บท 60: Chapter 60: Stirring Emotions
The theater was silent as the eyes of less than twenty viewers focused on the screen. Suddenly, the door of the screening room was pushed open, and a man with tousled hair and glasses walked in. He noticed the disdainful glances from some of the audience members and quickly flashed an embarrassed smile, finding a seat towards the back.
As the film was about to start, similar to Jones Butler in the middle, this man also took out a pen and notebook. His name was Tony Guzman, another professional viewer, representing Fox Spotlight.
Unlike the previous three invited by Bill Ross, Tony Guzman happened to stumble upon the screening and decided to come in on a whim.
Before each film festival, the organizing committee would typically select high-quality films to be screened in prominent theaters and time slots, attracting the attention of professional buyers from major companies. However, there were still overlooked films that could turn into high-profit ventures, like "Blair Witch," discovered by happenstance during roadside screenings.
Tony scanned the room before the screening began, confirming that there weren't many people present. In such a remote theater, only films with a production cost of less than $300,000 were screened, making it unlikely to attract a large audience.
As expected, the beginning of the film simply displayed dry credits indicating the production company, Stanton Studios, without even an opening image...
Stanton Studios? Tony considered himself well-informed but had never heard of such a film company.
It seemed like one of those inconspicuous sparrow companies at the bottom of Los Angeles. The appearance of the director's name confirmed this notion—Murphy Stanton. Who on earth was he?
Feeling somewhat disappointed, Tony leaned back in his seat, intending to watch the beginning only. If it didn't capture his interest, there was no point wasting any more time.
After a few seconds of dry credits, black-and-white footage appeared on the screen. The camera seemed to be shaking slightly, and a female audience member sitting in front of Murphy muttered under her breath, "Damn, not this again."
"Hush..." Her male companion gestured for silence. "Daisy, be quiet."
Daisy, the young woman, continued to grumble, "Ever since 'Blair Witch,' there have been so many weird films—handheld filming, shaky cameras, first-person perspective. It's nauseating!"
"Can't they make decent films anymore?" She paused briefly. "Can't we just watch a good movie?"
Murphy glanced at her, understanding that this was the negative impact of "Blair Witch." The marketing for that film over a year ago was ingenious, but it quickly saturated the market. Viewers who had fallen for it once were now inevitably complaining and resenting similar films. Yet, the trend of the North American film industry was to follow suit, with many attempting to replicate its success, only to backfire and further saturate the market for similar films.
However, Daisy quieted down under her companion's persuasion.
Seeing the black-and-white footage and shaky camera, Jones Butler secretly shook her head, thinking it was another imitation of "Blair Witch," a genre with little value. As a professional buyer from Miramax, she had a good understanding of the market and knew that such films were not worth much.
But the camera steadied after a few shakes, and a large hand covered the lens, as if someone had placed the camera on a tripod. At the same time, faint cries of a woman filled the air, low but hauntingly tragic, as if enduring inhuman torture.
"Ugh..." Daisy, unable to contain herself, murmured, "What's happening?"
The large hand adjusted the camera, causing Daisy to cover her mouth in shock and whisper, "Oh, my..."
In the black-and-white footage, a girl lay on the ground, her face covered in bruises, eyebrows split open, swollen lips, cracked skin, disheveled hair, and droplets of blood staining the grass...
Despite the black-and-white imagery, the sight was still chilling, especially since the girl appeared to be only thirteen or fourteen, an age of youthful innocence. Why had she been reduced to this state?
The answer soon unfolded as a large hand appeared in the frame, tightly clenched into a fist and descending downwards. A gray figure followed, cleverly not completely obscuring the lens, revealing a clear view of the fist striking the girl's nose.
Liquid splattered, and the girl's head snapped back as if hit by a car, indicating the force of the blow.
Violence... Raw, unfiltered violence! Jones Butler jotted down a note in her notebook.
"You're arrogant, thinking you're so special..."
The voice of a deranged man echoed, the gray figure turning towards the camera. "I like girls your age. I try to please you in every way, yet you reject my advances. This is punishment!"
With just one sentence, he revealed his identity and character—a perverted, extreme, and pedophilic individual!
His words were vicious and aggressive, yet his face, adorned with glasses, appeared refined and gentle, creating a strange contrast on screen.
"The actors' performances are good, and the makeup is well done..." Tony propped up his chin. "The director's use of camera angles is excellent, portraying the contrast between appearance and inner nature without any mistakes."
A violent adult man and a pitiful young girl, one seeking punishment, the other pleading for mercy, created a strong contrast and drove the conflict of the opening scene.
Watching the film, Daisy couldn't help but empathize with the young girl, hoping for a savior to intervene and rescue her from the clutches of death.
However, her hopes were shattered by the appearance of a sharp wallpaper knife. The man approached the girl, grabbed her hair, and placed the blade against her seemingly pristine throat.
"Please..." The girl's plea was heart-wrenching.
The man made a slashing motion with the knife, and the screen went black...
Murphy breathed a sigh of relief. He and Griffith had cut the throat-slitting scene during editing. Despite being black and white, such a scene would likely earn an NC-17 rating.
The screen lit up again, now in color, showing the same man sitting in front of a computer. The camera slowly panned up, ending in a close-up of the screen, displaying an online chat.
Seeing the chat record, Daisy couldn't help but feel anxious. Was another girl about to fall victim?
Jones Butler, however, glanced at Murphy, recognizing his skill in controlling the pace and manipulating the viewers' emotions.
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