By Robert Grock
Let’s talk about dream factory failures. Failures in which vaunted screenplay repair technicians, known as script doctors, tried and failed to do the repair on damaged scripts. They made heroic efforts but they came to naught. Bottom line? Cinematic failure. Hundreds of millions of dollars lost.
I recently co-wrote this article on screenplay and script consulting services for Ghostwriters Central. They have provided screenwriting and script doctor services since their founding in 2002.
These narrative surgeons are tasked with saving stories on the brink of collapse, but even the most skilled can’t always work miracles. When script doctoring fails, the results are often spectacularly bad. the audience is left clutching their popcorn in confusion or rage. From muddled superhero sequels to misfired sci-fi epics, the history of cinema is littered with examples where script doctors, despite their best efforts, couldn’t save a sinking screenplay.
Script doctoring is a delicate art, requiring a balance of surgical precision and creative flair. When a film’s narrative is faltering, whether due to tonal inconsistencies, convoluted plots, or studio meddling, a script doctor is summoned to patch things up. But sometimes, the script is so fundamentally broken that no amount of rewriting can salvage it.
Take 1999’s Wild Wild West, a steampunk Western that aimed to blend Will Smith’s charisma with Barry Sonnenfeld’s quirky direction. The original script was a mess of clashing genres, and multiple script doctors, including Brent Maddock and S.S. Wilson, were brought in to tame the chaos. Their efforts to streamline the story and inject humor fell flat, resulting in a film that felt like a saloon brawl between a buddy comedy and a sci-fi fever dream. The infamous giant mechanical spider became a symbol of the film’s overblown absurdity, proving that even a doctor’s best efforts can’t save a script that’s fundamentally unsure of what it wants to be.
Then there’s Catwoman (2004), a film so misguided it’s practically a case study in how not to fix a screenplay. The project started as a Batman Returns spin-off but morphed into a standalone disaster. Script doctors, including John Rogers, were tasked with salvaging a script that veered wildly between campy action, corporate conspiracy, and a bizarre feline mythology. Despite their efforts, the final film was a tonal mess. Halle Berry’s Patience Phillips ping-ponged between empowered hero and unwitting parody.
The basketball scene, where Catwoman shows off her powers in a cringe-inducing game of one-upmanship, remains a low point, a clear sign that the script doctors’ attempts to inject fun couldn’t mask the lack of a coherent vision. It’s as if the script was a cat toy, batted around by too many hands until it unraveled completely.
The superhero genre, with its high stakes and rabid fanbases, is a minefield for script doctors. Look at X-Men: The Last Stand (2006), a film that tried to juggle the ambitious “Dark Phoenix” storyline with a mutant cure plot. Simon Kinberg and Zak Penn were among the writers tasked with refining Brett Ratner’s troubled production, but the result was a narrative pile-up.
The script doctors couldn’t reconcile the competing storylines, leading to rushed character deaths (sorry, Cyclops) and a Jean Grey arc that felt more like a plot device than a tragic descent. Fans still wince at the memory of Wolverine’s overwrought “I’m the only one who can stop her” line, a moment that screamed of last-minute rewrites failing to capture the saga’s emotional weight. The film’s failure to balance its sprawling cast and lofty themes showed that even talented writers can’t always fix a script stretched too thin.
Another infamous misfire is Green Lantern (2011), a film that aimed to launch a DC cinematic universe but crash-landed instead. The screenplay, worked on by a slew of writers including Greg Berlanti and Marc Guggenheim, suffered from an identity crisis. Was it a cosmic epic? A buddy comedy? A romance?
Script doctors tried to sharpen Ryan Reynolds’ Hal Jordan into a relatable hero, but the result was a tonal hodgepodge that left audiences baffled. The film’s villain, a nebulous cloud called Parallax, felt like a placeholder that no one bothered to replace, and the love story between Hal and Carol Ferris lacked spark despite rewrites. It’s as if the script doctors were handed a bag of mismatched LEGO pieces and told to build a spaceship. The box office flop underscored a harsh truth: when a script lacks a clear foundation, no amount of doctoring can make it soar.
Sometimes, the problem isn’t just the script but the weight of external pressures. Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker (2019) faced the daunting task of concluding a trilogy while appeasing a divided fanbase. Chris Terrio and J.J. Abrams, working as both writers and de facto script doctors, attempted to course-correct after The Last Jedi’s polarizing reception. Their efforts to reintroduce Emperor Palpatine and tie up loose ends like Rey’s lineage resulted in a rushed, overstuffed narrative.
The film’s breakneck pacing and expository dialogue, like the infamous “Somehow, Palpatine returned,” felt like desperate bandages on a script bleeding from too many studio notes. Fans and critics alike noted the lack of emotional depth, a sign that the script doctors’ fixes prioritized fan service over storytelling coherence. It’s a reminder that even in a galaxy far, far away, a script can’t be saved when it’s pulled in too many directions.
The common thread in these failures is a lack of unified vision. Script doctors are often brought in late, tasked with fixing scripts that have already been through too many hands or studio mandates. When the core story is flawed -- whether it’s a tonal mismatch in Wild Wild West, a lack of focus in X-Men: The Last Stand, or an overstuffed climax in The Rise of Skywalker -- even the best rewrites can only do so much. It’s like trying to fix a collapsing cake by adding more frosting; the result might look prettier, but it’s still going to crumble. The irony is that script doctors are often blamed for these failures, despite being the ones called to clean up someone else’s mess.
These cinematic missteps highlight the limits of script doctoring. When it works, it’s invisible, seamlessly blending into a polished final product. When it fails, the scars are all too visible. Think clunky dialogue, disjointed plots, or characters who feel like strangers in their own stories. Yet these failures also underscore the complexity of the craft.
Script doctors aren’t just fixing words on a page; they’re navigating studio politics, fan expectations, and tight deadlines, all while trying to preserve the spark of creativity. The next time you watch a film that feels like it’s lurching from scene to scene, spare a thought for the script doctor who tried, and failed, to save it. They’re the unsung heroes of Hollywood’s battlefields, even when the war is lost.