Two days later. Beverly Hills, Los Angeles.
John William stood in front of the new Creative Artists Agency (CAA) headquarters at 9830 Wilshire Boulevard. The building, designed by I.M. Pei, had only opened recently, but it already stood as a fortress of solitude in the entertainment industry.
Looking at the imposing structure, John's eyes narrowed slightly as memories from his future life as Alex surged, analyzing the giant before him.
In 1991, if there was a "King" of Hollywood, it wasn't a studio executive or a famous director. It was Michael Ovitz, the president of CAA.
John knew the history well. In 1975, five agents left the William Morris Agency with practically nothing and formed CAA. In less than two decades, they had turned the industry upside down. They didn't just find jobs for actors; they invented the "Package."
'The Package,' John thought, adjusting his cheap collar. 'That is the real weapon.'
In the past, agents took 10% of an actor's salary. But CAA changed the game. They would bundle a star actor, a famous director, and a top screenwriter—all signed to CAA—and sell the entire project to a movie studio as a "package." This allowed the agency to take a massive cut of the film's budget and backend profits, bypassing the studios' control.
Currently, CAA had signed almost every major star in the sky: Tom Cruise, Dustin Hoffman, Madonna, Kevin Costner. They controlled the flow of talent.
However, John knew that even an empire like CAA had a hunger. They had plenty of actors and writers, but they were always thirsty for directors. A director was the glue of a "package." Without a capable director to execute the vision, the package couldn't be sold to the studios.
This was his leverage.
John took a deep breath and walked into the lobby. He wasn't here to see Michael Ovitz—he wasn't qualified for that yet. He was here to see Morris, the junior agent who had signed the original John William.
...
In a small, cramped office on the lower floor of the agency, Morris rubbed his temples. His desk was piled high with rejection letters and mediocre scripts.
Morris was a "bottom-feeder" at CAA. In a company that prided itself on dressing in Armani suits and managing global superstars, Morris was struggling to keep his employment. He had signed John William a few months ago because the kid was a hotshot at USC, a "genius" according to the professors.
But in Hollywood, "genius" is a cheap word. If you don't make money, you are trash.
'If I don't get a project off the ground this quarter, I'm done,' Morris thought bitterly. 'I need a hit. I need someone hungry.'
Just then, the door opened.
"Hello, Morris."
Morris looked up and saw John. The young man looked different than he remembered. The hesitation and collegiate shyness were gone. In their place was a calm, almost predatory confidence.
"John," Morris forced a smile, gesturing to the chair. "I heard about what happened with Sara. Rough break."
"It doesn't matter," John waved it off as he sat down. He didn't come here to talk about feelings. He placed a bound document on the desk. "I'm here to talk about business."
Morris looked at the document. It wasn't just a script; it was a complete project proposal.
"What is this?" Morris asked, picking it up.
"A horror movie," John said directly. "Low budget. Single location. High concept."
Morris raised an eyebrow. He expected an "art film" about feelings or society—the kind of thing film students usually wrote to win awards but lost money. He flipped open the script.
Title: SAW
Morris began to read. He skipped the dialogue and looked at the structure. He looked at the setting: a dilapidated bathroom. He looked at the character breakdown: minimal cast.
As he read, Morris's internal calculator started ticking.
'One location means low rental costs. Few actors mean low salary costs. But the hook... two men chained to pipes, a dead body in the middle, and a saw.'
It was visceral. It was violent. But more importantly, to Morris's eyes, it looked like profit.
Morris looked up at John, hiding his excitement. "This... is very commercial."
"Hollywood is a business, Morris," John said, leaning forward. "I don't want to make a movie that sits in a library. I want to make a movie that screams at the box office. The budget is under $100,000. If we execute this right, the return on investment could be fifty times that."
Morris felt his heart beat faster. He was looking for a lifeline, and this kid just handed him a golden rope.
Morris knew his position at CAA was precarious. The senior agents hoarded the big directors like Spielberg or Scorsese. Morris couldn't touch them. To climb the ladder, to get out of this tiny office, he needed to discover his own star. He needed to build his own "package."
If John could pull this off, Morris would be the agent of a profitable commercial director.
"The concept is solid," Morris said, closing the script but keeping his hand on it. "It fits the market. Lionsgate and New Line are looking for edge. But John, you're a student. Directing a feature is different from a short film."
"That's why I need you," John said smoothly. "I have the script, the storyboard, and the vision. I need you to get the meeting. You need a director who can deliver a finished product under budget. I am that director."
John watched Morris's eyes. He knew he had him.
John's inner thoughts analyzed the situation cold-bloodedly. 'CAA needs directors to complete their packages. They have a surplus of actors waiting for work. If I can prove I am a director who can turn a small amount of money into a big hit, CAA will eventually put their resources behind me. But for now, I just need Morris to be hungry.'
Morris nodded slowly. He tapped the script.
"Okay, John," Morris said, a genuine grin finally breaking onto his face. "Let's sell this nightmare."