The Marmont Estate Hotel, poolside terrace.
No crystal chandeliers, no symphony orchestra here.
The massive "PANGU" logo was projected onto the bottom of the pool. The blue light pulsed, in and out, like it was breathing. The air smelled like a mix of BBQ and whiskey. Quentin had dragged in a DJ setup from somewhere and was blasting AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" so loud it could rattle your bones.
—This was a Pangu party.
Bender was squeezing through a crowd of VFX artists and independent directors in loud Hawaiian shirts, holding two drinks, and yelling into Link's ear: "Link ! The Industrial Light & Magic folks are here! Headed by Katherine O'Connell! And Robert Shaye from New Line is here in person, too!"
Link followed the direction of his chin.
By the pool, Katherine was deep in conversation with Chuck Russell, the director of The Mask. They were gesturing wildly, like they were sketching out some new monster. Meanwhile, Quentin had Robert Shaye in a headlock, who looked resigned as he listened to Quentin brag about how his next movie was going to "kill Godard."
In that moment, Link suddenly felt that his motley crew of outsiders had become an army.
He smiled, ready to raise his glass and go say hello.
Suddenly, the crowd at the entrance went silent for a beat.
The music didn't stop, but the rhythm seemed to slow down by half a count.
Harvey Weinstein had arrived.
He hadn't brought his usual entourage of assistants; only two men in expensive suits followed him. A smile was plastered on his face, like a benevolent uncle attending his nephew's graduation.
He walked through the crowd, his every step radiating a greasy confidence, heading straight for Link.
Bender's smile froze, his muscles tensing instinctively.
"Good evening, Link ." Harvey opened his arms and gave Link a bear hug, the force of which felt like he was checking the strength of Link's ribs. "Congratulations, kid. One hundred million dollars. That's a hell of an accomplishment."
He let go and patted Link on the shoulder, his small eyes scanning the people around before settling on Quentin.
"Quentin," he smiled like an old friend, "how's the script for your next movie coming along? The doors of Miramax are always open for you."
Quentin was about to snap back, but a single look from Link kept him pinned in place.
"Thanks for the offer, Harvey," Link held up his glass in a gesture. "But Pangu's production slate is probably fully booked for the next few years."
"Oh?" Harvey raised an eyebrow, his smile now holding a hint of undisguised contempt. "Is that right? Still fiddling around with that artsy film about a mathematician? Do pictures like that really earn you a seat at the big-boy table?"
He stepped closer, lowering his voice, but loud enough for everyone nearby to hear.
"Link , times are changing. The MGM acquisition will close next week. When it does, I'll own James Bond, I'll own Rocky, I'll own the most glorious past of Hollywood."
He leaned forward slightly, like a king bestowing a title.
"I'm here today to give you an opportunity. Bring your Pangu and join me. Miramax-MGM, this new empire, needs talented young men to be my generals."
"I can give you an independent label, plenty of funding. You won't have to throw a party to celebrate a measly one hundred million box office, like you're doing now."
The air around them instantly solidified.
Robert Shaye's face darkened. Katherine stopped her conversation, crossed her arms, and watched the scene unfold with a cold stare.
This wasn't a recruitment.
This was public humiliation and sedition right in front of all of Link's allies.
Bender's face was flushed red, his fists clenched tight.
Link just smiled.
He placed his glass on a nearby table and began to clap.
"Clap—Clap—Clap."
The applause wasn't loud, but it was crystal clear.
Harvey was stunned.
"A brilliant speech, Harvey," Link said, his smile very genuine. "A huge pie you're baking. It sounds... genuinely tempting."
He paused, then switched gears.
"However, I have a little flaw."
"I prefer to bake my own damn pie."
He turned and raised his hand to Katherine O'Connell by the pool.
"Katherine, would you mind coming over for a second? I want to introduce you to a new friend."
Katherine walked over, her composure completely unfazed.
"Harvey, this is Katherine O'Connell," Link smiled. "As of today, she is Pangu's new partner. We've just launched a visual effects company called Pangu Magic. For the next ten years, the best visual wonders in Hollywood will come from here."
Harvey's smile, for the first time, froze solid.
Link didn't stop. He then looked at Robert Shaye.
"Mr. Shaye, want to join the conversation?"
Robert Shaye walked over with his drink and stood next to him. The visual of that moment was like Pangu's battle flag being raised.
"Our next project's budget might be a little higher than your James Bond's," Link said with a smile. "An ocean epic, a film that will require Pangu Magic's full power."
"New Line Cinema is our co-production partner."
The scene went from dead silence to a burst of low gasps.
Harvey's plump face looked like it had been slapped.
He looked at Katherine and Shaye standing next to Link, and at the group of technical staff in Pangu T-shirts who had once belonged to Industrial Light & Magic.
He realized for the first time that this kid from the East had planted a flag of his own deep in the belly of Hollywood.
Before he could speak, a woman's laugh drifted from the other side of the crowd.
Uma Thurman.
She wore a black slip dress, her blonde hair pinned up, her makeup flawless, and her eyes bright.
She walked over with two glasses of champagne, her pace unhurried, carrying a confidence that didn't belong to the anxious energy of a Hollywood party.
She handed one glass to Link and lightly raised the other, giving Harvey a small smile.
"Good evening, Harvey." Her tone was gentle, but there was an unsettling calmness about it.
"Long time no see."
Harvey's expression stiffened, and he forced out a smile: "Uma, you look... as beautiful as ever."
Uma laughed and took a sip of champagne.
"Thanks, but being beautiful doesn't get you very far."
She paused, her gaze settling on Link and Katherine, and she added quietly:
"This era belongs to the people who still dare to take risks."
The air was quiet for two seconds.
She then smiled at Harvey again, delivering a seemingly accidental final blow:
"I remember the excitement on your face the first time you watched the rough cut of Pulp Fiction. You had fire in your eyes back then."
"Now..." She shrugged, offering a faint smile. "It seems like all that's left is the ledger."
Harvey's smile completely vanished. The muscles in his face seemed to twitch.
Quentin grinned widely from the side, raising his glass.
"To the people who genuinely love movies!"
The crowd cheered.
Harvey's face turned beet red.
He gritted his teeth, forcing a strained smile. "Good luck, Link . I hope your Magic lives longer than Industrial Light & Magic."
Link raised his glass, his expression calm.
"Don't worry, Harvey. We're not here to see who lasts the longest—we're here to change the game."
Harvey's smile finally shattered.
He turned and left, his steps heavy and fast.
The music by the pool ramped up again.
AC/DC's "Highway to Hell" switched to The Rolling Stones' "Start Me Up."
The crowd erupted again.
Link raised his glass and nodded to Uma.
She winked at him and said softly, "The 'bake my own damn pie' line was good. Very you."
Link smiled.
Glasses clinked together, and the splashing wine flashed under the lights.
The party continued.