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Chapter 4 - Chapter 4: The First AudienceThe

 email from Lena was short, almost terse: "Picture locked. Sound mix final. Color grade approved. Screening tomorrow. 7 PM. Studio 7."Joshua stared at the screen, a strange mix of dread and exhilaration bubbling in his chest. It was done. Saw was finished. After months of relentless grind, of budget battles and creative clashes, of endless hours in a cold, dusty warehouse and a cramped editing suite, their nightmare was ready to be seen.He arrived at the small screening room, Studio 7, an hour early. It was a modest space, nothing like the plush, state-of-the-art theatres of the major studios, but it had a decent projector and a surprisingly good sound system. He checked the temperature, made sure the seats were comfortable enough, and even arranged for a few boxes of popcorn and some sodas. This was their moment, and he wanted it to be perfect.Soon, the others started to arrive. Marcus Thorne, looking surprisingly clean-shaven and nervous, was first. "This is it, huh?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "The moment of truth."Lena Petrova walked in next, her usual calm demeanor betraying a hint of anticipation in her eyes. "It's good, Marcus," she said, a rare compliment from her. "It's really good."Maya Rodriguez arrived with a stack of legal pads, ever the organized one, but even she seemed to vibrate with a quiet excitement. Leo Maxwell, the DP, ambled in, his usual cigarette replaced by a stick of gum, his gaze already assessing the projection quality. Then came Sarah Jenkins and Adam Miller, the two leads, looking pale but eager. They hadn't seen the final cut, only their individual scenes.The room filled with a nervous energy. Joshua took a seat in the back, next to Maya. He felt a tremor of anxiety. He knew the film was good. He knew its future impact. But seeing it with them, the people who had poured their sweat and tears into it, was different. This was the first real test.The lights dimmed. The Resurrection Films logo, a stark, almost unsettling image of a rising phoenix, flashed on screen. Then, the opening shot of Saw filled the screen, immediately plunging them into the claustrophobic, terrifying world they had created.Joshua watched, not as the producer, but as an audience member. He saw Lena's masterful cuts, building tension with every precise edit. He heard Ben's unsettling sound design, making every creak and groan a symphony of dread. He saw Leo's stark, grimy cinematography, turning mundane spaces into horrifying traps. And he saw Marcus's direction, coaxing raw, visceral performances from Sarah and Adam that were truly chilling.He felt the collective gasps from the small audience. He heard Sarah Jenkins let out a genuine, involuntary whimper during one of her character's most agonizing moments. Adam Miller was leaning forward, his knuckles white as he gripped the armrests. Even Marcus, who had directed every frame, flinched at a particularly effective jump scare.Joshua found himself smiling in the darkness. It was working. All his future knowledge, all his strategic moves, all the relentless pushing, it was all coming to fruition. The film was exactly what he'd envisioned. It was brutal, it was smart, and it was terrifying. There was a moment, during the final, shocking twist, when a collective, audible gasp filled the room, followed by a stunned silence. That was the moment Joshua knew. They had nailed it.When the credits rolled, the room remained silent for a long, pregnant moment. Then, slowly, a smattering of applause began, growing into a genuine, heartfelt ovation. Marcus stood up, turning to face his team, a wide, relieved grin spreading across his face. Lena, usually so composed, had tears in her eyes. Maya was beaming. Leo gave a rare, approving nod.Sarah and Adam, still looking a little shaken, rushed to hug Marcus and Lena, then turned to Joshua. "Mr. Grant," Sarah said, her voice still a little shaky, "it's… it's incredible. Thank you."Joshua felt a warmth spread through him, deeper than any financial gain. This was it. This was the real reward. He had taken a vision, a memory of a future masterpiece, and brought it to life. The film had gone a little over budget, sure, but looking at the faces of his team, seeing their pride and their terror, he knew it was worth every single penny. Saw was ready. The next step, the film festival circuit, was just around the corner. And Joshua Grant, the man who knew the future, was ready to unleash his creation on the world.

The high from the private screening lasted exactly twenty-four hours. Then, the cold, hard reality of Hollywood set in. Making Saw was one thing; getting it seen was another entirely. Joshua knew the film was a masterpiece of terror, a future game-changer, but in 1992, it was just another low-budget indie horror flick from an unknown company called Resurrection Films.

"We need a strategy," Joshua told Marcus and Maya, sitting in his still-sparse Burbank office. Lena was back in her editing suite, making final tweaks to the master copy. "We can't just send it to every studio. They'll laugh us out of town."

Marcus, ever the artist, looked a bit lost in the business talk. "So, film festivals? Sundance? Toronto?"

"Exactly," Joshua confirmed, tapping a pen on his desk. He knew the festival circuit was the traditional path for indie films. It was where buzz was born, where distributors scouted for the next big thing. "We target the ones known for genre films, but also the bigger ones for prestige. We need to get Saw in front of the right eyes, even if it means a lot of rejection letters first."

The process was grueling. Submitting to festivals in 1992 meant printing multiple VHS copies, filling out endless paper applications, and writing compelling synopses that captured the film's essence without giving away its shocking twists. Each submission was a small fee, another chip away at Joshua's carefully managed funds. He felt like he was throwing darts in the dark, even with his future knowledge. He couldn't just tell them it would be a hit; he had to prove it.

Weeks turned into months. Rejection letters piled up, polite but firm. "While we appreciate your submission, Saw does not fit our current programming needs..." Joshua read them, his jaw tight. He knew this was part of the game, but it was still frustrating. He had to remind himself that even future blockbusters had humble, often rejected, beginnings.

Then, a breakthrough. A small, but respected, genre film festival in Austin, Texas, accepted Saw. It wasn't Sundance, but it was a start. A chance to get the film in front of an actual audience, and more importantly, in front of independent distributors who specialized in horror.

Joshua, Marcus, Lena, and Maya flew to Austin. The festival was a whirlwind of screenings, panels, and networking events. Saw was scheduled for a late-night slot, usually reserved for the most extreme or experimental films. Joshua felt a nervous energy as the small theatre filled up. This was it. The first public test.

The screening was electric. The audience, a mix of hardcore horror fans and industry hopefuls, was captivated. They gasped, they screamed, they squirmed. During the final, shocking twist, a collective, audible gasp filled the room, followed by a stunned, almost reverent silence. When the credits rolled, the applause was thunderous, a mix of terror and exhilaration. Joshua saw people talking animatedly as they left, their faces pale but excited.

"They loved it, Joshua!" Marcus exclaimed, his face flushed with triumph. "They really loved it!"

The buzz began almost immediately. Word-of-mouth spread like wildfire through the festival. Bloggers (or rather, early online forum users and fanzine writers in '92) raved. A few small, independent film critics wrote glowing reviews, praising its originality and relentless tension. Suddenly, Joshua's phone, Joshua's landline back in Burbank, started ringing.

The calls were from independent distributors. Small fish, mostly, but they were interested. They saw the potential. Joshua, armed with his knowledge of Saw's future box office success, played it cool. He didn't jump at the first offer. He knew what the film was worth, even if they didn't yet.

"We're looking for a partner who understands the film's vision," Joshua would say, his voice calm and confident, "and who has the reach to get it into as many theatres as possible. We're not just selling a movie; we're selling a franchise." He used terms like "audience engagement" and "viral marketing" (though he had to explain what "viral" meant in a pre-internet context), concepts that were still nascent in 1992. He spoke of future home video sales, of international markets, of merchandise, all things that seemed like pipe dreams for a film of this budget.

Most distributors were skeptical. "A franchise, Mr. Grant? For a horror film with no stars?"

But one company,  New line cinema  a relatively new player in the independent distribution scene, listened. Their representative, a sharp, ambitious woman named Sarah, saw the numbers Joshua presented, the meticulous budget, the clear, undeniable audience reaction. She saw the potential. She understood the hunger for something new in horror.

The negotiations were intense, stretching over weeks. Joshua pushed for a wide theatrical release, not just a straight-to-video deal. He fought for a significant percentage of the gross, not just a flat fee. He leveraged the growing buzz, the positive reviews, the undeniable audience reaction from the festival. He knew Lionsgate was on the cusp of becoming a major player, and he wanted Saw to be their breakout hit.

Finally, after a grueling, all-night session, the deal was struck. New Line Films would distribute Saw. It wasn't a massive studio deal, but it was a solid, independent theatrical release, with a commitment to marketing and a clear path to home video. Joshua signed the contract, his hand steady, a triumphant smile finally breaking through his exhaustion.

He called Marcus, Lena, and Maya immediately. "We did it," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Lionsgate. Theatrical release. Saw is going to be seen."

A collective cheer erupted on the other end of the line. Marcus was yelling, Lena was quietly celebrating, and Maya was already asking for the next set of paperwork. Joshua leaned back in his chair, looking out at the Los Angeles skyline. The city, once a distant dream, was now within his grasp. He had taken a whisper of a future and turned it into a roaring reality. The game, he knew, was just beginning.

The deal with New Line Cinema was signed, sealed, and delivered. Joshua, Marcus, Lena, and Maya watched as Saw's marketing campaign slowly unfurled across Los Angeles. Posters, stark and unsettling, began appearing on bus stops and billboards.

Trailers, cut by Lena with a chilling precision, started playing in cinemas, promising a new kind of horror.

Joshua felt a nervous excitement. He knew the future, yes, but the present was still a nail-biting wait. He'd poured everything into this film, not just money, but his very being.

The release date arrived, a Friday in late October. It wasn't a wide release, not yet, but a respectable number of screens for an an indie horror flick. Joshua spent the day pacing his office, checking the phone every five minutes.

The first numbers started trickling in Saturday morning. They were good. Better than good.

Saw had opened strong, exceeding all expectations for a film of its budget and unknown cast. Word-of-mouth, fueled by the festival buzz, was already spreading like wildfire.

By Monday, the numbers were undeniable. Saw had made a significant splash, pulling in a surprising amount of money for its opening weekend. It wasn't a blockbuster yet, but it was a clear, undeniable hit.

The audience reaction was immediate and intense. People were talking about it. In online forums (the nascent ones of '92), in fanzines, in hushed, excited tones at water coolers.

They were shocked. They were terrified. They were obsessed.

"Did you see Saw?" became the question of the moment. People were leaving cinemas shaken, disturbed, but also exhilarated by the film's originality.

Critics, initially skeptical, were now scrambling to review it. Many praised Marcus's direction, Lena's editing, and the raw performances of Sarah Jenkins and Adam Miller.

Elias Vance, as Jigsaw, was singled out for his chilling voice and unseen presence. The film was called "a new benchmark for horror," "relentlessly tense," and "a psychological masterpiece."

Not everyone loved it, of course. Some found it too gruesome, too disturbing. But even those negative reactions only added to the buzz, proving that Saw was a film that couldn't be ignored.

Joshua read every review, every forum post, a quiet satisfaction growing within him. He saw the numbers climbing, week after week. New Line Cinema, initially cautious, was now pushing for a wider release, adding more screens, investing more in marketing.

The film was a phenomenon. It wasn't just making money; it was creating a cultural moment.

He called his team. Marcus was ecstatic, Lena was quietly proud, and Maya was already fielding calls for interviews and future projects.

Joshua leaned back in his chair, a genuine, unburdened smile on his face. The herbal store, the inherited house, the stock market gambles – it had all led to this. He had known Saw would be big, but seeing it unfold, seeing the real-world impact, was something else entirely.

The future he remembered was now becoming his present, one terrifying, profitable frame at a time. Hollywood had officially taken notice.

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