*Chapter 8: New Line Cinema*

"Link, table 12 needs two muscle burgers, two orders of cheesy fries, and two iced colas."

"On it!"

At a Burger King on Sunset Boulevard in West Hollywood, Link wore the franchise’s signature cap and a green cartoon-themed apron. Carrying a metal tray, he walked from the counter to Table 12.

"Link? Is that really you?"

"Hey, Matt, Ben—fancy running into you two. Glad I get to serve you today."

Link laughed as he placed the food-laden tray on the table.

"Aren't you supposed to be directing movies? This doesn't exactly look like you're on set," Matt Damon said, eyeing him with amusement.

"Directing doesn't pay right now, so I’m working part-time here. Do you guys live nearby?"

"No, we're just here for research," Matt explained. "We’re auditioning for a film where the character works as a server at a burger joint while attending college. So, we're here observing and learning."

He gestured toward his eyes.

"Scent of a Woman?"

"Whoa, you know that movie too?"

"Yeah. Besides working here, I do background acting on sets, so I hear about what productions are active." Link shrugged with a smile.

"Too bad the supporting male role isn't young—otherwise, you'd be perfect," Matt said with a grin.

"Haha, I think so too," Link chuckled.

Hearing another order called from the counter, he nodded to the two and went to pick up more food for delivery.

"He's really something, isn’t he?" Matt said, watching Link move briskly back and forth across the restaurant.

Ben Affleck took a long gulp of iced cola, draining half the cup before belching loudly.

"What's so special about him?"

"He’s got so much energy and seems totally carefree—like he doesn't have a single worry in the world."

"You're kidding, right? Nobody working a part-time gig here is stress-free. At the very least, he’s strapped for cash."

Ben bit into a fry, his eyes following Link thoughtfully.

"Money? Who isn't short on that? The thing is, even when he's broke, he's still this upbeat. That’s what makes him special." Matt took a thoughtful pause. "Anyway, enough about him. Hey Ben, wanna come with me to the Scent of a Woman audition tomorrow?"

"Nope. That supporting role's too weak and timid—not my style. I wouldn't do well with it anyway."

Ben shrugged.

"Great, one less tough competitor for me," Matt joked.

---

After a six-hour shift at the burger joint, Link earned $60 in wages and $22 in tips.

By the afternoon, he returned to his small apartment, changed into a suit, and brought a VHS tape of Buried to the New Line Cinema offices on Hollywood Boulevard.

New Line Cinema was a well-known independent film production company in Hollywood.

Founded in 1967, the company initially specialized in distributing low-budget European and domestic horror films to American college campuses.

In 1979, they ventured into film production, focusing on low-budget horror projects.

Their big break came in 1990 when they acquired the U.S. distribution rights to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a Hong Kong production that other studios were too afraid to touch. The movie became a massive hit, raking in over $100 million.

This success catapulted New Line into one of the more influential independent film distributors in Hollywood, rivaling Miramax Films.

The studio would eventually gain worldwide fame with the blockbuster Lord of the Rings trilogy.

"Good afternoon, ma’am. I'm a director with a great film project. Who should I talk to about it?"

Link approached the front desk with a polite smile.

"A film project? What exactly do you mean?"

The receptionist, a blonde woman in her thirties with striking features, glanced up from her Vogue magazine, maintaining a polite but slightly impatient expression.

"I have a completed film seeking a distributor," Link explained confidently. "At Sundance, several companies expressed interest, but their offers were too low. I’d prefer to work with a company as capable as New Line."

He presented the VHS tape.

The blonde woman gave him a once-over before reaching for a box on the counter containing several folders.

"Sir, you can place your tape in this box and fill out your contact information. I'll make sure the distribution department gets it. If your film is promising, someone will reach out to you."

Link didn’t comply.

First, he had no backup copy of the tape—it was too valuable to leave unattended.

Second, there were already several tapes piled inside the box, their fates uncertain. He had no idea when—or if—anyone would ever watch them.

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

Link wasn't one to pin his hopes on a gamble like that.

After leaving the front desk, he browsed through newspapers in the lobby. Around 4 p.m., New Line’s president, Robert Shaye, emerged from the elevator with his secretary.

In his sixties, Shaye had a bald head and wore a gray casual suit. His serious expression hinted at a no-nonsense demeanor.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Shaye!"

Link greeted him warmly, stepping forward with a wide smile.

"And you are...?"

Robert Shaye paused, adjusting his glasses as he scrutinized Link.

"Mr. Shaye, my name is Link. I'm a director, and I’ve recently completed a thriller. Here's the story pitch: an immigrant worker in America suffers a tragic accident and finds himself buried alive in an unknown sandpit with only a few simple tools at hand..."

When his calls for help went unanswered, he had no choice but to save himself.

The brilliance of this film lies in its depiction of human struggle when faced with desperation, the American authorities’ neglect of foreign immigrants, and the uniqueness of having only one actor and a single setting throughout the entire movie—something that has never been done before. It’s quite novel.

“You’re saying the entire movie has just one actor, and every scene takes place inside a wooden box?”

Robert Shaye asked as he walked.

“That’s right. It’s an experimental film. While I wouldn’t dare claim it will cause a sensation upon release, I can guarantee it will intrigue a lot of viewers.

Mr. Shaye, I’m also willing to bet that this film will gross at least $5 million in North America. If New Line Cinema agrees to distribute it, and it makes less than $5 million, I won’t take a single cent in box office revenue.”

Link kept pace with Robert Shaye as he spoke.

Robert Shaye continued walking until he reached a car waiting by the curb.

As he opened the door and prepared to get in, he turned back to Link and said, “You’ve told a good story. I hope your film is just as good. Leave the tape with the receptionist—I’ll have someone review it in the next couple of days.”

“Mr. Shaye, I hope my film will surprise you.”

Link smiled.

Robert Shaye waved a hand before getting into the car.

Standing on the sidewalk, Link watched the car drive away. He reached into his pocket, feeling the tape, torn with indecision.

If he left the tape here and someone at New Line misplaced it, he’d have no choice but to head to the Sundance Institute to retrieve another copy. And if he couldn’t find one, the four months of hard work he had put in would be wasted.

But if he didn’t leave it, no one at New Line would see his film, and there would be no chance of distribution.

After a moment of hesitation, Link returned to the New Line Cinema reception area. The blonde woman was still flipping through a fashion magazine.

“Hello again, beautiful lady,” Link greeted.

She glanced at him, pushed the box on the desk forward slightly, and remained just as uninterested in conversation.

“Beautiful lady, I have a question. Mr. Shaye told me to leave the tape with you, and that he would have someone watch it in the next couple of days. Based on your experience, does ‘the next couple of days’ mean tomorrow and the day after, or is it an indefinite timeframe?”

Link smiled.

“Sorry, that’s classified information. I can’t disclose it.”

The blonde woman replied with a blank expression.

“Alright then. From the moment I first met you, I knew I wouldn’t be able to get any information out of you.”

“Why’s that?”

She blinked at him.

“I’m a director. I specialize in observing people. My guess is that while you appear to work here, you’re actually an undercover FBI agent. You’ve been trained in confidentiality—no one can get even the smallest bit of information from you.”

Link lowered his voice as he spoke, glancing around dramatically.

“Congratulations, you guessed right.”

The blonde woman smirked.

Since he had already decided to leave the tape, Link no longer hesitated. He signed his name in the logbook, and the woman took out a sticker, wrote a number and the film’s title on it, then stuck it onto the tape.

“Don’t be sad, my dear. We’re only parting for a little while. No matter where they take you, I will find you after they’ve watched you.”

Link kissed the tape before reluctantly placing it in the box. To distinguish it from the others, he used a colored marker to draw a red heart on the sticker.

“I think you’d make a better actor than a director.”

The blonde woman chuckled.

“Good idea. I’ll seriously consider your suggestion.”

Link smiled back, said goodbye, and left New Line Cinema with his hands in his pockets.

*(End of Chapter)*