“Premise pilots,” in my experience, are not seen as a good thing.
But the definition of a “premise pilot” seems to move around a bit, depending on who you ask.
Some sources on the internet say that a “premise pilot” is when the characters and situation of a series come together for the first time — and are established as something new — in the pilot episode.
This is in contrast to a show where the situation and characters are already in place when a pilot begins, so that the audience is, in effect, dropping in on a situation already in progress.
In the pilot of Everybody Loves Raymond, for instance, the situation has been going on for a while, and nothing drastic changes to launch the series in the pilot. Ray’s parents already live across the street, and the conflicts for this family are not new.
Compare this to The Big Bang Theory, where Sheldon and Leonard discover attractive blonde Penny moving in across from them in the pilot episode, which creates the “big bang” of the show’s title, and establishes the new situation of four nerdy friends interacting with this very different type of person in the pilot, for the very first time.
Either approach to a pilot can work. But even this latter example is not what I have come to know of as a “premise pilot”.
In my experience with agents, producers and networks, it’s called a “premise pilot” when the situation of the series doesn’t only begin in the pilot, but it takes the entire pilot for that situation to come into formation. In other words, the pilot episode is different from every episode that will come after it — because all of them will start from a status quo of that situation already in place, and will have to create stories ON TOP OF that situation. (As opposed to a pilot where the only “story” was about that situation coming into being for the first time.)
The reason this is frowned upon is that such a pilot doesn’t really illustrate what the series will be, moving forward. And this is the number one function of a pilot — to demonstrate the potential of the series to come.
All series have a sort of template for the way a typical episode works — in terms of which characters tend to get stories (fresh problems that it takes a whole episode to resolve, in some way), as well as how many stories will be in an episode, and what kinds of conflicts and challenging situations tend to lead to stories.
One can guess at what all that might consist of, after watching this kind of “premise pilot”, but they won’t know for sure, because the pilot hasn’t illustrated that template for them, by serving as an example of what the show will be, moving forward.
What I have learned is that the better approach to a pilot is to make it mostly an example of what we can expect to see in a typical episode. This means one has to get all that “series premise” stuff out of the way quickly — getting the characters into their new situation right away, so you then have time to tell more “typical” stories in the pilot, which can represent the series more accurately.
For instance, in The Good Wife’s pilot, it doesn’t take the whole episode for Julianna Margulies’ character to recover from his husband’s infidelities and imprisonment, in order to land a job at a law firm, at which she will start to work cases beginning in Episode Two. No! She is at that law firm in the first act (of a five-act pilot), and gets her first case right away — so that we can spend the rest of the episode following the spine of that “case story”, which will complicate and build the way a case story will on every single episode of that series. Yes, there are some dynamics around her that emerge for the first time, but there are around the edges of the case story — they are not the main event of the pilot. I’d say they take less than 20% of the screen time, which is a good guideline to work from.
Similarly, in the pilot for Parenthood, you have the new situation of Lauren Graham moving her kids back in with her family, but does it take the whole pilot for that to happen? No. She does it in the first act, and then goes on to have a “story” in this new living situation that is typical of the kind of story we will see in a “normal” episode. (There are also several other stories going on, in parallel with it — each with its own main character, problem, goal, and eventual climax and resolution.)
I point all this out because it is the number one most common “mistake” I see with pilots written on spec. Most writers seem to default to writing this type of “premise pilot”, despite the fact that pilots you see on the air almost never operate this way. (Instead, they take pains to present and illustrate as much of a “typical episode” as possible.)
Even when your pilot is being written as a writing sample to try to get a manager, agent, and first staff writing job on television (which is the main reason why I think writing a spec pilot is encouraged these days), it’s a good idea to follow these guidelines, and demonstrate that you understand how a pilot is supposed to work — using it not as a prologue to a series, but as the first example of an endlessly repeatable template for stories.
I’m a reader for a production company and see this issue a lot. However, I’ve seen a couple of “premise pilots” that do actually work–mostly because they have enough character-driven action and suspense to keep the script engaging. When they do work, they also leave you with the feeling of “I can’t wait to see what happens NOW,” as if you’ve just finished reading the first act of a great feature. One of the best scripts I read last year actually pulled this off BEAUTIFULLY.
But, here’s why I’m still agreeing with you: even when reading one of these good “premise pilots,” you can still assume that the action and suspense will carry over, in a tonally consistent way, to more typical episodes. I think Showtime’s QUARRY did this very well. It’s only at the end of the pilot episode that Quarry is forced to accept an ongoing job as a hitman (the real “concept” of the show). And yet all the other drama that leads up to that? The issues with his wife, father and the culture he’s come back to after the Vietnam war? Those are clearly going to be the show’s bread-and-butter between brief gunfights and hit jobs. (Important note: if the pilot had nailed down its concept more quickly, and had a more typical beginning-middle-end, then it would have felt very different from all the rest of the episodes.)
Of course, maybe I’m just rationalizing. I’m working on a pilot myself and it’s dancing on the edge of this very cliff. Still, here’s why I’m hoping mine works: it’s about an operative in U.S. intelligence who gets recruited to join an even more secretive division of the intelligence community–so secretive that even my main character didn’t know it existed–and with bigger enemies than she had ever imagined. Right in the teaser, the script also tips its hat to the show’s main bad guys (and later, drops a few hints as to what they’re up to). My protagonist also gets recruited by her new team by the end of Act 2. The third and fourth acts are about her “refusing the call” and the stakes thereof. Meanwhile, her new team continues to do what they do best: Mission-Impossible-style counter-terrorism against a parade of formidable bad guys. And that teaser? It seems to have little bearing on the rest of the pilot, until the very end, when we discover that there’s a huge connection between it and the main character. It’s a connection that she herself was oblivious to–but which forced her new team to recruit her. So, even though it’s only at script’s end that alliances have been reconfigured and a new team is formed, the script is filled with the kind of action and gritty intelligence work that will be typical of all future episodes. And even if we don’t see much of them–this feels crucial to me–right on page 1, we invoke the bad guys and the main conflict that will comprise the spine of the show.
I’m hoping that’s enough structure to make the pilot a convincing experience–and that, even if it’s a “premise pilot” in some ways, it’s avoiding most of the pitfalls you’re talking about above. Sure, the new team doesn’t come together until the end, but in the ways that matter, the pilot is still typical of what the rest of the episodes will look like.
I’ll also add: the television market is constantly evolving, and in the three years since you wrote this piece (from what they tell me at work), the landscape has changed a little. While even a “good” premise pilot might still run into trouble at the big networks, some of the other outlets–e.g., Amazon, Netflix or HBO–are happy to experiment with shows that require a little patience.
Anyway . . . I didn’t mean any of that as a counterpoint to anything you’ve said above. It’s just an addition. And what you wrote above is still helpful to me, even three years after you’d written it!
I agree and think you’ve said it well. My view is that sometimes a pilot can get away with only solidifying what the new situation will be at the end of it, but only if the content of the pilot still essentially dramatizes the characters doing and dealing with the same kind of stuff they’ll be dealing with every episode, through stories that climax and resolve within the pilot (while also perhaps launching ongoing problems to be dealt with in the future), and if it is also extremely compelling and entertaining. (With one-hour shows, that often means life-and-death stakes and intriguing mystery, which is already creating huge story challenges in the pilot.)
I think you’re still correct about everything you’re saying up at the top! As I’m working on my current project and struggling with these very issues, it’s really been helpful to read your very intelligent post–and then formulate anything like a reasonable response. Even then, my own thoughts were still directed at pilot scripts intended to serve as the bases of very serialized series. Shows that are heavily episodic–police procedurals, courtroom dramas, even many sitcoms (and The Good Wife, above)–still need to set the bedrock that you’re talking about. And one way or another, every pilot–episodic, serialized or something in between–will need to serve as “proof of concept” for everything that comes after.
One small note from my script-reading experiences (in case anyone else is actually reading this): it’s clear that in the past few years, a lot of writers, aspiring and otherwise, have migrated away from feature specs and started writing more TV pilots. It’s also obvious that a lot of agents/managers are asking their clients to re-tool feature specs and turn them into TV pilots. That’s not a terrible idea (plus or minus a few scripts where the only change seems to have been–lop!–the page-count). There are plenty of movie ideas, the kind with a central conflict that can be churned into 10-22 episodes per year–that could make for fantastic television. But, on the other end of the spectrum from what we’ve been talking about above? The company where I work has passed on quite a few scripts that start TOO STRONG in the opening acts–and just don’t feel sustainable.
As an example, I read at least three scripts last year that involved a variation on a theme: a protagonist who became a police officer because her/his parents were killed when they were young–and the killer was never caught. The incident changed them forever–not entirely in a good way–and pushed them into law enforcement. And on page 10 of the pilot, the character is investigating a murder . . . and finds a clue that reveals that this is the same killer who murdered his/her parents.
With a few careful brushstrokes you can make that feel a little less conventional than it is. And it’s certainly clear and dramatic. But, as we’ve discussed at the office, while it comes off as a strong start for a movie–it’s classic Hero’s Journey stuff–it never feels convincingly sustainable as a television series. It’s just . . . too much too soon? It introduces a DEFINING central conflict for the main character that will need to be resolved soon (at least, by the end of the first season). And with that resolution–if the plot is anchored to a meaningful character arc–the protagonist will have gone through changes that should be the most significant of their life.
And then, after that, where can a series go?
There may be some shockingly artful way to transform that into a series, but speaking generally, it’s like trying to reboot Sherlock Holmes and immediately having Moriarty show up and murder Dr. Watson. It’s good for a movie-–maybe–but for the exact same reasons you’ve laid out above, it still doesn’t feel like “proof of concept.” It’s not the best place to start for a sustainable television series.
(Note: this is different from introducing a classic, adversarial relationship in a pilot–-like a good, combative relationship between detective/captain, detective/corrupt cop or doctor/hospital director–that can be mined for drama for multiple seasons.)
Anyway, as I’ve seen that phenomenon more and more, it’s become clear: a good pilot needs a big hook and/or a unique and compelling concept. But once you have that concept, you really need to find just the right balance between building your world, introducing significant conflicts . . . raising a lot of questions about what will come next . . . and also making the whole thing feel like it will be compelling, surprising AND REPLICABLE for years to come.
Hope that makes sense–-and that it’s helpful for someone out there.
Thanks for letting me chew the scenery on your website, Erik–-and thanks again for sharing all your great writing advice!
Thanks so much for the thoughtful contribution — I agree with you totally!
Thank you, gentlemen for the conversation–your interaction has been helpful.
Many thanks for this Erik (I found this thread by Googling “Premise pilots”, a term new to me until I started wrestling with the problem you so usefully anatomise. The point that from a network/studio’s point of view, an almost-by-definition atypical episode is a less than ideal way of gauging tone, treatment etc., is very well taken. And the unsatisfyingly mechanical nature of an hour’s TV that exists merely to gather together your characters and insert them into your milieu so that they can start having adventures in (if you’re very lucky) Episode 2 is also very evident.
Nonetheless, it’s tricky if your project is (as my current project is) *about* a team that doesn’t exist until after, and through, the events of Episode 1 and is moreover locked into a set of real-world historical events that create the need and opportunity for that team. (Sorry to be so vague, but you know…) The Wire is a very helpful reference, will go back and look at the first ep again. Can anyone think of other successful pilots that are essentially prologues to the series format “proper”?
It’s always challenging to pull all that “premise” stuff into the first few minutes of the pilot. Sometimes you can sprinkle some of them throughout the pilot, and have the situation not looked fully into place until the very end of the pilot (though maybe it’s temporarily/partially in place by Act One). I think it’s important that 80%+ of the script in some ways looks and feels just like the kind of thing we will be seeing every week, and explores the situation that the pilot establishes such that all the dramatic benefits of that situation are on display…
Indeed. Just one thing to add to your main piece: it seems to me there’s an added complication when considering a highly serialised format versus a more traditionally episodic one. Obviously (almost) all TV drama today is extensively serialised (compared to the 60s/70s model of hermetically amnesiac weekly adventures with no little or no consequentiality before or after), but it seems that network series still tend more to the episodic (“The Good Wife” in early seasons typically had a case-of-the-week) whereas cable can be almost entirely serialised (Mad Men being the most extreme example). In the latter, the “premise” itself is in some measure malleable (Don doesn’t have to come up with a different boffo campaign every week, Walter doesn’t make a single batch of meth in the last half-dozen episodes of Breaking Bad): the story world is consistent but the premise is much more purely narrative- and character-led than situational (whereas only 1 episode of ER I can recall in its 20 years – the bubble episode where Dr Greene dies in Hawaii – didn’t feature medics saving lives). The famous “high concept” for Breaking Bad – Mr Chips becomes Scarface – is indicative: with that “becomes”, it’s much more feature-like and implies a finite narrative arc.
Given all that, a first episode/pilot which focuses on assembling and locating the team is arguably more justifiable (because you aren’t simply moving into a subsequently fixed milieu, bar incremental adjustments: this is the first instalment, not just a setup) – which doesn’t mean it’s easier to sell, or indeed more exciting to write. But it does perhaps mean that if you get the characters singing the architecture will take care of itself?
My take on it is that even if a show is highly serialized, you want the pilot to focus on the kind of story problems, conflicts and entertainment value that will be on display every week after the pilot, which is why, for example, Walter White can’t spend the whole pilot wondering what he’s going to do and thinking about becoming a meth dealer, only deciding to do so at the end. Rather, he has to jump into that lifestyle early enough in the pilot that there’s time to really dramatize what that life is going to be like for him every week. It all comes down to what is creating problems/conflicts for your main characters that become episode-long stories (while also part of longer serialized arcs, often), and making sure the pilot delivers that, rather than just constructing a situation that will later deliver it, starting in Episode 2.
Hi Eric
While I agree that a pilot must give a clear taste of what future episodes will be like, I don’t agree that premise pilots don’t work. A few examples of very successful premise pilots include LOST, BREAKING BAD, and to a lesser extent, THE WIRE, and BUFFY the VAMPIRE SLAYER. In last two examples, one could argue there was an existing world, and some of the characters knew each other, but The Wire’s pilot was about the formation of the unit, so it introduced the characters, the situation, then the creation of the unit. That took the entire episode. In Buffy, she moves to a new school, carrying her history with her, but is introduced to new characters who form the nucleus of future episodes. My first two examples are clearly premise pilots, and were two of the must successful series on TV.
I would argue that a distinct tone and unforgettable characters are more important. That will also give the network, and the viewer, a clear example of the feel of future episodes. This definitely requires more nuanced and brilliant writing, but that, in the end, is what we all want to see more of anyways, so why not encourage it? Either type of pilot can work. It just has to be done right.
I don’t disagree with most of the points you’re making, but would respectfully offer that these series mostly DO give an example of a “typical episode” in their pilots. It didn’t take the whole pilot of LOST for the plane to crash and them to be stranded. That happens right away, and what they then do in the pilot, it seems to me, was very similar to what they would be doing in future episodes. I feel it’s the same with BREAKING BAD, in that he doesn’t get into meth dealing at the end of the pilot — it happens early on, and he has an adventure (and personal stories) that play out in the pilot similar to what would happen in a typical episode. Yes, a lot of it feels like it’s about “originating” the situation, but I think if you examine closely, these do give us episode-long stories that aren’t different in kind from what the episode-long stories will be like moving forward.
In BUFFY, she has a big vampire case that takes most of the pilot to resolve. They don’t spend the whole pilot just getting her and her team in place, and save the “cases” for episode two. And in THE WIRE, the big case that will consume the bulk of the season moving forward is established in the opening scene, and McNulty is immediately starting to go after it. Yes, there is a lot of “gathering the team” stuff, but we do see clear stories in the pilot with beginnings, middles and ends which are very close to the kind of thing they would do in any typical episode.
My point was that you want to avoid spending the whole pilot just getting everyone into place for stories that will start happening in Episode Two, and look very different from Episode One.
Interestingly, The Affair, one of my favorite shows from last year had a premise pilot (a Brooklyn family man goes to Montauk for the summer, meets a married woman who showers outdoors and trouble ensues) but it also introduced the distinguishing dual POV narration that would be used in all future episodes. The pilot spent most of the first 30 minutes assembling characters and creating a new situation and then in the remaining half hour, it unexpectedly retold the same events from a second point of view (a la Rashomon) to establish the structure of every episode to follow.
Interesting article, Eric. What about in Sci-fi? Establishing the world and bringing characters together to work as a team?
Thoughts?
I would say even in SciFi, you want to give the team a “mission” that takes up the bulk of the pilot, and is an example of the kind of thing a typical episode would be focused on. It can be challenging to bring everyone together and establish the world, but usually successful pilots do that mostly around the edges of telling a story that represents the series — instead of focusing mostly on that for the whole pilot.