Runner Up
Format
Television pilot
Genre
Single-camera comedy
Pages
35
Comps
It's Master of None’s exploration of identity and reinvention meets The Comeback’s biting look at faded fame, with elements of Fleabag’s tragicomic intimacy
Logline
Freshly out of rehab, a former child star discovers that clawing back his career is nothing compared to earning back the family that watched him burn it all down.
The Story
Once upon a time, Wyatt Lloyd Levitt was going to be the next big thing. A child star with charm to spare, he had the looks, the timing, the smile. But fame doesn’t grow with you — it eats you alive. Now, after a stint in rehab, Wyatt is back in the UK, clinging to the shreds of his past celebrity, chasing a spotlight that’s grown colder and smaller. Infomercials, reality show conventions, even OnlyFans — Wyatt will try anything to claw back the relevance he believes he deserves. His father-turned-manager-turned-leech is still hanging around, his estranged daughter is suddenly back in the picture, and his manager Harley has drawn a hard line: six months to prove he’s worth it. But the reunion of The Spellmans — the sitcom that once made him famous — threatens to bring everything crashing down. Old wounds, new hustles, and the question at the heart of it all: if fame was the best thing that ever happened to you, who are you when it’s gone?
Behind The Story
Yes, it’s true: I was a failed child actor. I grew up imagining the mall discovery, the Hollywood story, the E! True Hollywood profile. But I was never discovered. And yet the fantasy — the hunger for recognition — never fully leaves you. With Runner Up, I wanted to explore what happens when the dream almost came true. When you’ve tasted just enough success to believe it was meant for you, and then it slips away. Wyatt is funny, tragic, maddening, and deeply human. His story isn’t just about chasing fame — it’s about chasing love, family, and the validation he never got as a kid.
The World
The story lives in the messy, unglamorous side of UK celebrity culture — convention halls, cheap cafés, and reality TV gigs where nostalgia is currency and failure is permanent. It’s a world where the spotlight is small, the stakes feel enormous, and every attempt at reinvention teeters between comedy and tragedy.
