THE BLACK LIST 2014 - Logline Beat Down

[Pitchpatch]

BEEF - nope
Jeff Lock

The manager of a fast food chain in Muncie, Indiana gets in over his head with some bookies.



We have our protag and antag and our conflict, but we have no reason to pick up and read this script – if we must decide by this logline alone.  Hard to decipher the tone.  Is it a comedy?  An actioner?  A thriller?  All of the above?  Based on the double entendre title, I'm going with action-comedy.

With such a story-sparse logline, we may as well cut the location too:

“The manager of a fast food chain gets in over his head with some bookies.”

Ugh, I hate the way “some” sounds.  So blithe and disinterested: “Logline?  Yeah, okay.  Got one around here somewhere.  Alright, there you go.  Now fuck off.”  A small change will dissolve the logline author's “no fucks given” attitude:

“The manager of a fast food chain gets in over his head with a family of bookies.”

Now we imagine our manager facing not a few faceless hired goons but an entire criminal family – think Fargo season 2.  Or how about this.  There must be a leader among the “bookies,” yes?  Let's go with that:

“The manager of a fast food chain gets in over his head with a Buddhist bookie.”

That snagged your brain for a second, didn't it!  A Buddhist bookie?  How exactly would THAT work, with Buddhist being pacifists?  You want to know, right?  All we did was swap out one ineffectual word for a provocative one and now the logline hooks you.

I do have a good feeling about this story, but for me the logline as presented stays a solid “nope.”

[Pitchpatch]

BLACK WINTER - aces
Jonathan Stewart, Jake Crane

On the eve of a US-Soviet disarmament treaty, a British scientist and a NATO medical investigator discover a secret Soviet plot to unleash a terrifying biological weapon.



An imminent disarmament treaty – urgency, stakes.  Brit scientist and NATO investigator – protags, with potential for disagreements/infighting.  Biological weapon – threat, urgency, goal.  Soviet plot – antagonists, conflict.  This is a muscular logline that displays admirable balance and finesse.

There's just the one thing I'm considering: do we need “medical”?  It makes sense, of course, that the NATO investigator be in medicine, but is it important we know it for the LL?  “NATO medical investigator” slows down comprehension – three extra syllables in a slithering chain of syllables already quite long – compared with “NATO investigator.”   With “British scientist and NATO investigator” we lose no comprehension speed.

After more consideration I have a second suggestion: lose “secret.”  It's a given.  Plots usually don't happen in the open.  We know intuitively the Soviets will conduct this operation under the highest secrecy.  So why not disappear one word and claim back the small reward in readability?  It smooths out the logline's cadence too:

“On the eve of a US-Soviet disarmament treaty, a British scientist and a NATO investigator discover a Soviet plot to unleash a terrifying biological weapon.”

But really I don't need to change a thing.  The logline for BLACK WINTER is, without a doubt, aces full.

[Pitchpatch]

CARTOON GIRL - good
Randall Green

When a young boy finds out that the cartoon character he's in love with is based on a real girl, he drags his single father on a road trip to track her down.



“When a young boy finds out that the cartoon character he's in love with is...”  How did you complete that sentence in your head the first time?  “Based on a real girl” is the go-to answer, but it's not the answer I wanted.  My imagination took a sharp turn into Roger Rabbit territory.  The moment I read “based on a real girl” I felt let down.  Young boy + cartoon character = something original and delightful and visually exciting.  I didn't want it to be grounded in the real world.  But that's just me.  And I'm not supposed to be critiquing the stories, despite having done it – what, five or six times already?  Hey, don't try to oppress me with your rules, man!  Even if I did write 'em.  Rules are for squares.  And rulers, yeah!  Rulers are for squares.  For making squares.  And straight lines – look, don't confuse me with your bullshit rules is what I'm saying, man!

Pushing aside my appetite for a more fantastical outcome from these story elements, I do like the logline for its easy readability and workmanlike performance.  On first consideration I gave the logline a “hmmm” but after second thoughts I upgraded it.  If only it excited just a teensy bit more, I would not have vacillated at all.  What can we do to nudge it over the line?

“When a young boy learns the cartoon character he loves is a real girl, he tricks his single father into a road trip to find her.”

So that's 33 words down to 26, for starters.  I swapped out “drags” for “tricks” to have the kid operate under false pretensions.  His dad isn't coming along grudgingly (and knowingly); he's coming along for some deceitful reason the kid concocted.  That's gotta cause some conflict with his dad when the truth comes out.

[Pitchpatch]

ROAD TO OZ - hmmm
Josh Golden

The early days of brilliant, whimsical author L. Frank Baum, who gave the world The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.



It is what it is: another biographical logline.  Correction: this isn't a logline; it's a premise.  A sandbox.  Maybe the sandbox contains an exquisite sand castle.  Maybe the sandbox holds a series of monotonous peaks and troughs, featureless and windswept like the Sahara Desert.  We have to take it on faith that it's the former, on account of this popular screenplay turning up on the Black List.  But what about before it gained notoriety?  What convinced the early adopters to read it?  Presented with this logline only, why would they choose to read this script over others with much harder working loglines?

“Famous person.  Read me!” is the gist of biographical loglines like this one.  I don't believe you get a free pass when you base your script on the famous.  In fact, I believe you must work harder to build a logline that showcases how your screenplay is different to other biographical screenplays based on that famous subject.

Extrapolating from ROAD TO OZ's logline, we might suppose Josh's story goes like this: Baum has a wonderful childhood guided by loving parents and family.  He educates himself and gathers a coterie of loyal, supportive friends along the way.  He decides he will be a writer.  Money is no trouble because his father is rich and supportive.  Baum woos a beautiful woman and they wed with the blessings of each family.  A week after their honeymoon Baum's literary agent notifies him about an intense bidding war among publishers for the rights to his WIZARD OF OZ manuscript.  Baum is now independently wealthy.  His wife gives birth to healthy twins, then more children, each a prodigy in their own way and destined to thrive in the world.  Baum's OZ book sells out with every printing and he becomes known and beloved the world over.  After a life full of prosperity, good fortune and contentment, Baum dies peacefully in Hollywood in the year 1919.  At his funeral attended by famous celebrities, rulers, and influential persons the likes of which have never assembled since, a 22-year-old Shirley Temple approaches Baum's open coffin.  If any mourners recognized her – an impossibility unless they too were time travelers and had skipped forward in time past Shirley Temple's birth in 1928 – those mourners would recall how in 1950 Temple announced her retirement from acting and had immediately disappeared from public view.  Those mourners would know this Shirley Temple – the one right now respectfully approaching Baum's coffin – was likely an agent of C.R.O.N.E, that shadowy agency with the baffling title of Chrono-temporal Response Organization of New Earth.  They would suddenly understand Shirley Temple's “retirement” in 1950 was nothing of the sort.  It had been a recruitment.  C.R.O.N.E must have kept its eye on Temple for years, waiting for the right moment to bring her under their wing and reveal to her the true nature of mankind's twisted history.  And now, here in 1919, in this cemetery, on this sunny Los Angeles day, if any mourners were to recognize 22-year-old Shirley Temple they would realize she was here to do one thing and only one thing: bring L. Frank Baum back from the dead...

Okay.  Before I took one step too many, lost my footing, and plunged into the Abyss, I was making a point about how this logline fails to set up any dramatic through-line.  The screenplay's on the goddamn Black List!  There must be a gripping story in there somewhere.  We have to assume Baum faces all kinds of adversity and ill fortune within those script pages.  He must have dreams and desires and fears.  The logline could be a sneak preview of that.  Pick one of the adversities – a big one – and thread it into the logline.

“The early days of brilliant, whimsical author L. Frank Baum, who gave the world The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, then died, then lived, then became a legendary agent of C.R.O.N.E.”

[Pitchpatch]

BIG TIME ADOLESCENCE - hmmm
Jason Orley

A sixteen year old virgin with a growth deficiency slowly gets corrupted by his hero, an aimless college dropout.



“Kid with growth defect gets corrupted by his hero.  THE END.”  My brain automatically appended that second sentence.  Seemed like the only reasonable way to finish.  This logline is kind of a bummer.  Started out great with the intrigue about the growth deficiency, then the supposed protagonist turned passive and I lost interest.  As an exercise, what happens when we switch the logline around, place the subject and object in their proper places?

“An aimless college dropout slowly corrupts the physically stunted sixteen-year-old virgin who idolizes him.”

Which protagonist do you prefer of the two?  Who gets a protagonist's arc: college dropout or stunted virgin?

Passive through-lines will kill you.  Make your protagonist active.  Make them want something.  Make them act instead of react.

[Pitchpatch]

LBJ - nope
Joey Hartstone

Lyndon Johnson goes from powerful Senate Majority Leader, powerless Vice President to President of the United States following the assassination of John F. Kennedy.



Powerful to powerless to powerful.  Johnson, Senate Majority Leader, Vice President, President, JFK.  I understand the arrangement, but there are too many elements tumbling over each other vying for attention.  Let's get these ducks in a row and quacking in harmony.

“Merciless Senate Majority Leader.  Impotent Vice President.  And in the turmoil of JFK's assassination: President of the United States.  This is Lyndon B. Johnson.”

[Pitchpatch]

POSSESSION: A LOVE STORY - hmmm
Jack Stanley
 
In a seemingly perfect marriage, a man discovers that he is actually wedded to a demon inhabiting another woman's body.



Before we do anything, knock out "that" and "actually."  Both are unwelcome parasites here.

Well-worn the idea may be, it does possess that quality of feeling familiar but (we hope) different.  We really do need the other shoe to drop, which will give us a logline instead of a premise.  The premise is essentially this:

“A man's perfect wife is a demon inhabiting some other woman's body.”

The logline forms when we ask the question: “And because of that, what?”  Perhaps this:

“When a wall-street banker learns his perfect new wife is a demon in a stolen body, he must accept who she is or face a divorce from Hell.”

Wall-street banker, huh?  Double meaning for "possession" in the title, huh?  No need to rolleyes in disgust.  I already rolleyed plenty for the both of us.

[Pitchpatch]

THE SECRET INGREDIENTS OF ROCKET COLA - nope
Mike Vukadinovich
 
Twin brothers with opposite personalities are separated at a young age and go on to live drastically different lives, eventually being reunited in the effort to save the company 'Rocket Cola' despite their love of the same woman.



Definitely in the tl;dnr category.  And “twins who love the same woman” is a thoroughly trite premise.  So this logline really needs to hit hard and fast to compensate.

“Twin brothers separated as children go on to live drastically different lives until they reunite to save the company `Rocket Cola' despite their love of the same woman.”

I think the “drastically different lives” is enough to show the twins are opposites.

The timing of the woman's involvement remains unclear.  Do they jointly (and separately) fall in love with her before they reunite to save the company?  After?  I'll take a punt and guess the woman is part of the company and that's how the newly reunited twins meet her – i.e. they fall in love with her at the same time.  But it's impossible to determine any kind of chronology from the logline.  Equally, you could argue the author's choice of “despite” strongly implies the romantic competition has been ongoing long before the company needs saving.

This kind of ambiguity is not the good kind.  It raises the wrong questions.  Any questions the logline leaves hanging must be forward-facing: “Then what?  And if that, then what?”  We should not have to go back and try to make sense of the setup.  Our imagination needs a rock-solid foundation to build upon.  This logline, unfortunately, gives us a platform of shifting sand.

Let's try two versions: one where they love the woman prior to saving the company, and another where they meet her when they reunite to save the company.


VERSION 1: They have a history with her prior to the main story

“Twin brothers separated as children go on to live drastically different lives yet fall in love with the same woman.  Now she must reunite them to save the company 'Rocket Cola.'”

Zing!  See what happened?  We introduced cause and effect – or, to the extent it was there all along, we dragged it into the foreground.  That's 38 words down to 31.  I'd like to get that even lower...

“Twin brothers, separated as children, live drastically different lives yet fall for the same woman.  Now she must reunite them to save her father's company 'Rocket Cola.'”

Nice!  Down to 27 words.  But hold on there!  I see what you did: you cut a bunch of words, but also you slipped in one tiny story change: “her father's company.”  Yup, I put some narrative glue between the twins, their romantic rivalry, and the failing company.  Unity of action.  The added relationship helps us understand why the twins will try to overcome their differences and save this company.  They're doing it for her.  If that was the original logline's intention, it was not at all clear.  Now it is.


VERSION 2: They reunite to save the company, then fall in love with her

Let's work with my revised logline.

“Twin brothers, separated as children, live drastically different lives until a woman reunites them to save her father's company 'Rocket Cola' and makes them compete for her love.”

That's a different movie, but see how with this change the formerly nondescript twins-woman love triangle bursts open with intrigue and conflict.  And that's just one extra word compared to version 1.

If the story isn't about the woman being the provocateur then let's try something else:

“Twin brothers, separated as children, live drastically different lives until they both fall for the woman who reunites them to save her father's company 'Rocket Cola.'”

Not as brassy or conflict-laden, but it will do.  These two revisions simplify and clarify the original messy, ambiguous logline.

[Pitchpatch]

THE SHOWER - hmmm
Jac Schaeffer

At a baby shower for their longtime friend, the attendees suddenly find themselves in the middle of a different type of shower: meteors that release a vapor turning men into blood-hungry aliens.



A little wordy but otherwise this is a good logline.  Baby shower (the feminine) versus men transformed into bloodthirsty monsters (the masculine).  I like that clash of cultures.  Mainly what I'd like to see here is a focus on the protagonist instead of the group.

But first, here's a slimmed version of the logline:

“Attendees at a baby shower face a different type of shower when meteors release a vapor turning men into bloodthirsty predators.”

That sizzles.  We squeezed 33 words down to 21, losing nothing.  I subbed “predators” for “aliens” because can they be alien if they began as human?  Unless the vapor reengineers every cell in the victim's body, they remain to some degree human.  Sure, “alien” can be viewed figuratively in this context: the unnatural, the foreign, the outsider, the unknown.  For me, “predators” reinforces how the men are going after the women.  (It's reasonable to assume most of the attendees are women.)

Let's focus now on a protagonist instead of the group.

“Forced to attend a friend's baby shower, a stripper must get her pregnant host to safety when a meteor shower turns men into bloodthirsty predators.”

Oh snap!  Not just a premise now but a fully formed logline of 25 words.  The original tells us “meteors release a vapor turning men into blood-hungry aliens,” and we ask, “And?  That's the setup, now what's the story?”  The revision gives us specific contrast and conflict.  Stripper attending a baby shower.  Reluctant to be there.  Dealing with stigma, jealousies, and general bitchiness from the conservative ladies.  Shit goes down.  Tables turn.  Goal: get the host and her unborn (or newborn) baby through the ordeal alive.

[Pitchpatch]

CELERITAS - hmmm
Kimberly Barrante

When a missing astronaut crash lands forty years after he launched having not aged a day, his elderly twin brother helps him escape the NASA scientists hunting him. As the government closes in, neither brother is who they claim to be.



TV's The Twilight Zone leaned over to me and whispered: “That's my bit!”  This logline plays with hand-me-down toys, but there's a reason these toys get played with all the time.  The LL succeeds in laying a solid foundation then leaving the reader to speculate over possible story spines.  But it fails in some other ways.

We have an inciting incident, an overarching story question, the Act One turning point, a goal, the antagonists... and the LL has time left to nibble on a conspiracy.  It's a satisfying meal but it leaves an unpleasant aftertaste.  I'm not digging the disconnected statements: “government closes in” and “neither brother is who they claim.”  Who's the observer in that sentence?  Who discovers the brothers are not who they claim to be?  Do the brothers learn this about each other?  Is the government discovering this about the brothers?  What's our POV here?  How do we logically connect the two ideas?

There's another subtle problem impairing my enjoyment of this LL.  Is the elderly brother the protagonist or is it the astronaut?  The way the logline's written, the elder twin is the one who makes the decisions and engages in the most action.  Subject-verb-object.  Elder brother “helps” the younger.  That's the through-line the logline promotes.

We'll try it both ways, having settled on the brothers discovering each other's false identities.

Astronaut as protagonist:

“When a missing astronaut crash lands forty years later having not aged a day, he must escape the NASA manhunt, aided by his elderly twin brother.  Soon the brothers will learn neither is who they claim to be.”

That comma before “aided,” huh?  Story becomes its opposite when you remove it!

“When a missing astronaut crash lands forty years later having not aged a day, he must escape the NASA manhunt aided by his elderly twin brother.  Soon the brothers will learn neither is who they claim to be.”

The elderly twin brother is aiding the NASA manhunt?  Holy shit!  Okay, so let's firm that up, just for fun:

“When a missing astronaut crash lands forty years later having not aged a day, he must escape the NASA manhunt led by his elderly twin brother.  Soon the brothers will learn neither is who they claim to be.”

Whoa.  Intrigue!  Elderly twin hunting his returned younger twin.  I think I want that movie!

Elderly brother as antagonist:

“When a missing astronaut crash lands forty years later having not aged a day, his elderly twin brother must help him escape the NASA manhunt.  Soon the brothers will learn neither is who they claim to be.”

[Pitchpatch]

I AM RYAN REYNOLDS - nope
Billy Goulston

An inside look at the marriage, career, and mental state of 2010's Sexiest Man Alive.



Moving on...

[Pitchpatch]

JACKPOT - hmmm
Dave Callaham
 
After a group of bumbling teachers win a large amount of money, their greed and incompetence put them on a hilarious path toward death and destruction.



This is a sales pitch selling the sizzle not the steak.   That's fine – so long as you can follow up with a real logline.

The elements here are way too vague to get a strong sense of story.  Bumbling teachers win money then funny, violent stuff happens.  That's interesting, but far from intriguing.  To sharpen the hook we must get specific.  For example, we have no idea how they won the money.  The title JACKPOT narrows the possibilities to casino, state-run lottery, something else?  Confusingly, we have no idea if the teachers stay united as they battle an external force or if they go up against each other.  Look how adding a few extra details makes a dull logline interesting.

“When a group of kindergarten teachers wins big at a casino, greed and incompetence turn them against each other until there can be only one winner.”

“When a group of music teachers wins big in the lottery, their greed and incompetence turn them against each other until there can be only one winner.”

“When a group of casino blackjack dealers take their employer for millions, their greed and incompetence turn them against one another until there can be only one winner.”

[Pitchpatch]

PLUS ONE - nope
April Prosser

Just out of a long term relationship and realizing that all her friends have married, Rachel discovers that her only remaining wingwoman is Summer, a loud and oversharing wildcard.



Interesting characters, catchy title, awful logline.  Until somebody releases the handbrake by giving us the “moving” in this movie, this logline isn't going anywhere.  The best we can do is trim.

“Out of a long-term relationship, Rachel realizes all her friends have married and her only remaining wingwoman is loud, oversharing wildcard Summer.”

Rachel confronting those facts could be the inciting incident or it could be the Act One turning point.  Every moment after that is unknowable and unguessable.  There is no story here.  But it's on the Black List so somebody liked it -- a lot of somebodies.  Pity none of the presumably entertaining story bleeds into the logline.

[Pitchpatch]

WONKA - hmmm
Jason Micallef
 
A dark, reimagining of the Willy Wonka story beginning in World War II and culminating with his takeover of the chocolate factory.



Darkening an already dark Willy Wonka?  Yes please.  But – and isn't there always a “but” – shy of a few extra details, I'm not quite convinced I should drop everything to read this.  That's the goal of every logline: slice into your reader's brain like a diamond-bladed shuriken, severing their every thought except the irresistible impulse to read your screenplay.

I bet Jason fashioned a terrific story between the covers, but the logline musters only tepid curiosity.  It's concise – bonus points for that.  I reckon I can compact it further.

“Willy Wonka's dark, untold story, from World War II until he takes over the chocolate factory.”

[Pitchpatch]

BEAUTY PAGEANT - aces
Evan Mirzi , Shea Mirzai

After they unwittingly get their daughters disqualified from the child beauty circuit, two warring stagemothers are forced to go head to head in an adult beauty pageant.



BOOM.  Evan and Shea earn the coveted “Imma let you finish but our logline is...” award.

Inciting incident, protag, antag, diametrically opposed goals (only one can succeed over the other), situational irony, baked-in conflict (“warring”).  Shut up, me, because we're done here.

Awesome job.  If you want to save a couple words, favor “must” over “are forced to.”