ROUSes? I Don't Think They Exist.

Strange and unexpected turn of events. As turns of events often are.

Lemme ‘splain. No, is too much. Lemme sum up.*

Over the last few months I’ve been reading a bunch of books and articles and keeping an eye on the trades, and I kept reading about this one company that is alleged to be The Shit when it comes to repping independent films. The list of movies they’ve brought to the world is impressive. Good, solid, need-to-look-more-than-first-glance movies that other people might not have seen the beauty in. They’d be perfect for us. In fact, three weeks ago, I wrote, “Try to get X Company” in my notebook.

Two days ago, an executive at X Company calls us. SHE calls US. Says she can’t tell us how, beyond that they have a “very good tracking system,” but she’s heard about our film and it sounds very interesting to her – can she have a screener?

Jeff gives her our agreed-upon standard answer to all such requests: No, I don’t think so. It’s just a rough cut and we want time to make it right before we send it out… but let me talk to my partners.

We talk, confirm this company is like the Holy Grail, and call her back -– screener on its way.

A follow-up call caught the exec out of the office, so Jeff talked to her assistant. Still won’t tell us how they heard about us, but says two very cool things.

Thing One: “Oh yeah. Dismal. Yeah, I’ve heard that come up in a couple meetings.”

Really? Hmmm.

Thing Two: “Normally, I tell people not to expect a response sooner than three weeks. Buuut, if SHE called you HERSELF, it’s probably a pet project and you might hear much sooner.”

Really? Again hmmm.

So people at X Company have been talking about us, and this exec breaks her normal routine to call us herself.

Really? Hmmm-mmm.

I keep going back and forth between “HOLY FUCKING SHIT” and “Simmer down, O’D. Nothing has happened yet.”

(Okay, I talk to myself. There. I admitted it...)

But Greg The Sage tells me this business is so full of heartaches, we should take any celebration we can get.

So tonight, when the lad goes to sleep, I’m gonna crack that swanky bottle of scotch that’s been waiting for a celebration. Maybe I’ll even rent The Princess Bride.

That’s what the * was for. But you knew that already, didn’t you?