by Blake Snyder
By Sheila Hanahan Taylor, Producer at Zide/Perry Entertainment, whose films include the American Pie trilogy, Hellboy, Cats and Dogs, Final Destination, Final Destination 2; Associate Professor, UCLA Producer's Program.
With the turn of EVERY page of this book, I found myself using all of Blake Snyder's tools, hints, and ideas to double- and triple-check my own projects that are set up and in development at studios all over town! I love the idea that Blake has written a book that everyone can use — from the novice to the practicing producer. How often does that happen?!
I also found myself trying to come up with a way I could politely refer Save the Cat! to a number of repped, produced writers who could use a little goose from its tactics. Imagine what would happen in a town where more writers approached screenwriting the way Blake suggests? My weekend read would dramatically improve, both in sellable/produceable content and in discovering new writers who understand the craft of storytelling and can be hired on assignment for ideas we already have in house. (On second thought, are you SURE you want this published, Blake? It might beef up the competition!)
I've been searching for a book that masterfully uses the kind of "successful" examples studio heads use (Miss Congeniality, Die Hard, Legally Blonde, Signs) and peeks behind the curtain to explain them on all fronts — genre, plot, structure, marketing, casting — in a way that rookies and pros alike will understand and hopefully put to use. Save the Cat! is like a Berlitz guide to interpreting the secret language of every studio exec and producer in town. Once you learn to think like the people with the checkbook, you're one step closer to success.
I'm not exaggerating when I say at Zide/Perry — one of the premier homes for breaking new screenwriters and launching careers — we recommend every single one of Blake's strategies... from watching movies in the appropriate genre and breaking down all their key elements, to asking what the poster/who the cast is, to showing how using similar films as a benchmark is just good storytelling. When I picked up Save the Cat! it was like Blake had been in our offices for the last six years, hearing our words and recording them in a master bible.
Experience shows that following the steps in Save the Cat! works. I can name dozens of writers/producers who have launched their careers using the philosophy described on these pages! It's invaluable. Thank God, Blake has taken the time to put it all down in one efficient and witty place. And just like good exposition, the breezy writing here makes the instruction and insight sneak up on you. Before you know it, you've read the whole thing, learned a ton, and are still inspired to tackle your next project.
Because this book explores the craft of screenwriting starting from the business side of things, I consider it both essential and revolutionary. Save the Cat! takes into account both halves of the whole, for the route to success in this business is to strike a balance between art and commerce, and this book has done exactly that!
Just like my invaluable collection of classic, great scripts, Save the Cat! is a book to have on the shelf, right next to Syd Field's. I would absolutely revisit it whenever I find myself wanting a quick refresher course on commercial screenplay structure and strategy.
A final word: After reading dozens of how-to books, this is the FIRST book on screenwriting/the business that I've EVER asked the co-chairs at UCLA to consider making required reading. In fact, Save the Cat! is, to me, a must-read for anyone who is even remotely interested in being in the game.
Another book on screenwriting! ?
I'm sure that's what many of you are thinking.
And to an extent, you're right. There are lots of good screenwriting how-to's out there. And if you want to see where it all began, look to the master, Syd Field, who started it all and taught everybody.
There are other really good books and courses, too, many of which I've sampled.
I like Viki King's book with the improbable title of How to Write a Movie in 21 Days. Improbable, yes, but I've done it — and sold the script I wrote, too.
I also value Joseph Campbell's work. Hero With A Thousand Faces remains the best book about storytelling ever.
And of course I have a soft spot for Robert McKee — for the value of his class performance if nothing else. McKee is like John Houseman in The Paper Chase, and if you're an aspiring screenwriter, you have to take at least one seminar from him. It's too great a piece of theater to miss.
Finally, for anyone who's watched lots of movies and seen enough bad ones to think "I can do THAT!" you may assume you don't need a "how-to-write-a-screenplay" book at all.
So why this one?
Why now?
And why can I tell you things you've never heard anywhere else that will make a difference in your script?
To begin with, what I've never seen out there is a book on screen-writing that "talks the way we talk." As a working professional in the entertainment industry, since I was eight doing voice work for my Dad, I'm used to a certain slangy shorthand when it comes to discussing the business. These books are all so academic! So sterile. They treat the movies with waaaaaay too much awe and respect — they're just movies! — and I think that gets in the way. Wouldn't it be nice if a book about how to write a screenplay used the kind of shorthand that screenwriters and movie executives use?
Secondly, and this is no slight against anyone, but I think it would be nice if the guy writing the book on how to write a screenplay had actually sold something! Don't you think? And this is an area where I feel particularly qualified. I have been a working screenwriter for 2O years and made millions of dollars doing it. I've sold lots of high concept, bidding war, spec screenplays. I've even had a couple made.
I've gotten script notes from Steven Spielberg, Michael Eisner, Jeffrey Katzenberg, Paul Maslansky, David Permut, David Kirschner, Joe Wizan, Todd Black, Craig Baumgarten, Ivan Reitman, and John Landis. And I've received the collective wisdom of many others — less famous but equally wise — that we all use, and like, and base our screenplays on.
Thirdly, wouldn't it be a bonus if the guy writing the how-to had actually used this method in the trenches by teaching others, who actually go on to sell scripts?
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.
And concentrate on writing one sentence. One line.
Because if you can learn how to tell me "What is it?" better, faster, and with more creativity, you'll keep me interested. And incidentally, by doing so before you start writing your script, you'll make the story better, too.
THE LOGLINE FROM HELL
I talk to lots of screenwriters, I've been pitched by experts and amateurs, and my question when they prematurely drift into the story of their movie is always the same: "What's the one-line?" Oddly, this is often the last thing screenwriters think about when writing a script. Believe me, I've been there. You're so involved in your scenes, you're so jazzed about being able to tie in that symbolic motif from The Odyssey, you've got it all so mapped out, that you forget one simple thing: You can't tell me what it's about. You can't get to the heart of the story in less than 10 minutes.
