NEW YORK, NY.- Near the height of the streaming boom in 2018, a half-dozen studios and video platforms lined up to woo a little-known filmmaker named Carl Erik Rinsch. He had directed only one movie, “47 Ronin.” It was a commercial and critical dud, and Rinsch’s tussles with its producers had raised eyebrows.
But demand for new content was intense. Amid the feeding frenzy, the project that Rinsch was pitching — a science-fiction series about artificial humans — became a hot property.
After a competitive auction, Rinsch and his representatives reached an informal eight-figure agreement with Amazon. But before they had a chance to put it in writing, Netflix swooped in. Cindy Holland, the company’s vice president of original content at the time, dangled millions of dollars more, as well as something studios rarely gave directors: final cut.
Netflix won the deal — and would soon come to regret it. The company burned more than $55 million on Rinsch’s show but never received a single finished episode.
Soon after he signed the contract, Rinsch’s behavior grew erratic, according to members of the show’s cast and crew, texts and emails reviewed by The New York Times, and court filings in a divorce case brought by his wife. He claimed to have discovered COVID-19’s secret transmission mechanism and to be able to predict lightning strikes. He gambled a large chunk of the money from Netflix on the stock market and cryptocurrencies. He spent millions of dollars on a fleet of Rolls-Royces, furniture and designer clothing.
Rinsch and Netflix are now locked in a confidential arbitration proceeding initiated by Rinsch, who claims the company breached their contract and owes him at least $14 million in damages. Netflix has denied owing Rinsch anything and has called his demands a shakedown.
Rinsch declined to respond to a detailed list of questions. In a recent Instagram post, he said he did not cooperate with the Times because he expected the article to be “inaccurate.”
Thomas Cherian, a spokesperson for Netflix, said the company had provided substantial funding and other support to Rinsch’s series, but “after a lot of time and effort, it became clear that Mr. Rinsch was never going to complete the project he agreed to make, and so we wrote the project off.”
By all accounts, Rinsch, 46, is a talented filmmaker. After attending Brown University, he joined Ridley Scott’s production company, making commercials and apprenticing under the acclaimed director.
There was talk that Rinsch would direct a prequel to “Alien,” Scott’s 1979 sci-fi classic, for his feature film debut. Instead, Universal Studios hired him to direct “47 Ronin,” a big-budget action movie starring Keanu Reeves. When the film was released in 2013, it bombed. Universal had to write off a large portion of its $175 million budget.
Rinsch went back to making commercials. On the side, he and his wife, Gabriela Rosés Bentancor, began working on a passion project: a sci-fi TV series about a genius who invents a humanlike species called the Organic Intelligent. Rinsch called the show “White Horse.”
At first, Rinsch financed the production with his own money and hired mostly European actors and crew members, which reduced costs and avoided Hollywood union rules. To keep the project going, Rinsch secured an investment from production company 30West. But when Rinsch missed a deadline, 30West threatened to take possession of the project. Reeves came to his rescue by investing in the show and becoming a producer alongside Rosés.
With the money Reeves contributed, Rinsch finished editing six short episodes ranging from four to 10 minutes. He used them to pitch the big streaming companies on a 13-episode, 120-minute first season.
Rinsch’s pitch attracted interest from Amazon, HBO, Hulu, Netflix, Apple and YouTube. Amazon looked set to win the bidding. But Netflix snatched the project away at the last minute, convinced it had the potential to become a sci-fi franchise as successful as “Stranger Things.”
The company agreed to pay $61.2 million in several installments for the rights to the series, which it renamed “Conquest,” according to a November 2018 term sheet reviewed by the Times. The deal included two unusual clauses: Netflix gave Rinsch final cut. And it assured Rinsch and Rosés that they would remain “locked for life” to all subsequent seasons and spinoffs.
Rinsch now had to deliver. Shooting of the remaining episodes of “Conquest” got underway in São Paulo, and then in Montevideo, Uruguay, and in Budapest, Hungary.
In São Paulo, the local film industry union dispatched a representative to the set after receiving a complaint that Rinsch was “mistreating the team” with “shouts,” “cursing” and “excessive irritation,” according to a letter the union sent Netflix’s local production partner. Netflix was informed of the issue and addressed it with Rinsch, a person familiar with the matter said.
In Budapest, Rinsch went days without sleep and accused his wife of plotting to have him assassinated, two people who witnessed the outburst said.
Rosés later said in a court filing in her divorce case that Rinsch’s behavior had started to change even before the overseas shoots. On several occasions, he had thrown things at her and twice punched holes in a wall.
Rinsch has said he was diagnosed with autism and attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder and took medications for both. Rosés and some crew members worried about his use of Vyvanse, an amphetamine that is commonly prescribed to treat ADHD. When overused, the drug can have serious side effects, including mania, delirium and even psychosis, according to psychiatrists.
In March 2020, as the coronavirus pandemic was reaching U.S. shores, Rinsch asked Netflix to send him more money. Rinsch had missed several production milestones and was toggling between two versions of the script, a shorter one that matched the original 13-episode plan and one twice as long that would have required greenlighting a second season.
Netflix initially resisted Rinsch’s demand, but it relented when he claimed the whole production risked collapsing without an immediate cash injection.
Netflix wired Rinsch’s production company $11 million, bringing its total outlay to more than $55 million.
Rinsch transferred $10.5 million of the $11 million to his personal brokerage account and, using options, placed risky bets on the stock market, according to copies of his bank and brokerage statements included in the divorce case. Rinsch lost $5.9 million in a matter of weeks.
In September 2020, Netflix shook up its management team. Holland and another executive involved with Rinsch’s contract would leave the company.
On March 18, 2021, a Netflix business affairs executive, Rochelle Gerson, informed Rinsch by email that Netflix had decided to stop funding “Conquest.” She told him that he was free to shop it elsewhere but that any acquirer would have to reimburse Netflix for what it had spent.
Rinsch sent angry emails to Gerson and a Netflix lawyer, accusing them of breaching his contract.
Rinsch had begun using what remained of the $11 million that Netflix had wired his production company to place bets on crypto. Unlike his stock market investments, this one paid off: When he liquidated his dogecoin positions in May 2021, he had a balance of nearly $27 million.
Rinsch then went on a spending spree. He bought five Rolls-Royces, a Ferrari, and millions of dollars’ worth of high-end furniture and designer clothing. The tab came to $8.7 million, according to a forensic accountant hired by Rosés.
Her legal team suspected that the purchases were designed to hide Rinsch’s crypto winnings.
Rinsch responded in a deposition that the cars and furniture were props for “Conquest” and that he had paid for them with Netflix’s production money. But in his arbitration case with Netflix, he took a different position: In confidential filings reviewed by the Times, he argued that the money was contractually his and that Netflix owed him several more payments totaling more than $14 million.
Netflix disagrees. In a motion it filed in July, the company said the payments were contingent on Rinsch’s hitting various production milestones, which it contends he never did. The case went to a hearing before an arbitrator this month. A ruling is expected soon.
This article originally appeared in
The New York Times.
