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14.01% Echoes of Hollywood / Chapter 59: Chapter 59: Film Buyers

Chapter 59: Chapter 59: Film Buyers

Morris Theater is located in the southern part of Park City. Its location isn't great, being far from the centralized Sundance Film Festival screening area, and it only seats 150 people. The screening equipment is also outdated, making the conditions far from ideal.

Even so, Morris Theater's screening schedule was fully booked. During the festival's ten-plus days, a substantial number of films were shown daily.

Judging by the theater's condition, it's evident that it mostly screens low-budget films by unknown filmmakers.

"Hard Candy" was set to be screened here, with only one showing for now. According to Sundance Film Festival tradition, if the film received positive feedback, it might get additional screenings.

Just after 3 PM, Murphy arrived at Morris Theater with Paul Wilson.

The previous film's screening hadn't ended yet. After greeting the theater manager and festival committee staff, Murphy stood near the theater entrance.

The slightly shabby bulletin board at the entrance listed the films being screened over the next few days: "Love and Madness," "Poor Roski," "My City," "Long Island Enchantment"...

Scanning these titles, Murphy found none familiar.

"Not many people here."

Standing beside Murphy, Paul Wilson looked towards the theater exit. The audience from the previous film was trickling out, about a dozen people.

"Waste of an hour and a half..."

"The shaky camera made me sick."

"What was the director even trying to say? It was so confusing."

As these people walked past Murphy and Paul, their comments revealed their dissatisfaction with the film they had just watched.

Murphy observed them briefly and shook his head lightly. They were ordinary viewers, not a single buyer among them.

With the previous film ending, "Hard Candy" was about to start. Murphy stood at the theater entrance, watching for a long time, disappointed to see no new audience members arriving.

Given the remote location, the film's obscurity, the lack of promotion, and the afternoon screening time instead of the prime evening slot, this situation wasn't surprising.

While Murphy remained calm, Paul Wilson's anxiety was evident on his face. He paced around the entrance, complaining about the organizers assigning them a theater far from the main screening area.

"Paul, calm down," Murphy said, stepping onto the theater's entrance steps. "You're making me dizzy with all that pacing."

Though the theater's quietness made Murphy anxious, he kept a clear head. For such an unknown film, having no audience was normal. A large crowd would have been unusual.

He checked his phone again, noting there were about thirty minutes left until the screening. Bill Rosseys and the professional viewers and buyers he had contacted should be arriving soon.

Around the corner, a few people approached, soon arriving at the theater entrance. Without acknowledging Murphy, they went straight in. The theater wasn't completely unattended. Over the next ten minutes, another four or five people trickled in.

Similar to the previous screening, there would likely be around a dozen viewers by showtime.

With fifteen minutes left, Murphy checked his phone again. Finally, two taxis turned the corner, quickly pulling up in front of the theater. As soon as they stopped, Bill Rosseys got out of the front passenger seat of the first taxi and opened the rear door.

Paul Wilson, perceptive, rushed over, following Rosseys' example by opening the rear door of the second taxi.

Murphy put on a professional, enthusiastic smile, quickly scanning the three strangers who emerged from the two taxis.

The first person from Rosseys' car was a balding middle-aged man with round glasses, resembling an old-fashioned accountant.

Behind him was a man in his thirties, with neatly parted brown hair and a strong scent of cologne emanating from his suited figure, detectable even from a distance.

The only passenger from the second taxi was a Black woman with long, curly hair, also appearing to be in her thirties.

As Murphy descended the steps, they approached. Rosseys introduced both parties.

The balding middle-aged man was Joel Graham from Harbor Entertainment. The cologne-wearing man was Beck Larsson, a professional viewer from Castle Rock Entertainment. The Black woman, the most prominent, was Jones Butler, a buyer from Miramax Films.

These were the distinguished guests Rosseys had invited.

Currently, Murphy had no leverage, so he shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with them, then led the group into the screening room.

The 150-seat theater felt quite empty, with about a dozen viewers scattered in the middle rows.

Murphy led them to a specially reserved row and politely said, "Please, take a seat."

The three merely nodded at him, not saying much.

Especially Jones Butler, who hadn't said anything beyond a polite greeting. As a buyer from Miramax, she was here more out of a favor to Rosseys than genuine interest. A film by an unknown director wouldn't normally catch her attention.

The other two weren't much different. In this industry, distributors were at the top of the food chain, especially when dealing with small film projects' investors, producers, or directors. They naturally held the upper hand.

This disdain and arrogance weren't intentional but rather a natural state of affairs.

Murphy could see this but didn't mind. This was an exceedingly realistic circle. To earn respect, one must have the strength to deserve it.

"Do you think they'll be interested in our film?" Paul Wilson, still a student, couldn't help but whisper to Murphy, "They seem pretty dismissive."

Murphy shrugged. "I don't know."

Bill Rosseys, sitting with the three, occasionally glanced at Murphy, noting his calm demeanor. He nodded subtly.

This novice director's composure and resilience were indeed rare among young people.

The lights dimmed, and the screen lit up. Jones Butler habitually took out a pen and notebook. Noting a film's potential selling points was a basic skill for a film buyer.


CREATORS' THOUGHTS
INIT INIT

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Chapter 60: Chapter 60: Stirring Emotions

The theater was silent, and as fewer than twenty audience members focused on the screen, the theater door suddenly opened from the outside. A man with messy hair and glasses walked in. Noticing the annoyed looks from several viewers, he quickly flashed an apologetic smile and found a seat towards the back.

The film was about to start, and like Jones Butler in the center, this man also took out a pen and notebook. His name was Tony Guzman, a professional viewer from Fox Searchlight.

Unlike the previous three invited by Bill Rosseys, Tony Guzman had wandered in on a whim after noticing the imminent screening.

Typically, before each film festival starts, the committee screens out most quality films, assigning them to prominent theaters and times. Professional buyers from major companies primarily focus on those screenings.

However, some overlooked films do emerge as high-profit hits, such as "The Blair Witch Project," initially discovered during a roadside screening by Artisan Entertainment.

While Park City's theater district is a more straightforward place to find good films, it also attracts more companies and buyers, increasing competition. Therefore, many, like Tony Guzman, wander around to less prominent locations seeking hidden gems.

Before the screening began, Tony Guzman glanced ahead, confirming that there were few peers present. In such a remote theater, films shown usually had budgets not exceeding $300,000, hardly attracting a large crowd.

Sure enough, the film opened with simple text credits indicating the production company, Stanton Film Studio, without any opening visuals.

Stanton Film Studio? Despite his broad experience, Tony Guzman had never heard of this film company.

It appeared to be one of those inconspicuous small-time outfits from the bottom rungs of Los Angeles. The director's name that followed confirmed this: Murphy Stanton, an unknown.

Feeling somewhat disappointed, Tony Guzman leaned back in his seat, planning to watch the opening. If it didn't catch his interest, he wouldn't waste any more time.

The credits flashed by in seconds, and a black-and-white image appeared on the screen, with the camera seemingly shaking. A woman sitting in front of Murphy suddenly cursed softly, "Damn, not another one of these."

"Shh..." Her companion gestured for silence. "Daisy, quiet."

The young woman named Daisy still complained, "Ever since 'The Blair Witch Project,' there've been so many weird films with handheld shooting, shaky cameras, first-person perspectives. It's so annoying!"

"Can't they shoot films properly anymore? Can't they let us watch movies in peace?"

Murphy glanced at her, understanding this was the negative effect from "The Blair Witch Project." The marketing for that film was a stroke of genius but had also short-term exhausted the market. Audiences, having been tricked once, were now wary and disdainful of similar films. The North American film industry is notorious for its bandwagon tendencies, with many trying to emulate the success, only to fail, further depleting the market for such films.

However, under her companion's persuasion, the girl soon quieted down.

Seeing the black-and-white image and shaky camera, Jones Butler inwardly shook her head, thinking this was another "Blair Witch" imitation. As a professional buyer from Miramax, she understood the market well, knowing that such films had little value now.

But the camera stabilized after a few shakes. A large hand covered the lens, seemingly setting the camera on a stand, and at the same time, faint, agonizing female screams began. The low, harrowing cries suggested the woman was undergoing inhuman torment.

"Uh..." The girl named Daisy opened her mouth slightly, "What's happening?"

The large hand adjusted the camera, and Daisy immediately covered her mouth, muttering, "Oh, my..."

In the black-and-white footage, a girl lay on the ground, her face covered in bruises, a split brow, swollen lips, torn skin, disheveled hair, and fresh blood dripping onto the grass.

Though the image was black-and-white, the scene was chilling, especially since the girl seemed only thirteen or fourteen, the age of youthful beauty. Why had she ended up like this?

The answer came quickly. The large hand appeared again, clenched into a fist and descending. A gray figure followed, skillfully avoiding fully blocking the camera, showing the fist landing on the girl's nose.

The impact scattered fluids, and the girl's head jerked back as if hit by a car, demonstrating the punch's force.

Violence... raw, unfiltered violence! Jones Butler noted it down.

"You are so arrogant, thinking you're so great..."

A crazed male voice spoke as the gray figure turned to face the camera. "I like girls your age. I tried everything to win you over, but you rejected me. This is your punishment!"

In just one line, he revealed his identity and character—twisted, extreme, and a pedophile!

His words were fierce and violent, yet his bespectacled face appeared scholarly and kind, creating a stark contrast on screen.

"Good acting, good makeup..." Tony Guzman rested his chin on his hand. "The director's use of the camera is excellent, capturing this contrast between appearance and nature. The camera work couldn't afford any mistakes."

A vicious adult man and a pitiful young girl, one meting out punishment, the other begging, formed a strong contrast, driving the opening scene's conflict.

Watching the film, Daisy couldn't help but empathize with the girl, hoping for a savior to rescue her from death's grasp.

However, a sharp wallpaper knife shattered her hopes. The man walked to the girl, grabbed her hair, and placed the knife against her seemingly white throat.

"Please..." The girl's pleading voice was heartbreaking.

The man made a slicing motion, and the screen went black...

Murphy exhaled. The throat-slitting scene had been cut during final editing. Even in black-and-white, such a scene would likely have earned an NC-17 rating from the MPAA.

The screen lit up again, now in color, showing the same man sitting at a computer. The camera panned up, finally focusing on the screen, revealing an online chat.

Seeing the chat log, Daisy felt her heart race. Was another girl about to be victimized?

Jones Butler glanced at Murphy, recognizing his clear grasp of pacing and ability to stir the audience's emotions.


CREATORS' THOUGHTS
INIT INIT

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