Once upon a time, there was a little love triangle between a girl named Bella, her vampire Edward, and a werewolf named Jacob. But even before the Twilight era, there were the Salvatorre brothers, first penned by author L.J. Smith and published in 1991, though their epic love for Elena Gilbert only hit the zeitgeist post-Twilight’s OG pub date in 2005, when the CW’s The Vampire Diaries brought them to life in 2009. Still with me? 

Though one of the first book-to-small-screen adaptations that caught like wildfire, it certainly wasn’t the last. You can’t hit ‘next episode’ on Prime or Netflix lately without stumbling on the latest romantic escapade that first played out on fictional pages in your neighborhood Barnes & Noble. 

From The Summer I Turned Pretty to Fourth Wing’s upcoming small screen adaptation, all romance genres are getting the silver screen treatment. But…

Why do we love romance so much? 

The way it’s structured was simply meant to be cinematic. Love is a universal theme that endears audiences of all ages to its characters. And there’s literally something for everyone: contemporary best friends to lovers, boy/girl-next-door, cowboys, fantasy, enemies to lovers, second chance, redemption…if it’s been written, there’s some agent somewhere looking to sell those screen rights because there’s an audience for it. Auto-built-in, if it comes from a booktok phenom, on top of that, which studios love.

But at its heart, pun intended, there’s a reason all that marketing works. Larger than life love, even if it’s in a small-town romance, pulls us in because we’re rooting for a happy ending. The world needs one of those (or multiple, on repeat, preferably). Much like procedurals, romances are formulaic: Person meets love of their life, they’re forced into a situation that requires too-close-for-comfort proximity, they fall in love! Some external force or internal hang-up—or both—gets in their way, one or both make a grand gesture to reunite, and they live happily-ever-after. Then, depending on the show’s structure, the cycle either begins again as they’re torn apart by some new external force (Virgin River), or the show focuses on a new central couple leaving them to their happy ending (Bridgerton).

Romance shows offer an optimistic view coupled with a serious dopamine rush that comes with the thrill associated with falling in love—even if it’s vicariously. It’s all about the journey, and when it comes to novel adaptations, we get double the fun via two different mediums and interpretations. 

Where the TV adaptations veer from their novel counterparts is the opportunity to flesh out supporting characters and emphasize plot over interiority. This can mean that sometimes, the adaptations veer from their source material, for better or worse.

Romance adaptations that have swept us off our feet

Bridgerton’s Netflix debut in 2020 secured its status as belle of the ball, the steamy regency era romance feeling fresh amongst its streaming compatriots. Sure, Outlander, based on Dana Gabaldon’s epic series, had its own loyal following since 2014, but it didn’t secure the same audience numbers and global appeal of Bridgerton. Adapted from Julia Quinn’s books by Chris Van Dusen, the Bridgerton family has captured a wide audience with stories that run the gamut from romantic to familial love ties. It’s also highly stylized through tone and a soundtrack of orchestral pop music covers that elevates its themes. 

Another stand-out TV series is Jenny Han’s love triangle phenom The Summer I Turned Pretty based on her eponymous trilogy. Team Conrad or Team Jeremiah brought the internet back to Cousins Beach over and over again as young love meshed with the torn-between-two-brothers trope. The nostalgic nod to adolescent summers in beach mode paved the way for E. Lockhart’s We Were Liars, a teen thriller with strong romantic threads recently adapted for Prime by Julie Plec of CW lineage. 

Then there’s the sport section: Alice Oseman’s rugby player meets his dream boy in the Heartstopper series, and Off Campus is based on Elle Kennedy’s best-selling series about hockey players set at Briar University. The tropes are endless, as are the internet memes involving the casts of these intense adaptations that have all ages binging into the wee hours. And with the upcoming Rebecca Yarros cult romantasy hit Fourth Wing getting its own spin on the streaming dancefloor via silver screen makeover of its fictional pages, along with Ali Hazelwood’s The Love Hypothesis, the romance genre isn’t showing any signs of slowing in the adaptation arena. 

And we’re here for it, apparently. Because who doesn’t love love? While you may not have rights to a novel, studying both their fictional form and how they translate to the screen is excellent practice for screenwriters. It’s also an open invitation to try out another medium for your story. If you’re strictly into scripts, why not see what a fictional adaptation can do for revealing characterization and plot? 

Keep reading, keep watching, and always keep writing!

The post The Shows That Shape Us: Style and Structure in Small Screen Romance appeared first on Script Magazine.

Wile E. Coyote finally gets his day in court in Coyote vs. Acme. Based on Ian Frazier’s 1990 New Yorker article of the same name, director Dave Green’s (Earth to Echo, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Out of the Shadows) movie is a testament to the phenomenon of animation and the fundamental joy Looney Tunes provides. The movie expands the Looney Tunes universe and gives us a peek behind the red curtain. Does Wile E. mind that he never catches the Road Runner? Maybe. What we do find out is that he does have emotions. This makes him not just an iconic cartoon character, but also one we can relate to.  

Chuck Jones’s Wile E. Coyote cartoon premiered in 1949 and the Road Runner has remained just out of Wile E.’s reach ever since, due primarily to the fact that the Acme products he uses always fail. He’s not as fast as the Road Runner so he needs tools and gadgets to catch him. What he learns by the end of the trial is that it’s the thrill of the chase that keeps his desert life interesting.  

Coyote vs. Acme gives us the backstory of Acme’s not so kosher roots. A mixture of animation and live action, a la Who Framed Roger Rabbit?, the delightful film plays to our knowledge of the Looney Tunes universe by showcasing some of its most memorable characters, which include Foghorn Leghorn, Daffy Duck, Bugs Bunny, and Porky Pig. Mixing the animation with live action not only reinforces the craftsmanship of the animation, it humanizes some of the characters by steeping them in the real world.  

Will Forte plays attorney Kevin Avery, a man who’s a bit of a cartoon character ambulance chaser. He’s used to easy wins where he takes settlements and he doesn’t have to put in any work. His decade long work with cartoon characters have made him the go-to for many characters’ accidents. He becomes passionate about the challenge of facing off with ACME for Wile E. and gets to know a softer side of the “Super Genius” while defending him. John Cena’s uncompromising attorney Buddy Crane is the opposite of Kevin. All he cares about is protecting the reputation of his behemoth client, ACME. The courtroom showdown is pivotal and teaches Kevin not only some things about Wile E. but about himself. Wile E. learns that the Road Runner isn’t his foe but his friend. They bond in their eternal struggle and it’s what keeps both of their lives going. Like the Myth of Sisyphus, Wile E. is locked in his hardship but his hardship is what makes him realize he’s alive.  

It’s hard to believe that this work of art was shelved by Warner Bros. Discovery in 2023 as a tax write-off. Luckily Ketchup Entertainment dusted it off and acquired it. Writer Samy Burch (May December) is completely plugged into the Looney Tunes characters, with dialogue that is both clever and easily accessible. Based on a story by Burch, James Gunn, and Jeremy Slater, the film appeals to all age levels. You’re never too young or old to laugh. Eric Bauza, Candi Milo, and Jim Cummings provide voices for the characters and the rest of the cast includes Luiz Guzman, Lana Condor, Tone Bell, and Kenneth Choi. The film’s team had to persevere and fight to get its product seen as much as the film’s characters have to persevere in court. The fictional world leaks over into the real world, just like the hybrid film visualizes.  

Ketchup Entertainment’s Coyote vs. Acme hits theaters August 28, 2026. 

The post It’s About the Journey, Not the Destination – ‘Coyote vs. Acme’ Review appeared first on Script Magazine.

Resident Evil – Zach Cregger adds his unique vision to Resident Evil, based on the popular film franchise and legendary Capcom game franchise. A follow up to his Academy Award winning film Weapons, the film stars Austin Abrams, Paul Walter Hauser, and Zach Cherry and is set at an isolated hospital during winter. The Sony Pictures Releasing film will be in theaters September 18.  

Heart of the Beast – Fresh off the tracks of F1, Brad Pitt has to now survive in the Alaska wilderness with his combat dog Odin. As Special Forces officer James Belmont, Pitt’s biggest battle is against nature’s elements. The trek also tests the bond between man and his best friend. Directed by David Ayer (The Beekeeper, Fury), this intense survival tale from Paramount Pictures hits screens on September 25. 

Victorian Psycho – Zachary Wigon’s (Sanctuary) latest film stars Maika Monroe, Jason Isaacs, and Thomasin McKenzie. It’s a gothic horror tale set in the mid-1800s where Monroe plays a governess who may not be quite what she seems. What could she be? This is just in time for Halloween! The Bleeker Street film will be in theaters September 25. 

Digger – Tom Cruise has been an action star for a long time, doing death-defying stunts in the Mission Impossible franchise and running from and towards danger in other films (War of the Worlds, Edge of Tomorrow). However, he can do more than that, which he will remind us of with his upcoming film Digger. Directed by award winning director Alejandro G. Iñárritu (Amores Perros, 21 Grams), Cruise plays the most powerful man in the world. His mission is to stop a disaster he unleashed before it destroys humanity. The cast also includes John Goodman, Riz Ahmed, Sandra Hüller, Jesse Plemons, and Michael Stahlberg. The Warner Bros. Pictures and Legendary Pictures release will be in theaters and on IMAX October 2. 

Ebenezer: A Christmas Carol – Just in time for Thanksgiving, Johnny Depp returns to the big screen as classic holiday curmudgeon Ebenezer Scrooge. Ti West’s (House of the Devil, Pearl) version will introduce us to Scrooge before he was Scrooge. It also stars Rupert Grint, Andrea Riseborough, Sam Claflin, Daisy Ridley, Arthur Conti, Ellie Bamber, Henry Lloyd-Hughes, Charlie Murphy, Tramell Tillman, and Ian McKellen. The Paramount Pictures release will be in theaters on November 13. 

Dune: Part 3 – The Dune films have become a staple of the holiday season and closing out Denis Villeneuve’s majestic trilogy, Dune: Part 3 continues Paul Atreides’(Timothée Chalamet) gripping saga, set twenty years after Atreides seized Imperium. The cast includes Zendaya, Javier Bardem, Rebecca Ferguson, Florence Pugh, Jason Momoa, Anya Taylor-Joy, Isaach de Bankolé, Robert Pattinson, and Charlotte Rampling. Warner Bros. Pictures and Legendary Pictures continue the hero’s journey on December 18 in theaters and in IMAX.  

Werwulf – Robert Eggers’ Werwulf is the anti-Christmas tale that’s his medieval offering for the holiday season. Starring Aaron Taylor-Johnson, Willem Dafoe, and Jack Morris, the film’s set in the 13th century and will be in Middle English. It promises to be a grisly, cinematic follow-up to Nosferatu. Universal Pictures’ and Focus Features’ Werwulf rages into theaters on Christmas day, December 25. 

The post 2026 Fall/Winter Movie Preview appeared first on Script Magazine.

Filmmaker Alex Ullom’s debut feature It Ends caused a buzz at SXSW 2025. Despite it getting positive word of mouth, perfectionist Ullom still has reservations about it. “I actually thought that I’d ruined it. I thought that I did not get what I needed and I could not look at the footage for a long time,” he says. The 27-year-old Florida native told Script Magazine, “We reshot the film three times. I was 22 then and wasn’t quite ready to make the movie.”  

It Ends, with its $30,000 budget, joins Southbound (2016), Lost Highway (1997), and Dead End (2003) in the pantheon of movies about endless highways. The open road can be the road to redemption or in Alex’s case a metaphor for “self-discovery”. “I also just love driving,” Alex mentions. 

Sonya Alexander: What would you do if you were in that car? 

Alex Ullom: I would hang out with my friends forever. (laughs)  

Sonya: You wouldn’t have an issue with that? 

Alex: I’d probably be weirded out because I would realize that this was a script I wrote, so that would probably mess with me more than being on the endless road. 

Sonya: How long did it take you to write the script? 

Alex: I guess with rewrites and reshoots, probably 4 years? 

Sonya: And how was this idea born? 

Alex: Probably from surviving my teenage depression. And being supported. This was the kind of thing that got me off the endless road I was on.  

Sonya: How would you define horror? 

Alex: I love that this interview is just boom, boom, boom. Straight to the point. 

Sonya: Thanks.  

Alex: How would I define horror as in the genre of film, or horror, the word itself? 

Sonya The word itself. You want me to come back to that one? 

Alex: No, I just want to give you a really good answer. 

Sonya: Okay!  

Alex: It’s confronting some sort of…it’s extremely heightened instinct and conflict.  

Sonya: Who would you say are some of your filmmaking inspirations? 

Alex: Richard Linklater, Terrence Malik, and Instagram Reels.  

Sonya: Do you have some favorites you follow? 

Alex: No, just love the brain rot. (laughs) 

Sonya: How do you feel your YouTube film sketches prepared you for your first film? 

Alex: Not at all.  

Sonya: Why do you say that? 

Alex: I guess it was just a different beast, but I almost see It Ends as my first thing that prepared me for movie making. 

Sonya: Makes sense. What were the challenges of filming outside? 

Alex: It’s very hot in Florida. And the woods are dangerous there, with the poison ivy and snakes. It’s very easy to have a really good frame and have a really bad frame when you’re playing with the sun. 

Sonya: Did you have any say in the casting? 

Alex: Yeah, I did the casting myself. I read 500 people online and ended up with a really, really talented cast. 

Sonya: They were excellent.  

Alex: Yeah, they are the reason that this movie works at all. 

Sonya: And how would you say music affects the mood of a film, and did you have any say in the music? 

Alex: I got a really beautiful score that Eluvium cooked up. The droning noises really help with the feeling of the liminality and infinite space that’s going on. I think he knocked it out of the park. 

Sonya: Do you have a writing process? 

Alex: I would say most of the scripts I’ve written have come from very intense moments in my life where it just kind of falls out over the course of three days, and it’s really messy, Then it gets honed. But process-wise, no. I should probably figure out a process. I don’t like to take credit for any of my ideas, I think I’m just channeling something, and when I do that, it’s a very intense thing. 

Sonya: What’s your dream project to do? 

Alex: I don’t want to say it out loud because honestly, I think there’s a chance it happens. Also, right now I’m making a dream project and it’s coming out better than what I could have imagined. My second film is pure maximalism and visual overload. 

Sonya: What did you learn from doing your first film? 

Alex: Genuinely, this was my film school. 

The It Ends cast is Mitchell Cole, Akira Jackson, Noah Toth, and Phinehas Yoon. The Neon film rolls into theaters in wide release on August 28, 2026. 

The post Writing the Lost Highway That Represents Life: Alex Ullom talks ‘It Ends’ appeared first on Script Magazine.

Since last we spoke, I think it’s fair to say I’ve been on something of an up and down course with screenwriting. Between having covid wipe out our household for three-plus weeks in June and struggling to recover my energy (ongoing!), and both our kids being home essentially all summer with limited outside activities, my Jenna as screenwriter energy became much more Jenna as mom than anything else.  

(And truthfully, I absolutely loved hanging out with our kids this summer — we played lots of games and watched some fun shows, and once we were recovered managed to squeeze in a few adventures that were entirely delightful. Especially as our kids get older, I’m well aware of how limited our time is with these amazing beings who share their lives with us.) 

And, the screenwriting classes I’ve been taking kept me connected to Jenna as screenwriter regardless of my predominantly mom-ish summer focus. I’ve been learning new ways to heighten my scripts and wrote a new short script I’ve fallen in love with and got good feedback on from my classmates, which was pretty relieving, especially after my more recent script not faring that well in my earlier-in-the-summer contest submissions (it advanced as a quarterfinalist in one, which was fun, and I’m waiting still to hear back on at least one). 

Now that our youngest is back in school and our older one starts college locally soon, I’m refocusing more intently on screenwriting, tapping into our collective back-to-school energy. My original intent was to have finished an outline for my next (“second”) script by the end of this month, but I’ve adapted my plans to lean into the third workshop I’m taking to develop that script rather than keeping them on separate tracks. So I’m slowed down, but hopefully with good reason. 

Which brings me back to my title for this piece — faster than the speed of … something? I’ve always wished I was faster with writing than I am (though, see above, kids, life). My fantasies of blazing through writing never ever work out the way I wish they would and it occurs to me at this late date that perhaps I won’t… or will I? Is it better to make peace with my natural pace and focus? Or should I strive and push for more? 

Or is there a third option, perhaps?  

During my workshop this summer, our instructor pointed out (correctly) that I was second-guessing my writing and recommended that I delve into the why of that — to do some journaling and reflecting about the reasons underlying my own self-doubt (ironically something I often help other writers with). I’ve started this process, and I fully expect it’ll take more work, but I already know most self-doubt is usually based in a self-protective strategy — to doubt ourselves before someone else can doubt us.  

It’s a big reason why scripts end up in drawers, not marketed, not sent out, etc.  

And, it’s an underlying reason for resisting, procrastinating, and … being slower than we’d like.  

I’m also aware that for the most part I get messaging around “not yet” or “not good enough” or even “do this instead” when it comes to my writing. Even my recent lack of progression in contests can reinforce that… if I let it.  

Except, thankfully, with the short I wrote in my most recent workshop, my classmates responded positively to my work, and my instructor said I’m a stronger writer than I think I am… so I have that to counter the discouragement my inner critic likes to go on about.  

So… here’s how I’m proceeding: 

1. I’ll keep going with my personal exploration work. After realizing how much I’m (still!) second-guessing myself, it’s clear one of the most important things for me do is to keep working on getting out of my own way. I’ll use a combination of journaling, “fearstorming,” and inner critic work to get there. Most likely some therapy too. If nothing else, I’m aware how critically important taking care of my mindset is and I want to make that a priority.  

2. I’ve added on to the classes series I started earlier this year. I’ve signed up for additional workshops so I’m keeping my focus on working through the content and assignments as thoroughly as I can. I’m determined not to half-ass it and to instead get as much as I can out of the program. I’ve connected with some classmates so we can give each other feedback inside the paradigms we’re learning and help keep each other accountable and on track.  

3. I’m getting ready to process feedback on my last script. Alongside submitting my script to a handful of contests, I requested three sets of notes on it. My plan is to sit down with these notes along with a set from last year (and a glass of wine) to assess them as a whole. While I suspect this will feel somewhat overwhelming, my hope is to use reading them together as a way to put the feedback into perspective and look for commonalities and disagreements, to then decide how and if I want to use anything from the feedback. 

4. I’d like to get back to my screenwriting immersion. My morning walks have been on hold since having covid but hopefully with my energy slowly returning I’ll be able to get back out there and back to my screenwriting podcast listening.  

5. I’m revising my goals to align with my current progress. I’ve always believed goals can and should be revised with new information. My new information is the coursework I’m integrating, and the choice I’m making to slow my development pace on my screenplay to align with the course. Which means … I’ll be aiming to have a developed design for my screenplay by the middle of November when this course wraps up, which I’ll then get feedback on from trusted sources.  

Ultimately, how fast I write matters far less than how well I write. As I’m taking these workshops I’m aware that my skills are leveling up quickly. All the years I’ve spent writing up until now are finally — hopefully! — coalescing around and with the new tools I’m learning to use, and honestly, it’s pretty darned exciting. It’d be fun if that helps speed up my process, but at the same time … I’m just happy to be writing and learning and growing. Working on my mindset will help on all fronts.  

Let’s go! 

In the between-times, find me on Bluesky, here: @jennaavery.bsky.social.  

The post Faster Than the Speed of … Something? appeared first on Script Magazine.

Not all that long ago, shooting in landscape was the only way to go, but now a growing number of indie filmmakers are ditching the traditional 16:9 and flipping it (literally) to 9:16.  

Vertical apps like ReelShort and DramaBox are sweeping the globe, bringing in so many millions of viewers and billions of dollars that mainstream streamers like Peacock and major brands like Maybelline took notice and have created their own vertical series.   

So, what are verticals—or microdramas, as they’re often called—and why are they so popular?  

In short, they’re essentially soap operas for a new generation that can be consumed in 1-2 minute increments on cell phones, in the most comfortable position that most people hold their phones: vertically. While many verticals are romantic dramas, there are also a growing number of fantasy, sci-fi, horror, and other genres to choose from. Their popularity seems to stem from the ease of consuming them in the vertical format and the over-the-top hooks of each episode that keep viewers coming back for more.  

I had the chance to chat with screenwriter, playwright, and author Lynn Grant Beck, who was recently hired to develop a vertical series for Everbrite Studios, about the world of verticals and how screenwriters can break into this popular new format.   

Lynn’s produced work includes movies for Lifetime and Hallmark, as well as episodes of the TV series Cypher on Roku. Her play, All American, had its world premiere at the Hollywood Fringe Festival, where it was nominated for Best Drama and won the Hollywood Producers Encore Award. Lynn’s latest adapted series, French Vanilla & Felonies, is currently being pitched to streamers, and she recently published a non-fiction book about another one of her passions—pickleball—titled Dink, Drive, Thrive: How Pickleball Transforms Lives. 

Rebecca: What would you say the differences are between vertical films/microdramas and other short content like short films and web series? 

Lynn: First, the short-form vertical drama series are shot vertically for people specifically to consume on their phones. This narrow lens means that scenes will have limited characters, often only two protagonists. The mini episodes are extremely short, between one and two minutes, and they should end in a cliffhanger to hook the audience into watching the next episode. The writing is extremely melodramatic with heightened emotions. Like MOWs [movies of the week], most have female protagonists because the audience is mainly female. The total length of these series is roughly the length of a short feature film, around ninety minutes, which means you can chart an entire season like you would a feature film with three acts. 

Rebecca: Why would you say apps like DramaBox and ReelShort have taken off, while earlier iterations like Quibi did not? 

Lynn: It’s all in the financial model. Quibi spent millions of dollars on A-list writers, directors, and actors and could not recoup that kind of investment. The producers of short form vertical drama series spend as little as possible, around $100K for an entire series. The production value is extremely low and everything is done non-union. There is also a quick ROI because as soon as the editing is completed, the series are launched on the apps. The apps are also membership-based, practically guaranteeing profits. 
 

Rebecca: What is it that vertical apps are looking for as far as story?  

Lynn: The stories coming out of China were primarily romantic stories with female protagonists. But now that U.S. producers are getting in the game, we’re seeing stories expand into other genres like fantasy, thriller, and horror, but always low budget. 
 

Rebecca: What are the potential pitfalls of writing in this medium?  

Lynn: In a word, the writing is bad; they are looking for cheesy, heightened, melodramatic writing. Personally, I would love to see a production company produce better-quality vertical series, but that’s not really what their audience is looking for. These are series where people can watch an episode in line at the grocery store or while waiting for a bus. 
 

Rebecca: How can a screenwriter who wants to work in verticals get started? 

Lynn: This world is all about quantity, not quality, so there is a real need for scripts. Writers wanting to try their hand at writing and selling these scripts should reach out to the producers and production companies who make them. It would be a good idea to write a sample script to show that you understand the format. 

Learn more about Lynn and her projects at LynnGrantBeck.com! 

The post TRUE INDIE: Writing for Verticals – Interview with Screenwriter Lynn Grant Beck appeared first on Script Magazine.

Star Wars: Visions began as an out-of-universe experiment on the part of Lucasfilm with the intention of seeing how Japanese storytellers and their world-class animation studios interpret the world of Star Wars. Lucasfilm engaged a number studios to imagine their own version of the Star Wars universe, giving them carte blanche to ignore canon in any way they wished and filter the universe through their own cultural lens. One such short was The Ninth Jedi, produced by Production I.G. and written and directed by Kenji Kamiyama. Kamiyama got his start as a background artist on films like Hayao Miyazaki’s Kiki’s Delivery Service, and went on to join Production I.G where he wrote and directed Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex and has become a legend in animation in his own right. Most recently, he directed 2024’s animated film Lord of the Rings: War of the Rohirrim, which I covered in detail here.  

With Star Wars as his canvas, The Ninth Jedi is his unadulterated vision of the Star Wars mythology. The first short tells the story of a world where Jedi and Sith are all but extinct and lightsabers have practically become a lost technology. An old Jedi sends a message across the galaxy in hopes of drawing out any other remaining Jedi so that they can work together to restart the order. To do this, Master Juro (Andrew Kishino) finds the sabersmith Lah Zhima (Simu Liu) and contracts him to build nine lightsabers. The message doesn’t only reach the Jedi but remnants of the Sith as well, eager to get their hands on lightsabers. The sabersmith is kidnapped and the rest are left with the sabersmith’s daughter, Lah Kara (Kimiko Glenn), to accept them. 

There’s a catch, however. Lah Zhima was such a capable sabersmith, he forged the kyber crystals in such a way that they would change color naturally to reflect the hearts and emotions of the Jedi (or Sith) wielding them. When the Jedi assemble to take their sabers, over half the sabers turn red, revealing the Sith among them. A fight breaks out and the story ends with the Sith defeated, but the Jedi routed and Lah Kara asking for help finding and rescuing her father. 

The third season of Star Wars: Visions saw a sequel episode with another tear-jerking step on Lah Kara’s journey. Together, these episodes set the stage for the new Disney+ series, streaming in its entirety now. The series not only documents Lah Kara’s search for her father, but a galaxy that hangs in the balance. She’s tested repeatedly as a Jedi padawan and is forced to become something of a “Chosen One” as a matter of circumstance rather than choice. Told across eight more episodes, The Ninth Jedi weaves a stunning tapestry of complicated story and does so much elegant storytelling that I’ve watched it three times admiring how carefully the beats are constructed. Not only does it have plenty to offer Star Wars fans and people new to the franchise alike, it also contains a lot worth studying for screenwriters. 

Visual Storytelling 

One of the things The Ninth Jedi uses to its advantage is the visual storytelling and assumptions made by the audience, thanks to the lightsabers whose colors change to reflect the heart and emotions of their wielders. Since the colors can change from good to evil and back at any time, it creates a number of terrific revelations through the story. This is accomplished by establishing early in the story how the lightsaber mechanics work in this iteration of the Star Wars galaxy. Once the audience has a clear idea of how things should work, then they’re able to create memorable moments that appear to break the rules. 

After it’s been established that a character’s heart and intentions determine the color of their saber — the villains cast red light, Jedi green and blue (and in one case purple) — we’re primed for the first turning point revelation of the show. Nawaam (Young Mazino), the Kylo Ren-like villain, has plans to bring order to the galaxy and feels that he is above the base concerns of the conflict between the Jedi and the Sith. He fancies himself as something else entirely, though his actions and attitudes are unquestionably evil to any objective observer. So when the characters and audience first see him raise a lightsaber and ignite a blue blade, we’re all left in shock.  

What could be going on here? 

The text tells us exactly what’s going on, actually. Before the event, there are clues, and after, we see the real reasons play out. Our minds are reeling so hard, however, that it’s hard to remember the small details that would have given us the whole story. The sabersmith spoke of how he crafted these particular sabers specially, and he forged the crystals to perform in their color changing ways. This is something new for the sabersmiths of this universe, but the narrative allows us to believe that all other lightsabers have been destroyed, even though we could have tracked all the sabers in Kara’s possession to this point and known that Nawaam doesn’t have one. Some viewers might be upset, assuming the filmmakers forgot the rules they set, mainly because it seems like media literacy is dead. Patient viewers are rewarded with the answer: he had pulled this lightsaber off Zhima’s murdered master. The revelation has a perfectly valid explanation that keeps within the established rules, but causes an utterly jaw dropping moment upon first blush. 

The second major moment that really leans into this visual storytelling comes in the show’s fifth episode, as we near the climax. Lah Kara has been separated from her comrades and is forced to fend for herself on a distant, low-technology planet. There, the indigenous tribes of aliens integrate her into their society. She lives peacefully among them until Nawaam’s forces arrive. Their mission is to capture Lah Kara to use her as a hostage to lure her father out of hiding after he’d escaped their clutches. In pursuit of Kara, they hurt those innocent and peaceful aliens who harbored her, and something in her snaps. She goes after every single one of them with prejudice — her lightsaber remaining blue the entire time. The audience is lulled into thinking that this sort of revenge — ending the violence and its cycle here — is somehow righteous. Unfortunately for Kara, she’s met with the horrified, slack-jawed stares of the aliens when she tells them it’s okay, she’s killed them all. 

She hadn’t noticed that her lightsaber had turned blood red. 

Horrified, she flees. 

It’s one of the most powerful moments in the series. Kara eventually learns to control those emotions while dealing with a pair of bounty hunters that were involved. She kills one because it’s unavoidable, but the other she offers a chance to live and work in her employ. He agrees and she gives him a lightsaber. Although she read his feelings through the Force and knew, he is shocked when the blade emerges blue from the lightsaber hilt. Later, the assembled Jedi are skeptical of him and raise their sabers to deal with him, but he raises one hand in surrender and with the other, ignites the saber, revealing the blue blade. Everyone takes that for a positive identification for whose side he is on and trust him implicitly from that point forward. 

The way the story turns on the tale told by the colors of the lightsabers and the visual revelations is some of the best, most elegant storytelling I’ve seen on television in a long time.  

What items or visual representations can you bring into your work to help tell the story in ways that better engage the audience and show them something new? 

Hewing to theme 

I know I mention this a lot, but when it’s done well it makes stories absolutely sing. The Ninth Jedi is an excellent example of practicing what it preaches in the text. The characters act wholly consistent to their arcs, even when they act in surprising ways. Lah Kara is an impulsive young woman who must spend the arc of the story learning to control her whims and emotions and understanding the true path of the Jedi. It’s left to her to defeat Nawaam on her own and she does it in the most unorthodox way possible. Guided by the mistaken notion that, being above the fray and looking down on both sides, she finally embraces what makes her unique, her lightsaber transforms in color before Nawaam’s eyes from a silver to a blue. 

There’s a thread that runs through the entire series that asks what the point of being “above the fray” is. Nawaam talks continuously about being above the Jedi and the Sith, that’s he’s transcended that. And over and over again Kara is forced to remind him that his actions are still having the same effect as evil. And her father is forced to reconcile with his neutrality, having removed himself from the conflict. Kara herself puts herself above the fray, “transcending” emotions and watches as her lightsaber turns silver. Ultimately, she realizes that neutrality or arrogance (in Nawaam’s case) always hurts the people he’s trying to bring peace and stability to. Neutrality always aids the oppressor. Kara and Zhima are forced to reconcile the harm they did in staying out of those fights, and Nawaam is forced to recognize that his “altruism at gunpoint” is actually evil as his saber burns red. 

This treads some of the same ground that the character work in The Last Jedi did, and it did so beautifully. I wrote about that here. Both stories forced every character to make a decision about who they really were. 

That’s where the best writing happens: forcing characters to make decisions and having those decisions affect the outcome of events. It’s really well-wrought stuff and worth your study. 

Structure 

The Ninth Jedi is structured in a ten episode format, but it’s hard to count those first two episodes in the structure of the series because they were likely made before they knew there would even be a series. As we start the series proper, however, the structure of the eight new episodes is elegant. The opening episode reintroduces us to the dilemma and rules of the world. The next two really show us what every character believes. Starting with episode four, everything we learned is slowly deconstructed and re-contextualized and then blows it up entirely. Episode five gives us a breather, but also the most emotional moments in the show, where Kara is separated from everyone after their false victory and is forced to reconcile with her rage. She spends the rest of the series growing and learning until she comes back to save the day. 

It’s so elegantly structured with the right peaks and valleys across the landscape of the story, allowing it to ramp with tension, alternate with action, and give us some truly special writing.  

Every episode poses a new question and forces us to reevaluate what we thought we knew, and each one has a moment that forces us to re-contextualize what we thought we knew. It’s really worth watching and studying for how each episode moves forward predicated on the actions and desires of the characters. Never once does it feel like the plot moves without the hand of the characters in the decision-making process. It’s hard to write something that carefully, but Kamiyama was able to supervise fine, complicated writing indeed. 

I know some writers won’t watch the show. Some will dismiss it as merely anime, others still will do so for being Star Wars, but there are lessons to be had here and we’re well served to learn them. 

Star Wars Visions Presents: The Ninth Jedi is streaming now in its entirety on Disney+. 

To learn more about Bryan Young, visit his website. 

The post Star Wars Visions: The Ninth Jedi’s Elegant Storytelling And What it Can Offer Screenwriters appeared first on Script Magazine.

The Invite (2026. Screenplay by Will McCormack & Rashida Jones, based on the film Sentimental by Cesc Gay. 107 minutes) 

Some complicated administrative details first. The official credits are a tad misleading. Sentimental is not a film. It was a screenplay written by the Spanish writer-producer Cesc Gay. The film he directed from it is titled The People Upstairs (2020). Sentimetal was the original title, but it was released under the different title. Then the script was remade in five different countries under different names. Talk about having a great agent. 

Finally, this year comes the American version and it is a dandy. Not having seen any of the other six versions, I have no idea how much the writers of this one, McCormack & Jones, borrowed from any or all of the previous versions. 

In 2012, McCormack & Jones wrote Celeste and Jesse Forever. As you can tell from my review here, it was sort of a mess, especially in writing the character of Celeste. They are much, much better here. They are much sharper about the characters, especially the women (Jones maybe learned from her mistakes with the heroine of the earlier film?). I do not know how much they borrowed in terms of character. 

What I do know is that their dialogue is sharp and to the point and gets the movie off to a great start. Joe, a depressed music teacher, comes home to find Angela, his wife, preparing for the guests they have invited for dinner. Joe has no recollection about the invitation. Angela insists she told him last night. Listen carefully to the dialogue (everywhere in the film) and you will later find out Angela may not be telling the truth.  

Other than he may just be in a foul mood, Joe is not at all sure he wants this couple in his apartment. Hawk and Piña live in the apartment directly above them and they make a LOT of noise when they have sex. At three o’clock in the morning. 

So the couple shows up and fairly soon (the film moves at lightning speed) we learn that Piña is a therapist and it is not just her and her husband who are having sex. They have a lot of sex with others. A lot of others. You can see where this is headed. Except it isn’t. Well, not exactly. But not getting there is half the fun.  

The script is very sharp and very precise, which gives the actors a lot to do. Seth Rogen is Joe, and you have never seen him give as good a dramatic performance as he does here. I have not thought of Rogen as a dramatic actor, but boy he carries the load here. Angela is Olivia Wilde, who also directs. You have seen her act in a lot of movies and television stuff. You can read her IMDb page here. She directed her first feature Booksmart in 2019; you can read my review here. 

Piña is played by Penélope Cruz with great subtlety, and Edward Norton gives one of his best performances as Hawk. Wilde as the director knows how to balance the performances beautifully. Everybody gets the close-ups they need and deserve, and Wilde does not give herself more than the character needs. Not all actors directing themselves do that; you can make up your own list. 

A Good Snarky Sub-head Ruined. 

Toy Story 5 (2026. Written by Andrew Stanton & McKenna Harris (as Kenna Harris; no, I don’t know why). 102 minutes) 

I am a big fan of the first three Toy Story movies. They were fresh, funny, charming, and the end of 3 was very moving, especially for guys who loved their toys.  

4  was another matter. You can read my review here for some of the reasons. The first review I read of 5 was somewhat mixed, so I thought up a snarky sub-head for the top of the review of 5, assuming it would be as bad as 4: “Unfortunately in the Terrible Tradition of Toy Story 4.” 

Then I went to see the movie. And loved it. I was still surprised it was doing as well at the box office as it is. Although 5 is as much about the toys as the earlier, funny ones, it struck me that the storyline was more adult than the others. The first four were primarily about the toys. 5 is about the toys and the humans dealing with the computer world of today.   

The toys are upset that their new owner Bonnie is not playing with them as much, but is more involved with Lilypad, a computer tablet that she asked her parents to get her because, well, all the other kids have one. When she tried to make friends with them, they laughed at her because she is still playing with her favorite, Jessie.  

The focus of this film is on Jessie, whom some of us have been waiting on to get her opportunity to shine. Woody and Buzz show up, but both are supporting characters in this film. Still, supporting roles in a Toy Story film give you more to do than in many live action films. Buzz gets a whole troop of Buzzz-alikes to lead into action. Woody is busy trying to keep his hat on so his bald spot won’t show. A lot of the other beloved Toy Story characters show up, some with only a line or two, but we are glad to see them.  

I suspect the reason 5 plays better with kids than I thought it might is that most of them have gone through the phases from older toys to newer electronic toys. Being a luddite about computers and technology in general, I have had more problems adjusting to newer technology than most kids today have. When I have computer problems I have to call my daughter, or her husband, or my grandkids to get me out of a jam. They are very good at trying to keep Grandpa as up to date as I can stand. But I am avoiding getting a Lilypad. 

Not as Much Fun as Kirk Douglas, But… 

The Odyssey (2026. Screenplay by Christopher Nolan, based on the poem by Homer. 172 or 173 minutes, depending on who is counting) 

It’s in IMAX!!! 70MM IMAX! Complete with 15 sprocket holes per image!  

Nolan had IMAX build special IMAX cameras just for this film. And every single actor in the film has appeared on every television show and podcast— 

Are you getting as tired as I am of all the hype about The Odyssey? The hype certainly brought people to the theatres, at least those playing the film in Imax. I saw it in a theatre not playing in Imax the week after it opened. It was an afternoon show and the auditorium was not even half full. But the screen was very large and the picture was very sharp and clear.  

Shall we get onto the script now? The script is a good, solid adaptation of Homer’s epic poem. Like Homer, Nolan begins in Ithaca, Odysseus’s home. We get the set-up: Odysseus went off to fight the Trojan War twenty years ago. The war ended ten years ago, but Odysseus has not returned home. We eventually meet Odysseus and hear his tales of what happened. Both Homer and Nolan jump around in time to keep the reader (or listener, since “Homer,” and/or a combination of people, told the story orally for years before somebody wrote it down) or viewer involved. 

While Odysseus was away, a lot of potential suitors for Penelope, Odysseus’s wife, started hanging out in the Palace. Eventually Odysseus comes home and, well, shit happens. 

There are a couple of problems with the script. The first is that the dialogue is often flat, although the actors do what they can with it and the production values of the film (which are impressive, especially in you-know-what) cover it up. The next time you see the film, listen to the dialogue. You will hear more than a few clunkers. 

The second problem is Nolan’s take on Odysseus. In Homer’s version he is always referred to as “wily Odysseus.” In Nolan’s version, everybody calls him “smart.” Excuse me, but there is a big difference between just being smart and being wily. “Smart” is just a quality he had; “wily” tells us he does stuff in inventive ways. In David Benioff’s script for Troy (2004) Odysseus is seen thinking. Then he sees one of the men whittling a small wooden horse. Odysseus does not slap his head, or yell out, “I’ve got it!” That’s showing, not telling, us that he is indeed wily. 

The problem with making him only smart and not wily is that it makes him less interesting to play. Nolan makes Odysseus a smart, troubled, emotional man, but it does not give Matt Damon enough variety to play. Part of the problem is that it seems Christopher Nolan, for all his talents, which are considerable, is not a man with much of a sense of humor.  

Nolan has commented, in all the promotional hype, that there had not really been a film from the poem. Typical director. In 1954 there was a large-scale (not as large scale as Nolan’s) Italian-American production entitled Ulysses, with Kirk Douglas as Ulysses. It has four Italian writers, plus Americans Ben Hecht (you can guess where the wiliness came from in that script) and novelist Irwin Shaw, plus Hugh Gray a classicist whose name pops up on a lot of pictures about the classical age. Douglas is perfect as the wily Ulysses, and a lot of fun to watch. Damon is not, which I would guess is Nolan’s intention: he is making a serious film. In Nolan and Damon’s defense, that seriousness pays off when Odysseus gets home and tells Penelope how he feels about what all happened to him. But I missed the dimple in Kirk’s chin. His writers gave his dimple something to do. 

Fortunately, Nolan has given the other actors a lot to do, and they deliver a set of terrific performances. Anne Hathaway is great as Penelope, and Tom Holland lets you know there is more to his Telemachus(Odysseus’s son) than others think. 

Robert Pattinson is the new Basil Rathbone as the leader of the suitors; he should stick to villains. And Samantha Morton blows everybody else off the screen as Circe, who has particular culinary habits. 

No Dart Boards. 

The Duke (2020. Screenplay by Richard Bean and Clive Coleman. 95 minutes) 

In the late 1940s and early 1950s, Ealing Studios in England produced a pile of great comedies: Kind Hearts and Coronets (1949), The Lavender Hill Mob (1951), Genevieve (1953), The Titfield Thunderbolt (1953), andThe Ladykillers (1955). This kind of charming comedy became known as Ealing Comedies. A news magazine at the time defined them as being “villages full of dartboard and loveable characters.” 

Occasionally movies come along that recall the heyday of the Ealing Comedies.  Earlier this year I reviewed one called The Choral, which seemed to me to be a perfect modern Ealing Comedy. You can read my review here. 

I suspect the makers of The Duke were thinking they were making an Ealing Comedy. You can see the similarities, but you can also see why it does not work in the way it should.   

The film is based on a true story. It is 1961. Kempton Bunton, age 60, objects to the then-requirement that everybody has to pay a license if they want to watch television. He has been writing letters to the BBC without success. He then sees on television (he has rigged it up so he can watch without a license) that a famous painting of the Duke of Wellington by the Spanish painter Francisco Goya is on display at the National Gallery in London. He decides to steal it, which he does. He hopes the furor will lead to getting rid of the license requirement. There is a great uproar. The police think it was a gang of professional crooks. Eventually Bunton is captured and goes on trial. Since he claims he was not doing it for financial gain, he is acquitted of taking the painting. He returns the painting, but he lost the frame, so he is only convicted of stealing the frame. He serves three months. 

Well, doesn‘t that sound like an Ealing Comedy to you? It does to me, and the trial scenes are up to that standard. Bunton is played by Jim Broadbent, who is as wonderful as you would expect.  

So what’s the problem? The writers spend a lot of time with the family, especially his wife Dorothy. The Bunton-Dorothy scenes are darker and more dramatic than the rest of the film. Dorothy is played by the great Helen Mirren, but in a lower key than Broadbent. Their scenes stop the show and not in a good way. The film would have been a lot better if the writers had found some humor in the wife that Mirren could have done something with.  

You may have seen the Goya painting and not known of its significance. In the final scene of the film, Bunton and his wife are at the movies. The film is Dr. No (1952) and in one scene in Dr. No’s hideout 007 walks by the painting, looks at it, and quickly moves on. Well, you have to learn your art history somewhere. 

A Mess…Except for… 

Gail Daughtry and the Celebrity Sex Pass (2026. Written by Ken Marino and David Wain. 94 minutes) 

This is a traditional “you buy the premise, you buy the bit” set up. Gail and Tom are soon to be married. They go to a book signing by Jennifer Aniston (one of a lot of famous people who show up in cameos), and Tom ends up having sex in a book room with Aniston. When Gail discovers them, Tom claims it is his “celebrity sex pass.” That means he is allowed to have sex with one celebrity without his fiancée getting upset. 

Well, guess what. Gail gets so upset she goes off to Hollywood to try to have sex with her celebrity crush, Jon Hamm. Highjinx ensue. A lot of highjinx. And they are not very smart ones. The dialogue is not very funny by itself, which may be why the actors, with one exception, overact. Boy, do they overact. And the more they overact, the less funny they get. David Wain also directed, badly. I can usually be counted on for several laughs in a comedy, but I laughed only once, at a silent sight gag where they cut to … well, I will let you see if you can figure it out if you get trapped into seeing this. 

The one exception to the overacting comes from Zoey Deutch. She is more restrained than anybody else in the film and delivers her lines and her reactions dead on. Not surprising. She is the daughter of Lea Thompson, of Back to the Future (1985), and director Howard Deutch, director of Pretty in Pink (1986). Zoey may be a nepo baby, but she learned her craft somewhere. 

The post UNDERSTANDING SCREENWRITING: Some Good, Some Not-So-Good, And a Real Stinker appeared first on Script Magazine.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day is the fourth installment of the latest live-action iteration of everyone’s favorite neighborhood webhead on the big screen. After three films with Tobey Maguire and two with Andrew Garfield, a third reboot of the character came less than two decades after the first outing, directed by Sam Raimi, which proved what a film starring the Steve Ditko/Stan Lee creation could be. His Spider-Man 2 is still hailed as a high watermark for superhero storytelling.

Starring Tom Holland in the titular role, Spider-Man: Brand New Day has a screenplay by Chris McKenna and Erik Sommers, who have written the previous Holland Spider-Man installments. The film was directed by Destin Daniel Cretton, who had previously worked in the Marvel Universe as director of Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings and episodes of Wonder Man.

Brand New Day picks up after the devastating events of Spider-Man: No Way Home. In that previous installment (which is recapped quite elegantly at the start of this film), Peter Parker was forced to make a terrible choice in order to save not just his world, but all worlds. In order to save everyone he loved and the entire multi-verse, he had to erase the memory of his existence from everyone — including his loved ones. As this film begins, we see him dealing with the fallout of that torturous decision, watching his friends, MJ (Zendaya) and Ned Leeds (Jacob Batalon) go off to MIT and live Peter’s dreams without him. Peter finds himself living a solitary existence as a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man for years, but that isolation gnaws away at him.

Through his solitude, he finds a new routine. He comes to an accord with the police and has a solid working relationship with a detective at the NYPD (Liza Colón-Zayas) and even plays nice with Damage Control, a shadowy government organization whose mission and ethos seems to be at odds with Spider-Man’s values. They’re focused on eliminating super-threats just like him, but put on a friendly face that Spider-Man seems to believe. When a runaway tank careens through New York City, headed straight for Damage Control, Spider-Man helps defend them against a mysterious new threat that can inhabit people, hopping from person to person at will. This new villain can be anyone and no one in Peter’s life can be trusted. The only person this person’s superpowers can’t seem to jump into is Spider-Man himself, which makes him the only person who can stop this foe from destroying Damage Control.

The villain is revealed to be a teenage version of Jean Grey (Sadie Sink), seeking vengeance against Damage Control for abducting her sister. Spider-Man, having no inkling of Jean’s true motives, stands in her way. She throws a Hulk (Mark Ruffalo) at him, as well as the Frank “The Punisher” Castle (John Bernthal), among others, not to mention using MJ and Ned against him in some of the film’s most emotional scenes.

All the while, Peter is undergoing another transformation of his powers that has a lot to do with the fact that he’s emotionally unstable, burned out, and increasingly isolated.

Eventually, Peter manages to discern real heroes from villains and comes to terms with the changes his body is taking him through. He’s also finally able to come to terms with the fact that the world doesn’t remember him and he’s going to have to earn the respect, trust, and love of all those he’d loved from the shadows in these long years between installments.

This film does a lot of things right for screenwriters of any stripe to learn from, in addition to doing a lot of things right for a film as part of a major franchise sprawling through a universe as large as Marvel’s as well. We’ll talk about a couple of big ones here before diving into what I think this script did the best, which was its handling of theme across its characters, relationships, and conflicts.

In Media Res

Being the fourth film in a series can make it intimidating for new viewers coming on board. There’s always a concern that your audience might be lost, but good writers will approach every new installment of a series as though it could be someone’s first. In an interview I did with comic writer and novelist Max Allan Collins (Road to Perdition), he explained to me that all the best comic books—really any narrative that’s part of a series—is going to be someone’s first so you need to write it with that understanding and build the narrative so that it rewards long-time members of the audience, but doesn’t punish new members either. That was the wisdom imparted on him. It’s how I’ve approached my work in BattleTech and other universes, and it’s something to watch out for in these big series films. Have the screenwriters rewarded the longtime audience and not punished the new members of the audience?

McKenna and Sommers handled the job in Brand New Day with aplomb, introducing enough context so that this could have easily been the first installment. Sure, if you know all of the backstory and side-characters, there’s a more rewarding experience to be had, but at no point would a new viewer be lost. There shouldn’t be any reason for them to be.

Think about it in terms of the original Star Wars film, A New Hope, which has been dubbed since its release as “Episode IV.” We don’t get any explanation about how Princess Leia stole the plans or what put Darth Vader on her trail. We don’t know why it might be a distressing thing that the Imperial Senate has been dissolved. Where is Alderaan? Why should Darth Vader respect their diplomatic status? What are the Clone Wars and why do they sound so important? We hear tell of the Emperor, but he remains a figure in the shadows. Terms are given only as much context as is absolutely necessary. Everything else is dropped as though the viewer understands it innately and the narrative moves on. That film became one of the biggest blockbusters in the history of cinema and launched a franchise that will outlive us all.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day maintains that energy. Yes, there have been three other Spider-Man films in this series, but if this had been released first, as the original Star Wars film had, the script makes allowances to contextualize everything we need — even from all of the tertiary Marvel Cinematic Universe material that exists. Some critics have complained that it’s weighed down by cameos and backstory because of the breadth of the MCU, but I truly don’t think they’re appreciating what the film is like from the perspective of a first time viewer and instead treating the rest of the MCU as homework, rather than the additive bonus material it is.

When you’re working on a screenplay, whether it’s the fourth in a series or meant to feel like the fourth in the series in your own original work, you want your characters and entire world to feel like it’s got a life and history that existed prior to the moment cameras began rolling. There’s nothing worse than the feeling that your characters were sitting in blank rooms with closed eyes, waiting for the camera to settle on them before the action begins. It’s always better to imagine they had a life before the film began and will have one when they’re not on the screen, and will have one long after the film has ended.

Double Meanings

There are moments in Spider-Man: Brand New Day that are repeated and doubled over, but when they return their meaning has changed significantly and have new, added meaning and dimension for the audience. Sometimes, these things can be simple items and objects that are used—like the infamous compact mirror in The Apartment or the inhibitors in Brand New Day—or ideas in the narrative. In one of the best cases in this film, it’s s series of scenes and dialogue that gets doubled-over. These are difficult things to write and even harder to write well.

The best in Spider-Man: Brand New Day are set in the halls of Peter’s mind. There, he keeps a memory of Aunt May (Marisa Tomei) close to him. Her comforting words give him a drive to make the right choices in his life and make up his moral compass. It’s also a moment he goes back to in order to draw on strength for himself. It’s also the antechamber where Jean Gray is locked out of Peter’s mind.

As we’re introduced to Jean Gray, we learn that she was abandoned by her mother and lost her sister, so she never had anyone close to her, and she lost her mother when it was revealed that she was a mutant. The film makes a point to accentuate her yearning for a mother/daughter relationship.

After this hallway and scene with Aunt May has been an ante-chamber, representing something she can’t have or can’t obtain, and for Peter represents so much love and comfort, it gets turned on its head in the finale. Peter finally invites Jean into his mind and this scene with Aunt May takes on a different tenor and poignancy. Jean sits on the bed where Peter has been sitting every time we’ve visited this scene. May’s comforting dialogue means so much more to Jean in this moment, where she’s longed so much for it. It’s designed so well for Peter in all of his scenes, but absolutely sings with this added dimension for Jean.

Although doubling a scene like this might not be applicable to all narratives, using items, character quirks, and moments to do this is something you should always be on the lookout for. It doesn’t always have to be a whole scene. It could be a single character affectation. For example, in Billy Wilder’s Double Indemnity, Walter Neff (Fred MacMurray) is a capable and self-sufficient character. This is something exemplified by his ability to light a match with one hand, striking the point with his thumbnail.

Through the narrative, his friend and colleague, Barton Keyes (Edward G. Robinson) never seems to have a match when he lights his cigar, and relies on Neff to light a match in this manner and light his cigar for him. At the end of the film, when Neff has been caught for his crimes (he did it for money and a woman, but he didn’t get the money and he didn’t get the woman) and Keyes is the one who has caught him, it’s Keyes who now produces the match and strikes it against his thumbnail, lighting a final cigarette for his erstwhile friend. It works on a symbolic level in a very elegant way and takes on new meaning when its used to turn the tables.

Theme, Choice, and Agency

As I left the theater, the thing I was impressed by most was the way Brand New Day handled its themes of choice and agency, both for the characters but also for the conflicts. As you watch the film play out, pay careful attention to how characters respond to their ability to make choices, their inability to make choices, their ability or inability to take choices from others and how that makes them feel, or their feeling that they have no power to make any other choice than the one they’ve made.

Every character grapples with these choices and the agency they have to make choices for themselves and for .

These all hinge around Peter and the choices he’s made—both for himself and for those around him. Peter decided unilaterally not to tell his friends about the spell that wiped him from their memories, despite his promise to do so. For him, this choice is all about keeping MJ and Ned safe. But for MJ, his choice has robbed her of her agency and her choice to decide whether or not she wants to put herself in the danger he’s trying to protect her from. Ultimately, Peter’s character arc hinges on his ability to accept the fact that he can’t make these choices for everyone around him; he needs to let those he cares about decide for themselves if they want to be in his life.

There are thematic elements that reinforce this central dilemma for Peter. Even the choice of antagonist in this film plays on the theme. Jean Grey’s power is directly tied to it: she enters the minds of her victims and robs them of their agency completely. This is doubly reinforced in the scenes where she inhabits MJ, even though Peter doesn’t realize it. Jean-in-MJ’s body makes Peter believe that she’s still in love with him once she remembers who he is and that she misses him. They kiss — taking MJ’s agency from her. This forces Peter to grapple with the fact that he’s kissed MJ again — something he’s been yearning for —  without her consent and it chews him up, adding to his emotional turmoil.

The ultimate villains of the piece reinforce the theme as well, where Damage Control’s job is to take the choice and agency from super-powered individuals — specifically from Jean and her sister, Sarah, who they’ve murdered — in order to “neutralize” and experiment on them.

Peter further grapples with themes of choice, control, and agency when his body rebels against him and begins this new transformation of powers and he tries to inhibit them. He seeks out Dr. Bruce Banner — better known as the Hulk — for advice about the inhibitor he uses to prevent himself from Hulking out. Peter wants to adapt it to his own situation and allow him to operate as Spider-Man as he’s accustomed, without the further mutations his body is undergoing. As they talk, Banner explains the moral implications of what Peter wants to do. If he were to make a universal inhibitor, rather than one tailored to Bruce Banner’s gamma radiation, it could be used against anyone with a superpower, which could be very dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands. This also opens Peter up to the dilemma of having to choose which genetic traits are good and which are bad and need suppression. Banner tells him that’s not so easy a thing to decide because sometimes these things need expressing, even if they aren’t convenient. It’s not for us to decide what’s “good” or “bad” in these cases.

As the film builds toward its climax, Peter has to let go of his control and let those around him exercise their own agency. Even if that means terrible things might happen. When he asks the Punished for help, Punisher insists that it will be on his terms and Peter hastily agrees, knowing he needs the help and that, no matter how imperfect, Punisher is trying to do the right thing. Even if that means getting shot by the Punisher himself.

Ultimately, at the film’s close, we’re shown that Peter’s going to finally give his old friend Ned the choice to decide for himself, too. His arc has come full circle, and he doesn’t have to be alone anymore because he doesn’t have to take on the burden of everyone else’s choices. His life is better because everyone around him can decide for themselves.

At every turn, the choices granted or taken from characters play pivotal roles in the narrative, making this a poignant and well-written script when it comes to theme and structure. Every meaningful choice in the screenwriting hinges on it. Rewatch the film and see how it turns every wheel in the story, and you’ll see how well-wrought it is and how much there is to learn from it.

It’s quite impressive.

Spider-Man: Brand New Day is in wide-theatrical worldwide.

You can learn more about Bryan Young at his website.

The post Spider-Man: Brand New Day’s Script Hews Close to Theme and Proves There’s Still Creative Vitality at Marvel appeared first on Script Magazine.

Some big news in this episode! Actually, lots of news … plus they give each other advice on productivity, for whatever that’s worth. And, as usual, Jeanne talks too much.

And if you have suggestions on how to focus so you can get writing done, we want to hear from you. Ping us on socials! 

Dive in!

Fun note: Join our (free) Symposium Writing Sprint Night on August 5th on Zoom … and you can write with Jeanne and see if she got that flip board.

Resources from this episode: 

• Sadie’s new album, Victory Blvd
• The Screenwriters Bible by Dave Trottier
• Dr. Format Tells All by Dave Trottier
• Studio Era on YouTube
• The Story Will Save You: Jeniffer Thompson
• Reckless Creatives: Thom Harp
• Reckless Creatives: Alie Flierl 
• “Disconnected” by Jeanne Veillette Bowerman on Pipeline Artists 
• Mastering the Art of the Zero Draft by Sean David Robinson
• “The Plot Wheel: More Than Just Structure” Symposium
• All of Tom Vaughan’s Symposium sessions

Pipeline Podcasts:
All OG Pipeline Artists podcasts can be found on pipelineartists.com/listen.

YouTube:
Watch full (read that as “most … maybe not any” because Jeanne is tired) episodes on YouTube.

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The post Reckless Creatives Podcast – What If … Sadie and Jeanne Tried to Focus … Never Mind appeared first on Script Magazine.