Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm-Chapter 473 - 474: Three Short Films, A Genius Director

"Oh my God, James! Myers Pictures saw our script! Martin saw our script! We don't have to go back to Australia!"

After hanging up the phone, Leigh Whannell jumped off the couch, shouting excitedly.

James Wan's eyes lit up. "So they agreed to use our script and let me direct?"

"Uh... not exactly." Whannell's excitement dimmed slightly. "The call was from someone at Myers Pictures. They said to be at their office tomorrow at 10 AM—Martin will be there waiting for us."

"So, Martin wants to meet us in person?" Now it was James Wan's turn to get excited. He had been a huge fan of Martin's early horror films.

To James Wan, The Sixth Sense, Hide and Seek, and The Others were real horror movies. The rest of Hollywood's so-called "horror films" that relied on gore were nothing more than blood-soaked shock flicks!

True horror was psychological, not just splashing fake blood around to disgust the audience.

"Relax, James. If Myers Pictures doesn't let you direct, we'll just go back to Australia. I'd rather not make the movie at all." Whannell said firmly.

"Thanks, man. But..." James hesitated before continuing, "Maybe I shouldn't insist on directing. I could work as an assistant director or even just part of the crew. I don't want Saw to lose its chance just because of me."

Whannell, however, was resolute. "No, man. This movie has to be directed by you. Not just because we're friends, but because I truly believe only you can capture its essence."

As he spoke, Whannell waved his arms passionately.

James Wan looked deeply moved.

"Don't worry," Whannell added. "I have a feeling Martin will recognize your talent. Bring your short films with you."

...

The next morning, two scruffy-looking guys stood outside the towering Myers Pictures office, nervously peeking inside and pacing back and forth.

"James, did we come too early?"

"Leigh, I told you we should've waited. It's not even 9 AM yet."

"Eh, whatever. We were just sitting at home doing nothing. Maybe if we get here early, Martin will see us and be impressed by our dedication."

"You really think Martin Myers—a billionaire—just walks in the front door? He probably takes a private elevator from the parking garage straight to his office."

"Uh... good point."

As they chatted, a black Mercedes drove past them on the street—then suddenly stopped.

The car window rolled down, revealing a face so handsome it would make men feel inferior and women go weak in the knees. "James Wan and Leigh Whannell?"

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"Uh... yeah! That's us! Hello, Mr. Myers!" James greeted him quickly, nudging his friend, who was still frozen in shock.

"M-M-Mr. Myers! H-Hello! I'm Leigh Whannell!" Whannell stammered.

"You guys sure are early," Martin chuckled. "Get in. I'll take you upstairs."

"Uh... is that okay?"

James' hesitation made Martin pause for a second before he laughed. "Why wouldn't it be? Hop in."

The car door opened. James instinctively slid into the back seat, while Whannell awkwardly took the front passenger seat.

The driver, Gordon, glanced at the two nervous men and thought, These guys sure are timid.

He conveniently ignored the fact that, these days, most people were nervous around Martin Myers.

...

They took the elevator up from the parking garage.

James Wan and Leigh Whannell followed Martin into the conference room at Myers Pictures, looking around anxiously.

Soon, Drew Barrymore arrived, carrying a printed copy of Saw's script.

A secretary served coffee.

But James and Leigh were too nervous to even touch their cups, staring at Martin and Drew like students awaiting judgment.

Drew was the first to speak. "First, let's confirm—this script is entirely your original work?"

Whannell nodded quickly. "Yes, it's completely original."

"Did you register it with the Writers Guild?"

"Yes, it's already been registered."

"Good. Next question—you want this film to be directed by some guy named James Wan. Who is that?"

"Uh... Ms. Barrymore, that's me." James Wan raised his hand awkwardly. "Actually, it doesn't have to be me. I—"

"No, it has to be James," Whannell interrupted. "He understands this script better than anyone. If he doesn't direct it, the movie won't capture its essence. We'd rather not make it at all. James, show them your short films."

James shot Whannell a grateful look before turning to Martin and Drew. "Is that okay?"

Drew looked at Martin, who nodded.

"Alright," she said. "We have a VCR here. Let's watch them."

James pulled three VHS tapes from his bag—all horror short films he had directed.

He inserted the first tape and pressed play. "This is something I made when I was 22. It's a witch story—kind of rough, to be honest."

The short was about ten minutes long.

When it ended, Martin remained neutral, but Drew's expression showed slight disappointment. It seemed... pretty average.

James quickly inserted the second tape. "This one's from when I was 25. It's about a haunted puppet. I called it Dead Silence."

As the short played, Drew, who had been disinterested at first, gradually straightened up in her chair. Her eyes locked onto the screen, and her fingers began tapping the table rhythmically.

By the time the film's shocking twist was revealed—that an entire family had been turned into puppets—Drew felt chills down her spine.

Then came the third tape.

"This is Saw 0.5, a prototype for Saw, shot last year."

Drew was now fully focused, giving this unassuming Chinese-Australian director her full attention.

Thirty minutes later, she let out a deep breath.

"That was amazing!" she said sincerely.

"A brilliant concept. And your directing skills are already quite mature." Martin agreed.

James Wan finally relaxed, exchanging a triumphant glance with Whannell.