Do you want to improve as a screenwriter?

You’re reading this post, so I’m assuming, the answer is Yes. But Mastering the craft takes analysis, study and constant learning from professional screenplays. It’s a time-consuming task.

So I've analyzed Ozark’s screenwriting mistakes, so you can focus on becoming a better writer.

Something smells rotten in Ozark

You’ve watched season one of Ozark and felt entertained, but something didn't feel right.

The pilot was smart, well written and beautifully executed. The characters and plot twists nailed every beat. You struggled with Wendy and Martin as they tried to launder money, raise children and keep their marriage together, in this odd but beautiful part of Missouri.

So why did you feel so unsatisfied when the season credits rolled?

Don’t fail before you write a single scene

In his book, The Anatomy of Story, John Truby states that most screenplays fail at the premise before they are even written.

With a weak premise, a writer, and their script must work twice as hard just to deliver an above average story. No amount of plot twists, interesting characters or clever reveals can fix this problem. Netflix’s season one of Ozark is no exception.

Ozark’s Premise: A financial advisor forced to launder money for a drug cartel or risk having his family killed.

In the pilot, Del, the murdering drug lord firmly establishes absolute power over the conservative accountant, Martin Byrde. Martin and Del hammer out an agreement and the Byrde family fly the coop to the money laundering capital of America, Ozark.

Are you starting to see the problem here?

They’ve entered into a business relationship. Their actions now raise a fundamental question regarding conflict and drama: What exactly are Del and Martin supposed to do for another eleven episodes?

Hash out the fine print or their contract?

Del can’t keep threatening to kill Martin’s family and not, at some point, actually kill them. The audience will eventually realise that the stakes are worthless, and Del’s a giant Mexican pussy who’s all talk and no trousers.

To deliver on this premise, Del and Martin should have battled back and forth until their feud climaxes near the end of the season. But they’re un-equally matched, sharing no moral or emotional connection, so how are they going to do that?

In your pilot or act one, your protagonist and antagonist cannot come to some agreement - this is dramatic suicide. They must maintain mutually conflicting goals locking them in until the end of the story.

Only at this point, can you bring the relationship to some conclusion. But not beforehand.

There must have something worth fighting for when you start your screenplay. The more trivial the subject, the more difficult it will be to maintain the pace in that barren wasteland, known as the Second Act.

Are you having trouble coming up with more scenes of conflict between your protagonist and antagonist?

Your solid premise will protect you from this ever happening. It will contain a clear indication of the central conflict between your two main characters.

The Ozark writers knew that their premise couldn’t sustain a full season, so they dug deep into their bag of tricks for alternate sources of conflict and tension.

Supporting characters can’t carry the main storyline.

‘There are no sub-plots’ - Aristotle (paraphrased in Tierno’s Poetics for Screenwriters).

At the beginning of a well crafted screenplay, it seems like there are a number of independent plot strands in play. But as the story progresses it becomes clear that the sub-plots are a function of the main desire line.

The core of your story is established when the Protagonists desire comes into direct conflict with your Antagonist. This dispute then builds slowly over the course of your screenplay. Sub-plots and a hierarchy of supporting characters can form an effective strategy for tension while your story gains momentum.

Supporting characters and plots can also provide a clever way to mirror your Protagonist’s behavior, express themes, and foreshadow the climax of your story.

But they can’t carry the main storyline.

The Ozark pilot and premise implies of a story about Del and Martin Byrde. But Del takes a back seat to the Langmore family, the Schnells, the FBI, money laundering and the marital issues between Wendy and Martin.

These alternate sources of conflict for Martin have no direct relationship to Del, so season one can’t function as a single cohesive unit. This becomes blatantly evident in the finale season climax.

The final confrontation plays out between the Schnells and Del, not Martin Byrde. The premise and the pilot set the audience expectations differently, and the result is a fragmented unsatisfying conclusion to the story.

Screenplay structure doesn’t work this way.

A TV Pilot and the first Act of a screenplay serve the same purpose: they showcase the upcoming central conflict of the story, the desires of the characters, and make us want to know how it will end.

At the end of the Mad Men pilot, we fully understand the contradiction and lie Don Draper is living. He may encounter opponents on long the way, but the core conflict of season one is Don’s battle with his inner self.

This is what is promised at the start. And this confrontation at the end, in the form of Dick Whitman, is what we get.

When Ted Tally struggled writing Silence of the Lambs, he knew once he got Clarice into Bill’s cellar, then he would be home day.

Why?

Because this is what he promised the audience. Try having the SWAT team kill Buffalo Bill and see how your audience feels.

Ozark promised us a finale confrontation where Del either killed or didn’t kill Martin Byrde’s family.

You can easily avoid making this mistake in your screenwriting. Ask yourself this question ‘What did I setup and promise my audience in the climax?’

When you hit writing gold, it’s time to stop typing!

Great writers and screenplays don’t give the audience all the information. Instead, they leave out the conclusion and let the audience create it in their imaginations. This is the real power of screenwriting and cinema.

Martin knows Wendy had an affair. And when the bitterness starts to fade, he can watch his video evidence and rekindle the resentment he has towards her. This marital infidelity is one of the classic cornerstones of drama.

In the pilot, the Ozark writing team delivered a refreshingly entertaining take on the well-trodden cheating wife story. But no matter how well written this plot is, everything has its limitations.

As Farmer John says: ‘You can’t milk that cow forever’.

Once the affair is out in the open and confronted, that’s it. Wendy and Martin can't keep returning to the same scene variation of 'Well you cheated on me and had an affair'. The Ozark writers had to get creative if they were going to exploit this situation further.

But let’s relax. We are in good hands here. Dubuque and his team are about to deliver the best writing of the season.

Let's set the scene...

Wendy and Martin realise they are going to reach their money laundering goal. So happy, they momentarily forget everything that’s happened and end up in each other's arms.

Everything is going fine until Wendy gets on her knees to perform oral sex. Martin remembers the video of his wife with her lover, in the same position, and the resentment returns.

Martin, taking cues from his wife’s betrayal, turns Wendy around and takes her from behind. And just like in the video, Martin slaps her hard on the ass. It’s a brilliant piece of writing.

It should have been left there.

Later, she questions Martin about the ass slapping, knowing that something is wrong, but not quite sure what. The scene basically writes itself. Nothing has to happen, and you can still cut the ironic tension with a proverbial knife.

And it should have been left there.

But the Ozark writers just couldn’t leave it alone.

They had to follow with Wendy hacking into Martin’s laptop and watching the video. The scene culminates when Wendy confronts Martin and ruins the best piece of writing in Ozark.

This story and episode went through a writers room, script reviews and editing. It should have been cut at this point.

You can avoid making this mistake by knowing when to stop, or cut twenty percent out after you finish. The audience aren’t stupid. They’re veteran television addicts who don’t need everything explained.

Sacrificing your plot credibility for a reveal

Every screenwriter has heard the term Kill Your Darlings :Professional writers know, no matter how much they love it ,when a scene or sequence doesn’t work, and it must be cut.

Most writers will also be familiar with the term Suspension of Disbelief: an audience who has bought into your story are more likely to overlook implausible plot holes.

And here’s the thing: You can make anything believable if you write and set it up well enough.

Let’s apply these principles to this premise: A gay FBI agent arrives in town and turns an Ozark hillbilly into his lover, and informant.

Does this sound plausible to you?

It didn’t to me, and as I watched the Langmore/Petty romance blossom, I just couldn’t buy into the storyline. Of course there are gay men in the FBI, but it’s just too convenient that a gay Ozark hillbilly just happens to be available, when they need to progress their case.

But wait, Russ Langmore had actually been arrested for picking up rent boys. Agent Petty had done his job and read the police files on the Langmore family. With this critical information it all makes sense.

So why didn’t we get this information earlier, making the whole thing more plausible?

Because instead, the Ozark writers took a chance and risked the whole subplot failing for the sake of the reveal. And let’s be honest here, it’s not a reveal on the level of: ‘Oh my god, he’s been dead all along, but he didn’t know it’.

It’s more like ‘Well, yeah, that makes more sense now’ kind of deal. It was a delivery of exposition, lacking any climax.

If you are going to build your story to climatic reveal, then it must have impact. Social media should be buzzing and audience’s talking about over coffee the next day.

Otherwise, what’s the point in sacrificing some of your story credibility and losing your audience?

Always lead with your best character

Have you read a lot of screenwriting books? I guess you have and know to always lead with your best character.

Why?

Because you are asking the audience to become this character, and experience your story through his/or her’s eyes. And this is a lot to ask.

Your best character must captivate us, and the more we empathize with them, the more we want to understand the contradiction buried within.

And here lies the problem.

Martin Byrde is not the best character in Ozark. In fact, he’s not even the second best character in Ozark. (He is though, the money man, the talent, the executive producer… I think you get the picture.)

Martin Byrde, a two dimensional character, lacks the depth to carry a TV show. He’s an accountant who decided over a casual conversation with his wife, to launder money for a drug cartel.

‘I wanted to turn Mr.Chips into Scarface’ - Vince Gilligan.

So while Walter White was transforming into Tony Montana, Byrde canvassed the Ozark trying to convince people he’s not a crook. For a lead character, this is tedious to watch at the best of times.

The Ozark writers didn’t showcase Byrde’s money laundering capabilities enough. Unlike Don Draper, in Mad Men, we didn’t get to admire him for his occupational brilliance.

He doesn't commit violence or betrays his wife. Byrde’s character, faced with never seeing his family again, only serves to highlight Bateman’s limited range instead of delivering real emotion.

So how do you avoid making this mistake?

You choose a character like Ruth Langmore (Julia Garner) to be your lead. Her struggle with her family and attempts to shed her roots, makes for compelling drama. Your audience and readers will love you for it.

See you in Season 2

Ozark’s biggest fault is that it’s not the worst show on Netflix. It's witty and entertaining, but not great.

Todd VanderWerff’s Vox article says that Ozark would make a good movie. I don’t quite agree, but it’s an interesting point. The Ozark pilot looks like it was originally a spec script re-written for television.

It’s a complete three act unit within itself, complete with climax and resolution. When Del confronts Martin about the skimmed money, we should have been watching the season finale instead of the pilot.

Laura Linney has received a lot of praise for her performance. She pushes the bounds of this limited role that was rewritten for her, and it’s a shame she was never considered for the lead part.

In this post, we've covered the fundamental building blocks of screenwriting and drama. Dubuque and his writing chose to ignore them and must accept the mediocre result, but now you don't have to.

Have you applied these screenwriting techniques to your own scripts?

Let me know how it goes.