Find a quiet spot, turn the page, and let’s see what this story has been hiding 🌙 ✦ “Motherfucker!” Evan and the others left the hotel.
With Luke and Jimmy watching anxiously, his expression had gone frighteningly dark.
The whiplash of the negotiation finally shattered the calm Evan had been forcing himself to maintain.
Jimmy saw him kick a trash can by the curb and hurried after him.
He grabbed Evan’s shoulders with both hands and shook him hard.
“Evan!
Listen to me.
This is Hollywood.
Don’t let anger make you stupid.
We still have other options.
We can reopen negotiations with Touchstone.
The festival still has a few days left.
We still have a chance.” “Okay, Jimmy.
Okay.” Evan pulled free, rubbed his face hard with both hands, and said, “Let’s go back first.
Jimmy, contact Touchstone.
Tell them I’m willing to consider their terms.” After saying it, he forced down the rage and tried to think through the cause.
Luke was watching him with open concern, so Evan gave him an ugly smile.
Everyone thought he had adjusted and was ready to get in a taxi.
Then Evan stopped beside the trash can and kicked it again.
“Motherfucker!” “All right.
I’m fine now.
Let’s go back.
Jimmy, ask around.
Find out what happened at Castle Rock and why they suddenly canceled the signing.” He opened the taxi’s rear door and climbed in.
His mind never stopped moving.
What could have forced a company to turn away from money?
Luke opened the screening room again and went to prepare the next showing.
This kind of accident was depressing not only for Evan, but even for Luke, who usually had the steadiest temperament.
Nearly half a year of effort had been about to produce results, and then this damned surprise appeared.
Now all they could do was keep screening the movie and wait for any possible buyer who still existed.
Evan sat outside the theater with a cigarette in his mouth, watching tourists drift one by one into various screening rooms.
Starting on the second day, his film had slowly gained attention through word of mouth.
Now, before each screening, nearly half the seats were filled.
He knew why.
On this street, among the independent films being shown, his was one of the few with obvious commercial elements.
Look at those independent filmmakers chasing so-called art.
So many of their films had unclear themes, endless long takes, nausea-inducing handheld images, and the obligatory explicit scenes.
As if without those things, film art would not count as film art.
Evan did not deny that certain masters could use a slow narrative rhythm and create work with real artistic value.
But those masters were rare.
Horowitz had always been right.
Film was still mass entertainment, not a private carnival for the director.
The professor had told Evan that to keep him from getting trapped inside so-called personal style and so-called art.
Take Happy Death Day, for example.
Out of caution, Evan had not changed too much, but the dark quality of his own style was still visible at first glance.
Most acquisitions people could see it.
The budget was low, and there were traces of the director’s personal style, but at its core this was a nakedly commercial film.
Most of its shots existed to hold the audience in the seat.
When Evan saw Jimmy hurrying toward him, he ground the cigarette out under his shoe.
Before Jimmy even reached him, Evan asked sharply, “What happened?
Did you find out?” “Two pieces of news,” Jimmy said, dropping into a roadside chair and draining half the glass in one swallow.
“Both of them are shit.
“I contacted Tom at Castle Rock.
He doesn’t know why the company suddenly stopped negotiating.
All he knows is that the order came from Los Angeles.
Edward was told directly to abandon the deal.
Tom has no way to ask Edward about the specific reason.
“And I called James at Touchstone.
I asked to continue negotiations and hinted that you were willing to accept their terms.
He told me Mr.
Mason refused.
Touchstone has decided to pass on the film.” Jimmy gave both pieces of bad news without stopping and watched the young man in front of him with concern.
To be honest, even Jimmy found it baffling.
He knew these companies could share information quickly.
The most obvious possibility was that they were squeezing a little director through tacit coordination.
But from what Jimmy had learned, that did not feel right.
People at Evan’s level were too small for those companies to coordinate against in that way.
“Jimmy, where do you think the problem is?
My head is a mess.
I can’t find a clue.
But I have a feeling something must have gone wrong somewhere.
Two companies would not refuse at the same time for no reason.” Evan lit another cigarette.
Nicotine helped him think clearly, and right now he needed clarity.
“I’ll make another call in a minute and see which companies with distribution capacity are still here.
Getting their numbers shouldn’t be hard.
Don’t worry too much.
If Hollywood has one thing, it’s film companies.” Jimmy finished the water and stood, ready to try other companies.
This was his chance too.
In fact, Jimmy valued the film no less than Evan, its director and producer.
He had left the mailroom more than two years ago, but his client list was still made up of background actors and bit players.
Clients with even a little potential did not choose a rookie agent like him.
Even the minor actors he represented now were shared with two other agents at the company.
He saw hope in Evan.
If he could have a successful director as a client, his entire situation would change.
Jimmy would not allow a good opportunity to slip through his fingers.
After graduating, he had gone into the CAA mailroom and endured the mocking looks of classmates and friends so he could become a tiny agent.
He believed he had the talent for this job.
Nearly three years later, former classmates and old lovers had established themselves in Wall Street firms, while he was still a junior agent with a trivial salary.
At the beginning, when Jimmy helped Evan recruit crew and actors, it had been for the pitiful commissions.
Now that he saw hope, it was for the opportunity he had waited for.
Evan did not notice when Jimmy left.
He only wanted to think clearly about where the problem had appeared.
‘Could Harvey Weinstein, that fat bastard, have done this?’ The thought hit him suddenly, but he quickly felt it was unlikely.
Harvey was not yet the Oscar power broker he would later become.
Even at the peak of his influence, Harvey Weinstein would not have been able to force several independent buyers to back away at once.
Evan slapped his thigh hard.
Right.
He could try Miramax again and see whether their attitude had changed.
Pride was the least useful thing in this business.
Evan did not mind swallowing it to reopen a negotiation.
Next to money, dignity was worth almost nothing.
He hurried inside, spoke briefly to Luke, who was still handling the screening, then returned to the small hotel and dialed the number Tally from Miramax had given him.
“Hello, this is Evan Rosenberg.
Ms.
Tally, I’d like to schedule another conversation with Mr.
Weinstein.
Yes, still about the film.
All right.
No problem.
I’ll come over now.” He hung up.
His guess seemed right.
Other companies did not dare touch the film, but Miramax did.
He had to go see what was happening.
This time, Tally took him directly to Harvey’s room.
Evan looked at the man in front of him, sitting on the sofa in a suit, and still felt a wave of disgust.
Perhaps no one in this era knew as clearly as he did what Harvey Weinstein truly was.
“Mr.
Weinstein, I think we can continue discussing distribution for my film.
I believe Happy Death Day can bring solid returns to Miramax and to you.” Sitting across from Harvey, Evan spoke against his conscience.
He had no intention of selling the film to Miramax unless he truly had no other choice.
He only wanted to dig some information out of him.
“Listen, Director Rosenberg.
I did not intend to see you again.
But your film still has some value.
I’ll give you one chance.
Eight hundred thousand dollars.
I want all rights, but I promise to put it into public theatrical release.” Among all the film company people Evan had dealt with these past days, Harvey had the sharpest commercial eye, no question.
If the first Happy Death Day performed well, it absolutely had sequel potential.
Miramax had become a mid-sized company because Harvey had that eye.
He was not merely crude and savage despite his appearance.
He was an extremely intelligent Hollywood businessman.
“No, Mr.
Weinstein.
At eight hundred thousand, I would not even recover my production cost.
In that case, I would rather keep the film at home and watch it myself.” Evan shook his head while inwardly cursing the greedy bastard.
“You will agree,” Harvey said, lifting his glass.
“Today or later.
You don’t have a choice.
I believe that even if you refuse now, there will be a day when you come back to me.
“Look at me, kid.
Only I, Harvey Weinstein, through Miramax, can help you release this film.
Think carefully.
The next time you come, the price becomes five hundred thousand.” Evan looked at the certainty on Harvey’s face.
The man definitely knew something.
Otherwise, he would not be this confident.
But Evan had no way to pry it out of him.
Playing mind games with an old operator who had run a film company for years gave him no advantage at all.
“All right.
I’ll go back and think it over.
Thank you for your time, Mr.
Weinstein.” Seeing that Harvey would reveal nothing, Evan stood decisively.
There was no reason to waste more time here.
He had already learned what he came for: the root of the problem was not Harvey.
✦ ✦ ✦ 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.