The First 90 Seconds: How Buyers Really Evaluate Your Film
- Gato Scatena
- 12 hours ago
- 13 min read
Every filmmaker wants to know the same thing.
"What are buyers actually looking for?"
I've been asked that question hundreds of times over the years, and it's usually followed by a list of assumptions. People think buyers are looking for originality. They think buyers are looking for great performances. They think buyers are looking for award potential, artistic vision, or emotional impact. Those things certainly matter, but not in the order most filmmakers imagine. And what matters to one buyer doesn’t matter to the next.
The biggest misconception in independent film is that acquisition executives spend their day evaluating movies. They don't. They spend their day evaluating risk.
That isn't meant to sound cynical. It's simply the reality of how the business works. Every acquisition executive is balancing finite resources against an endless supply of opportunities. There are only so many hours in the day, only so much capital to deploy, only so many marketing dollars available, and only so many release slots on the calendar. Every decision to spend more time on one project is simultaneously a decision not to spend that time somewhere else.
Understanding that changes everything.
Most filmmakers think the hard part begins after someone presses play. In reality, by the time I watch your trailer, I've already started making decisions. Before I know whether the ending works or whether the lead actor gives a memorable performance, I'm subconsciously answering a completely different set of questions. Do I understand what this movie is? Can I immediately identify who the audience is? Does this fit today's marketplace? Can I imagine which downstream buyers would realistically license it? Is this worth another thirty minutes of my day?
If enough of those answers become "yes," I'll keep going. If they don't, the conversation ends remarkably quickly.
That isn't because buyers don't care about filmmakers. It isn't because distributors are lazy or because executives have short attention spans. It's because every acquisition begins with uncertainty, and the buyer's job is to reduce as much of that uncertainty as possible before committing company resources.
Ironically, filmmakers often assume buyers are trying to find reasons to reject movies.
They're not. They're trying to find reasons to continue. Every single time, they’re praying that you give them a reason to keep investigating.
There's an important difference.
Over the past decade, the independent marketplace has become dramatically more competitive. Thousands of features are completed every year while the number of companies capable of meaningfully exploiting those films hasn't grown at the same pace. The streaming boom temporarily created enormous demand for content, but the industry has since shifted toward profitability, tighter mandates, and much greater discipline around acquisitions. Buyers today simply don't have the luxury of chasing every interesting project. They have to make fast, informed decisions, and those decisions usually begin long before anyone watches the feature itself.
That's why I cringe when filmmakers tell me, "Just watch the movie."
No.
That's not how this works.
If your submission package doesn't convince me to watch your trailer, I'm probably never getting to the movie. If your trailer doesn't convince me the feature deserves ninety minutes of my time, the conversation is already over. Your film doesn't begin with Scene One. It begins the moment your email lands in my inbox.
That may seem unfair, but audiences behave exactly the same way. Before they commit two hours to your movie, they look at the artwork, read the synopsis, watch the trailer, glance at the cast, and decide whether it's worth their evening. Buyers aren't behaving differently than consumers. They're simply doing it with a business model attached.
Every Step Is Selling the Next Step
One of the biggest mistakes I see is filmmakers trying to accomplish everything at once. They believe their opening email should convince me to acquire the movie. That's impossible because your first email isn't selling your movie.
It's selling the opportunity to watch your trailer.
Your trailer is selling the opportunity to watch your feature.
Your feature is selling the opportunity to make an offer.
Your offer is selling the opportunity to build a profitable release around your film.
Every stage earns the next stage.
Once you begin thinking this way, the purpose of your submission becomes much clearer. Your first email isn't the place to explain the emotional journey behind making the movie or the years of sacrifice required to finish production. I respect that journey because I've lived it myself. Every independent feature represents an enormous investment of time, money, and energy. But those things don't help me answer the question immediately in front of me.
What is the movie? Who's in it? What's the hook? Can I watch the trailer?
Everything else can wait.
I've lost count of how many submissions begin with five or six paragraphs explaining why the filmmaker made the project before they ever tell me the title. Others bury the trailer beneath biographies, production stories, director statements, and festival aspirations. By the time I finally find the information I actually need, I'm already wondering whether this producer understands the business they're trying to enter.
The professionals almost always do the opposite.
Their emails are concise; organized.
They understand that executives receive dozens of submissions every week and they respect the reader's time. That professionalism tells me something before I ever click a link. It tells me the producer probably understands the realities of distribution because they're already communicating like someone who's worked with buyers before.
Here's a simple observation that has held true remarkably often throughout my career.
Professionals are brief. Amateurs are long-winded.
That's not because professionals care less about their projects. It's because they understand exactly what information creates value during a first introduction.
Buyers Don't Love Complexity. They Love Clarity.
Every piece of information in your submission either reduces uncertainty or creates more of it.
A clear genre reduces uncertainty. Recognizable cast reduces uncertainty. A concise logline reduces uncertainty. A realistic comparison title reduces uncertainty. Strong key art reduces uncertainty. A professional trailer reduces uncertainty.
Everything should be making it easier—not harder—for a buyer to imagine successfully releasing your movie.
That doesn't mean your film has to be simple. Some of the best independent films are layered, emotionally complex, and difficult to categorize creatively. But marketing is a different discipline than filmmaking. Buyers aren't trying to determine whether your screenplay explores interesting themes. They're trying to determine whether audiences will understand what they're being asked to watch.
If I can't immediately explain your movie to another executive inside my own company, you've created work instead of value.
That's a problem.
Because no matter how good the film is, acquisition executives spend their entire careers translating projects into business opportunities. If your movie resists being understood, it's also resisting being sold.
The Trailer Is Your Most Valuable Salesperson
If I had to rank every asset in a submission package, the trailer wins.
Every time.
You can be missing information I'd normally like to see. Maybe your cast isn't filled with recognizable names. Maybe you haven't premiered at a major festival. Maybe your email could have been organized a little better. If your trailer absolutely delivers, you've immediately earned my attention.
Why?
Because it's the first meaningful piece of marketing your movie will ever have.
Before audiences experience your story, they'll experience your trailer.
Before streamers decide whether your movie deserves placement, they'll experience your trailer.
Before acquisition executives spend ninety minutes with your feature, they'll almost certainly experience your trailer.
The trailer is the hook.
Unfortunately, too many filmmakers still treat trailers like miniature versions of the movie instead of advertisements for the movie. They worry about preserving tone instead of generating excitement. They slowly establish character before introducing conflict. They spend precious seconds creating atmosphere when they should be creating momentum.
A trailer isn't another artistic expression.
It's marketing. And marketing has one job: Sell
🔒Now let’s get to HOW to get buyers’ attention and what to do when you get it.
Below, we get into the details on pitching like a seasoned pro and all the following:
The exact order acquisition execs want every submission email presented.
The three questions running through my head while an execI watches your trailer.
The fastest ways filmmakers accidentally eliminate themselves before the movie begins.
What actually happens after an exec likes your film.
Why making an offer and determining its value are two completely different conversations.
The biggest misconception filmmakers have about acquisition executives—and why believing it may be costing them distribution opportunities.