Chapter 866: Epic is almost equal Synonymous with Flop!

In the dimly lit director's office, Martin leaned back in his chair, observing Robert Eggers with a mix of curiosity and interest. The man before him, a bearded assistant director with an intense gaze, had crossed paths with Martin before, but only in passing. If memory served him correctly, Eggers was one of Natasha's clients. Despite this, Martin had taken note of his abilities during previous projects. Unlike most assistant directors who fade into the background, Eggers had shown a certain flair that left an impression.

Among the assistant director team, Steve Downton usually led the charge. But next in line, quietly making his presence felt, was Robert Eggers. Today, however, Eggers wasn't here for routine production talk, he had something of his own to share.

With a cautious tone, Eggers finally broke the silence. "Martin, I wrote a script," he began, a hint of nervousness creeping into his voice. "Would you mind taking a look at it?"

Martin didn't hesitate. "Of course," he replied, his tone inviting yet neutral.

Eggers reached into his worn briefcase and carefully pulled out a thick, neatly bound script. Handing it over, he added, "I… made an experimental film earlier and, during that process, did a lot of research on witches in New England. That research inspired this story."

Martin took the script, immediately noting the attention to detail in its presentation. It was polished, clearly the product of countless revisions. Flipping through the pages, he found himself immersed in a chilling tale set in colonial America. The narrative revolved around a family who, after arriving in New England aboard the Mayflower, settled in a remote wilderness only to find themselves entangled in dark, supernatural events. The age-old terror of witches loomed large in the story.

As Martin skimmed the script, Eggers anxiously leaned forward. "This is actually based on a true story, something that happened 62 years before the Salem witch trials," he blurted out, worried Martin might dismiss it as just another generic horror flick. "It's all documented."

But Martin's mind was elsewhere, fixated on more practical matters. "What about the budget?" he asked, his eyes still scanning the pages.

Eggers straightened up. "If I were to direct it, I could do it for around $3 to $4 million. My plan is to make the film first, then take it to the St. Denis Film Festival to build some buzz..."

He paused, realizing that explaining the intricacies of festival strategies to Martin, a veteran who had turned independent films into profitable ventures, was unnecessary.

As Martin delved deeper into the script, a sense of familiarity began to stir. He'd seen something like this before, possibly in another life, another timeline. The plot echoed a film he vaguely remembered. His recollections centered on the lead actress, someone with a strikingly unique appearance. If he wasn't mistaken, she had become quite a sensation later, albeit after undergoing extensive plastic surgery. The internet had humorously dubbed her "Goldfish Girl" due to her now distinctly round features.

Martin snapped back to the present. "Natasha's your agent, right?" he asked, looking up. When Eggers nodded eagerly, Martin slid the script to the edge of his desk. "I'll have someone get in touch with her."

Relief washed over Eggers, who quickly responded, "Thank you, thank you so much!"

As he left the office, his thoughts raced. Choosing to stick with Natasha's guidance seemed to be paying off. He knew that without his previous work experience and rapport with Martin, this script might've never seen the light of day. Hollywood was crawling with hopeful writers and directors, few of whom ever got past the initial gatekeepers.

No sooner had Eggers departed than Louise, Martin's trusted assistant, entered the room. Her eyes drifted to the script now lying on the desk.

Martin, sensing her curiosity, gave a slight nod. She picked it up, flipping through the pages. "A horror thriller?" she mused aloud, her keen sense for film immediately picking up on the script's tone. "But there's something more here, it's almost literary. Is this intended for a festival circuit?"

Martin, who had just finished a phone call, glanced up. "It's Robert Eggers' work, he's aiming to direct it himself."

Louise looked impressed. "The assistant director?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Interesting... I didn't expect him to have such a distinct voice."

Martin nodded thoughtfully, already envisioning the next steps. The world might not know Eggers yet, but if this script was any indication, that was about to change.

"Robert Eggers?" Louise raised her eyebrows with genuine admiration. "He's an assistant director with exceptional skill and a lot of creative ideas."

She leaned in slightly, her tone more serious now. "The film should stay true to the script's unique style, but make sure the investment is tightly controlled. These kinds of projects can easily go over budget if you're not careful."

Martin nodded in agreement. "The production budget is capped at $4 million, no more."

Louise pulled out a chair and sat across from him, her mind drifting to the ongoing bet between Martin and Leonardo. "You're not planning to get caught up in chasing awards, are you? Companies that revolve around the Oscars as their primary focus usually struggle with profitability."

Martin knew exactly what she was hinting at. "Look at what happened to Harvey Weinstein before he went to prison. Even at the height of his success, Weinstein Pictures was in financial ruin, drowning in debt and mortgaging the rights to award-winning films just to stay afloat."

He paused, recalling how in his previous life, several Hollywood companies went down the same road. Megan Ellison's Annapurna Pictures racked up Oscars but eventually crumbled under financial strain. A24, despite winning one Best Picture award after another, still found itself seeking a buyer in the end. The quest for prestige had become a costly gamble.

Their conversation shifted, and Martin's thoughts wandered back to the "Goldfish Girl" who had sparked his interest because of *The Witch*. He remembered two other standout performances from her in his past life, one being in *Split* and the other centered around chess. The title of the chess film eluded him, but he vaguely recalled the name was *The Queen's Gambit*.

"Hey, Louise," Martin said, breaking the silence. "I remember reading somethin, maybe a report or novel, about a female American chess player who defeated a former Soviet world champion during the Cold War. I can't shake the feeling that this has huge adaptation potential."

Louise's eyes lit up, instantly catching onto Martin's line of thought. "You're thinking of adapting it into a drama with a strong female lead?"

Martin nodded, now more animated. "Exactly. A film or series that centers entirely around a woman who achieved something extraordinary on the world stage."

Louise tapped her fingers thoughtfully. "There was something like that floating around Hollywood... Let me think... It was back in the 90s. I remember seeing a similar script ages ago, but I'm fuzzy on the details."

"The 90s?" Martin wasn't surprised. Hollywood was filled with scripts that lingered for decades before finally getting made. Still, it intrigued him.

Louise reached for her phone and dialed her assistant. "Can you dig up any information on a script or novel about a female chess champion? It would've been circulating since the 90s."

While she was on the call, Martin also made a few calls of his own, one to Thomas and another to the studio. Despite their efforts, nothing came up by the end of the workday. But Martin wasn't discouraged. Hollywood was a labyrinth of forgotten projects and buried copyrights; it was normal for things to take time.

The next morning, Martin arrived at the *Split* set, where the crew was hard at work. The sound of hammers and saws echoed through the massive studio as construction teams transformed Studio No. 1 into a grim, underground dwelling, the primary setting for the film. Dominating the set was a large iron cage, ominously placed in the center.

David Fincher emerged from the back of the set, a satisfied grin on his face as he spotted Martin standing near the cage. "Someone's getting locked in there," Fincher said, his voice carrying a hint of dark humor.

Martin smirked. "A beautiful woman, I'm guessing?"

Fincher, now well into his Netflix era after bagging an Oscar for Best Director, didn't mince words. "Of course, young, attractive, and ideally under 20. Eighteen would be perfect."

It was no secret, horror thrillers loved their youthful and aesthetically pleasing female victims. For better or worse, it was a staple of the genre, and both men knew it.

As they discussed the finer details of the scene, Martin's mind drifted back to the chess project. If there was even a sliver of a chance to find that script and breathe life into it, it could be a game-changer. He would leave no stone unturned until he found what he was looking for.

Martin gave a knowing nod and leaned in slightly. "Finding an 18-year-old actress who's both talented and fits the role's physical demands is no small feat," he cautioned. "This supporting character, trapped in that cage for most of the movie, has some of the most emotionally intense scenes. We'll need someone who can handle those complexities."

David Fincher sighed, the frustration evident in his voice. "The problem is, most of the teen actresses who show real promise in their early years tend to plateau by the time they hit 17 or 18. Their looks don't always match what's needed, and their acting... well, it can turn surprisingly flat."

Martin knew this all too well, it was a common Hollywood dilemma. Child stars who shine brightly often struggle to transition into adult roles. "We should cast a wide net," he suggested. "Hold a large-scale audition. Let's see who we can discover."

Fincher agreed, his mind already turning over logistics. "I'll get my team on it. We'll place casting calls with the Screen Actors Guild and spread the word in the industry press. Los Angeles is crawling with aspiring talent. If we're willing to give unknowns a shot, we might find someone unexpected."

Martin liked the approach. "Actors are the least of our problems," he said confidently. Then, turning to Bruce, his right-hand man, he added, "Get in touch with Thomas. Let's have WMA recommend some options too."

Fincher glanced at his watch, a faint hint of anticipation in his eyes. "The Netflix team should be arriving any minute now."

Martin's expression shifted to one of professional charm as he made his way toward the studio entrance. "Reed Hastings is coming himself, right? Let's go give him a warm welcome."

Just as they stepped outside, a sleek electric vehicle zipped across the lot, stopping smoothly in front of them. Reed Hastings, Netflix's founder and visionary, stepped out with a brisk energy that belied his age. With a broad smile, he greeted David Fincher with a nod, then turned to Martin, shaking his hand with enthusiasm.

"It's been a while, Martin," Hastings said with genuine warmth. "You're practically Hollywood royalty now."

Martin chuckled, brushing off the compliment with practiced modesty. "I'm just part of the crowd, but Netflix is dominating the world stage in streaming. Can't argue with that."

Fincher invited Hastings and his team for a tour of the studio. As they walked through the sets, Hastings soaked in the atmosphere, taking note of the intricate details being crafted for *Split*. Eventually, they made their way to a more private office area, where the group settled down to talk business.

Hastings took a seat in the reception room, his gaze drifting toward Martin. "David's told me about this new role you're taking on," he said, a hint of admiration in his tone. "Playing a character with multiple personalities, you'll be pulling off several distinct performances in one film. Sounds like a challenge."

With a mischievous grin, he added, "Maybe the crew should cut you a few extra checks for each personality!"

Fincher jumped in with a smirk. "Martin's production company is the biggest investor in this film. He could definitely afford to pay himself a little more."

Martin played along. "Not a bad idea, I might just do that," he quipped.

The room shared a laugh, but Hastings quickly shifted gears, his tone growing more serious. "In all honesty, Netflix is interested in covering those extra paychecks, Martin. We're more than willing to invest in your talent."

Martin's response was measured, with a hint of regret. "I'd love to take you up on that, but my distribution contract with Disney runs until 2019. I'm locked in."

Hastings wasn't one to back down easily. His eyes sharpened with determination. "Well, we should definitely talk about collaborating after 2019."

Noticing an opportunity, Hastings pressed further. "You only signed a film distribution deal? No TV content in the mix?"

Martin shrugged. "Back then, I wasn't really interested in TV series."

The sentiment was common, before Netflix revolutionized the landscape, few A-list stars were drawn to television. Even *House of Cards*, Netflix's first big hit, had to rely on Kevin Spacey, whose career was far from its peak at the time.

Hastings leaned forward, his offer more direct now. "Martin, if you ever find yourself interested in TV, whether it's creating, producing, or even starring in a series, Netflix is ready and waiting. You've got the creative freedom, and we'd back you all the way."

Before Martin could respond, Hastings added a note of caution. "You're one of Netflix's top individual shareholders now. But the stock's been volatile lately…"

Over the years, Martin had quietly invested in Netflix during several rounds of funding and stock expansions, eventually securing nearly 5% of the company's shares. He knew Hastings was subtly hinting at the benefits of deeper collaboration, perhaps even in the TV space.

But for now, Martin played it cool, keeping his options open. There was a lot more in Hollywood for him to conquer, and the streaming wars were just heating up.

Netflix's market value had recently soared past $40 billion, and Martin's early investment in the company had grown nearly eightfold over the years. Back when he first put his money into Netflix, the company was valued in the low billions, a fraction of what it had become. But with his focus on promoting *Interstellar*, handling post-production for *The Shallows*, and diving deep into preparing for his upcoming multiple-personality role, Martin hadn't been keeping close tabs on Netflix's latest moves.

Curious, he asked, "What's going on over there?"

Reed Hastings, not one to sugarcoat the situation, got straight to the point. "Beyond the success of *House of Cards*, we decided to go big and invest in an epic series."

The moment Martin heard "epic," a knot of concern tightened in his chest. He had developed a strong aversion to epic projects in his past life, associating them with financial disasters. For him, "epic" was almost synonymous with "flop." He could practically hear Ridley Scott nodding in weary agreement.

Hastings elaborated, his tone grim. "*Marco Polo* launched this summer on our streaming service, and the reviews were brutal. Worse still, viewer engagement was far lower than expected. We poured $100 million into the project, with each episode costing a staggering $10 million to produce."

Martin didn't mince words. "My advice? Stay away from epic themes in the future. They're a financial sinkhole."

Netflix's stock had been riding high on the success of *House of Cards*, pushing the company's value over $40 billion. But when *Marco Polo* hit screens, the momentum stalled, and the stock began to dip. Hastings, visibly frustrated, let out a resigned sigh. "No more epics. Netflix won't touch that genre again."

He turned to David Fincher, who had been quietly listening. "Once you wrap up this movie, come back and take the reins for season two of *House of Cards*."

Fincher nodded in agreement. "You got it."

Hastings shifted his attention back to Martin. "You're a significant shareholder. Any suggestions on how we can regain that momentum?" His respect for Martin's business acumen was clear. "Netflix's stock could really use a shot in the arm right now."

Though Martin took the compliment lightly, he knew that Netflix's rising stock was directly tied to his financial interests. After considering for a moment, he responded, "I've got an idea brewing, but it's still in the early stages. Let's give it some time before I share anything concrete."

Hastings leaned forward, intrigued. "What's the concept? What genre?"

"Something contemporary," Martin replied vaguely. "Let's discuss it more when I've fleshed it out."

Of course, Martin had no intention of revealing his hand just yet. His goal was simple: create a solid product, then sell it to Netflix for the right price.

Hastings, confident in Martin's track record, smiled. "Just be sure to keep me in the loop."

"Will do," Martin answered casually, knowing the conversation had gone exactly where he wanted it.

One of the key reasons for Hastings' visit was to touch base with Fincher and solidify potential collaborations with Martin. The talks were smooth, everyone on the same page about future possibilities. After a productive morning, the three of them shared lunch before Hastings departed for a tour of David's studio.

While there, Hastings found himself in the reception area, eyeing a poster from the *John Wick* series. He turned to Martin with a gleam in his eye. "I saw some buzz about expanding the *John Wick* universe. Any thoughts about spinning it off into a series?"

Martin was already aware that Chad Stahelski had plans in motion and replied, "I'd suggest you send a team over to chat with Chad Stahelski directly. He's the mastermind behind it all."

Hastings nodded, pleased. "Consider it done."

For both Hastings and Martin, the day had been fruitful. Netflix was proving itself as a premium buyer in the market, especially when it came to acquiring first-broadcast rights, often outbidding traditional TV networks by a significant margin.

Martin knew this relationship with Netflix was only just beginning. As the streaming wars continued to escalate, he intended to be right at the forefront, making sure every deal aligned with his creative and financial vision.