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A million dollar screenplay with a little help from Will Ferrell and Adam McKay.

Genre: Comedy
Premise: A woman uses her amazing internet skills to stalk and seduce the perfect guy.
About: This script finished Top 10 on the Black List and I believe Top 3 on the Hit List (list of best spec screenplays of the year). This is reportedly Kahn’s first script, but I have serious doubts about that. Nobody writes this efficiently their first time out. Either this is misinformation and they meant it’s the first script she’s gotten notice from, or she’s had help from producers guiding her along (like Diablo Cody did with Juno). Kahn was also Will Ferrell’s old assistant. Some people have told me he gave her notes on the script. Anyway, the script sold last year for a million bucks!
Writer: Lauryn Kahn
Details: 114 pages – August 22nd, 2011 draft (This is an early draft of the script. The situations, characters, and plot may change significantly by the time the film is released. This is not a definitive statement about the project, but rather an analysis of this unique draft as it pertains to the craft of screenwriting).

 

Hmmm, Zoey Deschanel for Charlie?

Well here’s a funny story. I’ve been going around telling everybody for the last two months that “He’s Fucking Perfect” is really fucking bad. I’d shout it from the rooftops when I could, only because I didn’t want anyone to waste their time. So it continually confused me when so many people wrote me saying, “Um, Carson, I don’t think this is that bad. I actually liked it a lot.” This led me to believe that everybody in the world was insane. But at a certain point, when, like, the 30th person in a row told me it was a good script, I began to wonder, “Am *I* the one who's insane?”

So finally, the other day, I picked it up and re-read the first 10 pages. Every reader has bad days when no matter what you put in front of them, they won’t like it. And I was wondering if I had had one of those days.

It took me about two pages to realize….this was a different script! This entire time I was confusing THIS script with ANOTHER script that had the word “Fucking” in the title. Hey, I’m sorry okay? I read a lot of scripts. This sometimes happens. But it would be helpful if everyone and their mom wasn’t putting the word “Fucking” in the title of their screenplay!

Anyway, as I started reading, it became clear to me, this script was EVEN WORSE than the other script I read!

No, I’m kidding. I’m KIDDING. Truth be told I was laughing within the first two pages. And it only got funnier from there. I’m just going to say it: This script is fuckin perfect!

Well, no, that’s not true. But it’s really good. In fact, the read so inspired me, I decided to create an impromptu list of “5 Ways You Know You’re Reading A Great Script.” Here we go!

1 – For the 100 minutes you’re reading the script, writing seems like the easiest thing in the world.

2 – Afterwards, you immediately want to go write a similar script in the same genre.

3 – You’re bummed when it’s over and wonder, “Why can’t every script be this good?”

I actually don’t have a 4 and 5. That’s what happens when you go impromptu. Man, I am not doing this review justice. Maybe now is a good time to get to the plot, no?

29 year old Charlie (Oh no! A female character with a male name in a romantic comedy – maybe this *is* Lauryn’s first time writing a script) is a Google ninja. Her biggest talent is her ability to research guys her friends are dating to determine whether they’re marriage material or not. She’s gotten so good at it, in fact, that women are now coming to her willing to pay for her services.

This culminates in an old bitchy acquaintance of hers asking to look into her new boyfriend, Evan, who seems too good to be true. Charlie does just that and for the first time in history, she doesn’t find a SINGLE thing wrong with the man she’s researching. He’s hot. He’s kind. He climbs mountains. He plays instruments. He volunteers at children’s clubs (he’s even a “Big Brother!”). He’s fucking PERFECT.

So what does Charlie do? Well of course she tells her acquaintance that she found out Even has gonorrhea and then goes after him herself! But not the way normal people go after someone. Charlie learns every single thing about the guy on the internet so that she can become his perfect match!

After stalking his foursquare movements, she “accidentally” bumps into him one day, and because she’s able to play to his every interest, he quickly falls for her.

But what Charlie starts to realize is that dating the perfect guy is HARD WORK. It means that YOU TOO have to be perfect. And since Charlie is anything but perfect (she’s not a vegetarian, she doesn’t play instruments, she doesn’t like culture, she doesn’t want to feed the children in Africa), making this relationship work is taking a LOT of effort.

What’s complicating things even more is that Evan’s best friend seems WAY more like her crowd. I mean, he doesn’t have 8 pack abs and isn’t changing the world, but he likes to smoke pot, he likes to eat meat and he’s generally more…relaxed. Like Charlie! As Charlie tries to navigate these conflicted feelings – being with the man she believes she’s supposed to be with or being with the man she’s actually supposed to be with – her not-so-secret plan begins to unravel, possibly destroying her chances with either of them.

This screenplay was just fucking good. There’s usually one really good comedy script every year and this is the one, without question. I mean, I don’t even know where to begin.

The characters! The characters were great. Besides the main three, we have Betsy, Charlie’s best friend, who may be the dumbest girl you’ve ever met, and yet the funniest. Little quirks like her always messing up popular phrases (“I’m waiting on eggshells.”) were perfect.

Then there’s Doug, the weirdo potential stalker/rapist who Betsy hires to help Charlie stalk Evan. Even though Charlie fires him the first day, he still somehow finds his way to every single event and date that Charlie goes on with Evan.

Lauryn also got the best out of every scene she wrote. This is really what separates the okay comedy writers from the great ones. Every single scene is good. Not every fourth scene. EVERY scene. For example, there’s a scene early on where Charlie prepares to ‘accidentally’ bump into Evan at the bookstore. She spots him, picks up a random book to look busy, and just as planned, he notices her. They start chatting and in order to impress him, she makes up a story about buying the book for her “younger sister” from the “Little Sisters” program. But Charlie hasn’t actually looked at the book yet and when she lifts it up, it’s one of those weird inappropriate fantasy books with naked alien women on the cover. Evan’s weirded out, but she’s able to talk her way out of it AND secure a future date with the hunk. Except Evan suggests they get their little brother and sister together to bring with them. Of course, Charlie doesn’t have a little sister, so she has to go find one for the date. And it’s all hilarious. Every scene here is full of funny situations like this.

One thing I noticed about “He’s Fucking Perfect” is that it had a few “Let’s Get High” scenes (Charlie smokes pot with Evan’s friend) JUST LIKE Two Night Stand from last week. And if you remember, I took that script to task for the lazy choice. Usually, when you have two characters wanting to get high, it means you’ve run out of ideas for your story.

But here’s the difference. In “He’s Fucking Perfect,” the “Let’s get high” scenes are integrated into the characters and plot. The whole point here is that Charlie’s trying to be this “perfect” person in front of Evan. But “getting high” is who she *really is.* It’s a secret she keeps from him. So when she’s given the opportunity to secretly get high with his friend, she’s making a choice steeped in character – go back to who she really is or be this “new person” that she wants to be. The scenes also push forward the relationship between her and Evan’s friend, making them plot-related as well. In other words, the choice to include the “let’s get high” scenes is necessary for the story.

In Two Night Stand, it boiled down to a writer who didn’t have any ideas so he threw in the infamous, “Wanna get high?” scenario.

In the end, what I really loved about this script though was how infectious and fun the writing was. There was no strain here. The words on the page seemed to emerge effortlessly, as if they were coming right out of Lauryn’s mouth.

This is so contrary to what I usually read, where sentences and paragraphs feel heavy – almost *too* constructed. Don’t get me wrong. You want your script and your writing to be polished. But there’s a point where it becomes too perfect and the writing doesn’t feel natural anymore. You want to watch out for that, ESPECIALLY in a comedy, where the writing is supposed to feel loose and fast.

I don’t know what else to say. This script was really good. It might even make my Top 25 after I sit on it for awhile. If you’re a comedy writer, this is the bar. This is what you’re aiming for.

[ ] Wait for the rewrite
[ ] wasn’t for me
[ ] worth the read
[x] impressive
[ ] genius

What I learned: The other day, Tawnya talked about how theme is the opposite of a character’s flaw. Let’s see that in action here. The theme of this script is a simple one: “Be yourself.” Charlie’s flaw is what? She’s trying to become someone she’s not. There it is. Flaw and theme are the opposite of one another.

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“Writing Movies for Fun and Profit” is one of the more interesting books to come along in the screenwriting community in a while. Its authors, the writers of such movies as Night at the Museum and Herbie Fully Loaded, seem to take the opposite approach when it comes to writing than mainstays such as Robert McKee and Blake Snyder. Gone are long chapters on how to develop your characters. Absent is any in-depth look at structure. In their place is a single core piece of advice: Write big fun family "four quadrant" movies and rake in the dollars.

Despite the actual screenwriting advice being some of the worst I've ever encountered, the backstage insider look into the business side of screenwriting is nothing short of amazing. Basically, the book tells you what happens after you break into the club. It's funny, it's sad, it's interesting, but if you ever wondered what it's really like to be a working screenwriter or you want to prepare yourself for when you finally make that big jump, this is definitely a book for you.

Before I get into some of the more interesting aspects of the book, I'd like to warn you about its biggest weakness - its unequivocally terrible advice when it comes to writing a screenplay. You see, these guys believe it's as easy as slapping together a bunch of funny scenes and making a $1 million sale. Let me tell you why they think this and why they're wrong. As the authors point out in their book, on most big projects there are a lot of writers. Oftentimes, new writers are brought in to beef up the weak portions of the screenplay. So if the dialogue is bad, the producers will bring in writers who are good with dialogue. Once they're finished, the producers may realize that the structure is sloppy. So they'll fire the dialogue guys and bring in some structure guys. What our authors seem to understand but not acknowledge is that they’re the "comedy" guys. They're the writers you bring in when you want jokes. But the between the lines message here – and I'm not even sure our authors are aware of it – is that when the producers want people who actually know how to write a screenplay, who understand the guts, the depth, how to add heart, and all those things that actually make a story resonate with people, they bring in writers who actually know how to write. So while our authors implying that none of that "deep" stuff really matters may be true for their own specific experiences, it has nothing to do with Joe Nobody’s approach to a screenplay. Joe Nobody still has to display an intrinsic understanding of the craft to impress a reader. It would be nice if all you had to do was tell a couple of jokes to make a million bucks. But that's simply not the case.

The good news is, none of that stuff is the focus of the book. The main focus here is the business end. And I have to give it to these guys. They taught me a hell of a lot about how things work once you're a highly paid screenwriter. Here are some of the highlights.

OH NO
My favorite chapter (and probably the most terrifying chapter you'll ever read if you're a screenwriter) is the one that deals with the authors' experience writing Herbie: Fully Loaded. Now if you ask me, I'm not jumping up and down begging somebody to let me write another Herbie movie. But hey, everybody's got their thing. So these guys pitched Herbie to the studio president and she loved it. She thought it was the greatest idea ever and quickly made Herbie the most important movie on the studio’s slate. She then set them up with a producer who basically had zero interest in making a Herbie movie and therefore tried to make a version of what she believed a Herbie movie for people who don't like Herbie would be like. She then proceeded to make the writers change every single aspect of their story, even though those were all the things the studio fell in love with. And they couldn't do anything about it. When you're the writers, you can't just call the studio president and say, "Hey, this producer is making us change all the things you love.” There is a hierarchy. You're not allowed to go over anybody's head. So all they could do was stand on the deck and watch the Titanic sink.

This is what I don't get about Hollywood. It would seem to me that one of the more important decisions you would make as a president would be to match up a project with a producer who understands and cares about that project. It sounds like a producer was just randomly assigned to these guys. I don't see how good movies could consistently be made under that process (note to readers: the authors assure us rather proudly that that producer is no longer working in the business). But what should really tickle your noodle is that these guys also wrote Taxi – a movie in which the development process went as smoothly as newly churned butter. Now comparing Herbie to Taxi is kind of like comparing Jersey Shore to Basketball Wives. But in a close race I would still say that Herbie comes out on top. Which begs the question: How much does development really matter?

PITCHING
One of the big changes in your life after your first sale is that you'll now become a human pitch machine, pitching your own projects or pitching yourself as the best option for someone else's projects. This is an element of the business that very few people talk about outside of working screenwriters. And these guys do a pretty good job of preparing you for it. Probably the most important advice they give you is that whatever movie you’re pitching should have a main character a movie star will want to play. Because no matter how much movie blogs and Hollywood insiders are trying to convince us that stars no longer matter, the easiest way to get financing and confidence behind a project is to have a movie star attached. They also point out that your idea should be different but shouldn't reinvent the wheel. It should sound like a cross between two really successful films (they use the example "Die Hard" meets "Home Alone" but I'm pretty sure they were joking – although it's hard to tell – these are the guys who wrote Taxi remember). The rest of their advice about pitching is rather practical – be excited about your movie, don't be afraid to act out some of the parts, and keep it short (a typical pitch is 15 min. long). But the point is, this is the part of Hollywood that most screenwriters have no clue about until they're thrown into the fire. It sure is nice to get a look at the logs before the match is lit.

PAGE LENGTH
One of the more amusing chapters I ran into was in regards to page count and page formatting. For everybody who thinks that the length of their screenplay doesn't matter, wait till you start writing for a big studio. The studios are so obsessed with page length that they actually have their own specific formatting requirements. They give you specific indents and formatting rules you must enter into your screenwriting software when you write drafts for them. If you turn a script in that doesn't follow that formatting data, they will chop off your fingers. The reason for this is, obviously, every page is roughly equal to a certain amount of screen time, usually 1 min. And each of the studios have perfected a formatting template that allows them to best measure the length of a movie based on the length of the screenplay. So for those of you freaking out about page length now, wait until you have to start formatting a studio script. That's when shit gets real.

GETTING PAID
One of the most enlightening chapters in the book is the chapter about getting paid. I can't tell you how many writers have asked me how much they should expect to make selling their first screenplay, and then, if the screenplay gets made, how much they should expect to make on the back end. These are the details I've always wanted answers to and the book goes into as much minutia as I've ever seen on the matter. So how much is the minimum one can make from selling a screenplay? The short answer is, the Writers Guild requires a writer be paid at least $110,000 for an original screenplay. However, you aren't in the Writers Guild. And that means somebody could pay you 200 bucks. Where things get interesting though is on the backend. This is where the writing business gets messy. The reason that those writing credits are so coveted – even on total pieces of shit like Paul Blart 3 – is because as long as you have an official credit on the film, you'll be getting paid for the rest of your life. All those writers who worked on the script but didn't get credit? They don't get diddly squat outside of their rewrite fee.

The fight for that coveted credit has created one of the most highly controversial arbitration processes in any union. Without getting into too much detail, in order to determine who gets the credit on a screenplay, a bunch of your fellow writers read all the drafts from all the people who worked on the project, and decide who to give the credit to. Each writer is also allowed to give a written argument as to why they believe they should get the credit. Oftentimes, credit is given to the writer with the most persuasive argument. So Writer A may have done a lot more work on the screenplay than Writer B, but Writer B came up with a much better argument, so he wins. This has become such an intense process, that there are actually arbiters out there that you can hire for thousands of dollars who'll write your argument for you to give you the best chance at getting written credit on the film.

This has also led to some really shady practices in the screenwriting community, some of which actually encourage writers to sabotage a good script. If you're hired to rewrite another writer, and you want to make as much money as possible, it's in your best interest to rewrite as much of the story as possible, regardless of if that new story is better than the current story. If you know that the movie you're working on is already getting made, then it's practically demanded of you to change as much as possible so you can get final credit on the film. This is at least part of the reason why there are a lot of bad movies out there. The system is rigged to encourage writers to change what's working. There are actually standard tricks of the trade – like changing all of the characters names – to help it look like you've written the majority of the story. Arbitration is one of, if not the, most heated topic amongst professional screenwriters. I can't say I know how to fix it but from the way these guys lay it out, it's clear that the process is broken. Maybe some savvy Scriptshadow readers have some ideas on how to fix it and can share their ideas in the comments section.

IN SUMMARY
What I've highlighted above is just scratching the surface. There are a ton of other topics that the book covers (including how to take notes from Martin Lawrence – well kinda). Despite some of the worst pure screenwriting advice I've ever read (please, don't listen to anything these guys say when it comes to the actual writing), I have to admit that I've never seen this kind of insight into the professional plight of a working screenwriter. Not all of us are going to hang on long enough to become screenwriting superstars, but for those of you who are in this for the long haul and expect to be looking at real estate in the Hollywood Hills at some point in your life, you'll definitely want to read this book. For those who have already bought it, feel free to offer your opinions in the comments section.