A Short Story on LENGTH

I recently was handed a screenplay by an employer to write coverage on. I immediately checked the length as I always do: 142 pages. Aargh! As a professional, I know that it is very bad form to submit a script over 120 pages unless the story absolutely calls for a more lengthy than normal exploration. 130 pages is the absolute maximum, and even that is pushing it big-time. Usually extra-long scripts are reserved for slow dramas, period pieces, or epics. 9 times out of 10 when I read a script longer than 120 pages, I am confident I could get it down under 120 without changing the story or emotional impact whatsoever. But in this case, the plot thickened!

I knew from the recognizable title this was a historical period piece (sorry, I can’t say the title); a take on a true story from the turn of the century that has been dramatized on film numerous times before. So, maybe some extra length was justified as this was based on fact and it was seemingly a serious period drama? But 142 pages? Hmm. Then I noticed that the author’s name seemed familiar; I did a search on the Internet Movie Database (www.imdb.com) and found that he was the co-screenwriter of a critically acclaimed, Oscar-nominated film from the early 80s, and his last credit was in 1990 on a big-budget Shakespeare adaptation from a major studio. He was a name screenwriter who at one point was considered a major writer! So, he must know what he’s doing, right? Wrong.

I knew from the FIRST PAGE that this script was over-written. Huge description paragraphs, unbroken by blank space, stared back at me. This seemed to be an early draft, much in need of some editing. But as always, I gave it the benefit of the doubt and kept an open mind. I read on, finding more dense description, and dialogue blocks of 6-7 lines that could have easily been expressed in 2-3 lines. I discovered that his first act didn’t end until well past page 40, and his second act was also late in turning. Whole scenes, some of which were a recurring, over-written transitional device, could be cut as they failed to advance the plot or reveal crucial character. There were actually formatting mistakes! His long, poetic character introductions were more fit for a novel and wastes of precious screen time. His strong lines of dialogue (and there were more than a few in the first act, promising more than was eventually delivered) were surrounded by unnecessary rhetoric that if cut would not be missed. In short, his good moments and good dialogue excerpts were buried under a mountain of text. A definite PASS. Ultimately, his résumé didn’t sway my opinion one bit — it just wasn’t on the page.

The point is, times have changed. Scripts are shorter, tighter, and easier to navigate with less visual cues and editorial references (e.g., get rid of those CUT TO:’s after every scene!). Although this author was obviously talented and sporting an impressive track record, maybe he hadn’t kept up on the current demands of development offices and the spec marketplace? Or, maybe he was just lazy with his trimming, which is even worse.

Many professionals will tell you that their ideal length is 107 pages. This may mean that the act turns will happen earlier than the older standard, maybe around page 24 and page 84, (rather than page 28 and page 88, for example). Personally, I think it’s very possible to keep your first act 30 pages and your second act 60 pages and still end on page 106-110, thus shortening your third act. I’ve seen this work on the page and on the screen. But this doesn’t apply in every case, especially if you’ve planned much plotting in your third act.

And the final lesson to take away is an encouraging one for new writers: even if you’re a name, even if you have a huge track record, you still gotta get past that first reader. Everyone has to impress the first set of eyes to read their script. And if your script isn’t up to snuff, they’ll call you on it every time, no matter their position in the company. It’s possible the reader’s criticisms may be ignored, but in my experience most scripts need positive coverage to be passed up the ranks. And executives don’t write coverage reports, only story consultants do. Consider or Recommend coverage is like a big blue ribbon on the front of the script.

Now if you’ve got Russel Crowe attached, that’s a different story; but until then, we all need to keep up our chops and recognize that, as development money has shrunk and budgets have risen, there is no time for buyers to work with the author on the many problems a script may have coming in the door. In most cases, unfortunately, you only get one chance. In this case, I’m guessing the author’s skills were much stronger than this early draft indicates, but he should have showed more resolve when the executive asked to see an advance draft — he should have told that executive he would get it when it was ready to go out.

-Daniel Calvisi