Anora is one of my favorite movies of the year. You can find my full review here. Aside from having a fantastic screenplay, screenwriter and director Sean Baker crafted a film that is beautifully heartbreaking on many levels. It’s funny when it needs to be. It’s tense and dramatic at the appropriate times. But it ultimately breaks your heart. Anora runs the gamut of emotions more effectively than any film this year, to the point where the ending feels like a gut punch.

The first time I saw it was in a crowded theater and the ending sucked the air out of that theater. The other members of the audience and I sat in stunned silence as the credits silently began to roll. It was one of those communal moments you can only experience in a movie theater and even more rarely when the movie elicits that kind of emotional response.

The foundation of any great film is a great screenplay, and Anora has a great screenplay. It reminds me a little bit of Paul Thomas Anderson’s Boogie Nights. It doesn’t go quite as dark, but the overall structure is the same. The first half of the movie is a giant party with lots of sex, drugs, and loud music. Everyone is having a great time until about halfway through the movie when there is a whiplash-inducing turn that takes the movie in a darker direction with a much more pessimistic tone. What makes it work is that Baker’s screenplay makes the transition feel natural. It isn’t as sudden or as jarring as the transition in Boogie Nights, but it changes the direction of the story and its emotional tone just as effectively.

Something that should also be pointed out is the effectiveness with which Baker developed his main character. Ani (Mikey Madison) is an exotic dancer and part-time call girl. She knows how to play her clients (men) so that she can get as much money out of them as possible. On the surface, she’s not a very sympathetic character. But great character development never happens on the surface. Underneath that hard exterior, Baker gave us a tough but fragile girl with no prospects for a good future who has suddenly been handed a winning lottery ticket, and she won’t let it go until it’s pried from her cold, dead fingers. That is something that many people can relate to and root for.

Once again, we have a story with a top-notch Hero’s Journey and a tight story structure. As you can see, the story changes direction and tone with each changing act.

Act I

Ordinary World: Ani works at the strip club. Her boss asks her to meet Ivan, a high-rolling son of a Russian oligarch (but we don’t know that about him yet). She lives with her sister in Brooklyn in a modest house near the train tracks. Things go well with Ivan, and they continue to see each other, but on a purely “professional” level.

Call to Adventure: Ivan asks her to be exclusive for a week, and she negotiates a deal for $15K for the week, which he agrees to. She tells him she would have done it for as little as 10, and he says he would have paid her 30.

Meeting the Mentor: She meets Ivan’s friends and joins his world.

Crossing the First Threshold: Ivan decides they should all go to Vegas. Partying hard there, Ivan laments that he has to go back to Russia soon. But he could stay if he gets married, so he asks Ani to marry him. This is where the Refusal comes in. Ani says no, thinking it’s a ridiculous idea. But he talks her into it, and she demands a 3-karat ring. They officially cross the first threshold when they get married in Vegas.

Act II

Tests, Allies, and Enemies: Back in New York, Ani quits her job. Her coworker and nemesis, Diamond, predicts it will be over in two weeks. Ani and Ivan find a ring, clothes, and food. She lives the high life, and they seem genuinely happy. Ani wants to know what his parents think, but he’s evasive. The Toros, his godfather and mentor, gets a call from Ivan’s mother, Galina Stepanova, saying she read in a tabloid that Ivan married a prostitute.

Toros sends his brother Garnick and the Russian muscle Igor (Yura Borisov) to Ivan’s house to find out if the marriage is real. Ivan shows him the marriage license, and Igor tries to be nice to Ani, but she isn’t having it. Garnick takes a picture and sends it to the Toros, who’s in the middle of a baptism. He sees the pick on his phone and awkwardly and hilariously leaves. Toros comes over after getting yelled at by Ivan’s mother and he promises to fix everything.

Approach: Toros arrives and demands they go to City Hall to annul the marriage. Ani tells him to go fuck himself. Ivan runs away as Igor tries to control Ani, who smacks him around. A fight ensues, and she smashes the place up and breaks Garnick’s nose. Igor ties her up. They take the ring off her finger and she screams rape so the gag her

Supreme Ordeal: Toros offers her $10k to annul the marriage. She won’t agree to anything without talking to Ivan, so they agree to find him.

Reward: They hunt for Ivan at his usual hangouts. It’s cold, and Igor offers her the scarf he gagged her with earlier. She refuses it at first but then takes it. They get back to the car they parked illegally, and it’s on a tow truck. They pull it off and take it off to keep looking. Garnick throws up from his concussion.

Act III

The Road Back – They find him in Ani’s club, having a private dance with Diamond. Ivan is drunk and ignoring Ani. Ani fights Diamond before they get Ivan in the car. They go to the courthouse in the morning, but it can’t get annulled in New York since the marriage was in Vegas.

Resurrection: They get to the airport and meet Ivan’s parents. Galina Stepanova is awful to Ani and threatens to ruin her life if she doesn’t agree to the annulment. They fly to Vegas, and the marriage gets annulled. On the plane, Anora stands up to Ivan and calls him pathetic before Igor gives her a drink.

Return with the Elixir: The wedding is annulled. Ani looks at Ivan before signing it, but he can’t look at her and puts on his sunglasses. Igor wants Ivan to apologize to her. Galina Stepanova says no apology is needed. Ani tells her that her son is a pussy, and he hates her so much he married a whore, causing even Ivan’s father, Nijkolai Zakharov to break into laughter. Igor takes her back to America, and they spend he night in Ivan’s house watching TV and smoking weed. He says his birthday was yesterday. He says he likes Anora more than Ani. And it’s good she’s not part of that family. They have a moment. The next day, Toros gives her the $10k. Igor takes her home and gives her the ring. They have sex before she slaps him and starts crying in his arms.

She’s lost and broken and has pushed away the one person in this whole adventure who was kind to her.

Anora is a grim journey brimming with emotion. It starts out wildly entertaining before turning on its heartbreaking destiny, but you will feel something watching this film. I don’t think it’s the best picture of the year, but it is the most emotional.

The Substance might very well be the best original screenplay of the year. I love A Real Pain, and I will discuss tomorrow how much I love Anora, but there is something about what Director and Screenwriter Coralie Fargeat crafted with this script that sings with a voice the other screenplays this year don’t quite match. There is a rule in screenwriting: show, don’t tell. Every screenwriter, screenwriting instructor, executive producer, reader, or anyone else who evaluates screenplays will tell you that the Cardinal rule of screenwriting is to show more and tell less. Filmmaking is a visual medium, and stories are always more effective when we are shown what happens through action rather than being told what happens through dialogue.

The Substance shows way more than it tells.

Unofficially, I can reasonably guess that The Substance has the least amount of dialogue than any nominee this year, but tells a story that is at least as compelling as any of them. The Substance is a master class in visual storytelling. Almost all the main points are shown to us. Naturally, there is information given to us in dialogue, and much of that comes from the over-the-top performance delivered by Dennis Quaid as Harvey, the sexist television producer who forces Elizabeth (Demi Moore) into retirement in favor of searching for a younger model.

The Substance is also incredibly strong thematically. I wrote an overall review here that you can check out, but you can’t focus on the screenplay without acknowledging how strong this script is thematically and the difficult message it faces head-on. We all know that women are objectified in all walks of life. Nowhere is that more prevalent than in the entertainment industry where, with a few exceptions, middle-aged and older women are cast aside for younger versions at a much more accelerated rate than men are. Physical beauty and objectification ultimately lead to a loss of humanity, and that is exactly what happens to Elizabeth in this film. Speaking directly to women (and men) who mutilate their bodies through plastic surgery and other means to extend the illusion of youth, this film lays bare the consequences of worshipping at beauty’s altar.

Aside from that, The Substance is a remarkably well-structured screenplay with a tight Hero’s Journey.

Ordinary World – Elisabeth Sparkle is a former big star who is past her prime. Her line to herself, “You want to look like a big jellyfish on the beach?” is foreshadowing. Her life, as she knows it is over.

Call to Adventure – She hears network exec on the phone demanding her replacement because she’s too old. After a car accident, a hospital resident tells her about The Substance.

Refusal – She meets an old high school friend, Fred, who wants to reconnect, but he’s ugly, and she’s hesitant. She receives a data stick with an overview of The Subsance. After watching it, she throws it in the trash. The risks don’t seem worth it.

Meeting the Mentor – She calls the number on the stick and talks to a voice on the phone about ordering The Substance. He gives her an address.

Crossing the First Threshold – Elisabeth finds the address and gets the package. She takes The Substance, which, after a violent reaction that literally tears her back open, produces her other self, Sue (Margaret Qualley).

Tests, Allies and Enemies – Sue auditions to be the next Elisabeth Sparkle. She meets Harvey, who hires her, and she comes up with the lie that she needs to be off every other week to go out of town and take care of her mother. She becomes a sensation. Her billboard is on Sunset Boulevard. Everyone loves her. She switches back in time, and Elisabeth wakes up and goes to see Harvey, who gives her a parting gift that she doesn’t open. She gets a note to pick up her refill kit.

Approach – Sue loves the fame. She builds a hidden closet in the bathroom to hide Elisabeth’s body. We see Sue’s billboard outside the apartment in a staring contest with Elisabeth’s broken portrait. Sue takes over Elisabeth’s apartment, along with her life and her show.

Supreme Ordeal – Sue goes out with friends as Elisabeth’s food supply gets dangerously low. She brings a guy home, and Elisabeth runs out of food while they’re making out, causing Sue to start bleeding and breaking down. She gets more fluid from Elisabeth so she can last another day, but it gives Elisabeth a deformity.

Reward – Elisabeth notices her deformed finger and notices Sue took an extra day. She tries to cancel the subscription. She gives them her name, and they don’t recognize her, so she gives them her number, 503 (dehumanization), and they respond. The voice tells her to respect the balance to avoid any more inconvenience. She gets the next refill and hears strange noises. She ducks into a coffee shop. She sees the other self of the man who recruited her. He warns her about loneliness. And tells her it gets harder each time, knowing you still deserve to exist and that the old one still matters. He asks if she’s started eating away at her. Elisabeth calls Fred to get together for a drink. They make a date.

The Road Back – Elisabeth gets ready for the date with a classy red dress. She applies her makeup and realizes she’s not fooling anyone. She looks at Sue, who is still beautiful as she’s passed out, trying to touch herself, but she only makes herself look more disheveled. She sees Sue’s billboard and tries to make herself up even more, but she only looks worse. Feeling too insecure about herself, she tries more makeup and messes with her hair. She can’t escape the image of Sue looking at her, judging her. She looks so old to herself. She angrily wipes the makeup off her face. She never meets up with George. (All of this is shown visually with absolutely no dialogue).

Back to Sue, her body starts to break down. She finds a growth that she pulls out through her belly button and wakes with a start. It was a dream. She gets to the studio, and Harvey tells her ratings are through the roof and tells her that she will host the New Year’s Eve show, but it will require intense training. She will make it happen. Sue steals days.=

Elisabeth is old and deformed. The voice offers to stop, but she won’t get back what she lost. She refuses that idea. She wants the balance to be respected. The voice tells her to respect it. She opens the gift Harvey gave her, and it’s a cookbook. She cooks disgusting looking food. Everything in her world is turning ugly.,

Resurrection – Sue wakes up with a mess and decides she can’t go back. She sucks as much essence out of Elizabeth as she can and lasts for months. The New Year’s Eve show is going to be put on the following day, but there is no stabilizer left. The voice tells her she’s reached the end. The only way to get more is to let the fluid regenerate, so she has to switch. “There is no other option.” She switches, and Elisabeth wakes up and is now a hideous monster. She calls and tells them she wants to stop. They deliver the final kit. She picks it up, and it’s a termination stick. She’s just about to inject it, and here’s the voice asking if she’s sure. She can’t go back. She’ll be on her own. She injects Sue but stops before all the fluid is in her. After seeing the flowers and the note saying they’re going to love her. Sue wakes up and sees the termination kit and freaks out, beating Elizabeth to death. Then her body breaks down leading up to the special.

Return with the Elixir: Sue races home and injects the starter, turning her into a deformed monster. Monsro Elisasue gets dressed, puts an Elisabeth mask on, and goes to the lot for the New Year’s Eve Show. Everyone thinks she’s beautiful when she gets there and sings her praises. But on stage, her mask falls off, and everyone sees how she really is, and they’re repulsed. They scream and call her a monster. She calls out, “It’s still me!” and “I’m still here!” until her head is bashed in by a crowbar. Her head regenerates; she sprays blood all over the audience. She escapes the studio and disintegrates on the sidewalk. Elisabeth’s face breaks off and stops on her star on the Walk of Fame. She’s back in the spotlight before melting completely away.

It’s a long and intense story. It’s a screenplay that makes us confront what we value in our lives and in ourselves. It challenges us to move past the superficial surface level of life and appreciate what’s deep inside of everyone. Outer beauty is fleeting. Inner beauty is forever, but only if you had it to begin with.

I’m going to come right out and admit it. I did not get this movie. To me, The Brutalist and Emilia Perez are the two most overrated movies of the year. I can give The Brutalist more of a pass because I can appreciate it as a work of great art, but for me, it was not great cinema. The Brutalist was like a moving painting. It was beautiful to look at, it required patience to understand its aesthetic, and the point it was making was way beneath the surface. As much as I can appreciate all that as a piece of art, it was not an entertaining film, and for me, it must be as entertaining as it is artistically pleasing in order to be considered great cinema.

The Brutalist was not entertaining

And look, if that’s your bag, then that’s great. If appreciating it as a work of art works for you, and you were able to see its brilliance in that, then you had a much more enjoyable movie-going experience than I did, and I’m happy for you. My overall review for The Brutalist can be found here, but this post will focus on the screenplay and why I feel the screenplay is as overrated as the overall film, and the screenplay serves as the foundation for what I see in the film’s issues.

The difference between “deliberate” and “slow”

I don’t mind when a film’s pacing is deliberate. Any regular reader of this blog knows that Stanley Kubrick is my favorite filmmaker, and there was never a mainstream filmmaker who was more deliberate in his pacing than Kubrick. Ironically, we will discuss Kubrick in another Best Screenplay nominee as well, but that’s for a future time. The Brutalist used many conventions that Kubrick used in some of his best films but borrowed more from one of his worst. For anyone who as ever seen Barry Lyndon, this film reminded me a lot of that. There were moments of great drama and intensity spread paper-thinly across canyons of time when nothing, literally nothing, happened. At a dragging three and a half hours with an intermission, The Brutalist was a slog. I might have liked it better if it was two and a half hours, but honestly, I doubt it. And the problems start with the screenplay.

The film starts out promising, and the first act actually moves quite well for the first half hour. We meet Lazlo (Adrien Brody), arriving in New York City after escaping post-war Europe. He’s Jewish and also had to survive the Nazis, and he had to leave his wife, Erzebet (Felicity Jones), and niece, Zsofia (Raffrey Cassidy), behind. He goes to Philadelphia, where he moves in with his cousin, who owns a furniture business. His displays catch the eye of Harry Lee (Joe Alwyn), who hires them to renovate a room in his father’s mansion as a surprise for him. His father, Harrison (Guy Pierce) arrives to see the renovation and loses his mind with anger. Frustrated, Harry tells them he will not pay. Between losing out on the money and his wife’s cousin accusing him of flirting with her, Lazlo must move out. He moves to a church where he meets Gordon (Isaach De Bankole) where they both develop a heroin addiction. Lazlo gets his Call to Adventure when Harrison finds him after seeing his work in an architectural magazine and he wants him to build a community center paying homage to Harrison’s late mother.

Warning! Spoilers!

Rather than going through a synopsis of the rest of the story, I want to focus on a couple of key moments that led me to my determination that this screenplay is overrated. The reason the script and the film lack entertainment value is because they lack drama. There are dramatic moments, like when Harrison rapes Lazlo in the quarry, but too many of the moments bring us to the brink of something dramatic happening before pulling back and everything being okay.

Before the intermission, Erzebet and Zsofia are able to come to America. Harrison and Harry welcome them into their home, where Lazlo is also staying. There are some moments of light tension, but later, there is a scene where Harry and Zsofia are alone on the grounds, and it appears that Harry could potentially assault her. It’s ambiguous, so it’s never clear that’s what he’s going to do, but it’s another moment of mild tension. But then nothing happens.

Another moment happens later. Erzebet, we discover when she arrives, has osteoporosis. She must take painkillers to manage the pain but runs out late in the film. Lazlo shoots her up with heroin, which helps, but then she almost overdoses. The keyword in that sentence is “almost.”  And to be honest, by the time we got to that point in the movie, they had lost me. I didn’t care if she lived or died in that moment, so the moment lost all its drama anyway.

Those two moments are a nutshell case of why this script didn’t work for me. Combine that with the fact that Lazlo’s heroin addiction didn’t bring much drama to the story as well, and we are saddled with almost four hours of staring at a painting. I love looking at a piece of fine art just as much as anyone, but there comes a time to move on, and The Brutalist never moved on when it should have.

I don’t want to take anything away from what screenwriters Brady Corbet (who also directed the film) and Mona Fastvold accomplished in this film, and I don’t want to sound like I’m hating on it. The Brutalist was, by all accounts, a herculean effort. The script demonstrates meticulous attention to detail and a deep understanding of human emotions and the pathos of the overhyped expectations we demand of others and of ourselves. The film successfully got its messages across.

I said earlier that a great film needs to be entertaining. That is perhaps the wrong way to say it. What I need is to feel something. I need that emotional engagement to fully appreciate a film, especially one that must hold my attention for close to four hours. The Brutalist was devoid of emotion and, so, was devoid of emotional investment. The screenplay didn’t take advantage of the emotional scenarios it set up for itself, so I didn’t care one way or the other about anything that happened.

I needed The Brutalist to make me feel something, but instead, I felt nothing. If that was the point of it, that’s great, but it’s not my cup of tea.

Sometimes, a screenplay is more about the characters than the story it tells. Sometimes, the story is there to serve as a vehicle or a mechanism for allowing the characters to experience the growth they need to experience. Sometimes, the inner journey a character experiences in a screenplay is more important than the external journey they go on. Such is the case with A Real Pain.

Internal and external journeys

The nice thing about Jesse Eisenberg’s screenplay is that we’re taking three simultaneous journeys over the course of the story. We’re taking the external journey with David (Eisenberg) and Benji (Kieran Culkin) as they visit their ancestral Poland to learn about the ordeal their grandmother experienced at the hands of the Nazis. We’re also taking two internal journeys, one each with David and Benji, as they confront the pain that each of them carries. Benji openly expresses his pain and allows others to know what he’s feeling when he’s feeling it. David, on the other hand, is painfully introverted and struggles to maintain the appearance of a man who has his life together and is living life the way it should be lived.

The purpose of the external journey in A Real Pain is to motivate the growth each character experiences on their internal journeys. This script is loaded with dialogue, but the dialogue is layered with subtext. Eisenberg wields dialogue like weaponry in this script. Benji uses words as verbal daggers to cut the other characters to the quick, causing them to feel discomfort and pain when he does it, but on reflection, realizing that what he said makes sense, and they’ll use his words to make their lives better. At the same time, Benji lights up any room he walks into, and the ease with which he can open up to people and have them open up to him perplexes and frustrates David, who believes he’ll be better liked if he’s quiet and polite.

The juxtaposition between David and Benji couldn’t be starker.

David may be the character the other characters like. However, Benji is the character the other characters respect. The pain that both characters feel drives their personalities, and it’s impossible to know by the end which of them is in a better place internally. It’s clear that David is in a better external position, but is he happier? The screenwriter allows us to answer that question for ourselves.

Another thing to love about the script is that it produced a tight 90-minute movie. In a world of Brutalists, we need more Real Pains. Eisenberg, who also directed the film, gave us a complete Hero’s Journey for all the internal and external journeys in the script in a way that was subtle, emotional, and riveting.

Act 1:

Ordinary World – This is very much get-to-know-you exposition. Benji is a laid-back slacker who can talk to and get along with anyone, but it’s clear that something about him isn’t right. David is a stressed-out Type A personality who has his shit together but is unapproachable and on antidepressants. They clearly care about each other, but they’re both self-absorbed in their own way. They meet up at the airport and fly to Poland.

Call to Adventure – They meet the other members of their group. Everyone relates to Benji despite how uncomfortable his antics make David. We see how affected Benji is by his grandmother’s death. The tour they signed up for shows the history of Jewish people of the region and culminates with a trip to the local concentration camp. James, the tour guide, mentions this will be a tour about pain but it celebrates the most resilient people. This is a great use of foreshadowing and subtext.

Refusal – Benji doesn’t conform to the standards of the tour and poses for whacky photos in front of a solemn statue. While everyone else loves this, David hates it.

Meeting the Mentor – Benji acts as an archetypal mentor to David when he tells David he’s a good guy stuck in the body of someone who’s always late and always stressed.

Act 2

Crossing the First Threshold – They get on a train or the next leg of the tour.

Tests Allies and Enemies – Benji doesn’t feel right about traveling 1^st class when their ancestors were herded into trains like cattle, causing him to have his first real freak out. He goes to the back of the train, and David follows him. Benji says people just aren’t supposed to be happy all the time. He’s in touch with his emotions in a way that David is not. David falls asleep, and they miss their stop. David is frustrated with Benji at first for not waking him up, but then he feels a sense of excitement as they avoid the conductor on the train back. They end up in first clas,s but Benji says they earned it this time.

They get to Lubelin and learn about its history. Marcia (Jennifer Grey) tells Benji she appreciates what he said about suffering. Eloge (Kurt Egyiawan) agrees. David doesn’t think thinking about suffering all the time helps, but the others chastise him for feeling that way, stating the only way to overcome pain is to confront it.

Approach – They cross the Jewish gate into the ghetto and see places that used to be in places but aren’t anymore. They get to the cemetery that has the oldest tombstones in Poland. Benji freaks out on James and asks him to tone it down. Benji feels like now is the time for quiet reflection, and James is pedantically explaining every bit of minutia. Benji just wants to peacefully meditate over it and empathize with the people who went through this and still live in the area. David is horrified by Benji’s behavior.

Supreme Ordeal – Dinner at the restaurant. Benji has a moment and excuses himself rudely. David apologizes for Benji’s behavior and rants about the problem that is Benji. He confesses that Benji tried to kill himself before they hear Benji playing the bar piano. Everyone in the group is mesmerized by Benji, and David can’t take it anymore and leaves for the hotel.

Reward – David tries to FaceTime with his wife, but she doesn’t answer. He goes to sleep. Benji comes in and leaves and David can’t find him. He waits in the hotel until Benji calls him the next morning, saying everyone is waiting for him.

Act 3

The Road Back – They tour the concentration camp, and it emotionally overwhelms Benji. They return to the hotel and the group says goodbye to the guys since they’re leaving the tour to go see grandma’s house. James gives Benji a heartfelt goodbye that ends with a hug before giving a curt and abrupt goodbye to David.

Resurrection – Benji and David tour the city and smoke a joint on the top of a hotel. They discuss plans for when they get back. David wants to know that Benji has a plan, but he’s coy and talks about how emotional David used to be. David talks about how he had to grow up and how needy Benji is. David confesses how upset he is with Benji’s suicide attempt and how frustrating it is that Benji can act as free as he wants and can light up any room, but he just can’t be that way.

They find their grandmother’s house the next day. Benji tells a story about when she slapped him in a restaurant and how it was the best thing that ever happened to him because it proved she cared more about him than how she looked like in public. David wants to put a stone on the stoop to commemorate her. It’s a sensitive moment between the two of them, but a neighbor complains that the lady living there currently might trip, so they must pick them up. Even that is thwarted.

Return with the Elixir – They fly back to New York. David goes home to his family, but Benji stays in the airport, clearly homeless and with nowhere else to go. And yet, he smiles.

A Real Pain is not a movie that’s going to blow you away with action and excitement. But it will make you feel many different emotions. There’s a lot of dialogue, but it’s still a visual story. It’s also deep. As the title suggests, it’s about pain and how we deal with that pain, and how the most uncomfortable way to deal with pain is often the most effective way to deal with it. Too many people suppress their pain for whatever reason, but mostly over embarrassment or not wanting to make others uncomfortable. This movie and this screenplay tell us to rethink that idea.

Click here to see my overall review of A Real Pain.

Sometimes politics creates a great story and sometimes politics gets in the way of a good story. September 5 is an example of both. This film is a compelling take on the horrific kidnapping and murder of the Israeli Olympic team during the 1972 games in Munich. It’s told from the point of view of the ABC Sports team covering the games and being thrust into covering a story for which they had no preparation or training. There have been movies and documentaries about this event in the past, most notably Steven Spielberg’s Munich, which was nominated for five Oscars twenty years ago, including Best Picture.

This was, unfortunately, the wrong year for this film to be Oscar-eligible. While it was nominated for Best Original Screenplay, this movie was certainly worthy of a Best Picture nod if the situation in Gaza wasn’t so polarizing. I don’t have any inside information about it. That’s my opinion based on how political the Academy has been in the past about what gets nominated and what doesn’t. September 5 was absolutely one of the best pictures of the year, but many in the Academy likely wanted to avoid the headaches that a Best Picture nomination would have delivered. Getting the Best Screenplay nomination feels a little like a consolation prize.

The Best Screenplay nomination was absolutely valid

With a brisk running time of an hour and thirty-five minutes, the screenplay gives a tight story that is the flip side of Saturday Night. Both films are about momentous moments in television history from the 70s and tell the behind-the-scenes moments of those events. Whereas Saturday Night is frenetic, chaotic, uproarious, and irreverent, September 5 is measured, respectful, and intense. The circumstances surrounding both events are obviously polar opposite from each other, and both films handled the material appropriately.

The screenplay for September 5 does much more than just a portrayal of the events. This is a deep and layered script that is about prejudice and all the forms and levels it comes in. We see examples of sexism, misogyny, and national prejudice. The script also has deep thematic components about overcoming inexperience and unprepared people being thrust into situations they’re not ready for. Not only was the Olympics TV crew not ready to cover a hard news story, but the German authorities were also completely unprepared to prevent this attack from happening and they were unprepared to do anything about it once the wheels were in motion. The screenplay shows both of those issues brilliantly.

The screenplay meticulously shows characters struggling and overcoming these challenges to various degrees of success.

Another impressive thing about the screenplay for September 5 is the fact that screenwriters Moritz Binder, Tim Fehlbaum, and Alex David were able to take true events and craft them into a screenplay with a tight story structure and a clear Hero’s Journey. Shoe-horning real events into 3-Act dramatic structure is something many screenwriters struggle with, but this script is something that screenwriters attempting to write about real events should reference.

Warning! Spoilers

Here is a breakdown of the Hero’s Journey in September 5.

Act 1

Ordinary World – We see the crew signing off their Olympic coverage for the day. These are the first Olympics being broadcast around the world. It’s a big deal that the Olympics are in Germany less than 30 years after the end of WWII. Still, there are tensions between nationalities and races. Mark Spitz is the most famous athlete from the US, winning a record 9 medals at the games. ABC executives want to ask Mark Spitz about a Jew winning so many gold medals in Hitler’s backyard. We see them preparing for the next day’s broadcast.

Call to Adventure – We meet Geoffrey Mason (John Magaro), an inexperienced producer is put in charge of the control room. The hostage crisis begins. They call anchor Jim McKay to come in and send Peter Jennings (Benjamin Watkins) to the Olympic Village to try and get images. I love that all the footage of McKay is archival rather than having an actor play him.

Refusal – They hear there may be a hostage crisis involving the Israeli athletes, but they must wait for confirmation. Marvin Bader (Ben Chaplin) wants Mason to run the broadcast over the objections of Roone Alredge (Peter Sarsgaard).

Meeting the Mentor – Mason knows what they need to get a live shot of the apartment. He meets assistant Marianne Gebhardt (Leonie Benesch), who is a German citizen and is able to translate the German broadcasts. Roone struggles with the network to get access to the satellite for the timeslot they need, and they want the News Division to handle the story. Roome refuses to give it up.

Act 2

Crossing the First Threshold – Roone wants to find out who’s in the building and their backgrounds. They start getting information about the hostages.

Tests, Allies, and Enemies – They masquerade Gary, one of the crew, as an athlete so he can get into the village to get the film canister of footage of the terrorist on the balcony. Bader wants to know how many terrorists there are. Jennings says the terrorists are professionals and tells them to let News take over. Roone encourages the team that this is their story, and they are keeping it.

They prepare for the opening at 1 p.m. Gary gets the film to the developer. They get the iconic shot of the masked man on the balcony, and Mason says that’s the opener. They argue over what to show. Bader doesn’t want to show live in case someone gets shot. Roone says we follow where the story goes. Mason compromises to shoot it on 16mm, so they have time to make the call.

Approach – Jim McKay starts the broadcast. He announces what’s going on and then talks about the strange juxtaposition. We see more racism and sexism. They find out one of the Israeli coaches escaped, and they want to interview him.

Supreme Ordeal – McKay interviews Sakolski, but they lose the live feed to CBS. Assistant Editor Judy figures they can put the ABC logo on the feed so it can be on CBS but also get credit for it. The interview is emotional and humanizes everything.

The games are suspended. Police clear all press out of the village. Mason tells Jennings over the walkie-talkie that it’s happening and tells him to hide. Then tells him the police are about to make a move, and the police come in to tell them to stop the broadcast because the terrorists could be seeing it in the Israeli apartment.

Reward – They realize it’s local German police who are unprepared for this. Peter has received breaking information. The terrorists allow hostages to be seen. Roone tells them to turn the cameras back on, and they see Andrei Spitzer, the fencing coach, being held at gunpoint. They hear talk of them flying out of the country to Cairo.

The Road Back – Helicopters arrive to take terrorists and hostages to the airport. But there are too many people around. Howard Cosell sees the hostages getting on the bus. They watch the helicopter fly away. Mason tells Marianne to get to the airport.

Act 3

Resurrection – They tell Jennings to get back to the studio. They hear all hell has broken out at the airport, and there is shooting. Marianne sees a firefight at the airport. There is a rumor that the hostages are free. But they don’t get confirmation. Mason wants McKay to report the news but to say, “as we’re hearing.” Bader tells him it must be confirmed first. They think they get that confirmation, and McKay gives the report. They start celebrating. Roone and Bader watch an official getting interviewed and don’t like his tone or what he’s saying.

They start to get conflicting reports that there’s still shooting going on at the airport. Bader finds out the hostages are all dead. He tells Mason and Roone that he has confirmation. Marianne calls and confirms. McKay then gives the tragic news to the world.

Return with the Elixir – Mason meets with Marianne, and they comfort each other. She says Germany failed. Mason then meets with Roone, who wants Mason to be in charge of taping the commemoration, and Roone tells Maon he did a hell of a job. Mason says it was a catastrophe before walking to the control room and shutting everything down.

This is a story with rising drama and palpable tension.

September 5 is a tight screenplay with a clear Hero’s Journey and deep thematic components dealing with prejudice and the need to grow into crises you might not be ready for. This deep screenplay is very much worthy of its Best Original Screenplay nomination.

This is the most difficult screenplay so far for me to give an in-depth analysis of. I’m going to come right out and say this script, in particular, and the movie, in general, perplexed me. That is not to say that I didn’t enjoy it or that I didn’t find it compelling or powerful. Just the opposite is true, in fact. But the way director RaMell Ross handled shooting the movie, and the non-traditional way in which the story, as well as the powerful message and narrative, made watching this movie something that took considerable effort. This is a film and a screenplay that challenges people of a certain race to examine the state of our country, how we got to where we are, and how things went so very wrong.

Like many films this year, Nickel Boys has a pessimistic point of view.

Thematically, this might be the strongest script of the year. This script starts off in an emotional way. It poses the question, are people born bad because of the color of their skin they’re born with, or has that attitude been instilled at an institutional level? That was the point that stuck with me almost from the beginning. We see as we see Elwood (Ethan Herisse), the script’s protagonist, go on his journey through the script that the racism of the South, and the country in general, was not going to let him get ahead. The script also proposes that slavery never really went away. It just arrived in a new form called incarceration. Elwood is essentially enslaved and dehumanized over the course of the script, and his attempts to use the power of his intellect and humanity always end badly.

One of the challenges with this screenplay is that it’s a bit scattered. There is a traditional Hero’s Journey in it, but the stages are mixed and kind of unclear, especially in the second half of the film. However, there is a clear Ordinary World, there is a clear Special World, and there is a clear Return. Ross also wrote the screenplay with co-screenwriter Joslyn Barnes, and it’s based on the book of the same title by Colson Whitehead. While the screenwriting is non-traditional, it is no less effective in crafting a powerful narrative and dramatic story.

The Ordinary World of the film shows Elwood as a kind, smart, talented African American teenager growing up in the segregated South of the 1960s. He gets an opportunity to go to art school and accepts a ride while walking there. Unbeknownst to him, the guy who picked him up stole the car he’s driving and soon gets pulled over. Elwood is basically guilty by association.

Elwood Crosses the First Threshold when he is sent to Nickel Academy, a reform school near Tallahassee. We know right away things will be challenging when the two white boys with him are dropped off at a nice-looking white mansion and he’s taken to a back house. The Tests, Allies, and Enemies portion of the journey shows him meeting people he can and can’t trust, including Turner (Brandon Wilson), who serves the story as an archetypal shapeshifter. We’re never entirely sure if we can trust him or not, though he ultimately ends the script as a true ally for Elwood. Enemies like Spencer and Blakely, oppressive and abusive masters of the school, are clear right away, and Blakely is there for Elwood to fail an early test that leads to him experiencing the Supreme Ordeal of being whipped by Spencer.

This is the point of the script where the Hero’s Journey becomes a little loose. It had been tight to that point, but it slackened up here. There is a Reward, but it’s spread over the next half hour of the story as Elwood discovers the corruption of Nickel Academy goes beyond the abuse, and he has the idea to document it to ultimately get the school closed down. Elwood was inspired by Martin Luther King’s belief in non-violent protest and knew that he could bring Nickel down from the inside without firing a shot or throwing a punch.

WARNING! SPOILERS AHEAD!

The third act begins with the Road Back when the admins discover what Elwood wants to do and put him in the hot box with the intent to kill him and bury him in the back with so many other unmarked graves that have been dug over the years. Turner discovers this plan and breaks Elwood out. They escape the academy on bikes, but Harper, one of the employees, catches up with them and shoots Elwood, killing him in a field. The Resurrection is that Turner gets away and takes Elwood’s name, escaping to New York City. The Return with the Elixir is the discovery of the unmarked graves some 20 years later.

Nickel Boys is a film that should make white people feel uncomfortable. Indeed, I didn’t feel like I was enjoying the film while I was watching it. However, shortly after it ended, it didn’t take a lot of reflection to realize I had just watched a powerful film that did exactly what it was supposed to do. Do I think this is the Best-Adapted Screenplay of the year? I do not. However, it is definitely worthy of its nomination, and it is a film that shows how unchecked power can become abusive, especially when groups of people are dehumanized.

That, in and of itself, is a powerful lesson for today’s world.

I was overjoyed to see Sing Sing get some Oscar love in the form of a couple nominations. I doubt it will win anything, but the fact that it was nominated is a win in and of itself. I am especially happy that one of those nominations was for Best Adapted Screenplay. Sing Sing is an incredibly moving film thick with emotion and running the full gamut between hope and despair.

Based on the book, The Sing Sing Follies by Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin, Sing Sing follows a theater group run by a group of inmates in Sing Sing Prison in New York State. The group’s leader is John “Divine G” Witfield (Coleman Domingo), a wrongly accused inmate who is trying to simultaneously prove his innocence, convince parole boards he’s reformed, and provide a creative outlet for men you wouldn’t normally associate with the theater. The Rehabilitation Through Arts Program (RTA) helps these men find a sense of purpose, an the creative outlet broadens their worlds in ways that otherwise wouldn’t be possible.

The film was in theaters over the summer, and I wrote a more comprehensive review here. Even though this post focuses mainly on the script, make no mistake about it, this film is outstanding in all facets, especially the acting and directing. I mentioned in my previous blog about Sing Sing, that the screenplay is largely character-driven, and it doesn’t follow a traditional 3-Act structure, but it does have a subtle Hero’s Journey. Sing Sing’s screenplay is the exception that proves the rule. In taking a closer look at it, I do see more of a 3-Act structure than I did on the first viewing, but it is as subtle as the Hero’s Journey is in it. While the story is important in this screenplay, it’s more about the characters, their circumstances, and their growth.

Act 1

Divine G’s Ordinary World is him living as an inmate in Sing Sing Correctional Facility for a crime he didn’t commit as the leader of the RTA. He works closely with Brent Buell (Paul Raci), a social worker from outside the prison who is the program’s director, and serves as Divine G’s Meeting of the Mentor. Upon completion of the latest production, Divine G presents a Call to Adventure to Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin to join the next show. Divine Eye is more belligerent and confrontational, and sees little value in joining a theater group, which acts as the Refusal to the Call. Divine Eye Crosses the First Threshold when he decides to join the RTA.

Act 2

The Tests, Allies, and Enemies portion of the Hero’s Journey follows as Divine Eye wants the next show to be a comedy, but Divine G wants to do a drama to show off his acting skills. Their conflict deepens when Divine Eye convinces the rest of the inmates to go with the comedy and then Divine Eye auditions for and receives the one dramatic role in the show over Divine G. The Approach shows Divine Eye opening up to Devine G and the group trying to get permission to put on the show. The Supreme Ordeal shows Divine Eye and Divine G going to their parole hearings. Divine G’s is especially painful and awkward when he talks about acting in the shows and one of the committee members asks him if he’s acting now. His parole is denied, but Divine Eye’s is approved. Divine G’s friend Mike Mike dies, sending Divine G into a personal spiral in which he loses all hope and takes all his anger out on his fellow RTA members and leaving the production. The Reward shows Divine G withdrawing from everything, despair having completely taken over.

Act III

The Resurrection shows Divine G. using the time to himself to figure out what really upset him and how the group is really the best thing, really the only good thing in his life. Divine Eye reconnects with him and invites him back to the production. Divine G. apologizes and is welcomed back with open arms. After the performance, we get the Return with the Elixir. Divine G is paroled a year later and leaves the prison a free man. Divine Eye picks him up and takes him to a new life as a free man.

So clearly, there is a dramatic 3-Act structure and a Hero’s Journey. This isn’t a complex story. There aren’t a lot of subplots or layers to the storyline that keep the audience guessing like some of the other nominees this year. What this screenplay does, perhaps better than any of the other nominees, as it develops characters and relationships that are the backbone of the movie. The story is secondary in Sing Sing. This is a movie about people, the circumstances they live in, and the way they survive circumstances that would kill most people.

Divine G. is the protagonist, and we see the story unfold through his eyes. We watch him go from hope to despair and back again. We watch Divine Eye go from closed off tough guy to a sensitive man who understands that might doesn’t necessarily mean right, as he was taught his whole life leading to now. This screenplay gives us archetypes like the Hero, the Trickster, the Shapeshifter, the Shadow, and the Mentor in ways that feel natural and organic. We’re less concerned about what happens with the story and more concerned about how the story changes the characters and spurs their growth.

If you are an aspiring screenwriter looking for ways to build characters with depth, pathos and believable personalities, Sing Sing is a script you should know.