United Artists, West Beverly Drive.
Janet Morris met James in her office, a small corner space stacked with folders and scripts. She was polite but brisk, a woman who didn't waste time.
James nodded. "Appreciate you taking the time."
Janet Morris glanced at the one-sheet, then leaned back. "United Artists can offer between one-point-five and two million for outright purchase.That's the number I can put forward."
She looked across the desk at James. "That's our standard. If you've got something in mind, say it now."
James leaned forward. "Not selling. Distribution only. You put up the prints and advertising, you take forty percent of the producer's share, I keep sixty. It limits your risk and keeps the upside open."
Janet gave him a faint smile, but shook her head. "I'm acquisitions, James. Even getting approval to float two million was a stretch. Distribution-only isn't something I can carry upstairs. I'm sorry."
James held her gaze. "So it's a no."
"A polite one," she said. "You've got talent, and the doors here will stay open. But this isn't a fit."
Avco Embassy Pictures, Wilshire Boulevard.
Robert Feldman, head of distribution, didn't bother with pleasantries. jacket off, cigarette in hand.
"Cut through it, Rowan. I like the picture. Embassy will buy it. Million flat. Today. I've got the authority to sign."
James folded his arms. "I'm not selling it outright."
Feldman laughed, smoke curling from his lips. "Kid, that's the whole game. We buy it, we own it, we run it. You get your check, we get the rest."
James laid out his model again, steady and calm. "Distribution-only. You risk marketing and prints. you take forty percent of producer's share. Safer for you, better for me."
Feldman stubbed out the cigarette with a hard twist. "You're green if you think majors will go for that. Nobody gives away screens without owning the film. A million cash is clean. Don't be stupid."
James shook his head. "Not stupid. Just not desperate."
For a second, Feldman looked at him, almost amused. Then he shrugged into his jacket. "Your loss. But when the other doors close, remember who offered you real money."
Paramount Pictures, Melrose Avenue
James sat across from Allen Silver and Richard Kline.
Allen spoke first. "Paramount would be in the two-million range for acquisition. Straight buy."
James nodded slowly. "I understand. But I'm not here to sell the picture."
Kline raised an eyebrow. "Then what are you here for?"
"A distribution-only deal," James said. "You handle release. I keep ownership. You cap marketing spend so it doesn't balloon out of reach. In return, I give up 40% of producer share of box office profits as distribution fee.
Allen glanced at Kline, then back at James. "That's not our usual business."
James leaned forward. "Look at it this way. If you buy it outright for, say, two million, then throw in another two or three on distribution and prints, you're in for five before a ticket is sold. To break even, you need ten million gross. That's pressure.
"My model? You don't buy it. You only risk what you'd spend on prints and advertising. If it bombs, your loss is capped. If it hits, we both profit. And Paramount hasn't risked a dime on acquisition."
For a long moment, neither man spoke.
Allen finally said, "Not our standard. But I'll take it upstairs. Can't promise anything."
"That's all I ask," James replied.
James sat behind his desk, a half-drunk coffee cooling at his elbow. Linda sat on the edge of her chair opposite him, flipping her pencil between her fingers.
"You think they'll actually take it?" she asked finally. "Distribution only? Don't they usually just buy you out and shelve you if they don't care?"
James gave a thin smile. "Normally yeah but this isn't a a space opera, It's a cheap horror movie. Sequels are rare. Exorcist II barely made its money back, and that was four years after the first. Texas Chainsaw Massacre? Still no sequel.
Linda blowing her hot coffee. "So, no copyright, no sequel rights or upward revenue stream doesn't that make them hesitate?"
"Not really," James said. He leaned back in his chair, arms folded. "They already push dozens of small films every year. Half lose money. With my deal, they cut out the acquisition cost. No risk beyond advertising and prints. If it flops, they shrug and still get first dips on box office profits to limit their losses. If it's a hit, they still pocket forty percent. That's free money to them."
Linda tapped her pencil against her notebook. "And the terms you came up with them?"
James nodded. "I gave it to them but think about it. Once a major accepts this model, what stops them from running it with every young independent desperate to see their name on the big screen."
"They'll dangle screens, slap on invisible marketing fee and distribution costs, and skim forty percent while the filmmaker thinks they're partners. It's a trap but it's my trap."
Linda looked down frowning. "So they'll try to box you in."
James's smiled. "That's why I hired a lawyer from Latham & Watkins. One of their lawyers will be at the table. Paramount's legal team will lace the contract with pitfalls but I know most of them as I proposed the terms first."
She sat back. "You sound… sure."
"I'm not sure," James corrected. "But the odds are better than people think. Studios don't mind gambling when the buy-in is this cheap."
The office fell quiet for a moment. Linda tapped her pencil once more, then set it down. "Then I guess all we do now is wait for the call."
Paramount Headquarters, Melrose Avenue.
James sat in the outer office, Beside him, his lawyer, Martin Feldstein of Latham & Watkins,
Neither spoke.
The receptionist finally waved them in.
Inside, the conference room waiting there were Frank Mancuso Sr., head of distribution, Richard Kline from acquisitions, and another man James didn't recognize. Lawyer judging by the stack of papers in front of him.
"Mr. Rowan," Mancuso said, rising briefly to shake hands. His grip was firm, his tone casual. "Frank Mancuso. Thanks for coming down."
"Appreciate the time," James said, They all sat.
Mancuso leaned back. "So. this deal of yours… it's unusual."
Kline interjected, "So, why should Paramount tie up prints and advertising on a film we don't own? No sequel rights, no television package, no library value."
James glanced briefly at Feldstein, then back at them. "Because your risk is low. You're not fronting acquisition costs. If the film underperforms, you write off the campaign and move on.
If it is a hit, you still collect forty percent of the gross share. And you've done it without sinking millions into ownership."
Bloom, the lawyer, tapped his pen. "Which leaves you holding copyright and any future revenue streams."
"Correct," James said. "But look at the type of film this is. No merchandise. No sequel guarantee. It lives and dies at the box office. That's the upside and the limit."
For a moment, there was silence. Feldstein reached into his stack of papers and slid a clean page across the table, his pen tapping lightly against the margin.
"Here's what we're offering," he said.
Mancuso adjusted his glasses, reading as Feldstein spoke.
"Marketing and distribution costs are capped," Feldstein explained. "Paramount recoups those first."
James leaned in. "After that, you take forty percent of the producer's share of profits as your distribution fee."
Kline raised a brow. "Forty off the top?"
"No," Feldstein cut in smoothly. "Not off the top. Expenses come first. Only after recoup does the split apply."
James added, steady: "Ownership stays with me. The film doesn't leave my hands."
Mancuso's eyes flicked back to the page. "Payments?"
"Producer's share delivered in full by six months of film release in theatre," Feldstein said, "Clean accounting."
James tapped the last line. "And you get first right of preference on overseas. If you want Europe or Asia, you get the first look."
Mancuso folded the page once, then twice, setting it carefully on the table in front of him.
Mancuso looked at it, then gave a short nod. "Small outlay, controlled risk. And if it works… well, we've opened a new path."
Kline wasn't smiling. "You understand, if this goes through, others will come knocking with the same pitch."
James smiling said."Then you'll have more films to make money on, Doesn't sound like a bad problem."
Mancuso finally stood, extending his hand again. "Alright. We'll draft papers, see if we can make it work. No promises until legal signs off."
James shook firmly. "Fair enough."