Chapter 66: The Idealist

The hotel's large conference room had all its windows covered with black curtains, blocking out any light. At the front of the room, a small screen hung on a wide wall, and Murphy sat behind the projector, personally handling the screening of "Hard Candy."

In front of him, Bill Rossi accompanied Jones Butler and her three colleagues as they watched the film intently.

In this commercial society, every transaction involving a significant amount of money is approached with caution, and Hollywood is no exception. Jones Butler didn't rush to make a move; instead, she brought along other professional viewers from Miramax to evaluate the film together.

Murphy had specially rented this conference room. Fortunately, during the film festival, such events were common, and hotels were well-prepared. As long as one paid enough, venues and projection equipment were not an issue.

As the screening neared its end, with Hayley strangling Jeff and leaving, Murphy didn't continue with the credits. He turned off the projector, and Paul Wilson, seated near the door, immediately turned on the lights, restoring brightness to the conference room.

After tidying up the copy, Murphy walked to the windows and opened the curtains, reconnecting the sealed room with the outside world.

"Jones..." Bill Rossi started to speak, but Jones Butler raised her hand to interrupt him. "Can we discuss this privately?"

"No problem." Murphy walked over and gestured to Bill Rossi. "Let's step out first."

Whether they could impress the other party depended primarily on the film. As long as these people believed "Hard Candy" had market potential, they could move into substantive negotiations. Otherwise, no amount of talking would help.

Miramax Films was a commercial company, not a charity.

Leaving the conference room, Murphy and his two companions waited in the hallway.

"Jones Butler brought a viewing team from Miramax," Bill Rossi seemed very invested. "This means they are very interested in 'Hard Candy.' We might be able to close this deal."

Once the deal was closed, according to his agency contract with Murphy, he could earn a commission. The film's production cost was $300,000, and he expected Miramax's offer to be no less than that, which meant his commission would be in the five figures.

Top Hollywood agents can earn hundreds of thousands to millions of dollars annually, but that's the pinnacle. For those like him at the bottom, making less than $100,000 a year, a five-figure income was significant.

Murphy was well aware of Bill Rossi's motivations. Idealists like Paul Wilson were rare. To get a savvy entertainment agent to work hard for him, Murphy had to show tangible benefits.

Outside the conference room, Murphy and his two companions huddled in a small circle, discussing possible preliminary negotiations.

Inside the conference room, Jones Butler and the other three formed their own circle, exchanging their views on the film.

"It has some commercial value," said a man with short chestnut hair. "But its audience is limited. Even among B-movies, it's a niche type."

Another person agreed. "I think so too. The most intriguing aspect of the film is the underage girl taking down a pedophile. It's a great gimmick that will attract a specific audience."

"The film does have value," said the last man, adjusting his glasses. "I think the director handled it well. The cinematography, lighting, and color grading are all pleasant to watch, especially the lack of shaky handheld camera work common in B-movies. This alone meets the current market demand."

Closing her notebook, Jones Butler looked at the three. "So, we're in agreement."

"One more thing," the man with glasses reminded her. "Jones, Moore is right. This film is a niche within a niche. You must keep the acquisition price low."

"I know," Jones Butler nodded. "And if the price is too high, I don't have the authority to make the decision."

When Murphy and his companions returned to the conference room, the long conference table that had been set aside was moved back to the center. Jones Butler and her colleagues sat in a row on the left, while Murphy and Bill Rossi sat on the right.

Jones Butler's gaze was almost entirely on Murphy. Perhaps subconsciously underestimating a small-time figure, she now realized how young he was.

He couldn't be older than twenty-three! She concluded that such a young person, no matter how talented, would lack social experience. Considering he had invested his entire fortune into making a film, he probably had some idealistic tendencies.

Such people are not hard to deal with... She thought, glancing at Bill Rossi. He was the real old fox here.

However, Jones Butler didn't regard Bill Rossi too highly. Though he was from CAA, he was just one of many agents at the bottom of the agency.

More importantly, Miramax was a renowned independent film distributor. When dealing with rookie directors and small production companies, they naturally had the upper hand.

Securing desired films at the lowest price was her consistent principle.

Jones Butler's eyes returned to Murphy. Perhaps Miramax's public release of his film would make this idealist overjoyed?

Murphy appeared very calm. The negotiation positions were entirely unequal. His film needed a distributor to show its value and recoup the investment, but "Hard Candy" was not a necessity for Miramax.

Murphy knew a bit about the company founded by the Weinstein brothers. They often scoured the world for suitable low-budget independent films, then packaged and either released them theatrically or pushed them to the video market.

Although he believed "Hard Candy" exceeded his expectations, Murphy was aware that at the Saint Denis Film Festival, films of this caliber were not hard to find.

How to secure the best deal under Miramax's dominant position was Murphy's primary concern.

Looking at the people across from him, Murphy knew Jones Butler was in charge. He wouldn't underestimate her because she was Black. On the contrary, he took her more seriously. Everyone knew the film industry was very exclusive. A Black person who achieved such status was definitely formidable.