Chapter 49: The Musician

[Chapter 49: The Musician]

It was noon, and the sun shone brightly over the small garden behind the villa, where flowers were in full bloom. There were white camellias, vivid red poppies, and pale purple lavenders all competing for attention.

Link ordered a large spread of Mexican food from the restaurant next door, inviting Quentin Tarantino, Steven Soderbergh, and their crew to dine in the yard.

"Link, what kind of movie are you making? A romance or a drama?" Quentin asked, chomping on a pork chop, grease glistening on his chin.

"A horror movie."

"Horror movie? Come on, are you kidding? I watched it for a bit, and I didn't find it scary at all. Who are you trying to frighten?" he replied, waving his hand dismissively.

"Quentin, just stop. We've only seen a small part of it. Without understanding the entire plot or what Link has in mind, it's best not to jump to conclusions," said the bald Steven Soderbergh.

"I just don't want to see Link go down the wrong path. Okay, okay, enough about your movie. Link, did you hear there's a hot new director making waves? His name's Robert Rodriguez, and he's from Texas."

"He's not just from Texas; he's a Mexican-American. He films in Mexico," Steven corrected, taking a sip of his drink.

"Do you know how much he made his last film for?" Quentin asked, intrigued.

"How much?"

"Seven thousand dollars! Just seven grand! A little over ten grand less than your film, and do you know how he made that seven grand? Ha! He offered himself as a guinea pig for a cholesterol drug study to get the budget and wrote the script while stuck in a lab."

"Last week, he came to Hollywood looking for a distributor, just like you did back then. If it had been three or four months ago, no studio would have taken him seriously, but after your huge success with your film, a lot of studio heads feel regretful.

Now that there were filmmakers actually coming to them for collaborations, the studios had become much more polite. They treated every visiting director seriously and were watching their films closely.

As long as the work was polished and showed some promise, they would likely make an offer.

So Robert Rodriguez took his video tape to Columbia Pictures. After they screened the film, they found it acceptable and immediately offered him a deal, purchasing the distribution rights for $70,000, planning to release it after the summer.

Rumor had it that this film had significant box office potential and that Robert Rodriguez was a promising director."

By the time Quentin finished talking, Link and Steven were nearly done with their barbecue.

"This is great news. It means we're welcoming another promising talent into the independent film scene," Link raised his glass to toast with Quentin and Steven.

Link had heard of Robert Rodriguez, just like Quentin mentioned. They both came from unorthodox backgrounds, gaining fame through low-budget genre films characterized by their unique styles. Notable works included Sin City, From Dusk Till Dawn, Desperado, Alita: Battle Angel, and El Mariachi, among others, with El Mariachi being the movie Quentin referred to that only cost $7,000 to produce.

Robert Rodriguez had collaborated with Quentin on several films, including From Dusk Till Dawn and Sin City.

At that moment, Quentin was unaware of his upcoming collaborator.

"Link, take your filmmaking seriously. The director scene evolves fast, and for folks like us without formal training, if we stray off track, it's hard to regain footing," Quentin advised.

"That's a solid point. I'll keep your words in mind. So, how's your new movie coming along?" Link asked, genuinely curious.

"Can we not talk about the new movie? I'm about at my wits' end."

"Oh? I've read your new script, and it's fantastic! Miramax should be eager to finance your project. What are you worried about?"

"Because of you, Link. You disrupted my plans."

"How so?"

"I thought my Pulp Fiction script was solid, but then I saw your Kill Bill. Kill Bill was just too cool, filled with violent action and classic revenge plots -- everything I've always wanted to do. It felt better than Pulp Fiction! Now I'm contemplating whether to shoot Kill Bill first and push Pulp Fiction back." Quentin stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"I wouldn't recommend that. First off, Kill Bill has a much larger scope, with numerous actors involved. Making a film of that scale necessitates top-notch control. With your current skill set, it might be a stretch.

Second, the budget for Kill Bill is pretty high, around $40 to $50 million, akin to a big production. Before showing solid results, I don't think Miramax will invest in films of that scale."

"Quentin, Link has a point. Start with smaller projects before tackling big productions -- this approach is better for us new directors. You just made your debut this year; don't rush to find success. Being too eager could lead to failure."

Steven Soderbergh wiped his shiny head with a napkin.

During the barbecue, grease splattered on his head, making it shine like a beacon under the San Diego sun.

Monica, sitting next to Link, couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Okay, okay, I'll listen to you guys and start with smaller projects before attempting something bigger."

Quentin Tarantino raised a glass of cold beer and chugged it down, wiping his mouth with his hand, his eyes landing on Monica Bellucci.

"Monica, are you Italian?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm from the town of Castello in Umbria, Italy, a true Italian."

"I'm also Italian, but not very authentically. My Italian dad only passed down the looks and nothing else," Quentin joked.

"Director Tarantino, I disagree. Not only do you have the Italian features, but you also possess the Italian spirit, humor, and artistic flair -- all of which shouldn't be overlooked."

"Ha! Well said. Link, where did you find Monica? She's a stunning beauty with so much charm. I'd need someone just like her for my next film. How about we cast her?" Quentin winked mischievously.

"Let's give it a shot. Monica, this is a great opportunity! You can buy Quentin a few more rounds to secure the role, stopping him from changing his mind later."

"Monica, if you polish off those two cans of beer, should the Pulp Fiction project move forward, I'd be able to give you a shot at the lead role!" Quentin pointed at two big cans of dark beer on the table, chuckling.

"Director Tarantino, no thank you. I've seen your Reservoir Dogs; it's not bad, but compared to Link's Buried, it falls a bit short. I'd prefer to continue working with Link," Monica smiled as she intertwined her arm with Link's.

"Ha! Quentin, here's Link treating you to drinks, and you're trying to take his rose! Isn't that a little prickly?" Steven patted Quentin on the shoulder, laughing.

Quentin's mouth twitched, turning to glare at Steven.

"Alright, alright, no more jokes. Let's keep drinking!" Link declared, raising his beer.

...

After seeing Quentin and Steven off in the afternoon, the crew of Paranormal Activity continued filming.

Since it was a thriller, the intense atmosphere was weakened while Quentin and Steven were around, making the shoot less smooth. Once they left, the vibe in the villa grew quiet again, and the filming proceeded without a hitch.

*****

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