Urbanity by c.alex.salem | TriggerStreet.com

A character driven piece is without a doubt, the most difficult source of momentum to not only master, but to sustain throughout a full screenplay. To get a roomful of people (or even one reader for that matter) to genuinely care about a cast of imaginary creations to the point where they can at least feign interest for two hours is a herculean task going into any screenplay. And as the recent trends in the market show, a risk not many producers are willing to take. Without the two Hollywood staples to fall back on (humor and action) a lot of industry "knowitalls" simply won't bet on the chance that the script will be anything more than talking heads. Yes, what you have is a straight drama. And yes, this is going to be difficult to sell (at least now) without those two aforementioned pillars of the blockbuster. Whew, okay, I'm done with my development lecture. Let's look at this script PURELY as a sample piece of storytelling...

What is first, and most abundantly clear to me, is that this script does suffer a bit from the "talking head" syndrome I mentioned above. To put this out there (ahead of everything that follows, keep this next sentence in mind), you do have GOOD CHARACTERS. You've cleared the most frightening and mind-numbing obstacle of the drama. But, are these characters quite engaging enough to sustain the forward progress of the narrative for 114 pages? Quite frankly... not for me. And it breaks down into a few keys notes that my random observations seem to keep circling:

First and foremost, let's address the dual storytelling method you chose to exhibit. It's a difficult structure to pull off mainly because inevitable one story ends up taking over the momentum from the other one. What should be a symbiotic relationship quickly becomes a parasitic one, as one storyline serves only to halt the progress of its sister story. Unless both stories are headed toward the same undeniable conclusion (and adding toward the building narrative in the direction of said ending) then the script begins to read like driving down an endless road full of stop signs. Start, stop, start, stop, etc. I watched JULIE & JULIA last night (don't judge me) which suffered for that very reason. And at least to me, it's pretty obvious which storyline ends up dominating the other in your script.

Alex is a reliable character to build a screenplay around (although sometimes uneven, but I'll get to that later). You've got a fascinating milieu and a character who is genuinely sympathetic. Someone to whom the audience can really latch onto as they explore this lost face of society. Nathan on the other hand, is a rather tried and true profile which, quite frankly after reading one to many dramas the last few weeks, is a rather stale profile at that. Reading through the script I was never really sure WHY we were cutting away to Nathan's POV to begin with. What was REALLY being added to your theme by doing so? Not enough I found, to justify the distraction away from Alex's arc. My suggestion then would to see what this script becomes if we were to cut away Nathan's home life sequences and just experience that character (as well as the rest of the story) though the interesting lens which Alex provides. I don't even think you would have to lose Nathan's V.O. in the beginning (which I liked), and it would improve the overall flow of the narrative, which at times could be quite jarring.

I also had questions with how late you chose to start the actual story, which as far as I could tell began when Alex and Nathan first talked... a good forty pages into the script. All the time previous seems to have been to establish Alex's world which dragged on for a bit too long. In terms of setting up the environment of your screenplay; get in, get out and get to the story. This was evident in the scene at the abandoned house early on, which read more like a forced character introduction study then a natural progression of the story. How many of those characters where REALLY necessary? Two that I found... maybe three in a pinch. The rest however were dead weight. Take a look through the dialogue, how many of these characters really move the story along? And how many can simply be consolidated into one man or woman? The "fireside chat" scene brings me to the last issue I want to address: the dialogue.

I start with this scene, because this is when I noticed the script starting to get a tad preachy. A notion that unfortunately only increased exponentially through the pages. Before I get into the specific scenes, let me be CLEAR. You have the potential for poetic and dramatic dialogue. It's a good impulse to have, but sometimes you get a bit carried away with it. Before I continue, I would MUCH rather have a writer overshooting the dialogue then undershooting it. At least to prove to me that you CAN do it, wherein some writers I can't help but think "oh man, that's the best you can do?" So it makes me quite happy to say... pull it back. By "dialogue" I should be clear, I specifically recall a few lengthy expositional sequences (Nathan's opening V.O., Alex's "picture metaphor," Nathan and Alex's explanations of their respective history's and Nathan's final letter all spring to mind) in which you establish a touching analogy, but bring it to the reader with the subtly of a skillet to the face. Reading through these lines I couldn't help but think "okay, we got to the point of this speech awhile ago... why is this character still talking?" Sometimes saying less is saying more.

Abiding by this philosophy will also help alleviate some of the abrasive sermons that your characters sometimes seem prone too. I felt... a lot... while reading "okay, I'm a jerk because I don't drop a nickle in that homeless guys tin cup every morning, can we stop making me feel like an asshole?" Step off the pulpit and focus on your story and theme more and I think you'll find yourself addressing a similar message in a much more powerful (and subtle) manner.

I'd also like to take time to address the ending, which (for me) worked really well in some respects and not so well in others. I'll address these in a rather bullet-point structure, so bear with me. First: I had a hard time overcoming the MONUMENTAL coincidence that Nathan's son just so happened to be driving the car that killed Alex's father. To the point where I think you wouldn't even lose much of the emotional poignancy of the ending if you cut that thread all together. Second: Wasn't sure why Nathan had to bring Alex into his class to admit to him his son killed Alex's father. I get that the meeting is a place where recovering addicts can vent about their past transgressions, but still... seemed like a private moment ruined in the awkwardness of the circumstances. Third: Nathan's motivations toward then end started to get a tad trite in my view. He takes Riley's jacket to try to lure the cop away. Okay, I'll take that. But the concluding scene at the railroad, I couldn't stop thinking, "Okay Nathan, take off the jacket. You've lured him away. Okay, Nathan, now the man is FIRING A GUN AT YOU. Turn around. Nathan, what are you thinking??" As you can tell, I get his motivation to try to save Alex, but he seemed to have taken that too far. As though he HAD to die in the story and this was the was a way he could be offed. I might disagree on both fronts, but if you are going to kill him, I'd prefer to see it in a way that doesn't make me think it was avoidable. Fourth: The flashback. What does it really accomplish? What does it tell us that we don't already know? And then to add a flashback WITHIN the flashback makes the already hazy, that much more so. Fifth: The ending speech from Nathan's letter, while appropriate, started to get over sentimental for my tastes (same could be said of the aforementioned flashback). Like I said before, pull back a bit on the reins. Sixth: I hope you're still reading these because I thought the last line was great. A PERFECT way to wrap up the story, Alex's arc, and most importantly, THE THEME! Nice, nice, job. Don't underestimate the energy that can be generated from a final line.

Okay a few last items before I sum up. Alex starts out as a character who describes himself a someone who couldn't take his parents anymore. A man looking out for himself in the world. He then proceeds to turn around and help Nathan like a generous and caring human being. He THEN proceeds to resist Nathan's attempts to help him. Some confusing jumps in motivation, to the point where by the end of Act II, I still wasn't entirely sure who Alex was (it wasn't until is relationship with Tweety blossomed that I started to get a better idea.) Does he care about others besides himself or not? The contradiction in his personality seemed more confusing rather then evidence of tangible depth.

I really liked the ironic contrast between the radio hosts broadcasting the story of the police beating WHILE Alex was helping Nathan out.

Didn't think the "Accountant" thread was tied up that great. Not sure it was worth it in the first place. It was pretty transparent what Alex was doing and it felt rather out of place in the narrative that already has it's theme hammered home pretty hard.

My final words would be to remind you that you do have a compelling central character and the potential to great some great metaphoric images through dialogue. The sermons however ultimately devolve this into a talking heads picture that will require some level of subtext and/or tension to bring it out of the conventions of the genre. But you're not far off. You most definitely have the hard part out of the way and now it's just about refining and honing your message with subtly (and a trust in the reader) to bring the powerful idea I know is in the script, to the surface.

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