The buzz from the New Line Cinema meeting was still fresh, the promises of future projects hanging in the air like expensive perfume. Joshua felt a surge of triumph, a quiet satisfaction that he'd navigated the shark-infested waters of Hollywood and come out on top. But the real victory, the one that mattered most to him, was in the numbers.
He sat down with Maya, who had meticulously tracked every penny, every invoice, every single expense. Her spreadsheets, even in 1992, were a thing of beauty.
"Alright, Joshua," Maya began, her finger tracing a line on a printout. "The New Line deal. Two million dollars for Saw."
Joshua nodded. That was the figure he'd pushed for, the one he knew would cover their costs and then some.
"First," Maya continued, "we had the sales agent's commission. They took their cut right off the top, about fifteen percent of that two million."
Joshua grimaced. That was a significant chunk gone before the money even hit Resurrection Films' account. Three hundred thousand dollars, just like that.
"So, we're down to one point seven million," Maya stated, making a note. "Next, we had to pay back the initial budget. The one point two million we spent making the film."
"And the interest," Joshua added, remembering the terms he'd set for his own initial investment, the money he'd pulled from his stock portfolio. He'd given himself a fifteen percent interest rate, just like a real investor.
"Exactly," Maya confirmed. "So, that's another one hundred eighty thousand for interest on the budget. All told, the film cost us one million three hundred eighty thousand to make and finance."
Joshua did the quick math in his head. From the one point seven million they received after the agent's fee, they now had to subtract the one point three eight million for the budget and interest.
"That leaves us with three hundred twenty thousand dollars," Joshua said, a slight frown on his face. It was profit, yes, but it felt… smaller.
"That's the 'Total Net Profits' for Saw," Maya explained, using the industry term. "From that, we split it. Fifty percent goes to the investors' share, which in this case, is mostly you, for your initial investment beyond the principal repayment."
"And the other fifty percent is the 'Producer's Share'," Joshua finished. That meant one hundred sixty thousand dollars for the Producer's Share.
"Right," Maya said. "And from that, we have to pay Marcus, Lena, and the key cast and crew who had backend deals. Their percentages come out of that one hundred sixty thousand."
Joshua nodded slowly. He remembered the basic layout he'd planned: five percent for the writer, five for the director, ten for key cast and crew. That was another thirty-two thousand dollars to be split among Marcus, Lena, Sarah, Adam, Elias, Leo, Ben, and Frank.
"So, after all that," Joshua mused, "what's left for Resurrection Films, and for me, as the main producer?"
Maya looked at her figures. "After those percentages are paid out, the remaining amount for the producers is around one hundred twenty-eight thousand dollars."
One hundred twenty-eight thousand dollars. From a two-million-dollar sale. And that was before his own agent's commission (if he had one for this deal) and, of course, taxes. It was a far cry from the multi-million-dollar personal fortune some might imagine from a film that would eventually gross over a hundred million worldwide.
"It's not a yacht, is it?" Joshua said, a wry smile playing on his lips.
Maya chuckled. "Not yet, boss. But it's a solid profit for a first film. And it proves the model. We made a film for one point two million, sold it for two million, and after all the deductions, we're still in the black. That's a huge win in this business, especially for an independent."
Joshua leaned back, looking at the numbers. She was right. It wasn't about the immediate personal payout. Not entirely. It was about the proof of concept. It was about establishing Resurrection Films as a profitable entity. It was about the leverage this success gave him for future projects.
The real money, he knew, would come from the long game. From the sequels, from the home video sales, from the international markets that would eventually open up. This two-million-dollar sale was just the first step. A profitable, if not personally extravagant, first step. He had a feeling, a very strong feeling, that the real wealth was still in the future, waiting for him to claim it.
The success of Saw was undeniable. The box office numbers kept climbing, and the film had cemented itself as a cultural phenomenon. Joshua's phone, the one on his desk, never stopped ringing. Everyone wanted a piece of Resurrection Films. But Joshua wasn't interested in just one-off deals. He had a franchise in mind.
"It's time to sell the sequel rights," Joshua announced to Marcus and Maya, who were still reeling from Saw's unexpected triumph. Lena was already back in the editing suite, cutting trailers for other indie films, but her name was now on everyone's lips.
"The sequel?" Marcus asked, his eyes wide. "We just finished the first one! And who would even buy it?"
Joshua just smiled. "Everyone. They just don't know it yet." He knew the Saw franchise would become a cash cow, a reliable horror staple for years to come. He wasn't going to let New Line Cinema just walk away with it for a song. He wanted a bidding war. A big one.
He instructed Maya to prepare a comprehensive package: the Saw script, the glowing reviews, the astonishing box office figures, and a detailed outline for Saw II. He even included concept art for new traps, sketches he'd vaguely recalled from future films.
Then, he sent it to the "Big Six" studios: Universal Pictures, Paramount Pictures, Warner Bros., Walt Disney Pictures, Sony Pictures, and 20th Century Fox. It was an audacious move for an independent producer, almost unheard of. Usually, you went to the distributor of your first film. But Joshua wasn't playing by old rules.
The initial responses were a mix of curiosity and skepticism. Some studios, like Disney, were known for family-friendly fare; a gruesome horror sequel seemed like a strange fit. But the numbers for Saw were too compelling to ignore.
The meetings began. Joshua, accompanied by Marcus and Maya, walked into the hallowed halls of Hollywood's giants. He sat across from executives who had greenlit blockbusters, who controlled empires. He presented his vision for Saw II, not just as a sequel, but as an expansion of a terrifying universe.
"This isn't just about more traps," Joshua explained to a room full of stone-faced executives at Warner Bros. "It's about the philosophy behind Jigsaw. It's about a new kind of moral horror. And it's about a guaranteed return on investment." He spoke with a quiet confidence, almost a certainty, that unnerved them. He knew the future box office, the merchandising potential, the home video sales. They only saw a low-budget horror film that got lucky.
The bidding started slowly. Initial offers were cautious, reflecting the studios' uncertainty about the long-term viability of a horror franchise from an unknown entity. But Joshua held firm. He knew his worth. He knew Saw's worth.
"We're not interested in a quick flip," he told one studio head who offered a low seven-figure sum. "We're building a legacy. We want a partner who sees that. And who's willing to pay for it."
He leveraged the offers against each other, playing the studios like a master chess player. He'd hint at a higher offer from Universal to Paramount, or mention Fox's interest to Sony. He was relentless, pushing for more, always more. He was a man who knew the future, and he was using that knowledge to squeeze every last penny.
The tension was palpable. The studios, initially dismissive, were now genuinely interested. The success of the first Saw was too loud to ignore. They saw the audience hunger. They saw the potential for a new, profitable franchise.
Finally, after weeks of intense negotiations, the offers escalated. It came down to a fierce bidding war between two studios: Universal Pictures and 20th Century Fox. Both saw the immense potential, despite their initial reservations.
Joshua listened to their final pitches, the numbers climbing higher and higher. He looked at Marcus, who was practically vibrating with excitement. Lena, on the phone, was relaying the latest figures.
The final offer came in. A staggering sum, far beyond what anyone had expected for a horror sequel from an indie company. It was from Universal Pictures. They wanted the Saw franchise. They wanted it bad.
Joshua accepted. The deal was massive, a multi-picture agreement that included not just Saw II, but options for future installments, merchandising rights, and a significant backend percentage for Resurrection Films. It was a game-changer.
He hung up the phone, a wide, triumphant grin finally breaking free. "We did it," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "Universal. We just sold the Saw franchise to Universal Pictures."
Marcus let out a whoop of pure joy. Maya actually dropped her pen. Lena, for once, looked genuinely shocked.
This wasn't just about money anymore. This was about power. Joshua Grant, the average science graduate reborn, had just brought one of Hollywood's biggest players to its knees for a horror franchise. The game was no longer just beginning. He was now a major player, and the future, he knew, was going to be very, very profitable.