Chapter 9: A Cold Reception

After returning to West Hollywood, Link continued working part-time at Burger King, a restaurant, and a pizza shop to earn money for food and transportation.

The next afternoon, as he passed by New Line Cinema, he stopped by the front desk with a small gift for the blonde receptionist, hoping to get some updates.

The blonde woman regretfully told him that his videotape was still in the archives. President Robert Shaye was busy with other matters and hadn’t had time to organize a viewing.

Disappointed, Link left and returned to his restaurant shift.

While delivering pizzas to the set of Bram Stoker’s Dracula on a nearby street, he once again ran into Matt Damon and Ben Affleck.

Unlike their previous encounters, this time they were accompanied by two attractive women.

Link asked Matt Damon how his audition had gone.

Matt shrugged and said he didn’t get the role. Instead, it went to a newcomer who looked quite ordinary, and he still didn’t understand why he had lost to him.

“Haha, don’t be discouraged. At least your trip wasn’t a total waste,” Link said, glancing meaningfully at the women beside them.

“Alright, you’ve got a point. What about your movie? Do you have a release date yet?”

“We’re still in negotiations, but I believe you’ll see it one day.”

“We’ll be looking forward to it.”

Matt bumped fists with Link, then he and Ben Affleck continued strolling down the street with their dates.

Watching the two pairs walk away, Link couldn’t deny he felt a bit envious—but that kind of lifestyle was out of reach for now.

Matt Damon and Ben Affleck came from wealthy families, had attended prestigious schools, and already had some connections in the entertainment industry.

For them, coming to Hollywood wasn’t an act of desperation—it was a calculated step toward their dreams, backed by a strong financial foundation.

Their paths to stardom were bound to be much smoother and wider than those of Link and the other dreamers living in his youth hostel.

With his delivery bag slung over his shoulder, Link pedaled hard, racing down Hollywood Boulevard on his bicycle.

---

The next afternoon, Link visited New Line Cinema again to check on his videotape.

The blonde receptionist told him that the distribution department had watched other directors’ tapes that day. According to the queue, it would still be a few more days before they got to his. She told him not to worry.

As he was leaving, the blonde woman asked if he wanted to grab a drink.

Noticing her makeup was even more refined than the day before, Link politely agreed.

That afternoon, after a few beers at a bar, Link took the blonde woman back to his small apartment.

Her skin was well-maintained, and she had a great figure, but she was quite demanding in bed.

If Link hadn’t been regularly working out—with an additional 10% stamina boost—he might have been defeated beneath her voluptuous curves.

The next morning, after sending the blonde woman on her way, Link arrived at Burger King for his shift.

There, his coworker Chris Bauer mentioned that Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs was hitting theaters that Friday and asked if Link wanted to go watch it together.

Having already seen it at Sundance, Link declined. Besides, a movie ticket cost $8—enough to cover a full meal.

He wasn’t in a position to spend money on entertainment.

The entire day, he ran between part-time jobs, leaving no time to check in with New Line Cinema.

---

The next day, while working at Burger King, the blonde woman called the store to inform him that Robert Shaye had just taken his film for review. At that moment, he was likely watching it.

“Chris, cover for me,” Link said.

He pulled off his apron, handed his tasks over to Chris Bauer, and rode his bike straight to New Line Cinema.

After greeting the blonde receptionist, he sat in the lounge to wait.

Less than ten minutes later, the receptionist returned with his Buried Alive videotape.

She regretfully informed him that Robert Shaye and his team hadn’t watched the entire film. Their feedback was that the setting was too monotonous, featuring only a single actor.

A film like this had no market in the United States.

“Link, don’t be discouraged,” she comforted him. “Mr. Shaye did say that your concept was solid, and your camera work was impressive. He thinks you have potential as a director.”

“Thanks—at least that’s some good news.”

Though disappointed, Link wasn’t devastated. Smiling, he bid the blonde woman farewell and left New Line Cinema with his videotape in hand.

---

The next day, on the release date of Reservoir Dogs, Link took his videotape to the headquarters of Touchstone Pictures.

A subsidiary of Disney, Touchstone was one of Hollywood’s major independent production companies.

It had produced blockbuster hits like Splash (1984), The Color of Money (1986, directed by Martin Scorsese), and Good Morning, Vietnam (1987).

Its production and distribution capabilities were on par with Miramax.

This time, Link had better luck.

At the entrance of the company, he ran into Touchstone’s senior producer, Kenny Bates. Taking the initiative, Link introduced Buried Alive, successfully piquing Kenny’s interest.

However, after watching the film, Kenny also saw no commercial value in it.

He advised Link to try selling it to a home video distribution company instead—maybe he could make some sales that way.

With no other choice, Link left disappointed.

Over the next few days, he used his earnings to make six additional copies of Buried Alive at a duplication plant in Burbank.

With backups in hand, he visited other independent film companies, including:

- Castle Rock Entertainment

- Trimark Pictures

- Hollywood Pictures

- Carolco Pictures

- Miramax Films

- Good Machine

And more—over twenty companies in total.

All of them rejected him.

Some watched the film and provided feedback before turning him down.

Others dismissed him outright.

The general consensus was that while the film had some originality and was well-shot, it had no market potential. A theatrical release would inevitably result in financial loss—not worth the investment.

One particularly blunt executive even told Link to his face:

“If this movie makes money at the box office, I’ll do a handstand and drink my own piss.”

Despite the brutal rejections, Link considered approaching Hollywood’s “Big Seven” studios next.

The current seven major Hollywood film studios are Walt Disney, Warner Bros. Pictures, Universal Pictures, 20th Century Fox, Paramount Pictures, Columbia-TriStar Pictures, and MGM-United Artists.

These seven studios are the most prolific film producers in the world, each releasing an average of 15 films per year. They also generate the highest box office revenue and ancillary profits.

The primary goal of these studios is to make money—they prioritize the commercial aspects of filmmaking over artistic expression.

---

"Buried Alive" has a niche theme and plot, making it unappealing even to independent film companies, let alone the major studios.

After repeated rejections, Link found himself at a crossroads.

Giving up would mean losing out on the four-times box office subsidy, which was a huge loss.

But if he didn’t give up, there wasn’t a single studio willing to distribute the film.

Link began to consider delaying the project for a few years, waiting until he gained some fame and box office appeal. By then, getting a distributor wouldn’t be a problem.

The only thing he wasn’t sure about was whether the four-times box office subsidy had an expiration date.

---

"Link, just let it go. Stop running around. Your film is too weird—no distributor will pick it up," Chris Bauer said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder in a small bar.

Link leaned against the counter, taking a sip of his beer as he watched the dancer sway on the center stage.

"I'm not in a hurry. I've only been rejected a few dozen times. Plenty of world-famous literary works were rejected by publishers before becoming classics—The Diary of Anne Frank, Animal Farm, Lord of the Flies—compared to that, this is nothing."

"Movies aren’t books, Link. If a film is rejected by every distributor, it usually means there's a real problem. There's no point in banging your head against the wall. Besides, you've already approached every major distributor. Who else is left? What’s next—self-distribution?" Chris said.

"Hollywood has hundreds of film companies. There are still plenty I haven't tried yet. Wait… self-distribution? Huh, that might actually be a good idea."

Link squinted at the dancer’s shaking hips, suddenly feeling like this idea could work.

Film distribution isn’t so different from book publishing.

If a work has potential, publishing houses will compete to buy the rights.

If it doesn’t, but someone believes in it, they can self-publish.

Take Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick, for example. He submitted it to dozens of publishers, but none were willing to take it. So, he paid for its publication himself. Eventually, Moby-Dick became a bestseller and was hailed as "America’s greatest novel."

The same principle applied to film distribution in the U.S.—not all movies needed to go through the Motion Picture Association of America (MPAA) for rating approval before release.

Many art films skipped MPAA ratings entirely.

Of course, unrated films faced stricter screening limitations and couldn’t get wide releases.

But the real issue with Buried Alive was getting it on the big screen at all.

If even a single theater was willing to show it for just one day, then under the four-times box office subsidy rule, the revenue wouldn’t be bad.

If the film performed well enough in that single screening, theaters might extend its run for profit, and it could even attract the attention of distributors.

Link took a big gulp of his ice-cold beer, cooling his mind as he weighed the feasibility of the plan.

After careful consideration, he realized this might actually work—skip the distributors and negotiate directly with theater chains.

With a clear plan in mind, Link decided to give it a shot.

---

"Hey, Link! We heard you’re still looking for a distributor. You’ve approached dozens of them, practically begging them to release your movie. Any luck?"

A group of young men and women, all residents of the same youth hostel, squeezed through the crowd, beers in hand.

"Nope. Success isn’t that easy. But I am on the verge of it," Link replied.

"Hah! We figured. A guy who was just an extra for a few months suddenly wants to direct a film? If you pull that off, every wannabe in Hollywood would think they could do the same!" A tattooed young man laughed.

"Link, come back to background acting. Train for a few more years, and who knows? Maybe someday we’ll all be big stars—living in mansions, driving sports cars, making millions per movie like Tom Hanks or Schwarzenegger. Now that would be cool!"

"Yeah, being a director is too hard. Acting is way easier."

"Link, join us. We still need you to coach us on our acting skills. You’re really good at that!"

The group chimed in with encouragement.

"Sounds tempting. I’ll seriously consider it," Link said, raising his beer bottle in a toast.

(End of Chapter)