5 Insane First Drafts You Can Still See In Famous Movies

Then, despite setting up the familiar island rescue storyline, both movies change into the wackiest possible gear, as the heroes are abducted and taken to a lavish estate. In Fallen Kingdom, it's James Cromwell's country mansion, while in JP4 it's a castle in the Swiss Alps. Both of which house secret laboratories.

Jurassic World director and Fallen Kingdom co-writer Colin Trevorrow has never explained the similarities, but has admitted to reading Sayles' script (which he called "bananas"). Hopefully the script's climax, in which the genetically engineered dinosaurs raid a South American drug kingpin's compound, will make it into the next movie.

As we've mentioned, in the earliest attempt at the eventual comedy classic, Marty is a creepy video bootlegger, Doc pals around with a pet monkey named "Shemp," and the time machine is a refrigerator powered by Coca-Cola (Marty would have lost a limb to diabetes by the third movie). Instead of burning this draft and burying the ashes at sea, when it came time for the sequel, the filmmakers returned to it.

Marty's plan to get rich with a future sports almanac? This idea was floated back in the first draft, though Marty's decidedly less airtight plan involved sending Shemp the monkey back in time to place horse-racing bets.

Even the iconic flying cars from the futuristic year of 2015 originated in the ending of the first draft. When Marty travels back home to the '80s (in his goddamn fridge), Doc Brown picks him up in a flying vehicle that isn't a time machine, just a regular Reagan-era floatsmobile. It seems that after meeting Marty in the '50s, Doc decided that time travel was too "risky," allowing him to work on other inventions, and the world is now a futuristic utopia as a result.

There are some downsides to this new reality, though. In this version, Marty doesn't just happen to invent rock 'n roll; he straight-up tries to con his way into music history, buying a guitar and playing Elvis songs for a 1950s talent agent.

In a prelude to Part II's grim alternate timeline, Marty's efforts to invent rock music accidentally lead to him killing it, creating a future wherein the kids only listen to mambo, and Chuck Berry presumably works in Biff's auto shop. Speaking of Biff, while the sequel finds him learning Doc and Marty's secret, in the script it's Marty's dad who figures out what's going on -- before promptly tumbling into deep-seated denial, lest his brain implode from realizing his wife was dating his son.

The sequel, Indiana Jones And The Temple of Doom, also featured a thrilling finale, the now-iconic mine cart chase:

How did something so fun end up in a movie otherwise filled with human sacrifice and child slavery? Well, the sequence first showed up in an early draft of Raiders -- one that predates the draft in which Indy has sex with a student by a year, if you were wondering. In the original ending, the Ark is unveiled inside a tent, and only Marion is tied up. As the Nazis are dealing with the flaming wrath of the almighty, Indy sneaks in and rescues her.

Since not all the Nazis get melted, Marion suggests grabbing the Ark as they make their escape.

Then the pair toss the antique box that just straight up liquefied an army into a rickety old mine cart.

Thankfully, the pursuing Nazis are caught in an unrelated explosion, which Indy is able to avoid by kicking the throttle and doubling his speed like he's Vin Diesel. All the while, the Ark is bouncing around and being shot at. Eventually the cart hits the end of the line, jumps the tracks, and skids along a beach before smacking into a bunker, allowing them to escape.

The script ends with Indy and Marion kissing, followed by Indy ruining the moment with a stupid quip:

Seemingly implying that Indy wanted to make out with the Ark, which still would have been less stupid than aliens.

Williamson's version would have found heroine Sidney Prescott returning to her hometown of Woodsboro, where the next generation of teens are obsessed with the Stab movies instead of cellphones and sex. Soon they start being killed off by Ghostface, until the climactic ending reveals ... no one was murdered. All the kids faked their deaths in order to become famous, like some kind of meta-gory demo reel.

It gets weirder. The movie would also reveal that one of the original killers, Stu (the one played by Matthew Lillard), was somehow alive, even though he got a '90s-sized TV dropped on his head and was then electrocuted. Stu would have been in prison, "communicating with a very loyal fan base and orchestrating attacks on Sidney." Production on this idea progressed so far that Lillard was actually paid for a movie he appears nowhere in.

When Scream 4 happened, Williamson recycled a lot of the core ideas of his earlier treatment, omitting some of the goofier parts. Scream 4 similarly features a new group of teens who are such fans of the Stab franchise that they host underground screenings.

Also, the killer (SPOILERS) turns out to be Sidney's young cousin, who's jealous of her fame and is trying to recreate it for herself. According to Williamson, he took his earlier "quest for fame" motive, and instead of an improbably large group, he "just placed that into one character with Scream 4." As for the killer fan club idea, through the sausage factory that is Hollywood, that premise ended up in Williamson's TV show The Following, starring Kevin Bacon and a bunch of people one degree away from him.

Those too owe their existence to something that ended up in Lucas' trash can. His early drafts were much more fantasy-like, and like a 13-year-old Dungeon Master, he was obsessed with magic crystals. The original "Kiber" crystals were used by the Jedi to "intensify either side of the force a hundred fold" -- which he essentially stole from the Lensmen series of fantasy novels, in which a special crystal "tunes into the 'life force'" (with a small "f," so it's OK).

Even the trademark opening crawl, which sets the scene while lining John Williams' bulging, royalty-filled wallet, stemmed from the early premise that the Star Wars saga was taken from something called the "Journal Of The Whills":

The opening titles came from the story being narrated by R2-D2 a hundred after the fact. This does explain why R2 is present for nearly every scene, and sometimes gives himself inexplicable flying capabilities.

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