Arizona.
South of Phoenix, the small town of Coolidge.
The date was February 3.
At two in the afternoon, Kathryn Bigelow stood in front of the motel where the crew was staying, watching a black Chevrolet SUV approach dustily from down the street. When the car stopped, she instinctively stepped forward.
Simon pushed open the door and got out, eyeing the woman in a fitted black wool sweater and jeans before opening his arms for a hug. "You look even more striking in black."
Kathryn shot Simon a mildly reproachful glare, then said, "I heard about yesterday's news in The Hollywood Reporter. Is it really okay for you to come running over like this?"
"Of course—everything's basically wrapped up; now it's just waiting for release. Besides, I think I should step away for a bit. Some things can't be overdone."
Kathryn nodded vaguely in understanding and gestured behind her. "I've got a room ready for you. Have you had lunch?"
Simon shook his head with a smile. "Nope—rushed over hoping you'd treat me."
Kathryn rolled her eyes again, pointing across the street not far away. "Let's go there; there's a restaurant."
They crossed the small town's wide asphalt road. Simon scanned the nearly deserted streets, recalling the endless Gobi desert flanking the interstate on his drive here, and sighed, "This place is really empty."
"Coolidge has about six thousand people—that's plenty," Kathryn said, walking beside him. Then she added, "Weren't you planning to work with Fox? How'd it end up with Orion?"
"Couldn't agree on terms," Simon replied with a hint of helplessness. "Orion was easier to talk to."
Kathryn nodded understandingly and asked, "What terms did Orion offer?"
Reaching the restaurant, Simon casually held the door for her and continued, "They only took North American theatrical rights for now, with priority on other channels. Our share is 15%."
Kathryn stepped inside, surprised. "15%—that's pretty good."
Hollywood studios with distribution channels were very dominant. For handling a film's release—covering promotion, distribution, commissions, etc.—they typically took over 30% of the box office.
On top of that, due to lower attendance and such, non-mainstream art films generally got a lower cut from theaters, some even less than 30%.
Combining the two, Simon securing 15% for a low-budget film like Run Lola Run impressed Kathryn a bit.
They sat at a table; Simon ordered lunch and had the waiter bring a pot of coffee before explaining, "It's not as good as you think—conditional. We cover print costs. Plus, I signed a packaged writer-director deal with Orion."
To get that 15%, Simon and Mike Medavoy had haggled all Saturday, nearly down to decimals.
Even the add-ons involved tug-of-war.
Mike Medavoy figured if Simon covered prints, he should pay upfront. Simon couldn't afford it now, so no way—Orion advanced it, to deduct from shares later.
As for the package, Mike first eyed Final Destination, offering $500,000.
$300,000 directing fee, $200,000 for the script. Though not in the directors' or writers' guilds, by industry norm, Simon got similar profit participation.
Final Destination had caught Fox's eye, but they awaited Butterfly Effect's response, no offer yet. Per Simon's Fox contract exception, directing it himself for Orion was fine.
But Simon had zero interest in directing it, preferring a blank deal—no details yet, discuss when he had a script.
Mike Medavoy wouldn't agree, naturally.
They compromised: Simon signed blank for $500,000 base, retaining right to renegotiate participation.
In the restaurant, Kathryn cradled her coffee, listening to Simon recount his 'battle of wits' with Mike Medavoy, smiling. "$500,000—what's to complain about? I only got $150,000."
Simon pulled back his arm from the table for the waiter to set down lunch, picked up utensils, tasted the pasta. "When I have money, I'll give you a blank contract—fill in whatever budget, salary you want."
Kathryn averted her gaze from Simon. "I don't need your money."
"Then I'll help you pull investments later."
"I can do that myself."
Simon nodded quickly. "Oh, right."
Kathryn watched Simon start eating, pursed her lips. "You... you think I can't make good films?"
Simon shook his head immediately. "Of course not—I believe you'll be the first woman to win Oscar for Best Director."
But Kathryn kept staring, unconvinced, insisting, "You do think I can't make good films."
Simon hadn't expected her intuition so sharp—wished he could swallow those words.
Lifting his head again, he met Kathryn's eyes seriously. "No one's born walking, right? So even if you're not great now, you'll definitely get good later."
Meeting Simon's gaze again, Kathryn suddenly felt she'd been acting like a petulant girl.
God, she must be crazy.
She lifted her coffee cup, lowered her eyelids for a sip, sneaking a glance. Seeing Simon resume eating, she relaxed.
After a silent moment, Kathryn restarted conversation softly. "So, how many opening screens is Orion giving Run Lola Run?"
Simon acted as if forgetting the exchange. "About 200—for two weeks, that's all we could get, and only because it's off-season. Plus, mostly West Coast; East Coast just some test screenings in New York."
1980s media wasn't as advanced. Current buzz on Simon and Run Lola Run centered in Los Angeles Times-reachable West Coast states.
So Orion focused promo there.
200 screens exceeded Simon's expectations.
In an era when even Star Wars opened on 1000, he couldn't expect more—even with majors, maybe 300-400, but no 15% share or retained ancillary rights.
After simple lunch, Simon and Kathryn left. He asked about Near Dark: "What's your shooting schedule?"
"Next month all night shoots—six PM to two AM," Kathryn said as they crossed back. Pausing, she added suddenly, "You... don't say those things to me anymore."
Simon played dumb. "What?"
Kathryn didn't look at him, threatening mildly. "Or I'll tell Janet."
Simon raised a hand instantly. "Okay, I promise."
Hearing his insincere tone, Kathryn just glared reproachfully.
Back at the motel, Kathryn settled Simon in his room, introduced key Near Dark crew.
Lead Adrian Pasdar—coincidentally Jonathan Friedman's client. Female lead Jenny Wright, short-haired baby-face—pretty, but pure vibe, lacking vampire chill and allure.
Simon met producer Edward Feldman, fifties guy. Aware of recent Hollywood buzz, he was polite, no issue with mid-shoot join, personally signed employment contract.
After mingling, from evening, Simon integrated into crew work.
His role: assistant director. Regular production, decent pay—$500/week. But Simon was helping, didn't care about money.
As Simon went nocturnal in Arizona, back in L.A., Run Lola Run promo ramped up.
Orion had qualms about his abrupt departure but didn't demand return.
Unnecessary.
Simon prepped posters, trailers before leaving; no premiere planned.
Orion handled theaters, posters, and week-before-release TV spots in L.A., San Francisco, San Diego, etc.
Seemingly simple, but without experience/connections, a startup couldn't manage.
Orion's two-week distro spend hit $500,000 easily—even with prints on Simon.
Run Lola Run's ~200 prints cost ~$150,000.
Highlighting film era release expense—why many low-budgets skipped theaters for video.
With tight schedule and Orion's apt promo, from media buzz rise to release, discussion stayed highly active.
Thus to February 13, Friday.
Run Lola Run finally opened on 207 screens in West Coast cities and New York tests.
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