Hollywood Director 1992

[Chapter 8: New Line Cinema]

"Link, two beef burgers, two cheese fries, and two cold Cokes for table twelve."

"Coming right up!"

In a Burger King on Santa Monica Boulevard in West Hollywood, Link wore the restaurant's baseball cap and a green cartoon apron, balancing a metal tray as he walked to booth twelve.

"Link, is that you?"

"Hey, Matt, Ben! What a coincidence, it's a pleasure to serve you both."

Link chuckled and set the tray down on the table.

"Aren't you a director? You don't look like you're filming a movie."

Matt Damon sized him up with a grin.

"Directing doesn't pay the bills right now, so I'm juggling a part-time gig here. Are you guys living around here?"

"No, we came here for a purpose. We're auditioning for a movie role where the character's a college student working part-time at a burger joint. We thought we'd observe and learn."

Matt pointed to his eyes knowingly.

"Scent of a woman?"

"Wait, you know that movie?"

"Besides working here, I jump around in various crews doing background work. I keep updated on new projects."

Link shrugged with a smile.

Hearing a call from the counter, Link signaled to the two and went back to continue serving customers.

...

"He seems really unique." Matt watched Link bustling around.

Ben Affleck drained half his Coke in one go and let out a loud belch.

"What's so unique about him?"

"His energy, he looks like he's having a blast, almost like he has no worries."

"Are you kidding? People working part-time here have no worries? I mean, he's got to need the cash."

Ben crunched on a fry while still eyeing Link.

"Cash? Who doesn't need it? It's very special that he can be so happy just because he doesn't have money. Enough about him, Ben, how about coming to audition for Scent of a woman with me tomorrow?"

"No way, the second lead is too much of a wimp for me; I wouldn't do it justice."

Ben shrugged.

"Good point, less competition for me!"

---

After working six hours at the burger joint, Link netted sixty dollars in wages and earned twenty-two dollars in tips.

By the afternoon, he changed into a suit at his small apartment, grabbed his Buried tape, and headed over to New Line Cinema on Hollywood Boulevard.

"Good afternoon, ma'am. I'm a director with a great film project and I'd like to discuss it with your company. Who should I talk to?"

Upon entering the New Line office, Link approached the front desk.

"A film project? Can you tell me more specifics?"

The receptionist was a stunning blonde woman in her thirties. She had been flipping through a Vogue magazine when Link interrupted. She maintained a smile but showed clear signs of impatience.

"I'm looking for a distributor for my film, and during the Sundance Film Festival, several companies wanted rights to this film, but their offers were too low. I want to work with a powerful distributor like New Line."

Link pulled out the tape.

The receptionist glanced at him, took a box from the counter, and set it down. Inside was a folder.

"Sir, you can place your tape in this box and fill in your contact details. I'll pass it along to the distribution department. If they find the film worthwhile, someone will reach out to you."

Link hesitated.

First of all, the tape wasn't backed up; it was quite valuable.. Secondly, there were several other tapes in this box, and he had no idea how long they had been there. Even if he put the tape in the box, he wouldn't know when New Line would get around to watching it.

It could be a week, a month, or even a year.

He didn't want to rely on a unlikely event.

...

After leaving the front desk, Link browsed through some newspapers in the lounge. By four in the afternoon, the president of New Line Cinema, Robert Shaye, emerged from the elevator with his secretary.

Shaye, in his sixties, bald and dressed in a gray casual suit, wore a stern expression, rarely smiling.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Shaye," Link called out cheerfully as he approached.

"And you are?"

Robert Shaye paused, adjusting his glasses to peer at him.

"Mr. Shaye, I'm Link, a director. I recently finished a thriller film, and here's the plot."

Link stepped forward a couple of meters and passionately pitched the main storyline of Buried, telling him about a man who was ambushed and found himself trapped in an unmarked sand pit with little more than a few tools.

With the authorities ignoring his calls for help, he had no choice but to rely on himself.

"What you're saying is that the entire film features one actor, and all the scenes are shot in a box?"

Robert Shaye nodded as he continued walking.

"Exactly. It's an experimental film. I won't claim it'll be a sensation when it hits theaters, but I assure you it will interest many viewers.

Mr. Shaye, I can confidently say this film will gross over five million dollars in North America alone. If New Line decides to distribute it, I won't take a dime in box office revenue if it makes less than that."

Link hurried to keep up with Robert Shaye.

As they reached a waiting car, Robert Shaye opened the door, turned back to Link, and said, "That's a nice story. Hope the film lives up to it. Hand your tape to the front desk; I'll arrange for some folks to view it in the next couple of days."

"Mr. Shaye, I hope my film will impress you."

Link smiled.

Robert Shaye waved him off as he got in the car.

...

Link stood on the side of the street, watching the car drive away, feeling conflicted about the tape in his bag.

If he left the tape behind and someone misplaced it at New Line, his only option would be to crawl back to the Sundance Film Institute and search for another copy. If he couldn't find one, all the hard work he put in over the past four months would have been for nothing.

But if he didn't leave it, no one at New Line would see the film, and any talk of distribution would be off the table.

...

After a moment's hesitation, Link ventured back to the front desk. The blonde woman was still engrossed in her magazine.

"Hello again, beautiful lady," Link greeted cheerfully.

She looked up, pushing the box slightly forward on the desk, still uninterested in chatting.

"Ma'am, I have a question. Mr. Shaye just mentioned I should hand the tape to you, and you would arrange for someone to watch it. Do you know if that would be tomorrow, the day after, or just some uncertain time?"

Link smiled.

"Sorry, that's confidential information," the blonde woman replied, her expression deadpan.

"Well, I knew I wouldn't get anything out of you from the first time I saw you," Link teased.

"Really, why's that?"

The blonde woman blinked in surprise.

"I'm a director, good at reading people. I figured you work here on the surface, but you're actually a secret agent from the FBI, right? You've been trained in keeping secrets; no one could ever get anything from you."

Link glanced around, lowering his voice.

"Congrats, you guessed it right," she said with a smile.

Now resolved to leave the tape behind, Link stopped hesitating. He signed the logbook while the blonde woman pulled out a sticker, writing a number and the film's name on it, which she affixed to the tape.

"Don't be sad, darling; we're just temporarily apart. Once they've seen you, no matter where you are, I'll find you," Link whispered to the tape, kissing it before reluctantly placing it in the box.

He added a little red heart on the sticker with a marker to distinguish his tape from the others.

"I think you'd make a better actor than a director," the blonde woman quipped.

"Good suggestion. I'll seriously consider it," Link replied with a smile before saying goodbye and leaving New Line Cinema with his hands in his pockets.

*****

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