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 The screening equipment is also outdated, making the conditions far from ideal.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.