The office lights of FunTime Films' Burbank studio were aglow well into the nights of February. Bob and Sky Wilson, Harry's favorite script-writing team, had been in the world of The Providence Ritual for days. The room smelled of stale coffee and new printer ink. Yellow Post-its covered the white board, and various narrative beats were written in black marker, some scratched down in frustration.
Bob looked up from his script and adjusted his glasses. "The problem is Act Two drags. He finds the symbols; he finds the tunnels; he finds the suicides, but there's no emotional punch-line."
Sky leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen on his chin. "Maybe he needs a more personal connection to the secret society. What if his father was involved?"
"That's too cliche." said Harry from the far side of the room, arms crossed and voice low and tired after yet another Fox TV meeting. "We need something that's more shocking. What if the journalist discovers that the town has been waiting for him--like he's part of the prophecy?"
Bob nodded slowly. "You're going full Lovecraft."
"I'm going full paranoia," Harry said, smiling tiredly. "Paranoia is cinematic."
Meanwhile, downstairs, Lisa was fielding yet another call from Fox's festival liaisons. Memento had made it to the Berlin International Film Festival.
The Nolans were already there. Gregory, the co-producer Harry entrusted to take on much of the logistics, had sent him a note that morning: "Crowds are good. Critics are curious. Get here."
Harry didn't hesitate. Twenty-four hours later he was on a plane to Germany wrapped in a long grey overcoat, his breath fogging in Berlin's cold winter air. The city was still coldly in the spirit of early 2002; it was calmness with curiosity. Berlin's film industry was serious, not about glamour but about art, ideas, disruption. Exactly what Memento represented.
In the Berlinale Palast Harry sat in the second row with brothers Christopher and Jonathan Nolan, while Gregory was seated a few rows further down. The audience was older, subdued. There were no screaming fans.
The lights went down.
Harry did not have to look at the screen. He had already viewed the final cut at least ten times. Instead, he looked at the audience. They leaned in—silent, still, engaged with the non-linear structure, the backtracking narrative, Leonard's frantic quest for truth. There were gasps when the story flipped, when meaning changed mid-scene. One woman in the third-row began crying, near the end. Another man shaking his head in disbelief.
When the credits rolled, there was a moment of stunned silence. Then the clapping began. Not Hollywood-style clapping—no whoots, no standing ovations—but steady, rhythmic clapping. Clapping with meaning and a touch of reverence.
Later that night, in the bar at Hotel Adlon, Harry toasted with Christopher Nolan, a newly-formed friend and collaborator.
"You were right about Berlin," Nolan said, clinking his glass with Harry's.
Harry smiled. "It's Europe. They are into stories that confuse them."
"You think that'll help us in the States?"
"Already has," Harry said, "Fox is now working on their release strategy: March rollout; college towns; art-house chains; critics' darlings. We'll build it, brick by brick."
Two nights later, Nolan was awarded the Silver Bear for Best Direction in Memento. Nolan went up to accept it with Harry backstage crossing his arms and nodding. The press whispered "The American producer behind that mind-bending film."
Back in Los Angeles, Fox's domestic distribution team was firing up their action plans. In a meeting room in Century City, Harry sat across the table from several executives.
"We're thinking limited theatrical to start," another added. "Build momentum from the buzz coming out of Berlin."
Harry nodded. "Do the LA and New York runs first. Then push it in college towns. It's the kind of film that spreads through late-night dorm conversations."
Everyone agreed.
On the flight home, Harry looked out the window and up at the sky; he thought of The Providence Ritual. It seemed almost ready for the drafts to be complete as the Wilsons were doing their near-final drafts. He already had Jonathan Nolan involved for structural work and punch-ups.