Steven lowered his voice further, almost conspiratorial now.
"And distribution... that’s our biggest lever. Most people don’t know this, but studios often deliberately stagger releases worldwide to build hype. You leak it in one country, let pirated copies spread, then suddenly the global audience feels like they’re ’late to the party’ and rush to theaters when it finally drops in their region. Piracy, in some cases... is part of the marketing machine."
The girls gasped softly, scandalized. One of them whispered, "Wait, you mean they want piracy?"
Steven only smirked. "Not always. But sometimes... yes. A carefully timed leak can do more for awareness than a thirty-million-dollar ad campaign. Piracy makes people feel rebellious, like they’ve stolen something forbidden. Then they brag about it, talk about it, argue online. By the time the studio gives them the official release, half the work’s already done."
He paused just long enough to let it sink in, then added, "Think about it... when a movie gets pirated, what’s the first thing people ask? ’Is it worth the download?’ If the answer’s yes, that’s free word of mouth across entire continents. If the answer’s no, well, the studio buries it in foreign markets and moves on to the next. We control the damage either way. Piracy, hype, controversy, it’s all just different flavors of the same meal."
Rex’s fingers tapped idly against the table, but inside his mind raced.
Piracy as marketing... hoo boy. These guys are wild. They weaponize what others call a weakness. That’s the trick, isn’t it? Nothing is wasted, not even loss. Everything’s just rebranded as strategy. If this is how they play with billions on the line, then there’s a lesson here I can drag into any field I touch.
The girls traded uneasy glances, but Steven barely noticed them. His attention was fixed on Rex. He knew he was oversharing. This wasn’t the sort of thing you told interns, or even most colleagues. But Rex wasn’t most people. Steven could sense it—the kid had that unreadable calm, that sharpness in his eyes. He already knows the surface. If I give him the fluff, he’ll walk away bored. If I give him the guts, maybe he’ll see me as more than just another suit running studio tours.
Rex leaned back in his chair, expression calm, almost bored, like he’d heard it all before. But inside? Inside, his mind was sparking like live wires.
Damn... this is the first time for me, too. Piracy as marketing? Hollywood really is Hollywood. Tch. All these years people curse the pirates, and here these bastards are... feeding them breadcrumbs on purpose. Oh wow... that’s... that’s next-level.
He forced his face into a neutral mask, eyes half-lidded, just giving Steven a slow nod, as if weighing the information instead of devouring it whole. Let the man think he was impossible to impress.
He leaned forward, lowering his voice until it was almost a whisper.
"See, Hollywood doesn’t just sell movies. We sell urgency. The idea that if you don’t watch right now, you’ll miss the conversation. And nothing spreads urgency like scarcity... or piracy. Scarcity makes people chase. Always has. It’s the same trick casinos use with jackpots, or brands use with ’limited editions.’ We make you believe you’ll be left out if you don’t act today. By the time you realize the trick, you’ve already bought the ticket."
Rex only hummed softly, as if he’d expected nothing less. But his heart was beating fast.
Urgency. Scarcity. Manufactured FOMO. Classic war moves. Hell, this isn’t cinema, this is Sun Tzu with a production budget. They’re not filmmakers, they’re generals running psy-ops with movie posters. And here I thought I was coming to learn the business. What Steven’s giving me right now... this is ammunition.
"And agents," Steven continued, gesturing toward a wall of headshots pinned like a war map. "They fight not just for roles, but for billing. First name on the poster, first line in the credits... that can change an actor’s entire career. Sometimes we swap billing order just to keep egos in check. Actors have walked off films over that. Imagine losing millions because one guy refused to be ’second name.’ Happens all the time." Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs novel(ꜰ)ire.net
The girls exchanged wide-eyed looks, clearly surprised, but Rex only tilted his head slightly, pretending to weigh the words with professional detachment.
Billing... that’s the battlefield? Huh. I thought stars clashed over money, maybe screen time. But credits? Damn. To walk away from millions over whose name flashes first...tch, this industry runs on ego thicker than oil.
Steven chuckled, as if reliving some memory. "We once had a shoot where two A-listers refused to even stand next to each other for the group photo because of the order they were lined up. Had to digitally rearrange the press kit later just to keep everyone happy. You think fans see glamour, but behind the curtain? It’s a knife fight over inches."
Rex gave a slow nod, neutral, almost disinterested. His calm face betrayed nothing.
Behind the curtain, huh? More like behind the circus tent. Knife fights over inches, millions wasted on petty pride... Hollywood really is Hollywood. If the world saw this side, half their illusions would crumble overnight. But I can’t let my own awe show... keep it cool. Let Steven think I’ve heard worse.
Steven smirked, clearly enjoying the performance of pulling back the veil. He tapped the headshots with two fingers, sharp little thuds. "Agents know this game better than anyone. Their clients think they’re chasing art, but agents? They chase positioning. A well-placed name on a poster can mean international brand deals, better future scripts, even a higher cut of profits. It’s not just about who plays the hero, it’s about who looks like the hero on paper."
Rex’s eyes followed the photos but stayed unreadable, arms folded loosely across his chest.
Positioning... yeah, I see it. Not just in posters. It’s life, politics, even business. Who’s first name, who’s afterthought. A small shift in order, and suddenly you’re forgotten. Damn... this is more than showbiz...it’s survival dressed up as show lights.
He let a faint smile curl at the corner of his mouth, a gesture calculated to look knowing, almost bored. But inside? His thoughts were running hot.
This guy’s giving me gold and doesn’t even realize it. Billing wars, ego control, agents pulling strings... it’s chaos, but it’s structured chaos. A machine. If I can map how it works, I can use it for myself. Someday.
Buhaha... who would’ve thought? A simple project visit, just a courtesy walk-through, and I end up sitting front row for Hollywood’s dirtiest classroom. Forget film school... this is the real syllabus. Damn... I need to remember every word of this.
The girls trailed behind, dazzled and unsettled, whispering in awe. To them, this felt like stumbling into a secret vault of truths no outsider was ever meant to hear.
After going a whole round, Steven finally stopped, chest heaving slightly, then gave a smile that was half-pride, half-resignation.
"This is what Hollywood really is, sir. Not glamour. Not dreams. Deals, numbers, power games. And now... you know more than half the actors working in this town."
"For your... project," Steven said, forcing a smile, "I wanted you to understand Hollywood’s real machinery. It’s not red carpets. It’s not stars. It’s strategy, manipulation, and numbers. Dreams are built here, yes, but they’re built like skyscrapers... on contracts, politics, and concrete money."