New Girl | Pilot Script Analysis

Salutations, everybody. Fancy another script analysis? Well, you've come to the right place! Today we'll be dissecting Elizabeth Meriwether's New Girl pilot script. In a nutshell: New Girl is an American sitcom revolving around Jess, a schoolteacher in her late twenties, who moves into an LA loft with three guys, with whom she navigates the many ups and downs of love, friendship, and, well, life, in all its wonderfully chaotic shades.

The final pilot script, like so many others, has been altered from its original core concept; however, for this post, I'll be analysing the first network draft. I recommend having a copy to read so that the analysis is easier to follow. You can find the link to the script here: https://thetelevisionpilot.com/wpcontent/uploads/2017/09/New_Girl_1x01_-_Pilot.pdf.

As this is an in-depth analysis, the blog will be split into different chapters (lucky you), so take your time - embrace your breaks. There's no need to rush to the end! The chapters are as follows:

• Action

• Space

• Costume Design

• Voice-over/Exposition

• Flashbacks

• Relationship with the Reader

So without further ado, let's dive right in.

(Note: I do not own any of the photos used in this post).

Chapter One: Action

Comedy 101: If you want to make your reader/audience laugh, have your script packed with exceptionally funny dialogue. Am I proclaiming anything profound here? Not really. But given that we spend much of our lives talking, disregarding such writing laws in your script would be kind of insane. However, while having amusing dialogue is imperative, the actions you write for your characters are also essential, especially when establishing their traits and character arcs. Writers working within all formats – whether in TV or books – create worlds and scenarios based on things that have happened to them physically; you similarly should embrace your past experiences in your script, especially the ones that leave you crying with laughter to this day.

Meriwether establishes Jess' 'adorkable' qualities not just through her dialogue but through the physical actions assigned to her. Indeed, it was often her crazy/quirky actions in the show that led to her becoming a staple of the 'adorkable' character in today's pop culture zeitgeist. Let's take a look at a few examples. It’s important to note that a character's defining traits need to be established early, and should be consistent throughout your script. Sure, characters can have throwaway moments – 'quirks' that don't matter in the long run – but anything you consider to be an important facet of a particular character's persona needs to make a recurring appearance.

At the beginning of the script (on page 3), Jess is described as walking down the street with a big winter coat on, on her way to surprise her boyfriend on his birthday:

Meriwether wastes no time setting up Jess’ painful unawareness of the current situation. She immediately presents Jess as a character who is very much ‘away with the fairies’, someone who is not always grounded in reality.  We experience a similar situation on page 24, where it reads:

Again, Jess’ playful ignorance is exhibited through her actions. While it’s not as extreme as the earlier example, Meriwether invites her reader to embrace a scenario that is very much relatable to a lot of people. This in turn connects the reader with Jess on a much more personal level. 

Meriwether writes Jess' actions to convey how the 'classy lady’ is well and truly all just an act, and that ageing doesn't result in you naturally moulding into into such a position. That couldn’t be more clear than on page 22, where it reads:

Jess tries to adapt to the ideal 'sexy' woman, mimicking actions she considers to be 'feminine'. But it doesn't work. What's really intriguing is how she performs these actions rather 'violently'. Violence and aggression are traditionally connotations of masculinity rather than femininity. It goes to show then that the 'ideal' woman Jess attempts to imitate is anything but authentic, real. Ultimately, Meriwether shows that there is no concrete way to become more 'feminine'; it's an act you either master or botch spectacularly. And thanks to Jess, the latter can actually be extremely worthwhile.

Jess' character definitely becomes the inciting incident that forces the central male protagonists to confront their own insecurities and self-doubt throughout the script. Indeed, she teaches them to value their true selves, remaining an integral part of their evolving character arcs. Action here is used to highlight early on in the pilot script that Schmidt, Nick and Coach, despite getting older, are not at a point in their lives where they have it all together. They haven't quite figured out who they truly are, what they really stand for. That is incredibly clear on page 13, where it reads:

That one line of action presenting Nick as 'sitting next to a pile of LSAT books but reading one of Jess' copies of US Weekly' tells you plenty when it comes to analysing Nick and his current mental state. His showing a disinterest in the books tells the reader immediately that he lacks ambition towards his supposed ‘goals’ in life and remains lost as to what his true calling is.

Often actions are written into the script to show how Schmidt, Nick and Coach regularly try to parade their masculinity through performing 'manly' actions. Coach demonstrates this on page 28 where it reads:

Like his other male counterparts, Coach is written in the pilot as incredibly self-conscious about his body. He tries to mask his anxiety by performing actions that portray him as a 'strong male'. Ultimately, he struggles to succeed in that regard. Again, this is demonstrative of how characters, like real people, commit to a fake performance that isn’t actually reflective of their true authentic selves.

The last point I’d like to bring up in this chapter is the way Meriwether recycles actions to serve different functions for different characters. The most common one I've observed in the script is the act of high-fiving, an action which makes a regular appearance throughout the script.

On page 10, the script reads:

The ‘high five’ here emphasises how, despite her social awkwardness, Jess remains liked and well-respected - maybe even 'down with the youth'? Jess also resorts to the 'high-five' when giving herself a little pep talk as she's getting ready to go out on page 16. She 'high-fives herself in the mirror, leaves the bathroom and heads into her room’. The 'high-five', thus, becomes a symbol of reassurance, of Jess slowly gaining her confidence back after her devastating breakup.

This is a huge contrast to Schmidt on page 12, during an office scene with his colleagues. It reads:

This scene comes shortly after Jess' walk through the school. The 'high-five' becomes now a point of ridicule, highlighting how, in comparison to Jess, Schmidt is not respected and, in fact, is treated quite poorly by his peers. That is only stressed by the co-workers’ ‘snickering’, emphasising how ageing also doesn't guarantee maturity. Certainly, this ‘high-fiving' incident serves as one of the many reasons Schmidt gets so defensive over his masculinity and why he resorts to asserting 'strong male dominance' within different facets of his personal life.

Chapter Two: Space

If you’ve watched a lot of sitcoms, you’ll notice that many of them take place in only a handful of rooms, ones used over and over again throughout the duration of the series. So imagine that you’ve got your story. You know what it’s about, and you know the rooms you want your characters to spend most of their time in while on screen. You now need to ask yourself: How can I use these spaces to serve the characters? Their goals, dreams, fears, the whole shebang?

In New Girl's case, Meriwether often utilises the spaces, whether that be the loft or bar, to serve as an extension of the characters’ inner conflicts. Take, for example, Jess in the kitchen on page 9, where it reads:

The state of the kitchen here serves as an extension of her depression. It is a symbol of the chaotic state she currently experiences, both physically and mentally, following her ex-boyfriend's cheating. Ironically, the kitchen stands as a symbol of 'togetherness', something that Jess is not feeling at this very moment.  The extent of her physical and emotional messiness is also important to point out, as it presents a strong contrast between her and the guys. The loft before Jess moves in is not distinctly written as a space that is unkempt or untidy. Considering how the male characters attempt to mask their inner conflicts, you could say that the space being tidy further emphasises their fear at showing their true selves, compared to Jess, who shows no resistance when it comes to making her emotions known, effectively obliterating the kitchen space to stress that.

That lack of 'togetherness' is evident during the scene in Schmidt's office mentioned earlier. If we take a look at the scene again:

Meriwether cleverly subverts our beliefs in the office space as somewhere professional and civil, transforming it into something replicating that of a playground. The snickering and mocking of Schmidt is childish, quite the opposite of the previous scene of Jess walking through her school, being greeted respectfully by people who are much younger than Schmidt's coworkers. It conveys the idea again that getting older does not guarantee you'll evolve into a more mature individual or that you'll be more 'put together'.

Insecurities surrounding gender specifically are also explored in these rooms too. On page 8, it reads:

The loft itself is a space that Meriwether utilises in her script to test the male characters, whose versions of 'manhood' are called into question after Jess – the female character – enters the space. Much of the episode has Jess sitting in front of the TV doing 'girly' things like watching ‘rom-coms’, with the male characters, towards the beginning of the episode, watching ‘from the table’, as if trying to distance themselves from the now feminine zone. It reads almost as if they fear getting closer will divert them away from their positions as 'manly' folk, with Schmidt's dialogue further emphasising that.

But ultimately, the loft becomes a space that brings the characters together. On the last page of the script, it reads:

The loft effectively goes from an area of conflict for the opposing sexes to a space where they come together. Indeed, Jess’ presence creates more familiarity between the two, thereby cementing a stronger community between them.

Chapter Three: Costume Design

Much like spaces, wardrobe choices in your script also help to determine where your characters are, both mentally and physically, in their lives at the point at which you begin your story. While certain costume picks in the initial script did not make it to the final cut, Meriwether's initial choices still paint a pretty good picture of the insecurities the central characters attempt to hide from each other.

On page 4, when Jess is interviewed by Schmidt, Nick and Coach as a potential roommate, the men's costume choices signify their attempt to give off the impression that they have their lives under control, albeit in different ways:

Nick, who has also gone through a recent breakup of his own, is here dressed in a 'hoodie'. First impressions of the character would have us believe that he is simply showcasing how he is comfortable, relaxed, and at a stage in his breakup where he perhaps accepts on some level that the relationship is over. Similarly, Coach is dressed in 'sweatpants' as if to flaunt the extent of his self-confidence. Schmidt is presented as ‘slick’, also creating the illusion he has it all together. Observing these clothing choices is hugely important, because as their later dialogue and story arcs reveal, they all have heavy emotional baggage they struggle to deal with.

However, clothes in Meriwether’s script also signify a character’s transition to a much stronger state of mind. Take Jess on page 8, sitting in the loft after moving in:

While Jess proceeds to break down in this scene, the choice of a ‘large flannel and jeggings’ suggests that Jess' heartbreak is not all-consuming, but that she is capable of seeking comfort in herself. Indeed, she doesn't opt for clothes here that constrain her too much.

If we revisit on page 24 Jess' moment in the bar of 'walking away from the guys, revealing that ‘her skirt is tucked into the back of her LARGE GRANNY PANTIES’, these 'GRANNY PANTIES' are not only an emblem of her quirky nature, but they also indicate that while she is dressing up for men in the hopes of scoring a date, underneath she still dresses in a way that makes her feel comfortable. In that sense, Jess presents her drive to remain her own person, to wear what she feels without stressing over what the guys might have to say about it.

When reading the script closely, you'll notice that frequent costume choices include the characters wearing 'jeggings'. This item of clothing also plays a huge part in documenting the changes in the core characters' mental states. Interestingly, the jeggings that belong to Jess do more for the male characters than they do for her in the script. After trying them on for fun, Coach gets stuck in the jeggings for a good portion of the episode, later becoming accustomed and showing a strong appreciation for them. They effectively transform his environment, especially in his squeeze gym class on page 26 where it reads:

And then on page 27:

The jeggings become an integral part of his journey to finding equilibrium in his job as well as his personal life, with the young girl's compliment here cementing that! Indeed, these jeggings are what drive Coach to deliver his self-acceptance speech on page 31 when he proudly proclaims, 'This is me, Schmidt. I’m fat. I use calamine lotion for weird stuff. I wear jeggings. And when you make fun of me, it makes me feel bad.' Ultimately, the jeggings empower Coach to embrace his sensitivity and disregard his fear of appearing vulnerable. The jeggings also prove to benefit Nick and Schmidt at the end of the pilot, on page 35, where they're written as 'sitting on the couch wearing jeggings', with Jess sitting 'on the floor... all watching “Pretty Woman,” reciting lines'. This further highlights how Jess is the inciting incident that pushes the male characters to accept themselves as who they truly are: human (n'aww).

Chapter Four: Voice-over/ Exposition

Without a doubt, employing voice-over that is worthwhile in your script can be tricky. Oftentimes, we fall into the trap of using it for the sake of providing exposition, in rather sporadic increments, resuting in it popping up unnecessarily. Sticking to that formula only prevents you from building and cultivating your characters' motives and story arcs in a truly unique way. But in defence of exposition, when used correctly, it can indeed be very effective – but more on that later.

Meriwether doesn't just flood her script with voice-over. Instead she weaves it into Jess' internal dialogue which is shared with the reader. The introduction of Jess' voice-over happens on page 3, where it reads:

A significant facet of Jess’ character is her addiction to pop culture. Much of her dialogue is embedded in the vernacular of modern TV, film, music etc -- this rings true also for the male protagonists. As a result, this makes Jess more relatable to readers who occupy similar mentality.

Jess' tone, both in voice-over and dialogue, is also very colloquial; again, this enables specific readers to connect with her on a more personal level. Consider Jess’ voice-over on page 9 where it reads:

Jess talks like a normal human being here, not one who magically spews out poetic monologues off the bat. There's a certain irony to it; being a teacher, one might expect her to be more sophisticated in her words, but this just goes to show that the teacher role is one she can easily switch on and off (it's all an act, remember?)

To return to the matter of exposition, I mentioned that if done well, it can be very effective (again, I'm very profound in my thinking). But as we once asked about space, how do we utilise it so that it serves the characters and their defining traits, especially when establishing them within a comedic setting? Let's look at page 26, where Nick is questioning his breakup with his ex-girlfriend Caroline. It reads:

While Nick's comedic response to Caroline is done so in order to diffuse the seriousness of the situation, it ultimately reveals the extent to which Nick is somewhat emotionally stunted, unwilling to accept the reality his ex-girlfriend is spelling out for him. It is an interesting contrast to Jess, who, while extremely emotional herself throughout the script, doesn’t attempt to mentally guard herself from how she really feels.

Nick’s monologue on page 21 also reveals how exposition is used to highlight Nick’s emotional detachment from his situation. After Jess suggests they experiment with casual intimacy, Nick responds with:

Nick makes it very clear that, while he knows there's pain to be felt from his breakup, he is far from being willing to absorb it.

Chapter Five: Flashbacks

Flashbacks are incredibly useful when building on different characters' personalities that you might otherwise struggle to weave into your script's A story. And as Meriwether's script demonstrates, they can also help you establish strong relationships between specific characters that already existed before your reader was introduced to your world. Take Cece and Jess, for example. Jess communicates with her close friend Cece from high school mostly via telephone in the script, instead of actually being in the room with her, something which only happens close to the end of the script. The way Meriwether combats doubts surrounding their closeness as friends is by using flashbacks, such as on page 11, where it reads:

While Cece is 'shaking her head in shame' at Jess' performance in the high school auditorium, she sticks it out, thereby revealing how she has always remained supportive of Jess, even during her more 'embarrassing' moments in their childhoods. She has refused to leave her side, staying close to her right through into adulthood.

Meriwether also uses flashbacks to provide further insight into her characters’ insecurities, continuing to unmask them. On page 13, when Schmidt asks Nick to call his ex-girlfriend in the hopes that it'll get them into an exclusive party, it reads:

Nick may repeatedly try to hide his true feelings about his breakup, but as the flashback here indicates, Nick faces some demons in the aftermath of his failed relationship. He misses his partner and goes as far as to put on a comedic performance to hide his huge despondency.

Chapter Six: Relationship with the Reader

In a previous post analysing a Breaking Bad script, I mentioned how scripts, unlike, say, novels, are intended to be interactive. Of course, novels always have the narrator engaging with the reader on some level, but there are multiple times where a direct relationship is not established between the two. Since scripts categorically are shared between a whole multitude of people, including actors and directors., establishing a relationship between the reader and the voice on the page is absolutely imperative.

Meriwether's New Girl is meant to resonate with viewers on a very personal level – especially those who, like Jess, are venturing into that late-twenties-into-thirties limbo. Subsequently, as with the actual character of Jess, Meriwether commits to employing an overall very conversational voice throughout her script.

Consider page 12 again, when Schmidt is having that meeting with his colleagues. It reads:

Notice this language on page 12 also:

‘Oa and Aah’, ‘high stress’, and ‘douchiest’; the lexis here is very casual, relevant to the everyday vernacular used by everyday people. This language helps make the reader feel more included in such scenarios presented in the script. The reader subsequently becomes more integrated into the characters' personal journeys during the course of the story. This is evident, too, in other examples, such as on page 3 when Jess goes to surprise her boyfriend:

The use of 'we' is a reminder that scripts are first and foremost collaborative projects and that it is just as important for the actor, director, etc., to envision the story completely as much as it is for the writer to do so. ‘Above the shoulders’ is also a bit of fun for Meriwether to have with the reader, having them second-guess the action for the sake of providing unpredictability.

And that's all she wrote, folks. I hope you've enjoyed this analysis. I could spend longer talking about this, but really, I might end up writing a whole novel.

What are your thoughts on the way Meriwether formats her script? Are there other components that are essential when writing a comedic script?

Bye for now!