking at her): That’s unbelievable.
JONES: Your Honor, I can clear all this up in ten seconds.
JUDGE: You do and you’ll get a prize.
JONES: May I approach the bench?
JUDGE: Yes. (to Bailiff) Watch him like a hawk.
As you can clearly read from these excerpts, the writing is clear, concise and punchy. Yes, this is typically what you want in any screenplay, but in comedy, it’s absolutely essential.
In comedy, the actual premise of your scene must also be funny. The idea of some poor sap, alone in his burned out hotel room and being visited by the quietly agitated hotel manager, is funny.
How many newbie scripts have I read where the so-called funny premise is nothing more than a bunch of goofballs sitting around smoking dope and jabbering endlessly about what a cool movie Star Wars is? Believe me, plenty.
How many newbie scripts have I read where the entire punch line of a scene was...well, actually, believe it or not, I’ve read quite a few “funny” scenes that had no punch line whatsoever. There was no real purpose of the scene other than to have people running around in hysterics. The writers of these scripts have failed at one thing you must have in a screenplay: focus.
WHO is the center of attention?
WHAT is their goal?
WHAT is the obstacle keeping them from that goal?
If I don’t know these basics, then why should I care? If I don’t care, chances are pretty good I won’t laugh.
Another thing you’ll see in an unsuccessful comedy screenplay: too many words getting in the way of the intended comedy. Again, this is something you want in any screenplay, but you really want your comedy screenplay to zip along. That means you need to spit out your funny lines—and descriptive passages as well—in the most efficient and linear way possible.
There’s that great scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark, when Indy looks down at the ground filled with slithering snakes and says to himself, “Snakes. Why did it have to be snakes?” He doesn’t say, “Oh, man, those snakes are yucky! I hate snakes!” No, as spoken, the line was perfect. It was to the point. No fuss, no muss. That’s the kind of writing that can and will make or break your comedy screenplay.
In the classically whacky comedy Airplane, when Ted Striker (Robert Hays) asks Dr. Rumack (Leslie Neilson), “Surely you can’t be serious.” Then Rumack responds in that perfect deadpan manner, “I am serious...and don’t call me Shirley.” He doesn’t say, “Of course I’m serious. I’m very serious. And please do me a favor. Don’t call me Shirley.” A cumbersome line like that would’ve killed the joke.
But funny dialogue is just one component of a successfully written comedy screenplay. You mustn’t forget how your descriptive passages are actually delivered. An unsuccessful comedy script contains unwieldy descriptions that detract from the overall hilarity you’re trying to convey. (Say that ten times fast!) A big mistake most first-timers make is adding what I refer to as LBOB. That’s my shorthand for “little bits of business.” These are things that, in the mind of many novice writers, seem amusing, but aren’t. For example:
Joe crosses his arms, tilts his head to the left, nods, and laughs.
Sure, maybe it’s important to know that Joe laughs, but we probably don’t care that he crosses his arms, tilts his head to the left and nods. All that stuff just gets in the way. Let the actors figure out the “business” they’re going to do. That's why they get the big bucks. “Joe laughs.” Nuff said.
You can also under-describe a scene, not gaining the maximum impact of its humor. For instance, let’s say you have a scene where some dopey bozo comes out of a bar, walks down the sidewalk, and slips on a banana peel. Here are two ways you could do it:
EXAMPLE #1: “Joe walks out of the bar. He walks down the street and slips on a banana peel. He falls down on the sidewalk.”
EXAMPLE #2: “Joe steps from the tavern. A smile on his face, he gazes into the perfect sky on this bright, sunny day. He inhales a deep breath of fresh air...starts down the sidewalk, whistling happily as he goes. Problem is...he doesn’t see the BANANA PEEL right in front of him. His foot goes down on it – ZWOOOOP! He becomes airborne...”
I think the second example is more effective. If you thought so too, congratulations, you get a cookie.
Again, they write entire books about what makes a funny screenplay, so I sure ain't making any huge revelations in this blog entry...but I hope I've given all you first-timers something to think about before you tackle that comedy idea you’ve had percolating in your brain for the last six years. Good luck!
* * *
Available in paperback from Amazon.con and Kindle e-book! You're gonna love it cuz it's all about Hollywood and screenwriting!
No witches, no warlocks, no vampires. Just a sexy, rollicking story about a guy trying to hit it big in Hollywood.
"A great summer read!"
"A sexy Hollywood tale!"
"It's WHAT MAKES SAMMY RUN for the 21st century!"
Available in paperback from Amazon.con and Kindle e-book! You're gonna love it cuz it's all about Hollywood and screenwriting!
MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!
I’m now back in Los Angeles. Lemme tell ya, I had quite an adventure in El Salvador. I saw a lot of spectacular sights, did a lot of really fun and exciting things, ate a lot of great food...and got some solid work done. I also met some genuinely wonderful, gracious people who took excellent care of me.
So now I start work on a screenplay. It’s a truly fabulous story and I’m really looking forward to working on it. I’ll try to blog when I can, but if you don’t read anything new for a week or two, it’s only cuz I’m so focused on the script. But rest assured, I’ll keep ya’ll posted on any new and interesting developments. Until next time...
Buy Q and A: The Working Screenwriter here!
So now I start work on a screenplay. It’s a truly fabulous story and I’m really looking forward to working on it. I’ll try to blog when I can, but if you don’t read anything new for a week or two, it’s only cuz I’m so focused on the script. But rest assured, I’ll keep ya’ll posted on any new and interesting developments. Until next time...
Buy Q and A: The Working Screenwriter here!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
