Reading Screenplays

  Script Readers are crucial to the film industry, often responsible for determining whether a script is even looked at by a producer or development executive, yet those accountable for reading can be on the first rung of the industry ladder and have had little or no training for the task. This user-friendly ‘how-to’ guide written by one of the UK’s leading script analysis specialists, lays bare the process of analysing film scripts. This is invaluable to anyone looking to work as a script reader, anyone who wants to work in development with writers, and for screenwriters themselves who are seeking guidance on how the industry might respond to their work. An essential reference tool, the book includes information on:

  How to write a brilliant script report

  Storytelling and screen genres

  Treatments and other short documents

  Writing clear and detailed analysis of the craft of storytelling for film

  Best practice in reading and reporting on scripts

  It also includes a full Resource Section listing useful print and online publications, organisations and associations.

  Lucy Scher is a director of The Script Factory, the UK’s premier screenwriters’ organisation. She devised the UK’s first training course in script reading, developed the UK’s only Diploma in Script Development, and is an internationally recognised script developer.

  Lucy Scher

  READING SCREENPLAYS

  how to analyse and evaluate film scripts

  creative ESSENTIALS

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  The Script Factory's Reader Training (and related) courses have been taught by Justine Hart, Marilyn Milgrom, Ludo Smolski, Rob Ritchie, Angeli Macfarlane, Kate Leys, Jonny Brown, Tracy O'Riordan, Sarah Harper-Barnes and Ranald Allan. Special thanks to Angeli Macfarlane, who I worked with on the Pathe Prize, selecting three projects out of some 2,000 submissions for a Script Factory reading. This greatly accelerated my learning and expertise in teaching script reading.

  My thanks to…

  Alexandra Wilds for allowing me to report on her script Broken Heart Boot Camp; Peter Scher, my dad, who read the material and ensured it made sense; my mum, Anne Scher; my editor, Hannah Patterson, for asking me to do it, and Anne Hudson for her invaluable contributions along the way; my co-director of 11 happy years, Briony Hanson, now Director of Film for the British Council; and Sheena Bucktowonsing, our company manager these last two years. Together with Justine Hart, current co-director, Briony and Sheena shared their passion for film and encouraged this writing endeavour with much support and good humour. And my huge personal thanks go to Clare Muller for everything else.

  Finally, my thanks to Charlotte Macleod for taking a punt on me in 1996 and letting me join her to launch The Script Factory.

  CONTENTS

  INTRODUCTION

  1.

  STORYTELLING AND THE PRINCIPLES OF GENRE

  2.

  SCRIPT REPORT WRITING

  3.

  THE SCRIPT REPORT

  4.

  A SAMPLE SCRIPT REPORT.

  5.

  WRITING AND ASSESSING TREATMENTS

  6.

  A CAREER IN SCRIPT DEVELOPMENT

  SELECTED ONLINE RESOURCES

  SCRIPT FACTORY PROGRAMMES

  Copyright

  INTRODUCTION

  Script readers are crucial to the film industry, often responsible for determining whether a script is even looked at by a producer or development executive. Yet those accountable for reading scripts are often on the first rung of the industry ladder and, even when they are already working in the film world, may have had little or no training for the task. This book is based upon knowledge acquired during the years of teaching the Script Factory Reader Training Course both in the UK and internationally. The course has used good produced scripts as well as a huge range of unproduced projects, very generously made available by aspiring screenwriters. Participants have ranged from heads of studios, heads of funds and screen agencies, producers, distributors, commissioners, directors, agents and screenwriters, as well as those seeking to start a career in reading and development. The intention of this book is to equip anyone who reads (or indeed writes) scripts and is required to make some judgement upon them, whatever their role and experience in the wider film industry, with the confidence and skills to write intelligent, informed script reports.

  Scripts are usually first read at a very early stage of a film’s development. Every filmmaker will tell you that the story will continue to be rewritten dozens of times, both before and during production, and won’t be completed until the final edit. The job of the reader, therefore, is not to judge a fledgling film script against acclaimed movies but rather to discern whether there is enough potential in the idea to make it worth the writer’s time and effort, or the producer’s cash, to invest in another draft that might eventually be shaped into a film.

  For the past 13 years the Script Factory has been training readers to read screenplays a little more generously; not to suggest that something is good when it clearly isn’t, but rather not to dismiss a good idea that may currently be let down by simplistic characterisation or a weak structure, things that could be fixed through wise development and honing of the writer’s craft. A skilful script reader should be able to see past such weaknesses and glimpse what the finished film could be if the writer’s intentions were to be successfully realised.

  Alongside the chapters on the detail of the script report, including a sample report, this book incorporates an analysis of genre and how to use it in reading and development; a chapter on both writing and assessing treatments; and a final section on the job of development, both what it is and how to manage the transition from reading scripts to working with screenwriters.

  Understanding how a script is assessed and developed is possibly the most valuable training that a screenwriter can access and, if you read this as a writer, the step-by-step process of analysing the material offers you the best way to obtain distance from, and objectivity about, your project to help in making the decisions that will improve it.

  I joined the newly conceived Script Factory to produce the first season of screenplay readings in the autumn of 1996. Our aim was to showcase the scripts of the UK’s finest screenwriters and bring them to life with exceptional actors, in front of a film-industry audience, to celebrate the craft of writing for the screen.

  My work involved reading each of the scripts, at least twice, and then listening to them being delivered by actors at a tempo that enabled me to visualise the action. In this way, and entirely unexpectedly, I learned the craft of screenplay. It was an enormously privileged, and perhaps unique, start to a development career.

  I only became aware that I had acquired this skill when the Script Factory project opened its doors and I began to read scripts by hopeful and enthusiastic new writers who clearly didn’t know or understand the craft of screenwriting. In an effort to convey some of the knowledge that I had absorbed I wrote script reports, first on an adhoc basis to anyone who asked, and then launched the Script Report Service that still runs today. This offers any screenwriter a constructive, analytical report on their project to help them decide the development priorities for the next draft.

  The success of the Script Report Service created the need for more readers than just myself. The ones available at that time wrote ‘coverage’ for executives, and had a style that was personal, but often very critical and inappropriate to offer the writer. As I had paid work to offer to successful participants, in the summer of 1999 I felt confident enough to launch a Report Writing Course. I devised some exercises and processed the learning I had absorbed about story and screenwriting craft into six lecture sessions.

  Over the years the report-writing course a
nd its content has been developed and refined, improved and expanded and I am indebted to all the trainers for their invaluable contributions. And, of course, we have gained immeasurably from the many thousands of participants who have taken part and warmly and generously offered their insights, thoughts and experiences. However, my debt is greatest to my Script Factory co-director Justine Hart who brought extraordinary intellectual rigour to the material; much of the thinking and precision about how to convey it in this book are hers.

  Our hope is that this book conveys to you the spirit of the course as well as the detail, and remains an inspiring and relevant companion throughout your career.

  1.STORYTELLING AND THE PRINCIPLES OF GENRE

  Reading screenplays requires the skills to analyse the ability of the writer, first, to tell a story, and, second, to tell that story dramatically. This book offers a method that enables the script reader to be precise and helpful in preparing the report. But before we get to the detail of the script report, first an exploration of genre. Screenplays are incredibly textured documents and extremely hard to write. As we are reading a script, especially first or early drafts, we begin to feel gaps in the story. We start thinking about ways to fill those gaps by improving the set up, or changing the characters, or making the problems more difficult – or, indeed, simpler – or altering the outcome so the script delivers a more satisfying story. In doing this we are bringing to it a very comprehensive understanding of genre.

  GENRE

  Genre is a well-established technical term in the film industry. Genre categorises the type or the style of story. Genre is routinely used in marketing films, e.g. a thriller, a horror, a romantic comedy, a heist, a gangster film, etc. However, we use genre in script reading or development to delve beneath the surface to see the basic pattern of the story – the thriller or horror or romantic comedy, etc – that we are recognising or unconsciously beginning to understand.

  We recognise the emotional territory within which the story works and the conventions used in the storytelling. Consciously using this knowledge in our thinking about the script will ensure that the analysis in the script report has relevance to industry and audience as well as the writer.

  I can illustrate this from my experience in running a workshop in Macedonia for new filmmakers. I asked the class to read the local paper and pick out a story that they thought would make a good film. Every single one of them chose the same article whose headline translated as: ‘200 Macedonian students are to be given the opportunity to work in Disneyworld, Florida for the summer to improve their English and their relations.’

  Nine students in three groups of three set about writing film versions of stories this headline suggested to them.

  The first story presented was a comedy–drama centred around a guy aged 30. Although too old to be a student he was in love with the Disney characters, and the story related his efforts to get enrolled in a college so that he could go on the trip and meet Mickey Mouse. By the time he has succeeded and arrives in Florida, a real person has filled the gap in his life and he no longer needs Mickey.

  The second story was a slasher film set in Disneyworld where a group of six Macedonian students is employed on the night watch when a Disney character starts to come to life. One by one the students are slaughtered until one lone girl remains, fighting for her life. In the morning she is found alive at the top of Big Thunder Mountain, mute and unable to explain what happened. As she is returned to Macedonia and starts talking on her cell phone about collecting her friends’ wages for them, the audience realises it was she who killed the others!

  The third story was a road movie about a Macedonian Grandma who has learnt that she is dying. She decides to visit her grandson who is working in Disneyworld for the summer. She has never left Macedonia before and deeply distrusts all Americans but she obtains a visa and a plane ticket and arrives in Los Angeles; she has, of course, gone to the wrong Disney theme park. Thus begins her trip from LA to Florida, with time running out. The trip enables her to discover the commonality and humanity of all people, including Americans, at a time, and in a strange new place, when she needs it most. She arrives in time to say goodbye.

  This ability to sit down in a group and quickly establish the meaning and the main character of a story and then to fill in the events which link it all up is quite extraordinary.

  Stories offer a stabilising integrity and the stories that endure are those that embody clear meanings. In each of the three Macedonian student stories, the writers employed a meaningful and resonant idea, and then found a way of telling it, so that the meaning is communicated to you when you read it.

  Genre provides a framework within which to structure the analysis of a script. Establishing the kind of story that the writer is writing, or aspiring to write, is fundamental. It will enable the reader to understand what the story should mean, why it should mean that, and how that meaning is established through the choice of character/s and events.

  Be in no doubt that wherever the idea for the story originates – whether from personal experience, a newspaper article, an intriguing situation, or whatever – the reason the writer has chosen it is because it has meaning that is in some way important to the writer. The task of script reading and script development is to find that meaning and assist the writer in conveying it as effectively as possible to the audience. Absolutely essential for doing this well is for the reader to have a thorough and conscious understanding of genre.

  FILM GENRES

  There are, and always will be, many exceptions raised to all the points discussed in relation to film, storytelling and genres. The purpose of any discussion about genre is not to find unity and precise definitions but to identify and understand the various emotional territories that stories inhabit. This enables the reader to make an informed judgement about a script – the work that is needed to enhance both it and its potential to find an audience.

  Film genres may be loosely divided into the two main types. They are (1) stories that deal in transgression where someone or something has upset the order of the world and the purpose of the story is to restore it, and (2) stories that deal in relationships – some of which may involve transgression but in which our interest is more likely to be in the characters rather than the outcome of the transgression.

  To clarify this, consider the horror genre. This genre covers such a wide range of stories that it is impossible to define any core conventions beyond the fact that it deals in our fear of the supernatural, with the method of storytelling employed to deliver some visceral shocks to the audience. Thus, as a genre, it embraces stories that deal with death and grief like The Orphanage and The Sixth Sense, cave–dwelling monsters like The Descent, as well as Nightmare on Elm Street and The Omen.

  Whilst there are some films that are clearly conceived as horror films, ones with weird children all born on a particular day (6th of June) who are evil, other stories can be seen to ‘use’ the horror genre to give a big–screen presence to a story idea that, if rendered as a drama, would be boring.

  The Orphanage is essentially about a mother who doesn’t pay proper attention to her child, who then goes missing. It’s about maternal guilt and the ghosts of orphaned or lost children searching for the mothers they never had. By the end of the film, you realise that, strictly speaking, there is no malevolent force, the ghosts are just children looking for their friends, but the film still contains really creepy moments, with doors closing inexplicably and blood trickling down the walls. Consequently the audience experiences the thrills of the horror film and arguably the filmmakers have obtained a much bigger audience for a story about grief.

  In assessing and analysing horror screenplays a good script reader should know that the genre is defined by its method of storytelling, and that it can encompass ‘natural’ grief as well as supernatural evil. This demonstrates an intelligent rather than a prescriptive approach to genre.

  GENRE CONVENTIONS – EXAMPLES

  When trying to
apply the conventions of a genre it can be useful for the reader to structure the assessment around the building blocks of the story. For example, pose questions about the nature of the main character. What kinds of character traits are we expecting? Does the character have a goal or does the audience supply it? Do the characters change? How is the character’s conflict most prominently manifested? Is the conflict internal, situational or interpersonal? What resolution are we expecting?

  Here are some examples of common genres and the particular considerations each presents for the script reader.

  Rites of passage

  It is common for writers, and even readers, to classify any story in which a young person learns something as a rites of passage story, but this is not always the case. The term ‘rite of passage’ applies to an event or ceremony that marks the transition from one recognisable stage of life to the next. Our present culture doesn’t always offer clear milestones or markers. Indeed the distinctions between the different phases of life have been blurred – a mid–life crisis can occur in your twenties and middle age is now (happily) middle youth. However, we still recognise the phases through which we pass: childhood to adolescence; adolescence to adulthood; single to married; child–free to parenthood; working to retired.

  Because film stories deal in conflict, celebrating successful transition is not usually seen in the rites of passage genre. Rather, the stories most commonly deal with characters who must struggle to make the transition – characters who are on the threshold of the next phase of life but aren’t ready. Either the characters are trying to fly too soon, or life is about to require something of them that they don’t yet feel equipped to give, or else circumstances will take away from them something they are not ready to surrender.