You might have a killer premise, but this does not guarantee a compelling script. You need plot, as well, for that.
Now a great idea with a bad script is probably rarer than it seems. Good premises are hard to create, so there is actually a very high correlation between a good premise and a good plot.
That said, it’s certainly not always the case: just look at almost any Philip K. Dick adaptation outside the canonical three (Blade Runner, Total Recall, and A Scanner Darkly).
The problem is that you might have something that sounds good in a pitch, particularly if you’re doing it from the hybrid logline–“Jaws in a carnival funhouse” or “Die Hard at a curling tournament” or some other nonsense–and then you see that the script shits the bed at page 20: the story stalls, characters behave in stupid ways, and the audience loses interest.
Here’s a hard true: a shit-hot premise might hook a reader, but the plot is the thing that keeps them watching.
With that in mind, let’s unpack the difference between a premise and a plot. Furthermore, we’ll figure out why high-concept films often don’t have plots that can live up to the hype.
Finally, we’ll look at how a story engine can make sure your great concept lives up to what it offers.
A premise is the foundational “what if?” idea behind a movie.
Examples:
These are all, of course, high concept premises. They grab the reader and make them beg to know more.
Plot defines what actually happens once the movie begins. It’s the sequence of actions hooked to the idea that ensures stakes, character development, resolution.
At its most basic, you can think of plot following the below formula:
Plot = Premise + Conflict + Character + Escalation + Resolution
A premise is not a story.
Let’s explore some reasons why:
A good story requires the protagonist to face escalating challenges. These challenges ensure that the protagonist will grow and change–or be destroyed.
A man wakes up invisible one day… and goes to a ladies’ dressing room.
Interesting idea, but unless there are stakes and risk, you’re left with nothing more than an invisible pervert (which may or may not be better than a visible one…).
A socially invisible man literally becomes invisible. However, this only makes his loneliness worse. In an attempt to give back, he starts using his power to help others. Yet as he helps more people, he becomes more visible. At this point he is forced to choose between staying safe and invisible or risking his power for true human connection.
This shows us:
Scenes repeat. The characters react rather than act. The script is a situation, not a story.
Premise: In a future where time has become currency, the poor die young and the rich live forever.
Problem: A solid first act transitions into a standard-issue “romance on the run” film. The excellent worldbuilding and is squandered. The conflict hinted at by the premise is never truly explored. Most of the protagonist’s choices are based around the romance and–by not linking back to the central premise–feel arbitrary.
Lesson: The more radical your premise, the more specific-to-premise your plot escalation needs to be.
Stakes must feel personal, immediate, and irreversible. Too often, a great idea collapses as scenes that don’t change anything.
Plot is about consequence. If nothing meaningful changes, it isn’t a plot.
Some writers think the setup is the movie. Remember, the premise as a launching point, not a destination.
Premise: Mysterious creatures living in the woods strike fear into the heart of a village.
Issue: Once the twist is revealed, the plot unravels. Shit stops making sense, and you’re too busy scratching your head to pay attention to any emotional machinations. The premise might hook you for a moment, but the plot is hollow and twists really don’t tend to work. Even for someone who made his bones with one good twist–apparently the only one he had in him.
By contrast:
“The Truman Show” – This is a fabulous premise: a man realizes that his entire existence is fake: a reality television show where he is the only person who doesn’t know what’s happening.
The plot here, however, doesn’t just lie still. As Truman clocks inconsistencies, he investigates them. He pushes back. Ultimately, he escapes–even though he could potentially calm down, pretend he doesn’t know anything, and have life go back to the way it used to be.
Each beat drives the story forward. Each beat deepens the theme.
Now let’s discuss how to turn a high-concept idea into a functional script. Here’s a quick precis:
Premise is external, but plot requires with internal motivation.
Here are some questions:
–What does my protagonist want?
–Why do they want it now?
–What stands in her way?
Every scene, then, must reflect your protagonist’s pursuit of that goal. The premise must apply pressure to this desire.
Whether you’re using three acts, five acts, or what have you, it’s worth having a framework to push forward the escalation.
Here’s a simple three-act breakdown:
| Act | Function |
| 1 | Set up the world and the character’s desire (usually the flipside of her flaw) |
| 2A | The problem becomes unavoidable and forces a new strategy |
| Midpoint | Reversal |
| 2B | Objective and subjective stakes deepen as shit gets real |
| 3 | A final choice, climax, transformation (or no transformation in tragedy) |
Sure you have a big idea, but does it have emotional roots?
Premise: Humanoid bio-robots called replicants, virtually indistinguishable from natural-born human beings, exist.
Plot: A police operative whose job is to kill escaped replicants experiences a crisis of conscience when he falls in love–with a replicant.
Notice how this idea is tied to a character’s identity as well as strong emotions such as love (as mentioned) and guilt (which would be normal at this point for anyone who’s not a sociopath).
There’s always room for more emotion here, but this is a nice, tight package to begin with.
Story sags unless the protagonist experiences blocks, challenges, and contradictions. In each scene:
–Who wants what?
–What’s stopping this from happening?
–What changes within the scene?
Plot means decisions made under duress.
The premise itself provides the duress, but the plot is how your specific character deals with it.
If you’re interested in learning more about how to create the perfect premise for your character (or vice-versa), check this guide out).
Good plotting means we lead to a final confrontation where:
–The protagonist must risk everything
–Her subjective and objective problems cross one another
–The irony of the premise is most heightened
It’s worth considering this early in your writing: the best climaxes justify everything that came before them–so when you’re struggling, work backward from the climax!
Premise: In a future where crimes cannot go undetected, crime syndicates send their victims back in time to be assassinated.
Plot: One assassin must kill his future self—but his future self is on a mission to kill a child who will become a monster. The younger version must choose between his duty–or his older self’s survival/prevention of a tragedy.
Takeaway: The high-concept hook leads into a dilemma with well-painted moral and ethical overtones.
Premise: A mentally ill man rises to become the most notorious criminal in Gotham City.
Plot: Arthur Fleck seeks connection, understanding, and dignity—but society constantly humiliates and discards him. As his delusions grow, he spirals into violence, culminating in a public breakdown that triggers mass chaos.
Takeaway: The premise is sort of interesting, although not particularly high concept. There are a lot of ways that this could be taken. What really sells the film–and keeps the audience invested– is the psychological descent.
Premise: A housewife lives in an idyllic 1950s-style bedroom community overseen by her husband’s company; her world begins to unravel as she begins to ask inconvenient questions.
Plot: A lot of the film’s critical drubbing came from the fact that the story stays rather flat once the mysteries start. Then it switches to the modern world at the very end–a twist that seems, more or less, to come out of nowhere.
Takeaway: The idea is intriguing, but the plot mechanics–at least as far as critical consensus goes–fail it.
As a note, I think there’s a lot to recommend this film and I would imagine it will be reassessed as time goes on. If its structure is thought of more as a European-style indie, I think many of the purported flaws vanish.
This is just the general critics’ view. Worth a watch. Make the decision for yourself.
Here’s a few suggestions for stress-testing your script.
You need to be able to describe the idea without the entire backstory. If this doesn’t appeal, the idea isn’t strong enough. Enough said.
A timid accountant discovers that, unbeknownst to him, his life is being broadcast as a reality TV show.
If this logline is fuzzy or confusing, revise until it isn’t. A good rule is to keep it to 25 words for the premise (the above is 18) and 50 words if you want to add the story engine (a suggestion as to how, specifically, the premise plays out).
List five moments in your story where things get worse, the goal changes, or the character must make a tougher choice.
There can be more than this, of course, but without at least five the plot will likely feel static.
Use the Bizarro World opposite of your idea and see if the story still works. Hint: it probably shouldn’t work.
Instead of “a man wakes up with no memory,” try: “a man remembers too much—and no one believes him.”
The question here being why the fuck wouldn’t they? If questions like this arise, then you can see more clearly that your idea works reasonably well.
This is similar to the reductio ad absurdum in mathematical proof: if you can disprove the negation of a statement, this is a nice (if backward) way to prove the statement itself.
Premises get audiences’ asses in seats. They get agents to request your script. However the premise only goes so far. Plots are what make people finish the damn film.
A high-concept premise is only as good as how well it is explored, escalated, and emotionally anchored. It’s not just the logline. Ask:
–What happens next?
–And then what?
–And why should we care?
Because that will definitely happen in pitch meetings, so you’d better have an answer handy. These questions are asked for a reason. They mean you’re telling a real story, not just tossing off a slick premise.
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