Screenplay page count: why it matters and how to keep it tight

120 page maximum for screenplays — why it’s a good thing

“I loved the movie Django Unchained, but the script was too long…”

“The Dark Knight made us millions, but the script was 167 pages, so let’s not do that ever again…”

…Said no one ever.

Yet, if you’re lucky enough to get your script into the hands of someone who can make or break your career, your screenplay length (aka the page count) is the only thing in your script that you can be sure they’ll read, and read first.

Why is that? Well, time and effort are usually their biggest concerns, but so are shootability and budget. Not to mention that high page count that’s not coming from Quentin Tarantino is usually a tipoff that the screenwriter doesn’t know how to make a movie, quite possibly because they probably aren’t aware of this math:

One page = one minute of screen time. 120 page script = a two hour movie. How accurate is this? Here’s John August’s take on the concept.

Two hours is a lot of screen time, and a lot of shooting days, and a lot of everything else that goes into the movie. And that lot of everything translates to money, money, money.

So while there’s no hard and fast rule against screenplays over 100-110 pages, there’s definitely a built in “screenplay length bias,” conscious or not on the part of the potential reader or buyer or producer, that at the very least causes more “drag” on your script’s potential, and at the very worst, could send it directly into Unread Script Oblivion™.

Seriously though: 120 pages? Maximum? Isn’t that just a bit arbitrary? Why not 121? Why not 119?

After all, The Godfather, (a great little sci-fi movie that you might’ve heard of) didn’t have a script page count of 120 pages. Nor did that awesome World War II flick, Gone With The Wind.

As a talented, up-and-coming screenwriter with moxy, (or even without moxy) you may be asking: “Wait. Why can’t my script page count go over 120 pages? Why does page count even matter?”

As a professional script analyst and screenwriter myself, I’m going to try to answer that.

And the short answer is: To heck with the 120 page limit. Just write a good movie.

The slightly longer answer is: Understand why that seemingly arbitrary rule is floating out there to begin with, and use those reasons as an edge to get your script read, over the other gal’s.

And here are 4 good reasons why the 120-page screenplay limit is a good thing:

Scripts over 120 pages are more work to read

Most wise folks in the industry will tell you: it doesn’t matter how long your script is. A good movie is a good movie is a good movie. If they’re still being entertained by the script on page 121, your page count doesn’t matter at all. Truth! Absolutely!

But, aha! What if they don’t pick up the script at all because they see that the script page count is over 120 pages?

Even if your script gets into the pile/inbox at an agency or production company, there’s still no guarantee it’ll get read. So why not stack the deck in your favor as much as possible by making your script more appealing to any readers who may blanch at the page count, and therefore maybe not take it home for their weekend read?

Scripts over 120 pages can be seen as more expensive to produce

Remember, amigo: your script is just the blueprint for an actual film to be made. And films cost money.

It’s been drilled into our heads since our first screenwriting class: One page of screenplay = generally one minute of screen time. So if your script is 120 pages, the final film that gets made will likely be right around 120 minutes.

And, compared to a 90-minute film, a two-hour film:

(a) takes longer to prep, shoot, and finish

(b) takes more more to prep, shoot, and finish

(c) takes up more of a theater chain’s schedule.

(d) takes more money and more time to put to DVD/BluRay/prep for cable/prep for foreign distribution, etc.

And so on and so on.

Keep in mind: there are more companies making films now than ever before. That means it’s not just the big studios anymore. It’s the smaller guys as well. Not everybody’s looking to throw millions of dollars at a project.

So if you can keep your script tight, and beat that silly 120-page rule by getting your script down to 100 or 90 pages, your script will likely be more appealing to those smaller, less-funded script buyers.

Scripts over 120 pages by amateurs look, well, amateurish

Limiting your screenplay to a specific page limit is also a great way to prove that you know your stuff, market-wise, and genre-wise.

For example: Comedies like to be right around 90 pages max. Horror, generally 90-100 max.

So if you write a 120-page horror script, you’re going to have a tough time convincing people you know your genre.

But if you turn in a script page count that’s on the mark for your genre, you’ve now given them one less reason to say NO.

Screenwriters who can write with more impact using fewer words are generally considered better writers

People who read a lot of scripts – agents, producers, actors, directors, whoever they are – they’re not looking for a page count. They’re looking for a great story. But at the same time, they know that less can definitely be be more, and they can recognize bloat when they see it.

Most importantly, they know that a good screenwriter will keep their eyeballs flowing down the page, making them feel things, whether it’s with a lot of words or a few.

Brevity is the soul of wit, somebody said. Probably Bob from Human Resources. Remember: you’re not writing War and Peace, you’re writing the blueprint for a motion picture.

Bottom line: if you can just get around how stupid it is to set an arbitrary numerical limit on script page count and just accept that the big bulk of humanity that comprises the film industry has their reasons for it, right or wrong, you can really help your chances of getting read and sold.

So now that you know why page count matters, the next question is whether your own script is guilty of running long. Take the quick quiz below to find out.

Take the Why-Is-My-Script-Too-Long Quiz

1) Which character introduction is the best if you want to write a nice lean screenplay?

A) PETER JENKINS (42) — pudgy, iPhone on his belt.

B) PETER JENKINS, late thirties/early 40s, slightly overweight, sandy blond hair and innocent blue eyes, carries his iPhone on his belt loop in an outdated leather case.

C) PETER JENKINS is in his late thirties but doesn’t look like it. He has an innocent expression on his face and wears an iPhone cell phone on his belt, and his yellow, weathered polo shirt is tucked in.

2) Which action line is the strongest if you’d like to write a nice tight scene?

A) Joey slams on the brakes hard with both feet and the car screeches and squeals to a halt just an inch away from the deadly propane tank.

B) Joey slams the brakes. The car stops, inches from the propane tank.

C) SCREEEEECH! Joey slams on the brakes. The car screeches to a halt, skidding its tires, and stops just inches away from the propane tank. WHOA!

3) Which scene heading / slugline in this script’s scene is easiest and quickest to read?

A) INT. FRITO LAY PLANT – PETER JENKINS’ CORNER OFFICE – BY THE FOUNTAIN – DAY

B) INT. FRITO LAY – OFFICE – DAY

C) INT. FRITO LAY CORN CHIPS PLANT – OFFICE – CORN CHIPS DELICIOUS – DAY

4) Which example of writing action (below) is the tightest?

A) Larry leans up against the bar. He looks down at his drink, thinking about Meg.

B) Larry leans up against the bar, looking down at his drink, thinking about Meg.

C) Larry looks at a photo of Meg. He takes a drink.

5) Which dialogue/action combo is the the leanest and meanest?

A)

PETER
(excitedly)
I can’t wait to try my new egg beater!

B)

PETER
I can’t wait to try out my new egg beater!

C)

PETER
(jumping up and down, smiling like an excited kid)
I can’t wait to try out my new egg beater!

The correct answers, according to this script reader, are: A, B, B, C, B

Why?

1) All we really need to know: Peter’s a bit chunky and he has a phone on his belt. That tells us pretty much everything we need to picture him.

2) We’re perfectly able to imagine the “screech” if you simply use the verb, and not the sound effect.

3) Do we need to know it’s the Frito Lay plant? If not, delete the “FRITO LAY” part and just say “OFFICE.”

4) We can’t see or hear Larry thinking, so show him thinking. When he looks at the pic, we know what he’s thinking about.

5) Keep action and descriptions in the action lines, and only use parentheticals if, without them, there’s absolutely no way the reader will understand the way the line is supposed to be delivered.

Naturally, these five quizzy questions aren’t the end-all-be-all of whether or not your screenplay pages are too long. And even if they are, it’s all good. Just keep in mind that less text = easier read.

And easier read = people like you more. Or at least your script. And sure, yes, maybe you as well. I guess.

Missed a question or two above? That’s fine. Let’s spell out a few specific things you can do to get that page count down:

How to get your screenplay under 120 pages

With all that in mind, today I’m sharing a few things you can do to cut down your page count. If you’re new at self-critique, the first step is to remove yourself from the outcome (as I describe in this post.) After that, the rest are pretty simple screenwriting tactics, tweaks, and approaches pro screenwriters know, use, and embrace:

Stick to essential exposition

Knowing the difference between essential exposition and non-essential exposition, aka fluff aka filler, is vital. Hint: if the bit of exposition you’re presenting isn’t used or acted upon later in the story, it’s non-essential.

Here’s an essential exposition: Indiana Jones hops into a plane, finds a big snake on his seat and lets us know he’s deathly afraid of snakes. 35 minutes later, he has to descend into a pit full of snakes.

But what if it was a vampire bat in the plane instead of a snake? But then it’s still a pit of snakes he has to jump into later? And what if, for the rest of the movie, his fear of vampire bats was never again mentioned? Weak tea, right?

That, friendo, is non-essential exposition.

Remove and omit and redundant stuff from your screenplay

Writers, it could be said, are capable of great abuse. Audience abuse. Because they keep hitting us over the head with things they’ve already told us.

Here’s an example of what I’m talking about:

We read a page and a half of a car chase. The characters do X, the villain does Y.

After the car chase, the characters meet up with another character and then explain to him that they did X and that the villain did Y.

Even if that explanation only takes two lines of dialogue, it’s two lines of dialogue that can be trimmed, making your script tighter.

If we’ve just read it on the page, don’t repeat it later. That goes for exposition as well. If you’re working on a motif, and need to present a pattern, then do so but escalate.

Give us new information or context or a new viewpoint and/or heighten the emotional payoff while repeating that information.

Escalate your emotional moments, don’t repeat them

Return of The King, the third installment in the Lord of The Rings trilogy, suffers from what I call The Multi-Day Tantric Screenwriting Finale™. It has no fewer than six distinct, extremely high emotional resolution moments:

Gollum falls into the lava, Frodo wakes up with his friends, Aragorn is crowned, Sam marries his girl, Frodo finishes his book, and Frodo sails off into the sunset.

All of these sequences, totaling many minutes of expensive screen and audience time, all cause the audience to feel really, really happy. Awesome, right? Yeah, but it’s virtually the same exact level of happy, six bloody times in a row.

Yes, making an audience feel happy is what we got into the screen trade for, but six beats of the same exact level of happy is just bad. Like Saruman bad.

How to train yourself to avoid these sorts of emotional repeats? As an exercise, assign percentages to your scenes, based on the emotion they’re transmitting.

If a scene where a man and wife argue takes the audience to X% of any given emotion, make sure all scenes after that only increase that percentage. Easy right? Plus, you love percentages.

Stop describing every little gosh darn thing, son

Yes, Ms. Faulkner, writing prose is nice, but this is a screenplay.

If you’re new to converting your prose into screenwriting, here’s an example of how you can start (and by the way, it’s the same place prose writers start when paring down their own too-massive verbiage).

That is, instead of this…

EXT. FARMHOUSE IN AUSTRALIA SOMEWHERE (NEAR MELBOURNE) – DAWN

A house sits on an old field, weed-won and surrounded by tall gum trees. A small chicken coop is guarded by an old, feisty mule. The barn has a fresh coat of paint on it. An old farmer named MR. STINKERTON (in his 80’s, blue eyes, dirty overalls, and happy to be here) clings to a set of car keys as he makes his way from the porch to his old beat up 1939 Ford truck.

Give us this…

EXT. FARMHOUSE – DAY

A dilapidated farm. MR. STINKERTON (90) steps out and heads for his truck.

Just give us the vital info we need to keep the movie flowing in our heads

The information from the above scene is:

Mr. Stinkerton is old, has a truck, and lives on an old farmhouse.

But what if even the pared down version of the scene above isn’t necessary because we’re able to get all the information that’s transmitted in that first scene in the scene to follow, like this:

EXT. GRANGE HALL – DAY

Mr. Stinkerton pulls up in his truck, greets a handful of other dirt farmers.

From this scene directly above, we’re transmitting everything we transmitted to the audience, except the fact that Mr. Stinkerton is 90. Easy enough to remedy:

EXT. GRANGE HALL – DAY

MR. STINKERTON (90) pulls up in his truck, greets a handful of other dirt farmers.

Mr. Stinkerton being 90: check. A farmer: check. Has a truck: check.

Des the audience gain anything (info? entertainment? emotion?) with that earlier scene of him exiting his house? Atmosphere? Does the farmhouse play a part in the story somehow? Are we coming back to the farmhouse at all? If not, lose that earlier scene.

Pare down the camera direction

When visualizing a motion picture, it’s tempting for screenwriters to put camera moves and angles on the page, but camera directions can be a huge waste space.

Even if they’re few and far between, even if it’s just a simple “We pan down to reveal,” see if you can get rid of yours. It’s not mandatory, but you can save much page count by keeping them to a minimum and letting the director direct the film.

Use parentheticals correctly

The same goes for parentheticals. Me? I save those for moments when it’s otherwise impossible, and I mean utterly impossible, for a reader to understand from the context how the character is supposed to deliver the line.

Here’s a bad use of parentheticals:

MR. STINKERTON
(thinking out loud, to himself angrily)
Gad durnit!

Here’s a good use of parentheses:

Jeb enters the room smiling.

Mr. Stinkerton smiles warmly and extends a hand.

They shake hands.

MR. STINKERTON
(icicles)
Hello, Jeb.

Nix the rambling dialogue unless you can write it well

Mr. Pink and the boys talking about tipping waitresses and Madonna’s big you-know-what might’ve made for some great comedic moments in 1990, and in sporadic examples since, but I have a bit of bad news:

It’s usually because those screenplays are being turned into films by actors and filmmakers who know what they’re doing.

It’s one thing to watch and listen to Steve Buscemi for 4 pages while he plays the smallest violin in the world for waitresses, but it’s quite another to count on a script reader to casting Steve Buscemi in her mind while she reads your script.

Lengthy banter is seldom made great by screenwriters who aren’t at the pinnacle of their game.

More importantly, cute, rambling banter is screen time. A one-page dialogue scene is a hell of a lot easier to shoot than a 3 page dialogue scene.

And keep in mind, dialogue can be simultaneous, it can be staccato, it can be brief and grunty, it can be as flawed as it is when real humans do it. (Here’s my guide on how to make your dialogue more authentic.)

Nix the MOREs and CONT’Ds

Save MORE for the bottom of pages only, when dialogue continues from the bottom of a page to the top of the next, where you continue with CONT’D (“continued”).

Using MORE and CONT’D on the same page to indicate the same character speaking when there’s a break her dialogue is a default setting on most screenwriting apps that needs to go away. It just adds to page clutter and page count. Yes, it’s perfectly acceptable and common, though. But a man can complain, can’t he?

To cheat your page count or not cheat your page count

When all else fails, sure you can tweak the page margins or the indentation of the character name or dialogue elements in order to squeeze more text onto a page and therefore cut down on your overall page count.

But any good producer worth her salt will notice as much, and even if they don’t, a lot of dense text on your page almost always adds up to a negative reading experience.

If you absolutely must cheat, at the very least attempt to do it with as much subtlety as possible. For example, adjust the margins on only some of the pages, preferably pages with a lot of action on them.

Action pages tend to get skimmed more than dialogue pages, so while you’re still running the risk of fatiguing the reader, your cheated margins may be less obvious.

Take all of these suggestions to heart, with a caveat: all sorts of scripts with all sorts of bloaty badness in them get bought and sold and produced all the time.

Ultimately, I say that being a bloaty screenwriter who finishes a script is better than a lean screenwriter who never finishes one, but if you want to improve your odds of making a sale or getting your screenplay produced, paring down the page count is one of the best ways to do so.

But if you’re not good at critiquing your own work, or haven’t grown thick skin as a screenwriter just yet, you can always hire my team and I to slap you some coverage to get you started.

In closing, let me emphasize so as not to get drawn and quartered: Working screenwriters don’t worry as much about page count as they do about telling a great story.

That being said, try to keep yours lean and mean, no matter what the final page count. Hopefully these tips can help you do just that.