Find a quiet spot, turn the page, and let’s see what this story has been hiding 🌙 ✦ After Naomi disappeared around the corner, Evan returned to the two-story building in a good mood and threw himself back into postproduction.
Since post began, Luke almost never volunteered opinions unless Evan asked.
Each time, Evan had to pull him into discussion.
Most of the time, Luke sat quietly in the corner, watching Evan and Julia work.
He remembered why he had joined this film in the first place: to learn the full process of making a feature in depth.
So he watched silently and took notes with serious attention.
Evan’s relationships with the crew and actors had mostly stayed inside the boundaries of work.
Luke was different.
He had been the crew’s fixer, involved in almost every matter or helping coordinate it.
Because of that, Luke had a decent relationship with nearly everyone.
In the eyes of the crew, Evan was a miser, a Scrooge, the kind of producer who counted every dollar twice.
Whatever the production did, his first requirement was always the same: save money without losing quality.
But in Luke’s eyes, Evan was not merely cheap.
He was someone who understood planning and executed according to plan with almost frightening discipline.
This film had shown that clearly.
Evan had followed every plan he set and completed every shot with as much integrity as the budget allowed.
Luke knew how important planning was to a director.
Evan had demonstrated it from start to finish.
Just that alone had taught Luke more than many of the crews he had worked on after graduation.
While Luke was thinking through that, the editing room door opened softly.
Jennings, the manager, stood there for a while watching Julia and Evan work.
Then he walked to Luke and sat beside him.
“Hi, Luke.
I heard this is the first film you made?
The progress looks good.
Congratulations.” Luke closed his work notebook and smiled at him.
“Thank you.
Yes.
More precisely, this is the first feature Evan has directed.
He’s done very well.
When I first got the script, I truly did not expect him to get this far.
Our professor was right.
Evan really is talented in certain ways.” Jennings seemed especially interested in Evan.
He looked at Evan’s back and asked quietly, “Your mentor thinks he has potential?
Can you tell me about him?
Why did your mentor think he was talented?” “Mr.
Jennings, you seem very interested in him,” Luke said instead of answering.
“You’ve come in several times these past few days and watched quietly.” “He’s a director, Luke.
A director is one of the key leadership roles in the entire film industry.
Every year, countless people in this business want to become directors.
Very few succeed.
But a friend of mine thinks he has real potential.” “Your friend?
Sorry, can I ask who?” “Steve Wilson.
Your lighting technician.
We went to school together.
He thinks highly of Evan.
Steve shouldn’t have ended up on a tiny crew like yours.
Because of some accident, he couldn’t find other work.” Luke suddenly remembered Evan’s own opinion of Steve.
Evan had rated Steve very highly, even saying Steve’s professional ability was far above everyone else on the crew.
Jennings chatted with Luke casually.
None of this needed to be hidden.
There was no conflict of interest here, only curiosity.
“Luke, the first thing Steve said about Evan was this: ‘He is a very smart man, and he has a clear understanding of himself.’ In Steve’s eyes, Evan chose the path with the lowest failure rate for a first-time director.” Luke listened and realized that was exactly right.
Evan knew himself clearly.
He had spent the entire production avoiding what he was not good at.
“Mr.
Jennings, I agree,” Luke said.
“Even if this movie doesn’t succeed, I think he will succeed eventually.
Directing is high-risk and high-pressure work.
Filming a movie is already stressful, and if problems appear constantly, it can drive an ordinary person crazy.
“That’s why directors in our imagination are usually people with terrible tempers.
But Evan shot every frame of this film without exploding once.
He always adjusted himself and used that to pull everyone else back into line.” Jennings smiled and listened to Luke praise his director without reservation.
He looked toward Evan and Julia working at the front of the room, then stood quietly and left, closing the door behind him.
Maybe Luke saw Evan mostly through his ability to run a crew.
What interested Jennings was the other side Steve had described.
According to his old friend, the script itself was no more than clean and serviceable.
It had plenty of familiar tricks.
But as production went on, Steve had begun to realize that a script that did not look especially brilliant on the page was producing a story full of elements that could attract an audience.
For a small-budget independent film like this, success meant catching viewers with simple, affordable things: beautiful women, blood, and low-cost self-redemption.
The shoot had given all of those enough emphasis.
That was why Jennings had been quietly observing Evan over the past few days.
He had become interested in this young Jewish-American director.
The script was conventional, the concept not exactly dazzling, but it was packed with hooks for young audiences.
Those hooks were wrapped inside a dark-edged personal sensibility.
Steve was right.
Evan was smart.
“Luke, come here.
Look at this.” Evan called Luke to the front.
The three of them watched the completed rough cut together.
The movie was still very rough, but it finally had the shape of a finished film.
They watched the rough cut until nearly the end of the workday.
The film ran over two hundred minutes.
Evan’s plan was to start the second pass as soon as possible the next day, moving into the fine cut.
The final running time had to come down to around ninety minutes.
That would force the pace to quicken and remove unnecessary material.
Once the fine cut was done, they would need music quickly.
Evan’s position was simple: use something that fit.
He did not have money to hire someone for a custom score.
“Evan, we need to accelerate the pace,” Luke said when the cut ended.
For once, he offered the suggestion first.
“This isn’t an art film.
This slow narrative rhythm will not work.” “Of course.
For the fine cut, I want faster cutting overall and compressed montage sequences for the repeated days and deaths.” Their opinions matched.
Evan had always intended to tighten the film and pull the audience along.
The repeated loops were ideal for montage: fragments of familiar actions, altered reactions, and increasingly violent deaths compressed into a faster rhythm.
He told Julia his requirements in advance so she could prepare, and the three of them ended the day.
By the second week of January, Evan, Luke, and Julia had fully completed the editing and music.
The work had gone smoothly.
Evan still had more than a hundred thousand dollars in hand.
The finished film ran ninety-six minutes.
The total cost of the film came to $1.04 million.
When the work was done, he thanked Julia.
This unassuming editor had used her skill and professionalism to make postproduction almost free of real obstacles.
To thank her and celebrate the end of the work, Evan decided the three of them should go out for dinner.
He chose an ordinary French restaurant in suburban Burbank, not far from the workroom.
The three of them sat together, lifted champagne, clinked glasses, and celebrated the smooth completion of the film.
“Evan, you said you want to take this to Sundance?” Julia asked while cutting into her steak.
“Of course.
Professor Horowitz arranged a private industry screening in Park City during Sundance.
I want to seize the chance and see whether we can find a distribution company.” He was not thinking too far beyond that.
Right now, he wanted to use the concentration of industry people around the festival to show the movie as effectively as possible.
It was a rare low-cost promotional opportunity.
The biggest advantage of screening near the festival was that it saved time and energy.
He would not need to carry the film from one distributor to another.
Every film festival attracted distributors, acquisitions executives, and sales representatives.
Evan hoped one of them would choose his movie.
He had confidence in it.
Julia took a sip of champagne, swallowed her beef, and said, “We all watched the finished film today.
Honestly, the level of completion surprised me.
For a first-time director, this is rare.
In my opinion, a company will absolutely be interested.
Trust my eye, Evan.” He did believe her.
After watching the finished film, Julia and Luke were not the only ones optimistic.
Even Jennings, usually quiet, had rarely opened his mouth to praise Evan.
As for Evan himself, his confidence in the film was even stronger.
“Thank you.” Evan turned to Luke.
“Luke, remember what we said before?
This movie will be in theaters.
Our names will be in the credits, where the audience can see them.” Luke froze for a moment.
Yes.
Now the film was only one step away from theaters: finding a distribution company.
And that was precisely the hardest step.
“Evan, don’t forget one more important job.
The MPAA.” Luke’s worry returned.
“This film should probably be PG-13, but if we submit it ourselves, with those violent shots you insisted on keeping, there is a real chance it gets an R rating.
That would cut the movie’s value sharply.
You have to consider it.
We don’t have anyone behind us.” Luke’s concern was completely correct.
The difference between PG-13 and R meant a major difference in audience reach.
It also meant a major difference in the value of the film.
✦ ✦ ✦ Ready for more?
CREATORS’ THOUGHTS TheBacklot Thank you for reading.
I hope this chapter drew you further into the story.
Stick around, because there’s still a lot waiting just ahead.