Save the Cat! (2 page)

Well, that's me, too.

I've had a long track record of working with other screenwriters. I've taught my method and shortcuts to some of the most successful in the business. I've helped make them better screenwriters. It's because my approach to the task is practical, based on common sense — and mostly because it works.

And lastly, I think it would be good if a screenwriting book told you the truth about your chances of selling. There are tons of seminars and screenwriting programs out there that seem designed to encourage people and ideas that should not be encouraged. I don't know about you, but I find this cruel. Advice like: "Follow your heart!" and "Be true to your vision!" is fine if you're in therapy. Me? I really want to improve my odds. Life is short. I don't need to be misled into thinking my script based on the life of St. Aloysius or a "true-life event" that happened to me at camp one summer actually has a chance if it doesn't.

So why another screenwriting book? Because the others I've seen don't say it like it is, and don't give the reader the tools to attain success in the field. And on top of that, they often serve the writer of the book more than the reader. I personally don't want a career teaching screenplay writing courses; I just want to pass along what I know. And besides all that, I'm at the point when I'm ready to "give it away." I've had a lot of amazing breaks, I've learned from the masters, and now it's time for me to tell you.

I also undertook the writing of this book because of the lack of common sense I see in many of the movies that get made today. For all the knowledge out there, many in Hollywood forget the basics and ignore what works, thinking that just because they have studio offices and big expense accounts, they don't need to follow the rules anymore.

And, frankly, this drives me up a tree!

As I am writing this book, there is one phenomenon in particular that really bothers me, and yet from a business point of view it's pretty smart. It's the Make-Sure-It-Opens-Or-Else trend. This is where you spend a lot of money on the movie, hype the bejeezus out of it, open wide at 3,OOO+ theaters, and have a huge first weekend to recoup your cost. And who cares if your movie drops 70% or 80% in its
second
weekend because of bad word-of-mouth?

What bugs me about this trend is that for all the money they're spending on star salaries, special effects, advertising, and marketing — and don't forget all those prints — it would be better spent, and the movies would be better too, if the filmmakers just paid
$4
for some paper and pencils and
followed the rules of how to write a good movie!

Take a hip, slick movie like
Lara Croft 2
for example. They spent a fortune on that film. And everyone is still wondering what happened. They can't figure out why they didn't bring in the audience of targeted men. It's not surprising to me. What's wrong with this picture? Where did the filmmakers go awry? To me it's really very simple: I don't like the Lara Croft character. Why would I? She's cold and humorless. And while that's fine in the solitary world of video games and comics, it doesn't make me want to leave my home to go see the movie. The people who produced this film think they can get you to like her by making her "cool." This is what amounts to "character development" in au
currant
movies-.
"She
drives a cool car." That's someone's idea of how to create a winning hero.

Well, folks, I don't care about how "cool" it is, this isn't going to work.

Why?

Because liking the person we go on a journey with is the single most important element in drawing us into the story.

Which brings us to the title of this book:
Save the Cat!

Save the what?

I call it the "Save the Gat" scene. They don't put it into movies anymore. And it's basic. It's the scene where we meet the hero and the hero
does
something — like saving a cat — that defines who he is and makes us, the audience, like him.

In the thriller,
Sea of Love
, A1 Pacino is a cop. Scene One finds him in the middle of a sting operation. Parole violators have been lured by the promise of meeting the N.Y. Yankees, but when they arrive it's A1 and his cop buddies waiting to bust them. So Al's "cool. " (He's got a cool idea for a sting anyway.) But on his way out he also does something nice. A1 spots another lawbreaker, who's brought his son, coming late to the sting. Seeing the Dad with his kid, A1 flashes his badge at the man who nods in understanding and exits quick. A1 lets this guy off the hook because he has his young son with him. And just so you know A1 hasn't gone totally soft, he also gets to say a cool line to the crook: "Catch you later..." Well, I don't know about you, but I
like
Al. I'll go anywhere he takes me now and you know what else? I'll be rooting to see him win. All based on a two second interaction between Al and a Dad with his baseball-fan kid.

Can you imagine if the makers of
Lara Croft 2
spent $4 on a good Save the Cat scene instead of the $2-5 million they spent developing that new latex body suit for Angelina Jolie? They might've done a whole lot better.

That's why the name of this book is
Save The Cat!
It's emblematic of the kind of common sense basics I want to get across to you, and to some in the movie business, about the laws of physics that govern good storytelling. These are lessons my writing partners and I have learned through the real school of Hollywood hard knocks.

We, and hopefully you, are in the business of trying to pitch our wares to the majors, make a big sale, and appeal to the biggest possible audience. We want a hit — and a sequel if we can! Why play the game if you don't swing for the fence? And while I love the Indie world, I want to hit it out of the park in the world of the major studios. That's why this book is primarily for those who want to master the mainstream film market.

None of these rules, and none of my experiences in screenwriting, were discovered in a vacuum. I learned from all my writing partners to whom I dedicate this book: Howard Burkons, Jim Haggin, Colby Carr, Mike Cheda, TraceyJackson, and Sheldon Bull. I also learned from, and owe my career to, my agents — like my beloved Hilary Wayne, my manager Andy Cohen, and many others. I have also been enlightened by my seminar students and Web writers, those who grew up loving the Indie film world, and who have given me new perspectives by questioning me in that snotty-as-hell 'tude that only insightful young people have.

If my Save the Cat example has whetted your appetite to learn more tricks, then let's begin. Because it's one of many that are basic. And they work.

Every time.

They're the rules I hope you will learn and use and even break. And hopefully when your movie comes out, and it's satisfying
and
a hit — you can pass on
jour
rules to others.

We've all had this experience ...

It's Saturday night.

You and your friends have decided to see a movie.

One of you is picked to read the choices from the newspaper while the others listen and decide. And if you are an aspiring spec screenwriter, you're about to learn a very important lesson.

If you've ever had the honor, if you've ever been the one elected to read the film choices for a group of gathered friends, congratulations, you have now had the experience of "pitching" a movie —just like the pros. And just like the pros, you have been faced with the same problem. Yes, the film stars George Clooney; sure, it's got amazing special effects; of course, Ebert and Roeper give it two thumbs up.

But what's it about ?

If you can't answer that question, you know it pretty quickly. If what the movie is about isn't clear from the poster and the title, what are you going to say to describe it? Usually what you're left with, standing there, newspaper in hand, is

telling your friends everything about the movie that it's
not.
What you heard. What
People
Magazine said. Some cockeyed re-telling of the plot that the star revealed on
Letterman.
And odds are that at the end of that rather feeble explanation, your friends will say what filmmakers everywhere fear most: "What else is playing?"

All because you couldn't answer a simple question: "What is it?"

"What is it?" is the name of the game. "What is it?"
is
the movie. A good "What is it?" is the coin of the realm.

Let's CUT TO: Monday morning in Hollywood.

The results are in from the weekend. The burning wreckage of the big box-office disaster is smoking on the front page of
Variety.
The makers of the surprise hit that stunned everybody are still working the phones saying: "I knew it! I told you so!" And for everyone else the process is starting all over again:

> A producer and writer are in some movie executive's office about to pitch their "big idea."

> An agent is on the phone describing the script her client wrote that she read over the weekend and loves!

> An executive is meeting with the studio's marketing team trying to

figure out what the poster should look like for their upcoming summer release.

Everyone, all across town, in a position to buy or in the effort to sell, is trying to wrap their brains around the same question your friends were asking on Saturday night: "What is it?"

And if they can't, they're toast.

If you think this sounds cold, if you can't believe that Hollywood doesn't care about "story" or the artistic vision of the filmmakers, trust me, it's only going to get worse. It's because just like you with your newspaper trying to pitch your friends their movie choices, the competition for our attention spans has gotten fierce.

There are movies, TV, radio, the Internet, and music. There are 300 channels of cable; there are magazines; and there are sports. In truth, on any given weekend, even an avid moviegoer only has about 30 seconds to decide what to see. And what about those moviegoers who aren't so avid? How are you going to cut through all the traffic that's competing for their attention and communicate with
them?

There are just too many choices.

So the studios try to make it easy to choose. That's why they produce so many sequels and remakes. They call them "pre-sold franchises" — and get ready to see a lot more of them.

A
pre-sold franchise
is something that a goodly chunk of the audience is already "sold" on. It cuts way down on the "What is it?" factor because most people already kind of know. Some recent examples include
Starsky and Hutch, The Hulk,
and
Resident Evil,
based on a TV show, a comic book, and a video game respectively — and each with a built-in fan base. There's also a plague of sequels:
Shrek 2, Spider-Man 2, Mission: Impossible
3.
Ocean's Twelve.
It's not that Hollywood is creatively bankrupt; the decisionmakers just don't think that you out there with your newspapers every Saturday really, deep down, want to try anything new. Why gamble your 10 bucks on something you're not sure of versus something you already know?

And maybe they're right. If you can't answer "What is it?" why take a chance?

The problem for us, the spec screenwriters of the world, is that we don't own any of these pre-sold franchises nor are we likely to. We're the guys and gals with a laptop computer and a dream. How are
we
going to come up with something as good as
Lawrence of Arabia
that will sell like
Spy Kids 3-D?
Well, there is a way. But to try it, I want you to do something daring. I want you to forget all about your screenplay for now, the cool scenes that are bursting forth in your imagination, the soundtrack, and the stars you KNOW would be interested in being in it. Forget all that.