These days, spec scripts can only be used as writing samples to help you make new connections. They’re still needed to prove to the pros that you know what you’re doing, but they can no longer be relied on to generate new deals.
Aspiring screenwriters need a portfolio of solid scripts, but the second your imposter syndrome is gone and you feel comfortable knocking out drafts, you have to shift your mindset from stacking scripts to shipping finished stories.
Scripts are never really done and get heavily noted all the way through the editing bay, but finished products set your tone/voice/style in stone.
From the Hollywood Animal 90’s until a few years ago, the phrase used to be, “Great meeting you. Send me your scripts.”
Now it’s, “Don’t send me any scripts. I don’t know what to do with them.”
With the rise of the creator economy and the cost of digital production going down, the entertainment industry has shifted from an ideas model to an execution model. This is noticeable in the TV world where we used to have big writers rooms, but with no more royalties, writers and showrunners make more money by having smaller rooms and writing more episodes apiece. The only people really getting paid are the top creators: showrunners and directors, so you have to chart your course towards that goal.
Reps and execs want to know that you can write, but they also need to know you’re a self-starter who can herd cats (raise money), execute on a low budget, attract notable talent and manage a chaotic set from start to finish.
For decades, the preferred form of writer submissions were scripts. But now every platform like Blacklist and Coverfly is oversaturated with screenplays.
I believe that no budget movies are going to replace scripts as the preferred form of talent submission. Here’s a fantastic Esquire article on this exact topic.
If you consider yourself a good storyteller yet you can’t craft a compelling arc with 1-2 locations and 4-5 solid actors, you probably don’t have anything interesting to say anyways. You’ve been programmed by Hollywood to water down your script into the digestible, “It’s like this meets that,” trap. And you’ve ignored the real post-modern problems and questions that we ask on a day to day basis, yet Hollywood ignores. Most big budget movies wedge in boiler plate themes like “believe in yourself” and “we can do this if we do it together.”
A theme is just an ongoing and unsolvable question that you, the writer, are trying to figure out with your characters (and the audience).
No budget movies should have the opposite emotional effect of a blockbuster.
When the credits roll, you want you viewer to have one of these reactions.
“Holy shit. How did those crazy fucks get this movie made?”
“Oh my god, I feel like that movie was written specifically for me.”
“Fuck. I can’t believe it. Someone finally said it. Not only said it, but made an entire 90 min film about it. Why is no one else talking about this problem?”
Or…
“Damn. That was fun! Why doesn’t anyone make simple/pleasant/horny/funny movies anymore. I would watch something like this every Friday night.”
The bigger the budget, the smaller the emotional impact.
But smaller budgets can punch way above their weight with emotional impact.
Most big movies are funded by pre-selling distribution rights to foreign countries. Brazil, China and India all get their say on story and casting. Good luck getting that coalition to trust your vision and fork over production funds.
But small movies are funded by passionate people who trust your vision.
And Hollywood is cranking out so much big-bad-forgettable stuff that it’s actually opened the door for the return of good indie filmmaking. Movie lovers are still out there, most of them have just gone to other forms of entertainment.
Got it? Let’s switch gears. Why am I betting big on bottle movies?
Have you seen any Bart Bridge hats? They’re all over California and I’ve even seen them as far away as Europe. My NOLA born pirate artist burner friend, Mike Hampton, is one of the Bart Bridge founders. If you live in The Bay, you can’t walk a block or two without spotting one of their iconic patches.
The Bart Bridge team tapped into something really special: hyper local pride.
We all want to celebrate our cool neighborhoods and hidden gem hometowns. Merch is a great way to do it, but so are little, cool movies.
The Birds by Hitchock put Bodega Bay on the map and the owner of the restaurant where a scene was filmed said,
“If I had known how much notoriety Bodega Bay and The Tides Restaurant would have gotten from being in the movie, I would have paid Hitchcock to make the film here instead of the other way around.”
Even small movies can create mini ecosystems of commerce for the locals. Sure, could you get a stream of internet mannequins taking IG selfies at your shop? Yes. But quit being a grump. They’re also going to buy your shit.
When I moved back to The Bay and started seeing Bart Bridge hats everywhere, I knew my next goal was creating a new culture of hyper local cinema.
Movies that will generate micro economies and make us all proud of home.
So What is a Bottle Movie?
Bottle movies, chamber plays or stage plays have been around forever (12 Angry Men, Breakfast Club and Rear Window), but they’re having a resurgence. Out of necessity. Most indie filmmakers can’t raise the millions of dollars needed to have a robust set of locations. And every time you move your crew/company, it’s costs tons of money.
So the smart filmmakers are limiting their canvas and getting creative within those confines. Screenwriters need to start writing more in this movie genre.
Once I get this TBD Bay Area Movie Studio up and running, our movie mandate will look something like this…
Looking for 1-2 location movies to be shot in The Bay Area.
Needs a highly entertaining story hook that will attract viewers with a trailer. We’re not trying to win any awards here so send the festival bait to the film festivals. We’re a movie studio that makes fun Friday night movies, and we make movies so we can make more movies.
Cast must be a Core Eight or less (we’ll get you a big actor if it’s really great).
Bonus points if you can provide the primary location for free or cheap.
Last thing. When writing your story, seek out the collective wisdom beyond our current era of awareness hell, then submit your scripts here.
Now let’s take a look at some recent Bottle Movies that are good comps.
Last Stop in Yuma County (starring the DIY darling, Jim Cummings): a $1 million dollar period piece crime drama that unfolds like a violent play.
Locke (starring Tom Hardy): a riveting but relatable $2 million dollar drama that all takes place in one car.
Bodies, Bodies, Bodies (starring an ensemble of young actors): a $3 million dollar black comedy horror all shot in one house during a storm.
The Invitation (starring the American Tom Hardy, Logan Marshall Green): a $1 million dollar movie about a nice dinner party getting very creepy.
The One I Love (starring Mark Duplass and Elizabeth Moss): a microbudget movie shot for $100k about a couple meeting their dopplegangers.
All great in their own way. All shot in one or two locations.
This is the way.
Our worlds are so big and expansive now with our technological reach, but think about how good it feels to be forced to settle into one location. A dinner party? An intimate concert? A collective suffering workout class?
We’re craving more simplicity and confinement to combat the never ending assault of the 24/7 news cycle and the non-stop hustle culture.
Head upstairs to your brain for a minute. You might be simultaneously thinking about how to create more passive income so you can buy a house, how to market and monetize a new project and how to stop the military industrial complex from starting another US tax funded war. But we can’t save the world or tell good stories if we’re constantly burnt out, overwhelmed and terrified of the future.
We’re all doing too much and overthinking everything. Even our stories.
We need to get back to the basics of storytelling.
Not content full of CGI spectacles or insane set pieces. Just well crafted stories.
Story at it’s most basic level is a simple equation: conflict creates change.
Instead of thinking about what Hollywood wants or how you can save the entire world with one film, think about the real, day to day conflicts in your life (not the big issues planted in your head by the news or social media) and then reflect on how you can storify those conflicts to help others find change in their own lives.
Then you get to take on the fun part. The middle of that story equation: the creation of a story structure that holds a secret alchemical emotional code that turns conflict into change.
I’ll never have to fight Thanos or The Harkonnens, but I do have to battle the cost of living, an anxious wife, aging parents, inherent impulses of toxic masculinity, a plethora of addictions and the stress of being a girl dad who views everything and everyone as a potential threat. I can’t name a recent movie that addressed any of those issues and you, whoever you are, probably feel the same way about your own conflicts.
Most of Hollywood is failing because they are not making stories for us.
They are making astronomically expensive spectacles with no substance, so they can get paid off the top. And there’s only a few directors left that can deliver a spectacle with substance, so they’re running out of directors and reboots.
The era of the blockbuster and the movie theater is over. Has been for awhile.
The era of the hyper local cinema is coming: movies you screen at home and then discuss in your backyard with a few friends and a bottle of red or an edible.
Just like the 1960’s to 1970’s Easy Rider, Raging Bulls shift from big budget to cool indies, we need to break away from the failing studios and build a new counter culture. Sadly, once it becomes successful it will get co-opted by Hollywood, but that doesn’t mean we can’t keep making small movies that we love.
This is shift is already happening with Youtube creators. Check out the kids from the Youtube New Wave, who have abandoned the engagement algorithm that influencers like Mr Beast and Logan Paul have exploited and gone back to showcasing the magic of daily life.
Like a Ying-Yang, we are exiting the maximalist cinema phase and re-entering a minimalist phase. Everything runs on cycles. Once every major city has been destroyed by every type of catastrophe and monster, it’s time go back to the real point of storytelling: not feeling so alone in the universe with our problems.
So start by thinking about your problems. The real ones. The ones you are afraid to talk about. Then start writing like everyone you know is dead. One of those CGI monsters or 300 foot tall tidal waves swept away everyone you know. Now it’s just you and your notebook for miles and miles.
Those are the kind of stories we need right now. I’ll start building the infrastructure for a studio while you get to work on a bottle movie.
Thanks for reading,
Connor
PS: If you need any more convincing, I’ll end with an anecdote.
We shot an unaired Workaholics pilot for $38k, then we shot the exact same script with the same actors for $800k (and that one was aired). If I showed you the pilots side by side, you would not see much a difference. The only real difference was everyone got paid on the bigger budget one.
Point being, we can make great stuff for super cheap, but we have to find that financial sweetspot where everyone gets compensated upfront while we also incentivize the most marketable talent/names with a piece of the backend.
If anyone can engineer a better system, it’s probably going to be the nerdy engineers and film lovers who live up here in The Bay. If you know one, have them hit me up!