The Academy Award holds an unparalleled allure for every director and actor in the industry.
Whenever Harvey Weinstein dangled this bait, directors found it impossible to resist, inevitably signing their film rights over to him.
Weinstein was a seasoned veteran when it came to awards campaigns.
Unlike filmmakers who treated the golden statuette with almost sacred reverence, he viewed Oscar campaigns as a pure public relations game.
As long as a film met a baseline level of quality—meaning it wasn’t completely outclassed by its peers—winning an Oscar became nothing more than a numbers game of swaying as many of the Academy’s voting members as possible.
And he was an absolute master at it.
Using this leverage, he routinely convinced directors to sell him their films at rock-bottom prices or collaborate for pennies.
He was supremely confident that the young man standing before him would succumb to the exact same temptation.
“Oh.
Is that so?” Kevin replied, his expression completely indifferent.
His sheer apathy made Weinstein realize his foolproof tactic was falling flat.
Weinstein pressed him again.
“Don’t you want to win Best Director?
Don’t you want to become the youngest Oscar-winning director in history?”
“No.”
Kevin’s single word effortlessly shattered Weinstein’s entire pitch.
“Good.
You’re very good,” Weinstein sneered.
His predatory gaze swept fiercely over Kevin and Jolie, as if to permanently engrave their faces into his memory.
With a cold snort, he turned and stormed off.
Just like that, Kevin had made his first real enemy in Hollywood.
“Kevin, Harvey Weinstein is a major player.
Are you going to be okay after offending him like that?” Jolie asked, her face laced with uncertainty.
While she framed it as concern for him, she was actually terrified for herself.
Kevin might not be afraid of Weinstein, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t.
“He’s just an independent producer.
What’s the big deal?” Kevin replied dismissively.
“Half this town wants to work with me.
I don’t need to entertain a guy who’s just trying to get something for nothing.”
“You should be careful in the future, Jolie.
Weinstein’s favorite move is dangling Oscar promises to lure young actresses into his bed.”
“Do his Oscar campaigns usually fail?”
Kevin shook his head.
“No, he’s actually incredibly good at campaigning.
But he likes to get things for free.
It’s an open secret in the industry: Harvey Weinstein rarely keeps his promises.”
Jolie was struck speechless.
A man like that was the exact type of predator aspiring models feared the most.
Generally speaking, the more powerful the executive, the less likely they were to completely renege on a deal.
She hadn’t expected a Hollywood titan like Weinstein to be such a cheap scammer.
It also made her wonder if the young director standing beside her would actually fulfill his end of their unspoken bargain.
But judging by how easily he had exposed Weinstein, he seemed like a man who played by the rules.
While Jolie was lost in thought, Weinstein’s brief confrontation had effectively blown Kevin’s anonymity.
Word of the young director’s identity quickly rippled through the room, and a steady stream of models and D-list actresses began gravitating toward him.
Kevin politely brushed them all off, using Jolie as his shield.
In response, the rejected women shot Jolie venomous glares, desperately wishing they could take her place.
Jolie, in turn, happily leaned into her role as his date for the evening, confidently fending off any woman who tried to get too close.
A short while later, Ovitz emerged from the crowd, accompanied by a balding, clean-shaven executive.
As they approached, Ovitz enthusiastically made the introductions.
“Kevin, I’d like you to meet Jeff Robinov, President of Warner Bros.
Pictures.” Ovitz gestured smoothly between them.
“Jeff, this is Kevin, the brilliant director behind Saw!”
Ovitz smoothly bridged the gap between the two men.
With the introductions finished and the ice broken, Robinov extended a hand with a warm, practiced smile.
“Director Kevin.
Saw is absolutely fantastic.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen a horror film executed so brilliantly.
The way Jigsaw forces his victims to truly value their own lives…
it’s deeply inspired.”
Robinov didn’t hold back his praise.
He clearly understood that every filmmaker possessed a healthy ego when it came to their own creations.
Flattering the art was always far more effective than flattering the artist.
Kevin easily saw through the tactic, but this was basic Hollywood etiquette.
“Thank you for the kind words,” Kevin replied with a gracious smile.
Standing beside him, Jolie didn’t dare utter a single word.
In her eyes, these three men were industry titans.
Earning the favor of just one of them would guarantee her a wealth of resources.
Still, compared to the older executives, Kevin was undeniably her best option.
It couldn’t be helped; at twenty-three, Kevin was just as handsome as any leading man in Hollywood.
Even if he hadn’t been a blockbuster director, Jolie would have gladly taken him to bed.
As the men talked business, she smartly refrained from interrupting, choosing instead to stand quietly by Kevin’s side.
She gazed up at him with adoring, worshipful eyes—clearly, she possessed a masterful understanding of the male ego.
After a few more pleasantries, Robinov cut straight to the chase.
“So, Director Kevin, do you have a concept lined up for your next project?
Or will you dive straight into a sequel of Saw?”
“No, no,” Kevin chuckled.
“I have no interest in directing sequels to any of my films.
At least, not right now.
I actually plan to sell the rights for Saw to any interested party.
I’m preparing to shoot another horror film, but it will be something completely different.”
Kevin deliberately dropped the hint that he retained the Saw IP, and sure enough, Robinov took the bait immediately.
“Oh?
You hold the rights to the franchise?” Robinov’s eyes widened slightly.
“Director Kevin, what kind of number are you looking for?”
Hollywood executives were shrewd creatures; they naturally knew exactly how much future profit the Saw IP represented.
According to Warner Bros.’ own internal projections, Saw’s global box office was virtually guaranteed to break the $100 million mark.
For a low-budget horror film, that figure was enough to elevate it to legendary status.
Furthermore, the film’s premise was perfectly structured for sequels.
As long as the scripts weren’t total garbage and the directors were even half-competent, future installments were destined to print money.
It was just a question of how much.
Between its theatrical run and other avenues, Saw was projected to net New Line Cinema over $100 million in pure profit—a figure Warner Bros.
had meticulously verified through their own market analysts.
That estimate included the highly lucrative ancillary markets: merchandising, television broadcast rights, and home video sales.
Those projections alone were enough to make any studio executive salivate.
And now, this literal gold mine was on the verge of falling directly into Warner Bros.’ lap.
Robinov naturally wanted to seize this opportunity and snatch it up immediately.