Sundance Film Festival

Utah, Park City—a famous ski resort where you could attend a film festival while enjoying the thrill of skiing!

Unfortunately, Aaron Anderson had neither the money nor the mood to enjoy skiing or hot springs.

On the frigid streets of Park City, Aaron tightened his scarf and wool coat, breathed out a cloud of white vapor, and kept scanning the posters outside every theater for films he recognized.

"Come on, Bob. Let's head back to the hotel and rest for a while. We can come out again later."

"Harvey, did you call women to the hotel again?"

"Ah, hahaha! What's the point of coming here without women?"

Two fat men approached from the other direction and brushed past Aaron...

For three straight days, Aaron had visited nearly every theater and outdoor screening venue in Park City, yet he still hadn't found a single film he recognized!

At noon that day, Aaron came near a newly opened cinema. Holding a cup of Starbucks coffee, he stood before a simple poster.

"Sex, Lies, and Videotape!" Aaron finally smiled. He hadn't expected to find something before the closing ceremony at last.

This was a Cannes Palme d'Or winner, one of the landmark works representing the rise of independent cinema in Hollywood.

He immediately bought a ticket and entered the theater to watch this independent film, a typical American art-house movie vastly different from Hollywood's commercial formula!

The film told the story of John Millaney, the head of a middle-class household, taking in his old friend Graham, who loved photography. Graham used a video camera to document some of the family's private affairs, setting off a series of disturbances.

Infidelity, desire, privacy, sex, voyeurism, and psychological flaws—it covered a great deal!

The title contained the word "sex," but the plot did not use sex to grab attention. Sex was perhaps merely a gimmick.

There were four main characters: a middle-class married couple, the husband's old friend, and the wife's younger sister.

With seven or eight settings and a great deal of dialogue, it portrayed the family life, marriage, and extramarital affairs of middle-aged people in a highly distinctive way.

The director, Steven Soderbergh, was only twenty-six this year. Sex, Lies, and Videotape was quite compelling and had drawn the attention of many people.

After all, the independent film circle greatly admired this kind of anti-Hollywood approach.

That afternoon, Aaron met Steven Soderbergh at a café near the cinema.

"Hello, I'm Aaron Anderson, an agent with CAA." Aaron shook the man's hand and handed him a business card.

"Mm, it's a good film."

"Thank you." Steven Soderbergh smiled and sat down as well. "Such a young agent really is surprising."

"A director as young as you is even more surprising!"

"Aaron, do you want to sign me?" Steven Soderbergh asked with a smile.

"Of course, I do," Aaron admitted directly. "But with Sex, Lies, and Videotape out now, I'm sure you won't be short of people pursuing you."

"So rather than stand here making empty promises, I think I need to show you some results first. That would be more convincing."

Steven Soderbergh was intrigued. "What do you mean?"

"This film may have received some good responses, but there probably aren't any distributors asking about the price yet, right?" Aaron asked.

Steven Soderbergh shrugged. "The closing ceremony isn't until tomorrow. The Sundance Film Festival will announce some award-winning works then."

Aaron nodded. "True. Award-winning films might indeed catch someone's eye and make it into theaters."

"Two hundred thousand? Three hundred thousand dollars? The Sundance Film Festival hasn't produced any famous works in recent years. There aren't many distribution companies it can attract."

Steven Soderbergh understood that, of course. He was young, but not naïve. "Aaron, just tell me what you have in mind. I wrote the script for Sex, Lies, and Videotape in two weeks, shot it in two weeks, and edited it in three."

"It cost 1.2 million dollars. I know it'll be hard to draw the attention of distributors. There are no action car chases or scenes of men and women making love."

Aaron smiled. Young people really couldn't keep their composure.

Then he spoke slowly. "I'm confident I can sell Sex, Lies, and Videotape for a price beyond anything you can imagine!"

"Mm, and why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm an agent with CAA, and this can count as a test before I sign you." Aaron Anderson shrugged. "At worst, you'll waste two or three days. Isn't it good to have someone deal with those harsh distributors for you?"

"Even if I fail, you won't lose anything, will you?"

Aaron Anderson sat in his chair looking utterly calm and completely confident, leaving Steven Soderbergh at a loss.

"You mean you'll promote it for me for free?"

Aaron raised his eyes at him. "What are you thinking? If I offered to help for free, would you dare use me?"

"I'll take a ten percent commission. That's the rate the company generally charges artists, unless you're a major star, in which case it might be lower."

"You haven't signed with CAA yet, so that commission will be mine to earn!"

"I see." Steven Soderbergh breathed a sigh of relief. Still, why was the man in front of him so confident?

"I agree, but the final decision remains mine!"

Aaron nodded. "Of course. I'm only your representative. The film is yours."

"Fine. I'll come find you tomorrow. If anyone wants to talk to you about the distribution rights, just send them to me." Aaron stood as he spoke, ready to leave and return to the hotel.

"Okay. Negotiations really aren't my strong suit." Steven Soderbergh nodded as well. Having someone handle this would save him trouble in the end.

The only thing that worried him was that Aaron Anderson was far too young, though his identity as a CAA agent could not be fake.

Aaron patted him on the shoulder. "I'll give you a surprise when the time comes. Don't worry. Go enjoy the Sundance Film Festival's closing ceremony—Robert Redford and the others will be attending!"

"All right, then I'll trouble you with it." Steven Soderbergh really did need to attend the closing ceremony. He hoped the film would receive recognition from the Sundance Film Festival, which would make it easier to sell the distribution rights.

Steven Soderbergh naturally did not fully trust Aaron Anderson, but the final decision was in his own hands. The price at which the film would be sold was still up to him.

After all, he was worried that Aaron Anderson might sell it off for next to nothing.