Chapter 59

Request for recommendation votes and Three Rivers votes!

The Morris Theatre is located in the southern part of Park City, with a less than ideal location, far from the Sundance Film Festival's central screening area. It can only accommodate 150 people, and the projection equipment is quite outdated, making the conditions far from ideal.

Even so, the Morris Theatre's screening schedule is still packed. During the ten or so days of the film festival, a considerable number of films are screened every day.

From the theatre's conditions, one can guess that the films shown here are mostly small productions by unknown filmmakers.

The screening of "Hard Candy" was scheduled here, with only one showing for now. According to the Sundance Film Festival's tradition, if the film receives good reviews, there might be additional screenings.

Just after 3 PM, Murphy brought Paul Wilson to the Morris Theatre.

The previous film had not yet ended, and after greeting the theatre manager and the festival committee staff, he stood near the entrance.

The slightly old promotional board at the entrance listed the films to be screened over the next few days: "Love and Madness," "Poor Roski," "My City," "Long Island Mystery," and so on.

Murphy's eyes swept over these titles, but he had no impression of any of them.

"There are so few people."

Standing next to Murphy, Paul Wilson looked toward the exit of the auditorium. The previous film had just ended, and a dozen or so viewers trickled out.

"Wasted an hour and a half..."

"The shaky camera made me feel sick."

"What was the director trying to say? It was incomprehensible."

These viewers passed by Murphy and Paul, and it was clear from their comments that they were dissatisfied with the film they had just seen.

Murphy glanced at them and shook his head. They were all ordinary viewers, with not a single buyer among them.

The end of the previous film also meant that the screening of "Hard Candy" was about to begin. Murphy stood at the entrance of the cinema and watched for a long time, but sadly, not a single viewer entered.

The theatre's remote location, the film's obscurity, the lack of any promotion, and the screening time in the afternoon rather than the prime evening slot made this situation unsurprising.

Murphy maintained his composure, but Paul Wilson's anxiety was evident on his face. He paced around the entrance, complaining about the festival committee's decision to schedule their film in a theatre far from the central screening area.

"Paul, calm down for a moment." Murphy walked up the steps to the entrance of the cinema and looked back, "You're making me dizzy."

The theatre was so quiet that it was impossible for him not to be anxious, but Murphy's mind remained clear. It was normal for a film like this to receive little attention; it would be abnormal if the audience flocked to it.

He checked the time on his phone; there was still nearly half an hour before the screening began. Bill Rosiss and the professional film reviewers and buyers he had contacted should be arriving soon.

From around the corner, a few people approached and soon arrived at the cinema entrance. They didn't even look at Murphy standing at the door and went straight into the cinema. This theatre was not entirely ignored, and over the next ten minutes, four or five more people entered through the back door.

Similar to the previous screening, there would probably be about a dozen viewers by the time the film started.

Fifteen minutes before the screening, Murphy checked his phone again. Finally, two taxis turned the corner and quickly arrived at the front of the cinema. As soon as they stopped, Bill Rosiss got out of the passenger seat of the first car and opened the back door.

Paul Wilson was quick to react. As Murphy descended the steps, Paul rushed to the second car, mimicking Bill Rosiss's actions and opening the door.

Murphy put on a professional, warm smile and quickly scanned the three strangers who got out of the two cars.

The first person to get out of Bill Rosiss's car was a middle-aged man with a slightly receding hairline, wearing round glasses, who looked like an old-school professional accountant at first glance.

Behind him was a man in his thirties with a brown side part, wearing a suit and exuding the scent of cologne. Even from a distance, Murphy could smell it.

The second taxi had only one person, a black woman with curly hair, who appeared to be around thirty years old.

Murphy descended the steps, and they walked over. Bill Rosiss introduced them to each other.

The middle-aged man with the receding hairline was Joel Graham from Harbor Entertainment; the man with the cologne was Beck Larsent, a professional film reviewer from Castle Rock Entertainment; and the black woman was Jones Butler, a buyer from Miramax Films.

They were the VIPs invited by Bill Rosiss.

Murphy, who had no capital at the moment, shook hands with each of them and led them into the screening room.

The 150-seat screening room looked quite empty, with only a dozen or so viewers scattered in the middle rows.

Murphy led them to a row of seats reserved by the theatre and politely said, "Please take your seats."

The three of them only nodded at him without saying a word.

Especially Jones Butler, the black woman, who, apart from a polite "hello" during the greetings, did not say anything else.

After sitting down, she showed no intention of talking to anyone. As a buyer from Miramax Films, her interest in this film was largely due to her acquaintance with Bill Rosiss. Otherwise, a film by a director with no previous works would not have caught her attention.

The other two were not much better. In this industry, distributors are at the top of the food chain, especially when dealing with investors, producers, or directors of small films, where they naturally hold the upper hand.

This disdain and arrogance were not deliberately displayed but were a natural part of the industry.

Murphy could see this but was not bothered. This was a highly realistic industry, and to earn respect, one had to have the strength to deserve it.

"Will they be interested in our film?" Paul Wilson, still a student, couldn't help but lean close to Murphy and whisper, "They seem to look down on it."

Murphy shrugged, "I don't know."

Bill Rosiss sat with the three of them, occasionally glancing at Murphy. Seeing Murphy's calm demeanor, he nodded to himself.

This rookie director's composure and resilience were indeed rare among young people.

The lights in the ceiling went out, and the screen lit up. Jones Butler habitually took out a pen and notebook to record the potential selling points of the film, a basic skill for a film buyer.

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