Hollywood Director 1992

[Chapter 7: Quentin]

Link returned to his apartment complex as dusk settled in.

The sun hung low over the western horizon, casting its light on the tall buildings of the residential area, revealing weathered exteriors, chaotic graffiti, and balconies with all kinds of underwear hung on them clearly visible.

Link used his thumb and forefinger as a camera lens, framing the sunset, the high-rises, a man urinating in the corner, and a mysterious woman dancing on a balcony.

These scenes were commonplace in daily life, but when combined with other plots on the big screen, they produced a different effect -- the essence of cinematic language.

The director's job was to tell a story through the lens, conveying tragedy, comedy, thriller, suspense, or action to the audience through visuals and sound.

While skilled directors mastered the art of using the camera, weaving compelling, emotional narratives, poor directors struggled to tell a coherent story, sounding stuttered and nonsensical, like a confused elementary student.

Link was not a distinguished director; he was just an old director who had worked in the entertainment industry for many years, barely making a living, and wanted to be successful but couldn't find the right path. 

However, after being reborn, he had become a 20-year-old, affording him more time and opportunities to tell new stories and make many films.

With the help of his system and future knowledge, he could break through his limits and journey further on the road of directing.

Reflecting on this now, he realized that his mood was no longer the urgent and anxious state it used to be in -- he felt lighter, almost like a carefree young person.

In this relaxed state, his thoughts cleared. He recognized how hastily he had been moving forward, desperately seeking success and a change in his life situation, which led to unnecessary struggles.

Had he awakened from his stupor last year and taken the time to apply for positions as a cinematographer, assistant director, or production assistant, he would have progressed step-by-step.

Once he had earned his first "bucket of gold," his preparation for his film, Buried, would have been of better quality.

Now, however, he had gone all in, a pawn crossing the board, compelled to push forward with determination.

....

As Link returned beneath Building 13, he noticed a moving truck parked in front of an opposite apartment complex, where a group of people were assisting with the move. Some furniture went onto the truck, while other pieces were left by the roadside for anyone in need.

Among the movers, Chris Barnes stood out, carrying a large sofa by himself while others lifted smaller items in pairs.

"Link, do you want this big sofa? It'd fit perfectly in your room," Chris set down the black leather sofa and called out.

"No thanks, too much furniture. It'll just complicate the next move," Link replied.

"It's a shame to throw it away. I'll move it back later. It should be very comfortable to sleep on it in the summer," Chris said as he jumped onto it and bounced around.

Link had no intention of helping or sticking around to watch. Just as he turned to leave, he spotted Quentin Tarantino stepping outside, accompanied by his friends Roger Avary and Lawrence Bender.

The former was the writer of Reservoir Dogs, with Lawrence serving as both the producer of the film and Tarantino's collaborator on many future projects.

...

"Quentin, I heard you're moving into a big villa? Congratulations!" Link approached him.

"Ha! Not quite, just rented a larger apartment over in Beverly Hills," Quentin chuckled, which made his cheek muscles flex dramatically and gave his face a fierce look.

"Given your talent, it's only a matter of time before you buy that villa," Link remarked.

"Absolutely, Quentin. Soon enough, you'll be a millionaire living in a villa, dating beautiful women, racing sports cars. Wow, what a life!" one of the men assisting with the moving called out.

"Man, I wish I were that lucky," said another.

Quentin grinned but didn't respond directly, pulling out a few bills and handing them to Chris to grab some beers as a thank-you for helping with the move.

"Quentin! Quentin!" some of the group shouted excitedly.

When Link saw Quentin preparing to leave, he stepped forward to bring up the distribution of Buried, asking if Quentin could introduce him to Harvey Weinstein or another distributor from the film industry.

Quentin hesitated a moment, then placed a hand on Link's shoulder and said, "Link, you're undeniably talented. To take the plunge and invest in a film just a few months after being on set -- the fact that you completed a coherent, well-structured movie within a month is quite impressive, even I couldn't manage that.

However, your film's shortcomings are apparent: one person per scene, which makes it too monotonous. Those factors limit your film's market potential. I've spoken to Harvey about your project, and he shares the same concerns. You have potential as a director, and if you're willing to work with my crew, I'd warmly welcome you. I hope you consider it."

Quentin stood taller than Link, speaking softly as he rested his palm on Link's shoulder, which caught the attention of onlookers who were puzzled by Quentin's visible fondness for Link.

"Alright, you're right; I understand these issues. But I'm pretty stubborn and want to try more. If Buried flops, I might come running to you, hoping you'll throw me a lifeline."

"Ha! No problem, I'll always welcome you whenever you decide to come," Quentin replied.

Just then, Lawrence Bender pulled up in a Mercedes sedan.

Quentin glanced back, nodded at Link and the others, and walked to the car with his briefcase.

...

The sedan drove off, leaving behind the chaotic scene of the low-cost apartment complex, along with a group of envious young men and women and a plethora of abandoned furniture along the curb.

"Beers are here! Anyone want some?" Chris called out as he staggered over with two large packs of beer.

"Sure, free beer is too good to pass up."

"We have beer and a sofa. Let's invite more folks and throw a party, what do you think?"

"That's a great idea!"

Everyone dived into party preparations.

"Link, you're not joining the party?" Chris asked as Link indicated his intention to leave, clutching a can of beer.

"You all have fun; I've had a long day and need some rest," Link replied, shaking out his sore arms as he walked into Building 13.

Unfortunately, he ran into the apartment manager at the door.

Lucy, the manager, reminded him that he was two months behind on rent. If he didn't pay by the 15th of next month, they would have to reclaim the apartment.

Link assured her he would clear the rent by the 15th.

*****

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