Film buyers

In the surrounding noisy environment, the sporadic applause was not at all out of place. The uncle continued to applaud enthusiastically, "Clap, clap, clap..."

His actions seemed like a signal, followed closely by a second round of applause. Slowly, the clapping grew louder with the third, fourth, fifth... and eventually filled the entire space.

Lyman, who had been counting heads nearby, couldn't stand still anymore. As he watched the scene before him, an indescribable emotion filled his chest, making it feel so full that even his breath became hurried. He recalled the hardships and struggles he had endured while seeking distribution for the past period of time. Memories flashed through his mind like frames of a film, finally freezing on the words René had said on that silent morning: "Let's go to Venice!" Somehow, his nose suddenly felt sour, and his eyes stung as if sand had entered them, causing discomfort.

Before he could control his emotions, he felt a sharp pain on his back as someone forcefully patted him. Turning around, Lyman saw René's joyful face.

He was genuinely happy. After giving Lyman a strong pat without saying a word, he vigorously patted Thomas' back while muttering silly words like "God, God."

Thomas, who was beside him, was also moved. He immediately began vigorously patting René's back in return. The two grown men competed with each other, refusing to be the first to stop.

...

The screening of "Buried" ended, and it was livelier than Lyman had expected. The anticipated scene of emptiness did not occur. After the audience finished watching, they spontaneously used applause to release their suppressed emotions. All signs indicated that the audience was relatively satisfied with the film. Rubbing his cheeks hard to calm his chaotic mind, Lyman was preparing to take out a copy and schedule another screening in the afternoon.

Suddenly, a bald man emerged from the crowd! "Hello..." The bald man was not pretentious at all and politely said, "I would like to ask, are you the director of this film?"

"Yes." Lyman hesitated and asked, "May I ask why you are looking for me?"

"I'm Armand Neveux." As he spoke, the bald man extended his right hand. "From EuropaCorp."

Half an hour ago, Armand had just finished watching a showcase film at the cinema and was about to leave when he noticed a peculiar group of people gathered together, seemingly watching something. Out of curiosity and the nature of his work, Arman walked over.

Oh, so they were watching a movie! That's what he thought. With curiosity and work in mind, he carefully watched the second half of the film. After the movie ended, he immediately made a phone call to his boss.

"Luc, where are you?" Sensing that his choice of words might be inappropriate, he continued, "I need to report a situation over here."

"Did "Time Out" get picked up?" a voice came from the other end of the phone.

"No, the distribution rights for the film were already snatched up yesterday. I went to inquire today, and the director informed me of this situation." As a film buyer who frequently attended various film festivals, Armand had already missed his first target.

"It's okay. Go try to contact the Mexican director's work in the afternoon, consider it carefully, and let me know."

"You mean "And Your Mother Too"? Wasn't this film considered not strong enough for awards?"

"We have no choice. For potential works, all film companies are competing. We can't compare in this area. Choose a slightly inferior film and make some profit, at least it won't be a wasted trip."

Indeed, their company was far behind those truly powerful international distributors. But Armand already had an idea in mind. He tried saying, "Although we withdrew from the final competition round of this film festival, the film industry ultimately relies on the market. We might be able to win in this aspect."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Considering Armand was his capable subordinate, he spoke frankly, "What I mean is, while no one is competing for films with low chances of winning awards, just buy the rights at a reasonable price and make some profit through subsequent operations." Both films were in the artistic genre, but if they couldn't compete in awards, how could they compete in the market? It was wishful thinking.

Armand held his phone, his gaze scanning the projection equipment behind Lyman and the other two. He glanced at the audience still applauding, and then continued, "I've discovered a new target..."

Lyman looked at the bald man in astonishment but still shook his extended right hand, easing the awkwardness and saying, "Hello, M. Armand..."

"May I ask who the producers or investors of this film are?" the bald man asked again.

Lyman, who had regained his senses, finally understood why the bald man was here. Both of his questions were aimed at gathering information about the film. If there were no exceptions, he was either a professional film viewer or a film buyer. In response to the proactive visit, Lyman said directly, "The film was produced by Mann Studio, which I and my friends founded, and we hold the rights."

For some reason, Lyman didn't feel the excitement he had imagined upon learning the other person's background. Perhaps it was because of the difficulties he had faced in seeking distribution, or maybe the passion instilled in him by the audience hadn't completely dissipated. At this moment, he appeared particularly calm.

The bald man nodded. "Here's the thing, Director Lyman. I just watched part of the film you directed and became somewhat interested in it, so I'd like to watch it again, alone. Maybe I'll bring a few colleagues along as well. You know, buying the rights to a film is not a small matter, and both parties need to be as cautious as possible." He emphasized the word "cautious", as if highlighting his own considerations and providing an early indication of a retreat.

Objectively speaking, Lyman should have felt happy that a film company expressed interest in distributing his film. He did indeed need help in this aspect, and Lyman acknowledged that. However, throughout the conversation, he stood there and, after listening to Arman's words, didn't readily nod to indicate his willingness to cooperate.

Suddenly, he realized something. The advantage was on his side now. In the end, a film relied on the audience market's judgment. Previously, he had sought help and failed, but now someone recognized this film and approached him. He wanted to play with fire!

"This afternoon? I'm sorry, I have an appointment with someone. I need to go to their place first," Lyman apologized. "I'm sorry, M. Armand, can we schedule for tomorrow instead?"

Some people saw potential in this film, that was Armand's first thought. But then he realized that it wouldn't be surprising if someone had noticed the film, considering he had no idea how long it had been screening. Faced with the implications in Lyman's words, Armand appeared calm, at least on the surface, without a hint of panic. However, doubts began to arise in his mind. He knew he wasn't the only professional film buyer at the Venice Film Festival, and if others got involved, it would inevitably lead to fierce competition. Or, just like with "Time Out", there might not even be a chance to compete. What should he do then?

As it turned out, Lyman's move was effective. Buying and selling films was always a gamble, and he was the house. Why shouldn't he take control? His past experiences taught him a lesson: either be excellent in itself or create excellence. "Can you hear my conditions first?" Armand said, pretending to be relaxed. "It might change your thoughts."

Lyman put on a very expectant smile and said, "Really? Please, go ahead."

"€1.5M, as long as we watch the film and feel satisfied, we will offer at least this price to buy the rights to the film," Armand stated, giving an impressive figure right from the start.

At the Venice Film Festival, the distribution rights for independent films generally went for less than €1M. Occasionally, a few potential works that everyone recognized could fetch as high as five million or even tens of millions, but those were exhibition films, often hot contenders for awards. The entire festival had only a few such films, and more were "mediocre" films that had no chance of winning awards, so their prices naturally wouldn't be too high.

Considering that "Buried" was also an "outdoor" film and the director himself lacked substantial experience, still a newcomer to the industry unable to enter the exhibition halls, Armand, as a seasoned film buyer, had a rich experience. The price he offered was reasonable enough to lure Lyman.

His gaze shifted to Lyman, wanting to know his thoughts. "Not enough," Lyman frowned and shook his head, pretending to be disappointed. "Armand, do you know the production cost of "Buried"? Did the inviting distributor offer any other conditions?"

"I'm a buyer, that's not within my scope of consideration." What he needed was to rely on his own judgment to offer a suitable and as low as possible price, not to consider how much profit the other party could make.

Lyman seemed to have not heard the bald man's words and continued on his own, "The production cost of "Buried" is €1M, and the distributor was willing to offer €1.7M. So..." He continued, "I need to meet with that distributor first and consider your offer, M. Armand. As the director of this film, I need to consider what's best for our movie, for the investors, and choose the best way to distribute it. Let's sit down tomorrow morning and negotiate in detail, alright?" He ended with his final sentence.

Although it was a refusal, Lyman presented his case with reason and evidence, politely and with sufficient friendliness, so as not to make Arman angry. They were, after all, individuals from two different camps, each with their own positions and considerations. It was normal for differences to arise.

"Alright." The offered price was also the appropriate amount in his mind. Since he couldn't convince him, he could only wait and see what would happen in the future. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Armand turned and left...