Why This is Good

New screenwriters, particularly those who have studied English, creative writing or literature, tend to get too verbose and wordy in the scripts in an attempt to use proper grammar and the flowery, poetic language favored in prose writing.

Screenwriting should be as terse, concise, and brief as possible while still using vivid details to convey images, tone and emotion clearly. One of the reasons screenwriters get overly wordy is in their attempt to write properly structured sentences. Grammar and spelling are important, but sentence fragments are your friend here. Don’t worry about what your English teacher would say about your screenwriting, this is an entirely different medium, and the best screenwriting often uses incomplete fragmented sentences to not only quickly convey an image, but to keep up the pace and tone of an exciting, quickly moving story.

The more professional scripts you read, the more you’ll see that each screenwriter has their own unique style and voice. Shane Black will be different than Charlie Kauffman, who is different than Kevin Smith who is different than William Goldman. None of them will sound like any writing you’d read in a novel or stage play. Here are some examples of fragments that work well to vividly convey an image while remaining short and concise:

From The Princess Bride, by William Goldman

THIS KID (which he uses here as its own slugline/shot)

Lying in bed, coughing. Pale, one sick cookie.

Or the grandfather:

Kind of rumpled. But the eyes are bright.

From Adaptation, by Charlie Kaufman:

Endless barren landscape. No sign of life.

Describing Susan Orlean’s apartment:

Late night street. The click-click of typing.

The images they have chosen are visual and clear, but not long and drawn out. You can even use metaphors and similes, as long as they are brief and clearly the best way to describe the person, place or action. Some grammar rules should be followed-you won’t impress anyone by misusing homonyms, idioms or improperly using their, they’re and there or your and you’re, but when it comes to fragments, go nuts as long as the sentence is still clear and the reader will know what you are talking about. If it isn’t your style or seems to clash with the tone of the story, you don’t have to use fragments. And if you’re uncomfortable using them don’t.

Read as many scripts as you can get your hands on, and note how the writers use words to convey their story. Complete sentences aren’t necessary and aren’t always the most effective way to convey an image or the tone your story requires. Don’t be afraid of breaking the rules you learned in your English classes, this is screenwriting, not English.

As a screenwriter, heck as a human being, I’m constantly asked what my favorite movie is. I’ve never been able to narrow it down to one, though there are several that I would mention as my favorites. I’m listing my top 15 here, in alphabetical order, so no other preference will be implied, because I like each for different reasons, and they are from such different genres that I don’t think comparison is fair, and I cannot commit to one favorite, even of these 15.

This is a completely subjective list (you’ll see, especially in the honorable mention list that I’m unfairly biased by my love of Nicole Kidman) based on my opinion and is in no way meant to represent a list of the most significant or best films ever made, though some here are, while some are fun fluff. At their core, these are all movies that successfully entertained and moved me, which is what films are made to do.

The Age of Innocence (1993) – One of my favorite books and favorite movies. This story is such a poignant and raw telling of unrequited love and the depth of emotion teeming beneath the surface of a tightly wound society obsessed with custom and tradition. There is more passion and emotion in the chaste, slight touch of a hand in this story than there is in all the explicit, graphic sex scenes in some less compelling films.

Casablanca (1942)-This film is touted as one of the greatest of all time for a reason. It’s excellent in every way, and the unrequited, agonizing love story at the heart of the film is what makes it so powerful and so much more than just another movie about the war.

Elf (2003)-This movie is so fun, cute and infectiously sugary (or more appropriately, syrupy) sweet there’s nothing not to like unless you’re a serious cynic. I like my Christmas movies sappy and romantic, the rest of the year can be reserved for cynicism. Will Ferrell was born to play Buddy the Elf, he is absolutely adorable as an innocent, warm and loving man-child.

The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004)-Excellent, modern non-romanticized love story that, like It’s a Wonderful Life, adeptly explores the ramifications of someone no longer existing, and in this case, what that means for love and how strong feelings can help you hold onto something or someone that you are inexplicably drawn to.

Grease (1978)-I detest the message in Grease-in order to get the guy and fit in with the cool kids, you should give up who you are and dress and act trashy so everyone will like you. But, it’s not meant to be a morality play, and I can’t deny that the movie is amazingly fun to watch, and the songs always get me to sing along.

It’s a Wonderful Life (1946)-I love Christmas and adore sweet happy-ending Christmas movies. This classic is one of the best movies ever made, Christmas or not.

Lord of the Rings Trilogy (2001-2003)-I know that’s really three movies but I am counting them as one. The books stand alone as amazing stories and truly great works of fiction. The way that they were adapted this successfully is a testament to the filmmakers, actors, writers and everyone else involved in producing these epic and amazing films.

Love Actually-One of the sweetest, funniest romantic comedies ever made, it’s skillfully done, interweaving several different stories without losing the overall message, and managing to spend enough time with each character to get the audience fully involved in their small part of the story. I am a fan of warm fuzzy love stories, andthis film explores several different versions of love-focusing on not only romantic love but unrequited love, sisterly love, lust, friendship, and familial love.

Moulin Rouge! (2001)-I love Nicole Kidman, and the amazing visuals, music and costumes in this movie make it one of my all-time favorites. I love this movie so much that I chose Come What May for our first dance at my wedding. As a screenwriter, however, I have to admit that the story is not the most complex or compelling one out there, but it is good, and it definitely works, even if it is a little derivative and cliché. This film is a great example of how so many things come together to make a film successful-while the story is the foundation the rest of the parts are also vital to a film’s success.

The Princess Bride (1987)-Classic, amazing fairy tale with a modern twist. The story is traditional yet interesting, the characters are lovely, charming and engaging. It’s funny, romantic but not too sentimental, and always fun to watch.

Sense and Sensibility (1995)-Jane Austen was a master at romantic comedy well before Hollywood existed, and this adaptation is one of my favorites. The cast is excellent, the story works just as well on screen as it does in the novel.

Sleeping Beauty (1959) -I’m a huge Disney fan, a regular Disneyland goer, and way back before I decided on screenwriting seriously considered pursuing a career as an animator. My other great love in life, after writing, is art, so I have a special place in my heart for animation. The story of Sleeping Beauty has always appealed to me since I was a child, and I adore the stylized animation used in this Disney classic. It’s beautiful to look at and interesting to watch, with more suspense, drama, and real action than some of the other older classic Disney princess films.

A Streetcar Named Desire (1951)-An amazing film, so poignant and dramatic, with a superb cast, engaging story, and wonderful acting. There is something immensely compelling and emotionally raw in how Blanche suffers her mental breakdown, and the sexual tension and dysfunction between Blanche and Stanley is an interesting study of men and women and restraint and passion. Marlon Brando and Vivien Leigh are legends for a reason, and here you’ll see why (you’ll also see proof that Marlon Brando was drop dead gorgeous in his younger days).

Toy Story (1995)-I’ve written about this movie before, but I need to mention again what a great example of good filmaking it is. The animation was groundbreaking and helped establish computer animation as its own wildly successful sub-genre, for that alone Toy Story deserves respect. But whether it had been animated or not, the story is what makes this film a classic. The characters, though toys, have real problems, complex personalities and face enormous obstacles in pursuit of a goal. The structure of this film is perfect, and the hero is constantly challengedand made to work for his success. It’s also ridiculously entertaining and fun, as all good Disney animated movies are.

When Harry Met Sally (1989)-The dialogue and easy rapport between Harry and Sally help make it a great film. The chemistry between Harry and Sally builds gradually, but it is always there. Their witty banter and gentle teasing, the way the two get along so well and the amount of time it takes them to realize they are in love with each other in addition to being best friends reminds me of my own personal life.

Honorable Mention:

Australia (2008)

Batman (1989)

Batman Forever (1995)

Batman Returns (1992)

Chinatown (1974)

Far and Away (1992)

Inglorious Basterds (2009)

Little Miss Sunshine (2006)

Little Shop of Horrors (1986)

The Notebook (2004)

Now and Then (1995)

The Others (2001)

Pleasantville (1998)

Return to Me (2000)

Return to Oz (1985)

Roxanne (1987)

Schindler’s List (1993)

The Shop Around the Corner (1940)

Shopgirl (2005)

Sideways (2004)

Top Gun (1986)

Twelve Monkeys (1995)

Shutter Island was not just good, it was phenomenal. Watching such a truly great film, a film reminiscent of some of the greatest films made during the Golden Age of Hollywood was a truly exciting experience. It feels noir, it feels like Hitchcock, it feels like every truly great movie you’ve ever watched wondering “Why don’t they make films like this anymore?” all wrapped around an unexpected but perfectly logical twist ending every bit as exciting and intriguing as M. Night Shyamalan’s first (and in my opinion only) successful twist ending. Scorsese does everything right, and Shutter Island lives up to and exceedes the hype and anticipation surrounding this newest project with Leonardo DiCaprio.

Everything comes together to make this film the immense success that it is. The direction, as to be expected, is superb. The musical score perfectly complements the direction to create an eerie sense of foreboding and mystery that leave you feeling as confused and anxious as Leonardo DiCaprio, who is, as usual, excellent. Even the weather is used to help build the emotional suspense and intensity the audience feels along with the characters while watching the story unfold.

Of course, at the heart of all this greatness is the story. All of the amazing direction, acting, lighting and music wouldn’t work at all if there were significant flaws in the story. And thankfully, there are none. The story is perfectly structured to create an intense sense of anticipation, suspense, and emotional involvement in the characters and their plight. Our hero is immediately identifiable, and reveals an emotional trauma from his past in a way that at first feels formulaic in how common a device it has become, but later comes into play in a very surprising and unique way that works to enhance the story. There are clichés, there are screenwriting and filmmaking  devices we’ve seen hundreds of time, but here, used so skillfully in such talented hands in such an interesting story, they feel more like an homage to filmmaking than a lazy attempt to copy what everyone else has done. You’ll be entertained, moved, and have your faith in America cinema restored.

This may sound like a rather boring topic, but I think learning the history and origins of formatting will help you understand the reasons why proper formatting is so important.

Unlike books, screenplays have only been around since the age of the typewriter. While typewriters may seem like extremely archaic devices to those of us who have grown up with computers, compared to ancient books being written by hand, screenplays are relatively modern literary works. The most basic elements of contemporary screenplay format are holdovers from the early days when scripts were typed on typewriters. The font-Courier, is not just used because it makes the script look as if it were written on a typewriter. Filmmakers are not that nostalgic. Courier is used because it is a monospace font. A monospaced, or fixed-width font is one whose letters each take up the same amount of space on the page. Some fonts are proportional, a w will take up more room than an i. With Courier, each letter takes up the same amount of room, which means that the spacing is consistent and uniform. This is important because of timing. All of the formatting, along with the writing style contribute to a uniform style that keeps the words on the page as close as possible to one minute per page standard. If your formatting varies from these standards, it throws off this ratio. Your 120 page script in Times New Roman 14-point font with three inch margins will not translate into two hours of screen time. A 120 page script in Courier 12-point with the correct margins will, or will come very close.

Margins are also in place to provide consistency in both look and pacing. The origins of margins were to give readers, producers and directors ample room to write notes, and to make a clear distinction between dialogue and action description. Incorrect margins are one of the first things that will jump out to a trained reader and mark your script as amateur work, so make sure you understand and use the proper margins.

There are other picky, odd screenwriting format guidelines that may seem odd, but they are there for a reason. The binding with only two brads is to facilitate the easy unbinding of scripts so that multiple copes may be made. As we move towards a more electronic, paperless age, this may change, but for now, stick to the rules and go with brads-only two brads! Do not ever dream of binding your script in any way other than with brads. Your story will have to be the best thing they’ve ever read to pacify the intern or reader who has to unbind it from some fancy spiral binding, any script bound that way is likely to end up in the trash, unless your uncle is James Cameron, and even then you’re starting out on the wrong foot.

Fancy covers in anything but neutral colors, or, even worse, with illustrations or logos are a red flag of epic newbieness to readers. Your story should be strong enough to stand on its own. Don’t try to show off your graphic design talents or your ideas for casting or marketing your movie. You’re just the writer, and all they want from you is a properly formatted, emotionally engaging, marketable story.

For more on formatting and beginner mistakes to avoid, check out the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences guidelines here.

If you read my post on New Year’s Resolutions for Screenwriters,  you know how important I think reading screenplays can be.  We’re now halfway through the second month of the year, so I wanted to nag you about those resolutions and reiterate why reading screenplays is so essential to your writing career. It is equally important to read produced, professional scripts as it is to read amateur spec scripts. The first will help teach you formatting, style and language, the second will help motivate and inspire you as you see how good or bad your competition is. It’s easy to find professional scripts online, and it’s easy to get your hands on amateur scripts by joining a writer’s group or taking a screenwriting class.

When I’m working on a consultation, it is always clear from page one whether or not the writer has ever read another screenplay. Most of us read books, magazines and newspapers regularly, and probably have throughout most of our lives. People aspiring to be journalists will have read thousands of articles by the time they set out to write their own, and those wishing to become authors of novels will have already spent their lives reading and studying other novels and authors. But screenwriters don’t always see the importance of reading scripts, and often think that watching lots of movies qualifies them to know how to write a screenplay. Watching movies is very important, but reading screenplays in their original form is equally, if not more important. If you don’t have time to do both, read scripts instead of watching films, you’ve probably already watched enough movies and may have never read a screenplay.

We all watch movies, and we have all become experts at understanding and analyzing them. The movie, however, is a drastically different thing than the screenplay that created it. The movie is the finished project, a collaborative work that involves hundreds of different people. The way the movie works is not based only on the script, but the work of the director, the lighting and camera angles chosen, the actors, the clothes they wear, their makeup and hair, the sound effects and score, the special effects. The way a movie makes you feel might be influenced by who you watch it with. If you go to a theater on a first date, you may be too nervous or self-conscious or excited by the person you’re with to fully focus on the movie and feel the emotions you would have if you had been alone. If you have an aversion to or a love for an actor in the film, you might judge it based on that person, and not fairly critique the story and the acting because of your bias. You might be such a fan of the director that you think anything they do is utter perfection, and not bother paying attention to the story because you’re so enamored of their use of angles and shots and lighting that nothing else matters.

Reading a script, like reading a novel, is generally a solitary activity that allows you to fully focus on the story and the words the writer uses. There are no actors to bring awful dialogue to life. The dialogue stands alone, black and white on the page, good or bad based on how it is written and nothing else. The story will either intrigue or bore you, it is what it is and has nothing but white paper and black typeface to make it interesting. No lighting or music will enhance it, and you are free to judge it on its own merit. You can easily put down the script if it bores you or read it all in one sitting if it fascinates you. Reading a script will help you realize what you like about a story and what you don’t without being influenced by the myriad effects a finished film has to enhance and intensify the experience.

Reading screenplays will also teach you what is appropriate and what is not. Formatting rules are important and there for a reason, and you can learn them and use a screenwriting software program, but until you’ve read so many scripts that your eyes become accustomed to the correct margins, font size and spacing, you won’t catch mistakes or realize what works and what doesn’t. No story analyst has to whip out a ruler to check margins. We have seen so many screenplays that we immediately know if something is off. Readers recognize these mistakes instantly and reject amateurish formatting goofs. When you read screenplays you’ll also become so familiar with formatting that you’ll pick out mistakes in your own work and know what to avoid.

Screenwriting style is distinct and separate from other forms of writing. As with formatting, there are rules to learn, but until you’ve read enough screenplays, you won’t fully understand the rules to the point that they become instinctive and natural. Books and teachers can tell you the rules-write in the present tense, use short declarative sentences, be concise, use an active voice- but until you have read enough screenplays, it will be difficult to find your own voice and truly expand your style because you’ll be so hampered by trying to remember all the rules, and so afraid of breaking them, that your creativity will be stifled.

Check out these great sites for finding scripts to read:

Simply Scripts

Drew’s Script-o-Rama

Awesome Film

Daily Script

Internet Movie Script Database

Join a writer’s group or take a screenwriting class to get your hands on some amateur work, you’ll not only get great practice reading, you’ll get feedback on your own work in exchange for your critiques.

Write On! Online

Keep Writing

Storylink

I’m often searching for and judging films by the level of emotion they elicit. As Michael Hauge teaches, the primary goal of a film is to elicit emotion. Everything about the film-from the screenwriting techniques and rules discussed here to the music and the actors-is designed to get the audience to relate to identify with the hero and experience their story through that character’s eyes. We must understand them, empathize with them, and care about what happens to them enough to want to watch the story and to feel emotion when they do, when we see them succeed or fail.

I knew The Boy in the Striped Pajamas would be difficult to watch, I hoped it would succeed at eliciting emotion, but I was not prepared for how profoundly and powerfully it would accomplish this task. There’s nothing new about the story, the horrors of the Holocaust elicit such a morbid curiousity that they are a constant subject of Hollywood and independent films. Some of the best films I’ve ever seen-Inglorious Basterds, Schindler’s List, The Counterfeiters-deal with the grisly reality of World War II and all its atrocities in vastly different ways. The Boy in the Striped Pajamas also used an interesting perspective. Told through the eyes of a child, it not only represented the innocent view that kids have of the world, but also the naïve way that many Germans saw the Concentration Camps, and how they were able to look the other way and assume the best about the “work camps” and what was happening there. Both the blue-eyed Arian boy Bruno and the sad broken down, utterly confused but still friendly and trusting Shmuel still maintain hope and cheerfulness that reminds the viewer of how incredibly resilient and strong children can be. Bruno’s dad is a soldier, something Bruno is very proud of. As the film opens his father is promoted, and his family is sent to live in the countryside. Curious and lonesome for friends, Bruno discovers a “farm” nearby, where odd-looking farmers in striped pajamas work behind electrified barbed wire. Bruno disobediently goes exploring and finds a friend his age, who he visits and plays with as much as he can.

Throughout the film, the pervasiveness of dread clouds what would otherwise be an overly naïve sunshine-and-rainbows look at the holocaust. The audience is in a superior position here, sharing in the cruel hoax being perpetrated against the family and the “workers”. We understand what’s happening at the camp, we worry about Bruno and his small friend trapped inside. We experience the shock and horror along with Bruno’s mother as she realizes what really is happening and what kind of a monster her husband is.

But none of this is new, as I pointed out, Holocaust films are so prevalent they could constitute their own genre. What this film does remarkably well, [SPOILER ALERT] is to horrify and disturb the viewer on many different levels. What is most horrific about this film is not the final march into the gas chambers, it is the feeling of injustice and the realization that we, like the Nazi family, don’t fully comprehend or feel the horror until Bruno, who we have grown to identify with, is sent to the gas chamber. While watching the film we are constantly reminded by the ominous black smoke and the dialogue about the smell, that people inside are being burned alive.  And that is obviously upsetting, but it is academic, and elicits no more emotion than one feels reading a factual historical account of a tragedy. Until we are there, with our hero, the little German boy that the film has taught us to relate to and empathize with, until he, rather than the other nameless Jewish men who have gone before him, is being marched into the oven, we do not fully feel or understand the horror.

This realization is the most disturbing of all, as it shows how we, like the Germans looking the other way, can ignore and dismiss tragedy and human suffering, until we feel it on a level we can relate to and understand. This film is disturbing not just because of the horrific subject matter it handles so well, but because it cuts to the very core of the viewer’s notions of compassion and care. Why were we not equally horrified and sickened earlier in the film, seeing the black smoke and knowing what caused it? Because we did not know or feel that those were real people. This is a fascinating lesson in psychology as well as screenwriting, as it proves how absolutely essential it is to get the audience to relate to your hero and your characters. Unless the audience or reader feels empathy and attachment to a hero, they will not care deeply about what that character is going through, no matter how tragic.

Motivation is something we normally think of as associated with actors, but it is important for writers to consider character motivation when crafting a screenplay. Of course, the most important element of a successful screenplay is a strong, clear, outer motivation, or visible goal that the hero or protagonist is pursuing. However here, I am talking about the motivation each character has in a scene or sequence. If you write every scene with this in mind-that every character, not just your hero, wants something, your script will be much improved and you’ll find the story flows much easier.

Your hero, while pursuing an overall goal for the story, is in pursuit of smaller goals during the course of the story. They will break up their goal into smaller, mini-goals. A brilliant professor I was lucky enough to learn from at California State University Northridge, Eric Edson, broke the entire structure of film into twenty-two specific goal sequences. In each scene or sequence, they are trying to achieve one step in their overall plan to accomplish their ultimate goal or motivation. The obstacles they face which create conflict and constitute the story come from other characters whose goals and wants are in opposition to the hero’s.

In a love story, for example, your hero’s ultimate goal may be to get another character to fall in love with him or her. The hero may face opposition in the form of a rival who is competing for the love interest’s affection, or there may be external factors-family, money, geography-that are keeping the lovers apart. The hero may be faced with the task of convincing the love interest herself that she should be with him. In this case the hero’s goal in any given scene would be to show the object of his affection that he is loveable and worthy of her love. Her goal in this same scene would be to spurn his advances and convince him to leave her alone and move on, or convince him that he doesn’t or shouldn’t really love her.
Sometimes all the characters are on a quest together-their goal is the same, they all want the same thing, but external forces-other characters or circumstances-are opposing them. When the family desperately tries to get Olive to the hotel in time for the pageant in Little Miss Sunshine, when the Fellowship of the Ring try to get the ring to Mordor to be destroyed. The characters all want the same things in these scenes, they are working together, facing opposition because they are late, the car won’t work properly, or the armies of Sauron are building against them.

Motivations are often hidden to the audience or to the hero, or to both. The reader or the other characters may not always know what each character wants in a given scene, but the screenwriter must know this, and must take care to craft a story in which each character wants something, and has their own motivation to pursue.

Sending a critique to a new client always leaves me feeling anxious. As a consultant, my M.O. is brutal honesty, tempered with deserved praise. It’s not my job to stroke your ego or make you feel warm and fuzzy about screenwriting. I’m not your mom and I’m not going to love everything you write. A lot of writers aren’t expecting this. They’ve read my articles, maybe corresponded with me via email and they think I sound pretty nice, (hey, I am pretty nice!). So they’re expecting some bland, easy-to-read critique with a few ideas on improving dialogue or a character or two. Instead, what you’ll usually get from me is five, ten, sometimes more pages of intense criticism and analysis of all the many flaws or your fledgling screenplay-but always with suggestions on how to improve what is wrong. I would never tell you it stinks and not explain why and how to make it good again.

Because I’m so critical and don’t sugar-coat a thing, I often worry that a writer, having thus far only received effusive praise from their friends and family, will break down in anger and resentment after reading a critique that bursts their bubble and tells them in no uncertain terms that they have a long way to go before their story will be ready for Hollywood. I wait for a response, assuming the worst, assuming I’ll get an angry email arguing against every point I made. I worry that a death threat or an irate disgruntled writer may show up at my door. I hope that I haven’t discouraged this new client from writing, or made the task of fixing their story so daunting that they shelve it and go back to their day job with no hope of ever being a writer.

Most of the time, reactions aren’t this extreme, but I often do get the dreaded and feared response from writers not quite ready to hear anything but praise. The worst reactions to me are the sad, dejected variations on the theme of: “Wow I guess I’m not cut out to be a writer after all. Thanks for helping me realize I have no talent and should just give up.” I’d rather you were furious and mad, because you could use that passion to prove me wrong, and put that energy into improving your story and submitting it with a gusto. Anger might lead to a renewed fervor-“I’ll show that idiot analyst what I’m made of-she’ll be eating her words when I get this script optioned and produced and it wins a million awards!” That is awesome and I wish people reacted that way.

Giving up because you received some negative feedback is silly. Yes I know what I’m talking about, yes I am highly trained, but I’m still just one person with an opinion. If I don’t like your script it doesn’t mean it doesn’t have potential. In fact, out of all the clients I have ever worked with, there have only been one or two scripts that I felt really didn’t have any potential and couldn’t be improved. Almost every story-no matter how badly written or conceived it is when I read it-has some spark in it and some potential to be improved to the point that it will work. Almost every writer who undergoes the incredibly difficult process of writing an entire screenplay has enough talent to continue pursuing writing.  It takes years, decades, often an entire lifetime to perfect the craft and to actually produce something marketable. Rarely does a screenwriter sell their first attempt, and I would venture that they never sell their first, unedited, unrevised draft. All scripts go through rewrites, criticism, and rejection. If you cannot take criticism from someone you paid for criticism, you probably don’t have enough confidence to face the enormous amount of rejection you will as a writer.

Learning to accept and utilize constructive criticism is one of the most important skills you can develop as a writer. My undergraduate degree is in Cinema and Television Arts, with an emphasis in Screenwriting and a Minor in Art. My graduate degree is in Screenwriting. But after six years of studying writing, I like to think that I also earned an honorary degree in Constructive Criticism. Both the Screenwriting and Art classes I took taught me how to give and receive feedback. Some classes taught basics, or theory, in some we studied film, art history, or other writers or artists, but most classes also involved presenting a finished product-whether that was a screenplay, a short story, a painting or a sculpture-to class and having it critiqued-in front of and by everyone, but always with suggestions for improvement. Not only was your work criticized by fellow students, but by the professor in charge of your grade. The critiques from students often seemed unfairly biased or inaccurate, but nonetheless, we had to learn to accept what everyone said, and react calmly and professionally, thanking them for their feedback and providing them with our own opinions on their work in return. In graduate school as a teacher’s assistant, and in my work teaching screenwriting, I had to further hone my skills and work to specifically pinpoint exactly what was wrong with the screenplays other students were submitting. I couldn’t just tell them their story sucked or their dialogue sounded terrible, I had to tell them why, and most importantly how to fix the problems with their stories. Critiquing someone in a way that is both honest and effective in that they are able to accept and use your advice is a very difficult skill that I know I have developed thanks to school and my career thus far. If nothing else proves it, it’s the fact that none of the writer’s I’ve worked with have tracked me down and egged my house, and many have chosen to work with me again and again.

I criticize because I care. I’m not coming from some holier-than-thou position of being in power and liking to watch new writers squirm. I’m like you. I’m a writer still hoping to make it big. I’ve worked in the industry, judged competitions, and taught other screenwriters.  I’ve been mentored by one of the great story analysts out there-Michael Hauge-and have modeled my methods after him. I do know what I’m talking about, and I do have a wealth of knowledge to share with you. And I truly want you to succeed. I do care about other writers and feel connected to the ones I work with. But my desire for your success isn’t purely altruistic-it’s in my best interest. If, after working with me, you go on to get your script sold and produced, and it makes billions of dollars and wins fifteen Academy Awards, I’m going to get a lot more clients and gain enormous credibility. If nothing else convinces you that my criticism is meant to help, it should be that. Your success is directly proportional to my success, and I cannot wait to see your name up on the silver screen, and hear you thanking me during your acceptance speech at the Oscars.

I hope you’ll take this to heart when receiving criticism of any sort. Whether you choose to work with another story analyst or consultant, a friend or colleague,  a writer’s group, or with me, keep in mind that criticism is meant to be constructive. Don’t take it personally and don’t get offended, just listen, consider what is relevant and try your best to incorporate the good suggestions into your work. The more feedback you get the better, and I highly recommend having as many people as are willing-both in and out of the industry-read your script and give you their honest thoughts and opinions.

On Friday I gave my take on Dear John, and I hope it helped guide some of your movie-watching choices over the weekend. I’d like to give a quick update on the other movies I watched over the past two weeks in keeping with my New Year’s resolution. For the first six movies I watched this year, see my post from Jan. 21.

The next set were: Inglorious Basterds, When in Rome, A Clockwork Orange and Dear John.

Inglorious Basterds-As is becoming my habit, I’m embarrassed that it took me so long to see this amazing film. I had it on my list to rush out and see the day it came out but somehow didn’t manage until recently. I’m so pleased to see such a great example of Quentin Tarentino’s brilliance on display once again. I sometimes think he is overrated and is idolized too much by film buffs and students, but when he puts out something this good, his genius is undeniable. The story is fascinating, the acting superb and the use of dramatic irony to create intense tension and suspense is incredible. Check out my post on Talking Heads for more on this.

When in Rome-I love a good romantic comedy, but this was just an adequate romantic comedy. It tried hard, but suffered from a silly premise and clichéd rom-com devices that bordered on corny. Once again we have an over-worked, cynical, ridiculously successful ingénue (so successful that, to my utter horror, she could afford to toss aside her beautiful cerulean blue satin Christian Louboutin’s as if they were some cheap Payless knock-offs) who can’t and doesn’t even want to find love until her baby sister marries.

I was amused by the antics of the men under the spell of the fountain fawning over, stalking, and harassing poor Kristen Bell (especially Danny DeVito) but I didn’t feel quite enough chemistry between her and Josh Duhamel to really enjoy the story. They try hard, but fall short of creating a truly memorable love story. It’s good for a few laughs, and the reunion cameo of Napoleon Dynamite and Pedro is a cute touch, but this movie overall will be remembered (or forgotten) as another mediocre romantic comedy.

A Clockwork Orange-Sometimes I think Stanley Kubrick is just a pervert who we’ve all mistakenly dubbed a genius. There are parts of this film that fully support my theory, and other parts that hold him up as a great. Of course, we can’t blame Stanley for all of the perversions in this adaptation, but we can give him credit for crafting such an intriguing, if utterly disturbing film. The direction certainly helps make this film great, but the story is also a huge part of its success. Considering how avant-garde this film is supposed to be, it does use a fairly traditional plot and story structure that presents a fascinating moral question and an interesting examination of a possible future dilemma.

I’ll admit it, I’m a sucker for a good tear-jerking Nicholas Sparks adaptation. A Walk to Remember and The Notebook will have me bawling no matter how many times I’ve watched them.  And although the Oscar-nominated Crazy Heart was playing at the same time and I knew it would probably be a better film, the teenage girl in me opted for Dear John. I was fully prepared to fall in love along with the beautiful Amanda Seyfried and equally gorgeous Channing Tatum, and bawl my eyes out when some tragedy tore them apart. While some might fault Sparks for being sentimental and melodramatic, I appreciate that he is not afraid to examine the illnesses that are a reality for many people. His works can be a little formulaic, and Dear John was no exception. As Walk to Remember dealt with cancer and The Notebook with Alzheimer’s, Dear John focused on Autism. The bravery and honesty with which it was portrayed, notably by Richard Jenkins as John’s aging father, was the best part of the movie, but it didn’t save the film overall from its major flaws.

As with his other adaptations, Dear John presented us with another pair of attractive young people torn apart by outside forces bent on destroying their pure, amazing, incredible love. In this case it was the war that took dear John away from Savannah’s loving embrace.  The story was less predictable than I predicted, but sadly the acting was so horrible that I couldn’t bring myself to shed a single tear. Channing Tatum is gorgeous but he can hardly speak, his acting so wooden he could give Pinocchio splinters. While Amanda Seyfried is stunningly gorgeous and possesses possibly the most beautiful pair of blue eyes ever made, I couldn’t help but see a bit of the vacancy she displayed in Mean Girls poking through in this performance. I won’t go so far as to say they had no chemistry, but I will say their passion fell flat and I didn’t feel the love in the way I was expecting to, and because of that, this film failed to draw out a single tear from someone who can tear up after viewing a mere commercial featuring a soldier returning home to a loving family. This is Nicholas Sparks, it should have left me bawling. And it wasn’t just me. I heard more snickers than sniffling from the teenage through sixty-something women in the audience around me, and for that reason alone Dear John was quite a disappointing failure.