After getting dressed, Kevin left the hotel and headed toward New Line Cinema.
Salma Hayek had already checked out of the hotel earlier that morning.
She had clearly drawn a line, treating their relationship strictly as a temporary physical companionship.
Kevin, of course, understood this perfectly.
He felt a mix of relief and a slight, lingering regret.
However, all of these thoughts were completely discarded the moment he arrived at New Line Cinema.
Everything he possessed stemmed from his status as a prodigy director.
If that halo ever shattered, he knew Salma Hayek would abandon him without a second thought.
But as long as his golden aura remained intact, a continuous stream of beautiful women would proactively throw themselves at him.
For now, he had to resist these temptations; the last thing he wanted was to star in his own tabloid sex scandal.
Guided by Dean, Kevin retrieved the film reels and carried them straight to New Line Cinema’s editing room.
Inside the editing bay sat a tall, thin white man whose gaunt face gave off a slightly unsettling vibe.
Perhaps it was because of this very appearance that he had chosen a profession like film editing, which required minimal human interaction.
The only information Kevin had been given was that the man was a highly skilled editor, and his name was Tyne.
After a brief greeting, Kevin realized Tyne had absolutely no desire for small talk, so he dropped the pleasantries.
He handed the film reels over to Tyne, who would assemble the rough cuts and trim the individual frames, allowing Kevin to step in and make the final creative choices.
Kevin had initially braced himself for a fierce power struggle.
In Hollywood, veteran studio editors usually held immense authority in the editing bay and often clashed with rookie directors.
To his surprise, Tyne was incredibly cooperative.
Throughout their communication, Tyne never once questioned Kevin’s creative vision, which left the young director highly satisfied.
Kevin already had a crystal-clear image of what Saw needed to look like in his mind.
He didn’t want anyone second-guessing his instructions or offering unsolicited opinions; he just needed someone to cut the film exactly to his specifications.
One day, two days…
all the way to the eighth day.
Finally, a thoroughly disheveled Kevin emerged from the editing room.
The editing bay was one of the few places in the New Line Cinema headquarters that had a cot.
Over the past few days, Kevin had literally lived off takeout provided by the studio and slept directly in the editing room.
Relying on his memories of the original Saw, combined with his knowledge of common complaints from the audience in his past life, he had made a few precise, minor modifications to the pacing.
Finally, after eight grueling days of editing, Kevin had completed his debut work.
A $1.3 million low-budget horror film titled Saw.
The moment the final cut was locked in, Kevin practically fled the editing bay.
He found a nearby hotel, devoured a massive meal, and slept like the dead for a full twenty-four hours.
The following day, carrying the final cut of the movie, Kevin and Dean arrived at New Line Cinema’s internal screening room.
The man who came out to greet them was Robert Shaye, the founder and president of New Line Cinema.
T/N: The raw text refers to him as “Shay.” This is a reference to Robert Shaye, the real-life founder of New Line Cinema, who transformed the studio into a major Hollywood player.
Shaye had a classic Jewish-American appearance, with slightly tanned skin and a prominent nose bridge.
However, Kevin knew the brutal truth of Hollywood: if Saw bombed at the box office, this man’s warm smile would turn hostile in a heartbeat.
Capitalist America didn’t operate on the same deep sense of human connection and personal loyalty as his past life in China.
The moment Kevin lost his commercial value as a director, he would be discarded like trash.
T/N: Ah, the mandatory Chinese web novel trope where capitalist America is a cold, ruthless wasteland, while the Chinese entertainment industry is famously built on pure friendship, love, and unwavering loyalty.
Sure, author.
We totally believe you.
“Kevin!
I’ve been hearing Dean sing your praises for weeks.
He told me he hasn’t seen a director with your level of talent and inspiration in ages,” Shaye greeted warmly.
“See?
The second I heard your movie finished editing, I rushed right over.”
As he spoke, Shaye guided Dean, Kevin, and a slightly tardy Dawson into New Line Cinema’s internal screening room.
This was a private, small-scale theater used strictly by the studio executives to evaluate unreleased films and determine their internal rating.
Their reaction here would dictate exactly how much promotional funding the studio would invest and how extensive the marketing campaign would be.
Following Shaye’s lead, the group entered the room and took their seats alongside several other people who were already waiting.
Seeing Kevin looking at the strangers, Shaye explained in a hushed tone:
“These are our company’s internal test screeners.
They possess incredibly sharp industry insights and will analyze your film from multiple angles to determine its theatrical value.”
Kevin nodded.
These professional screeners were the true foundation of any mid-to-large-scale film company.
It was because of their sharp eyes that film studios could continuously discover hidden gems and tailor the perfect marketing campaigns for them.
These were the people who would be instrumental in New Line Cinema’s massive future success.
Unfortunately, New Line’s financial risk resistance was still far too weak; a single massive box office flop could spell their doom.
Kevin knew that in the future, the massive success of The Lord of the Rings would lead this company into a blind superstition regarding big-budget fantasy films.
That hubris would eventually lead to a colossal failure in the form of The Golden Compass, causing New Line Cinema to completely lose its independence and be fully absorbed by Warner Bros.
Shaking the thoughts of New Line’s future demise out of his head, Kevin handed the film reel to the projectionist.
He then took his seat.
The projectionist cut the lights, and the movie began to play.
The opening scene flickered to life on the screen.
The male protagonist, Adam, wakes up in a bathtub.
As his eyes sweep across the dilapidated surroundings, it quickly becomes clear that he is trapped in a grimy, underground washroom.
His foot is chained to a thick, rusty pipe.
On the opposite side of the room, another man is chained in the exact same manner.
In the center of the room between them lies a corpse, face down in a pool of blood, gripping a gun and a microcassette recorder. Find the original chapter at g.com.
Where were they?
Who kidnapped them?
What was the purpose?
Was it for a ransom, or something far more twisted?
The two protagonists were completely bewildered and terrified.
Dean and Shaye nodded in approval.
As seasoned film executives, they naturally possessed a high level of cinematic appreciation.
This opening sequence flawlessly hooked the audience’s curiosity, immediately generating an intense desire to know what would happen next.
Judging by this opening alone, Steve Kevin’s reputation as a prodigy was entirely justified.
Desperate to uncover why Adam and Gordon had been kidnapped, the executives in the room were glued to the screen.
Guided by the killer’s chilling cassette tapes, the characters were forced to make agonizing choices between their own lives, the lives of their families, and the life of a complete stranger.
The tension built flawlessly until the climax, where Dr.
Gordon, driven into a frenzy of utter despair, sawed off his own foot and crawled out the door, dragging a bloody stump behind him.
Meanwhile, Adam, left alone in the bathroom, watched in sheer horror as the “corpse” lying in the pool of blood slowly rose to its feet.
Adam frantically attempted to shoot Jigsaw, but was instantly incapacitated by a hidden electric shock device the killer had prepared in advance.
Finally, Jigsaw walked toward the heavy steel door.
“Most people are so ungrateful to be alive,” Jigsaw’s chilling voice echoed through the room.
“But not you.
Not anymore…
Game over.”
He slammed the door shut.
The screen cut to pitch black.
Adam’s terrified screams echoed in the darkness, and then the credits rolled.
“My God…
does he think he’s God?”
One of the veteran screeners gasped, completely captivated by Jigsaw’s terrifying charisma.
A mortal man acting as an agent of divine judgment, violently punishing those who did not value the gift of life.
In his many years working in the film industry, the screener had never seen a villain exude such mesmerizing, terrifying presence.
Furthermore, the subtle religious implications woven into the killer’s philosophy added a twisted, almost divine aura to the character.
“The cinematography is phenomenal,” another executive chimed in excitedly.
“Tight, claustrophobic, and incredibly fluid.”
“The plot has a few minor logical flaws, but Jigsaw’s personal charisma completely overshadows them.
Director Kevin, where on earth did you find this actor?
His face carries this calm, steady aura that shouldn’t fit a serial killer—but when paired with his twisted belief that he is exercising divine judgment on behalf of God, it makes everything feel horrifyingly logical and reasonable!”
The screeners enthusiastically praised Kevin for directing such a brilliant film.
In fact, looking around the room, it was clear they unanimously believed that Saw was destined to become a monument in horror cinema.