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Chapter 2: Nicole Kidman

Added 2025-02-06 01:33:24 +0000 UTC

Although Link knew that Quentin's film had performed well at the box office—having been made on a $1.2 million budget and grossing over $4 million worldwide—he wasn't nervous at all.

Having traveled through time, Link possessed not only the scripts and related materials for hundreds of classic films but also an unverified golden advantage: the Box Office Subsidy System.

According to the system’s prompt, as a reward for his past life’s contributions to cinematic art, any film he participated in producing would receive a box office subsidy, with the minimum subsidy being double the original box office revenue (X2). The more involved he was in the film’s production, the higher the subsidy.

This system had only left a single message in his mind when he transmigrated, and it had never appeared again. Therefore, whether or not the system actually existed still needed to be verified.

To confirm the system’s authenticity, he planned to test it with Buried.

“Haha! Director Link, congratulations on defeating numerous competitors and winning the Jury Prize!”

At a Sundance Film Festival party, Miramax Films' boss, Harvey Weinstein, squeezed through the crowd with his large belly and shook Link’s hand firmly.

Harvey Weinstein was a well-known Hollywood producer, director, screenwriter, and film distributor.

In the late 1970s, he and his brother, Bob Weinstein, founded Miramax Films, acquiring movies from around the world at low prices, re-editing them, and releasing them into the North American market. They were akin to treasure hunters in the antique world.

In recent years, the Weinstein brothers successfully picked up films like the Italian Cinema Paradiso, the Irish My Left Foot, and the British Sex, Lies, and Videotape, earning over $100 million and causing a sensation in Hollywood. This success established Miramax as a leading independent production company in the industry.

However, due to their aggressive bargaining tactics when acquiring films—offering extremely low, even rock-bottom prices—filmmakers worldwide had mixed feelings about them.

On one hand, they admired the brothers' sharp eye for films and their acute market intuition. Being selected by them was, in a way, a mark of recognition.

On the other hand, they resented how Miramax often re-edited films drastically, cutting large portions. For instance, the director’s cut of Cinema Paradiso was 173 minutes long, but Miramax’s released version was only 123 minutes—50 minutes had been removed.

Even though the film grossed over $50 million in North America and won the Best Foreign Language Film at the 62nd Academy Awards, its director, Giuseppe Tornatore, was furious. He publicly criticized Harvey for butchering his work and vowed never to let Miramax distribute his films again.

When Harvey approached, Link smiled and shook his hand. “Thank you!”

“Director Link, have you found a distributor for Buried? How about letting Miramax handle it?”

After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Harvey got straight to the point—he wanted the North American distribution rights to Buried.

Link smiled slightly and asked an unrelated question, “Mr. Weinstein, I heard that Miramax was named after your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Weinstein. Is that true?”

Harvey was momentarily stunned, then burst into laughter. “That’s right! My mother’s name is Mira, and my father’s name is Max.”

“They must be very proud to see Miramax flourish.”

Link raised his champagne glass.

“Thank you!”

Harvey clinked glasses with him and patted Link on the shoulder. “Link, let’s get back to the movie. I’ve seen Buried. It’s a decent film. As a low-budget independent movie, it’s quite unique among recent art films and has some market potential.

I heard you made it with $100,000. I’ll give you $150,000 for the North American distribution rights. What do you say?”

Link chuckled. “Robert Shaye offered $400,000, and I didn’t accept.”

“Robert Shaye? Can he even compare to me? I can get your film to the Oscars—can he?”

Harvey smirked, his tone assertive.

Link swirled his wine glass and smiled without replying.

Robert Shaye was the president of New Line Cinema, one of Hollywood’s top ten independent film companies.

In terms of influence and distribution capability, New Line and Miramax were on par.

Harvey had a slight edge when it came to Oscar campaigns, but that wasn’t enough for Link to compromise.

For him, making money was the top priority at this stage.

Taking a sip of champagne, Link asked calmly, “Mr. Weinstein, what’s your box office projection for Buried in North America?”

Harvey frowned and raised one finger. “$1 million. At most. Your film is unique, but it takes place entirely inside a small wooden box, with only one actor and a few simple props. The setting is monotonous, the atmosphere dark and oppressive. How many people would pay $8 to watch a film like this? I’d say, not many.”

Harvey gestured emphatically, his voice firm and persuasive.

Link also raised a finger. “Mr. Weinstein, your expertise and vision are well recognized in the industry. I’d love to work with you. How about this—I have a proposal for you.”

“Oh? Let’s hear it.”

“With a guaranteed minimum number of screenings, if the North American box office is below $1 million, I won’t take a single cent. If it exceeds $1 million, for every additional million, I get a 40% revenue share.”

“40%?”

Harvey’s brows knitted together. He had never encountered a newcomer willing to make such a bold betting agreement on their debut film.

“Link, you have a lot of confidence in this film?”

Link grinned. “Yes, I do. I’m not afraid of risks. You’ve probably heard about my bet with Quentin Tarantino.”

“Haha! Betting three films on one award—you’re quite the trickster.”

Harvey laughed and playfully scolded him.

Link shook his head and swirled his wine glass. “Everything is voluntary. I didn’t force him. The same goes for Buried’s distribution.”

Harvey rubbed his chin, pondering for a moment. “40% is too high. No one in Hollywood gets that kind of deal. 20%—that’s my bottom line.”

Harvey estimated Buried would gross around $4 million. If that happened, Link would get $600,000 from the revenue share—higher than a direct buyout, but the distribution company would still earn more.

“Mr. Weinstein, it’s a bet. Some risk is inevitable. 35%—out of respect for you.”

Link raised his glass.

Harvey studied him and countered with 25%. Link refused.

After several rounds of negotiation, they finally agreed on a 30% revenue share.

Harvey’s additional condition was that if Buried exceeded $5 million at the box office, Miramax must invest at least 20% in Link’s next film.

Link’s condition was that 50% of his revenue share must be paid within 45 days after the film’s release, and the full amount within six months.

Harvey agreed. "Link, how did it go?"

Nicole Kidman walked over and asked.

She was wearing a black ballroom gown, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders. With her fair skin, tall and slender figure, and long legs, she was an alluring woman—one that many shorter men might find intimidating to approach.

When casting the female lead for Buried Alive, Link's criteria were clear: beautiful, sexy, and a capable actress.

After much deliberation, he ultimately chose Nicole Kidman.

Nicole’s fair complexion almost glowed under the lights. Her striking features ensured that audiences wouldn’t tire of watching her for two hours. Plus, she was Tom Cruise’s wife—her popularity was undeniable.

She was the perfect choice.

Initially, Nicole had little interest in an experimental film by a newcomer.

However, after reading the script, she found the story compelling and the role challenging. She agreed to take the part—for a modest $50,000 paycheck.

Looking at the stunning woman before him, Link smiled lightly. “Pretty well! We finalized the deal.”

“You’re letting Harvey distribute Buried Alive? Harvey doesn’t have the best reputation in the industry. If you’re working with him, be careful.”

Nicole Kidman smiled slightly.

“I will be.” Link extended his hand toward her. “Nicole, would you like to dance?”

“Of course!”

Nicole Kidman smiled gently and placed her hand on his chest.

February 15, Thursday

Buried Alive premiered in 24 arthouse theaters across 13 major North American cities. Over its opening weekend, it grossed $328,000 with an impressive 80% occupancy rate.

The film received overwhelmingly positive reviews.

The story follows a woman who, after being knocked unconscious by her abusive, drunken husband, is locked inside a wooden box and buried in an unknown location.

She has only a cellphone and a flashlight. Dressed in nothing but a thin nightgown, she frantically calls the police, her family, and friends for help.

Through these phone calls, the audience learns that she lives in a highly conservative small town. Her husband, an impotent alcoholic, frequently abuses her.

It’s eventually revealed that the woman is a lesbian. Her husband, upon discovering her secret rendezvous with her lover, flies into a rage and buries her alive.

When she confesses the truth over the phone, her parents scold her, the police mock her, her husband berates her, and even her friends show little sympathy.

As heavy rain pours down and the police fail to locate her, her husband—too drunk to remember where he buried her—leaves her with no choice but to save herself.

In the film’s climax, fueled by rage and despair, she starts punching the wooden walls of her coffin with all her might.

The movie’s pacing is masterful—alternating between slow suspense and intense urgency. The emotional tension is gripping, pulling the audience into the protagonist’s nightmare.

Especially in the final moments, as the heroine’s bloodied fists pound against the box, it feels as though each strike lands directly on the audience’s chests, echoing loudly.

Viewers left the theater in tears, many shouting in emotional release.

“Absolutely brilliant! The best movie I’ve seen this year!”

“I cried so hard—if you’re easily moved, prepare yourself.”

“One actress, one box, one movie. Link is a genius. Winning the Sundance Jury Prize was well deserved.”

“Nicole Kidman’s performance was phenomenal. This is the most powerful role she has ever played.”

“The plot? Sorry, I was too busy admiring Nicole Kidman. She spent over an hour lying in that box, letting us just... appreciate her. The director really knows what he’s doing—this was a gift to all Nicole fans. I’m watching it again!”

“An amazing film—definitely worth seeing.”

In a CBS post-screening interview, 80% of viewers gave the film positive reviews.

15% thought it was decent but criticized its low-budget production, believing that with more funding and a polished look, it could have been a masterpiece.

5% gave negative reviews, questioning the film’s logic—how did the cellphone and flashlight end up in the coffin with her? It didn’t make sense to them.

Professional film critics from The Hollywood Reporter, Variety, and other industry publications provided balanced yet favorable reviews.

90% of critics rated Buried Alive at least five stars.

They praised it as an exceptionally bold experimental film with an innovative narrative structure and gripping storytelling. The film tackled profound themes, exploring marriage, gender dynamics, and societal discrimination—touching on highly sensitive contemporary issues.

Nicole Kidman’s performance was also noted as a step up from her usual roles. Though still considered a “pretty face,” she demonstrated tremendous potential and versatility through this character.

Director Link, however, received even more accolades. Critics marveled at how, with such limited funding and wearing multiple hats in production, he managed to showcase his extraordinary talent so vividly.

With the backing of media and critics, Buried Alive grossed $3.37 million in its first week in under 100 theaters, ranking #11 at the weekly box office—an incredible feat for February’s typically slow season.

A film made for under $100,000 earning $3.37 million in its opening week—a 37x return on investment.

It wasn’t just a success—it was staggering.

Hollywood insiders were left in disbelief.

The American media quickly crowned Buried Alive as “the biggest sleeper hit of the year.”

As media buzz intensified, the box office continued to soar.

By its fourth week, Buried Alive had grossed $30.81 million, marking a mind-blowing 300:1 return on investment.

Link and Buried Alive became household names in the global film industry.

The media hailed him as:

“The most promising new-generation director.”

“The most talented emerging filmmaker.”

“A frontrunner for the next Academy Awards’ Best Director.”

Meanwhile, Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs, which opened around the same time, only grossed $330,000 in its first week and was projected to earn less than $2 million in total.

“Link, you won.”

Quentin’s voice was laced with frustration over the phone.

“Quentin, don’t be discouraged. Reservoir Dogs is great too.”

Link chuckled.

“Hmph, I don’t need your pity. I’ll beat you next time.”

Quentin huffed.

After the fourth week’s box office numbers were released, Harvey personally visited Link and handed him three things: