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🕑 Added 2025-06-04 17:17:06 +0000 UTCChapter 1483: The Value of Leverage
“What if I said no?”
The words hung in the air, loaded with meaning. Jeff watched Anson quietly.
Anson spread his hands. “Then let’s save ourselves some costs. Our company’s just getting started—every cent counts. Without Warner Brothers eyeing us like hawks, our partnership talks could go a lot smoother. I wouldn’t have to start worrying about losing hair or sleepless nights just yet.”
Haha, hahaha.
Jeff burst out laughing. It wasn’t just the words—it was Anson’s tone and expression, dripping with playful sarcasm. The whole vibe lightened up instantly.
“You’re honest. You’ve been that way since our first meeting. What’s rare is that even now, you’ve still got that special quality.”
“I like that about you—no secret there.”
“But.”
“Anson, I’ve gotta be real with you. Those two projects are worth investing in.”
“One’s Quentin Tarantino. I mean, come on—who can say no to that guy? If Miramax and Disney hadn’t hit a snag, that film wouldn’t even be on our radar.”
“The other’s a strong pick from a producer we’re really high on. You know how it is—talent’s the most valuable currency in this business.”
Anson listened patiently, waiting for his moment. Then he slipped in, “What’s this producer’s name?”
Jeff froze for a second.
A flicker of a smile danced in Anson’s eyes, but he didn’t press further. “Jeff, how about we talk terms? Even if you don’t beat around the bush, I know I owe you one. Thanks again for The Butterfly Effect last time. So let’s cut to the chase.”
The subtext couldn’t have been clearer—
Jeff didn’t actually care about Sin City or The Hangover. All that circling was just to rattle Forest Films—or more precisely, to rattle Anson. Otherwise, Jeff wouldn’t have “forgotten” Trip Vinson’s name.
Now that Anson had walked right into the lion’s den, Jeff didn’t need to keep tapping the table. Anson was ready to dive into real negotiations.
Jeff grinned, dropping the small talk. “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.”
Straight to the point, no fluff.
Anson’s mouth fell open slightly. “All this is about Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?”
Jeff nodded. “Yep. We all know your focus has shifted to Forest Films. Getting you on board for other projects is getting tougher by the day. We can hash out the pay for Charlie over time, but Warner Brothers wants to produce this one solo.”
So that’s how it was.
Anson opened his mouth, hesitated, then decided to speak up since it was Jeff. “This is a beautiful misunderstanding. I never said I’d only do Forest Films projects from now on.”
Jeff smirked. He liked this openness in Anson. “I know, but let’s be real—you’re prioritizing Forest Films. It’s your weapon against Sony Columbia.”
“Take today, for example.”
“You made a grand entrance through the front door of Warner Brothers, hoping to use our weight to throw Sony Columbia off balance, right?”
Smart people weren’t in short supply.
Warner Brothers was playing Anson, and Anson was playing Warner Brothers. Both had their own little schemes, tucked away tight, but nothing stayed hidden forever.
Anson laughed. “Oh, that’s not good. If you can see through it, they might too.”
Jeff shook his head. “Not necessarily. In Hollywood, it’s all smoke and mirrors. The surface doesn’t matter—it’s the truth underneath that counts.”
“To me, Sony Columbia screwed up. Whether it’s Spider-Man or not, they shouldn’t have let you slip.”
“Right now, they’re the only ones with the upper hand to keep working with you—the envy of all Hollywood. But because of internal power struggles, they’re ready to cut ties. That’s just dumb.”
“On that alone, I don’t think Michael Lynton deserves the CEO chair. He’s putting his own ambitions over the company’s good.”
“So we don’t mind you using Warner Brothers to knock Sony Columbia down a peg. Go ahead, use us—use us hard. We’re happy to play along. Seeing Sony Columbia stumble? That’s one less worry for us in the movie market.”
Hahaha.
This time, Anson was the one laughing out loud. “And the catch?”
Jeff put on an innocent face. “Just a friendly favor. Talking money hurts feelings.”
Anson waved him off. “The most expensive thing in the world is a favor. Besides, we both know Warner Brothers didn’t get where it is on sentimentality—not even you can change that.”
Jeff’s breath hitched. For a split second, looking into Anson’s eyes, he almost thought Anson knew about his recent setbacks at the company—
Ang Lee.
The latest novel is first released on 69 Book Bar!
Jeff had poured everything into convincing Warner Brothers to take on Ang Lee’s latest film. Six months of effort, and it still fell through. It left him frustrated—feeling like he’d let Ang Lee down. After the low point of Hulk, Lee needed his help, and Jeff had failed. Worse, he was convinced Warner Brothers had missed out on something huge.
Sentiment didn’t cut it on Wall Street, where profit ruled.
But the thought flickered and faded. Jeff dismissed it—no way Anson could know that. It was company confidential.
Pulling himself back, Jeff returned to the conversation. “Like I said, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.”
Anson shook his head. “No. One Charlie and the Chocolate Factory isn’t enough—not even close.”
Jeff chuckled, caught off guard. “Anson, you might not realize your pull in Hollywood right now. But the truth is, we really only need one project.”
“Because one project could be a start. We want to step into Sony Columbia’s shoes and build a long-term thing with you.”
“If you need it, Sin City, The Hangover—we’d offer a crew or some small investment, partner up with Forest Films to get them off the ground.”
No holding back, all heart.
But that just made Anson warier—
It wasn’t that he doubted Jeff. On the contrary, he believed Jeff meant every word. What he didn’t trust was Warner Brothers behind him.
Conditions this good? Warner Brothers was definitely after more. Like Anson said, one Charlie and the Chocolate Factory didn’t carry enough weight.
But that was a good thing. They wanted something because Anson had that kind of value now. If he played it right, he could turn that value into Forest Films’ gain—use the partnership to fast-track its growth and plant its flag in Hollywood.
With that in mind, Anson looked at Jeff. “But Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? That’s a hard no.”
Jeff clearly hadn’t seen that coming. He blinked, studying Anson closely, then realized he wasn’t kidding.
“Oh.” Jeff let out a small sigh. He’d meant to change the subject, but after a pause, he glanced at Anson again and couldn’t resist asking.
“Mind telling me why?”
Chapter 1484: A Bold Gamble
Age. Image. Vision.
Anson laid it all out, sharing his unfiltered thoughts on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and why he wasn’t the right fit for it.
Jeff didn’t interrupt. He listened intently, his full attention on Anson, taking it all in with a rare seriousness.
Hollywood’s a noisy, chaotic circus—ten sentences thrown around, and maybe one’s true. The rest? Just dazzling hype and exaggeration. So when actors pick projects or scripts, staying totally objective is tough.
Usually—not always, but more often than not—actors, managers, and agents don’t base their choices on the script itself. It’s more about the producer, the director, the budget, the creative direction, the vibe, or how much the studio cares. Stuff like that.
In other words, the script and the role? They’re not the main event. A lot of times, actors sign on without even reading the thing cover to cover. What really matters is the “pitch”—how convincing the producer or writer is.
Call it persuasion if you’re being polite. Bluntly? It’s all talk.
It’s the same for actors and studios alike. Most of the time, they hear a concept, a framework, an idea, and bam—they decide whether to greenlight it. Sure, some still read scripts and build projects from there, but that takes time, effort, and patience. In today’s fast-food culture, that old-school approach is fading fast.
Yet Anson stayed sharp and level-headed.
Especially now, with Hollywood buzzing and bursting with distractions, Anson keeping his cool was something special. That kind of clarity? Rare as hell.
Jeff had to admit, his respect for Anson was growing—
You don’t judge someone by their everyday chatter. It’s in the clutch moments—crisis or triumph—when their true colors slip out.
After a beat, Jeff tossed out a casual question. “If that’s the case, who do you think would fit?”
Anson tilted his head, eyeing Jeff with a quiet laugh. “Wait, are you asking my opinion now?”
Jeff grinned. “Since you’re passing on it, you could at least point us in the right direction.”
Anson shot back, “That’s a producer’s job. What’s my cut?”
Jeff played along. “I thought we were friends.”
Anson smirked. “That line might work somewhere else.”
Jeff glanced around his office, feigning offense. “What, you don’t like it? I can grab a whiskey, cue some background tunes, dim the lights.”
Anson burst out laughing, dropping the banter. “Johnny Depp.”
Jeff blinked, caught off guard. “You’re serious?”
Anson shrugged lightly. “I’ve always thought Tim Burton’s take on fairy tales could spark something unique. And the best Johnny Depp? That’s the guy people knew before they really knew him.”
Jeff caught on quick. “Edward Scissorhands?”
Anson nodded. “And the best Winona Ryder, too.”
Jeff rubbed his chin, mulling it over, then cracked a joke. “I thought you two were rivals.”
Anson’s lips curved up. “Do I look like I’m scared of a little competition?”
The subtext was clear: even if Johnny Depp’s career soared with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Anson wasn’t sweating it. No dirty tricks needed—just straight-up, honest competition. He was that confident he’d hold his own.
That’s the kind of swagger he had.
Jeff chuckled, shaking his head, then teased, “Sorry, I’ll never have that kind of confidence you guys do.”
Anson deadpanned, “It’s all in the face.”
Ha! Haha!
Jeff clapped his hands, roaring with laughter. “Anson, thank you. Thank you for choosing to be an actor. You’re the reason Hollywood’s not a total snooze.”
“But that’s exactly why I’m bummed we’re missing out on working together this time. Honestly, I’ve got a wild idea brewing right now.”
He paused, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. Before Anson could jump in, Jeff adjusted his posture, leaning forward slightly.
“Anson, what do you think about stepping in as Bruce Wayne?”
The air went still—
Bruce Wayne. Batman. One of DC Comics’ big three, and hands-down Warner Bros.’ most successful DC Universe adaptation.
Since the late ‘80s with Tim Burton’s Batman, Warner Bros. had a winning track record with this character. Over the years, Michael Keaton, Val Kilmer, and George Clooney had all donned the cape.
No question, it’s a cornerstone of North American film and comic culture.
Then came 1997’s Batman & Robin with George Clooney—a box-office disaster of epic proportions. It left George so scarred he swore off blockbuster flicks for the next three decades and sent Warner Bros. packing the whole DC Comics franchise onto a shelf to gather dust.
It wasn’t until Spider-Man blew up that Warner Bros. dusted off the vault, and DC adaptations got a second shot.
Right now, Warner Bros. was prepping a Batman reboot. Based on what Anson knew from his past life, this would be Christopher Nolan’s trilogy with Christian Bale as Bruce Wayne—a peak for superhero films.
Even when Marvel’s Iron Man, Captain America, and The Avengers later dominated the box office and rewrote history, Nolan’s Batman series still held a top spot for DC in the pantheon of classic superhero movies.
And now, Jeff was pitching this to Anson?
Worth noting: Christopher Nolan was still a nobody at this point. He’d caught some attention with his low-budget indie Memento, which landed him a gig directing Insomnia for Warner Bros. Sadly, that film got critical love but tanked at the box office.
Still, Jeff saw something in him. Against all odds, he pushed for Nolan to helm the Batman reboot, even convincing Warner Bros. to cut the young director a one-of-a-kind deal:
For every Batman film Nolan finished, he’d get to make one of his own projects, fully his way.
That’s how The Prestige, Inception, and Interstellar came to be.
Anson met Jeff’s gaze, a spark lighting up his eyes. “So, you’re thinking a teenage Batman?”
Jeff dodged with a grin. “Oh, I didn’t peg you for a comic guy.” Clearly, he’d read Anson’s text interviews for Spider-Man.
Anson raised an eyebrow. “Even if I don’t read comics, I’ve at least heard of Superman and Batman.”
Jeff smirked. “What, no market for a teenage Batman?”
Anson threw his hands up. “Beats me—haven’t you guys done the research? But I’d bet your board’s freaking out. Like, really freaking out. Really, really.”
Chapter 1485: A Fair Deal
In different versions of comics and movies, Bruce Wayne’s portrayal varies slightly, but one thing remains consistent: he’s a mature, middle-aged man.
At its core, the key lies in this—Batman is the brains of the DC universe. He’s the leader of the team, much like how Iron Man later became the central figure in the Avengers. A role like that demands a certain level of maturity and steadiness.
Digging deeper, Batman isn’t a superhero aimed at the teenage market. He’s a hero crafted for a middle-aged audience.
Clearly, from the very beginning, Batman’s positioning sets him apart from someone like Spider-Man.
After the “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” conversation, Jeff wasn’t surprised this time. He rubbed his chin and said, “I thought you’d be especially thrilled about this offer.”
“You’d get to show off your pull. Even without Peter Parker, you could seamlessly step into a brand-new role—and it’s Bruce Wayne, no less.”
Anson chuckled lightly. “Sure, it could definitely be a big move. But even without Bruce Wayne, I can still prove my presence. I don’t need any role to validate where I stand right now.”
His tone was casual, brimming with confidence.
Jeff raised his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, I forgot that again.”
“But about the age thing—you don’t need to worry. We’re planning to shift the timeline forward, focusing on Bruce Wayne’s early days as Batman. Even the director we’ve got in mind is a fresh, young talent.”
Anson froze for a moment, his thoughts spinning. Then it hit him—he’d overlooked something.
True, Batman’s image is typically middle-aged. Ben Affleck’s version even leaned into a full-on midlife crisis vibe. People often think Robert Pattinson’s Batman is the youngest Bruce Wayne, but in reality, Christian Bale was only thirty when he took on the role—making him the youngest Bruce Wayne on the big screen.
And then there’s Christopher Nolan, who wasn’t even thirty-four when he directed Batman Begins, a story about Bruce Wayne just stepping into his Batman persona.
Looking at it that way, Anson playing Bruce Wayne didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.
Jeff didn’t rush to press further. Instead, he gave Anson space to think, quietly observing the shifts in his expression before continuing. “If you’re worried about transitioning from Spider-Man to Batman, leave that to our expert team to figure out.”
Anson looked up at Jeff, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
Jeff spread his hands. “What, you think I haven’t thought this through? Your Spider-Man image is already ingrained in people’s minds. Setting aside the potential awkwardness of switching from Peter Parker to Bruce Wayne, jumping from a carefree teenage student to the head of Wayne Enterprises is a massive leap—one that’s not exactly ideal for marketing.”
“Ha,” Anson laughed. “No wonder you’re a top-tier producer. Even on the fly, you’ve got every angle covered.”
Jeff grinned. “Don’t worry about problems popping up. There’s always a way to fix them.”
And yeah, any problem that can be solved with money isn’t really a problem.
Anson studied Jeff, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “But it seems you’ve forgotten something.”
Jeff raised an eyebrow. “Pay? You know Warner Bros. never sweats that.”
That’s just how confident they are!
Anson burst out laughing. “Sorry, forgive my rudeness. I’d never underestimate Warner Bros. Otherwise, if you slapped a hundred-million-dollar check in my face, I might not be able to stay so composed.”
“Hahaha!” Jeff joined in the laughter.
Anson shook his head. “No, I’m not worried about pay. I trust you haven’t overlooked that. What I mean is my situation. Honestly, I’m still tied up in the Spider-Man franchise. I know a successful series is a safety net, but it’s also a cage for an actor’s image.”
“Beyond just being a pretty face, I might spend the next decade trying to shake off Peter Parker. I’m not exactly eager to dive into Bruce Wayne and get locked into another franchise. The energy it takes to carry a series is way more than people realize.”
Jeff’s expression turned playful. As a producer, he rarely considered things from this angle. “Oh? I thought that’d be a good thing.”
“Sorry, let me clarify,” Anson said.
“What I mean is, having an iconic screen role—isn’t that a win? The kind of success every actor dreams of?”
Anson nodded. “Sure, if you’re Jack Nicholson. Everyone knows how legendary his Joker was in the 1989 Batman. Even now, no one’s topped it. But at the same time, his other work still makes waves. The Joker just becomes a bonus.”
“Not everyone’s Jack Nicholson, though.”
Anson was dead serious about that.
“Batman”? And a chance to work with someone like Christopher Nolan?
It’s an electrifying offer. In a different time or place, Anson would’ve jumped at it without a second thought. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime shot.
But after the twists and turns of the Spider-Man series, his perspective had shifted a bit—
In his past life, Anson had read interviews where more than a few actors who’d played Marvel heroes admitted that while landing a superhero role opened doors—a dream come true—it could also shackle their careers. For the next decade, they’d wrestle with breaking free from that mold, stuck in a long, grueling fight.
Chris Evans, Robert Downey Jr., Tom Holland, Chris Hemsworth.
The list goes on—all of them faced it.
On the bright side, they raked in cash—checks bigger than most actors see in a lifetime. No worries about food on the table. But on the flip side, that might be it. If they couldn’t shed the label, other opportunities might dry up. And if they burned through the money? They could end up washed-up, middle-aged, and broke.
Take Johnny Depp—who’d have thought a billionaire legend like him would end up drowning in debt?
If Anson were still a struggling no-name actor, he’d grab this chance with both hands.
But the thing is, he’s not anymore.
So, Anson had to think long-term. Loving a role is one thing; locking himself into another superhero franchise is another.
Despite the temptation, he had to say no.
Jeff seemed to half-get it. “I’ll admit, I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t fully get it. Guess that’s another reason I’d never make it as an actor—not just because of my face.”
Anson’s lips curved into a light smile. “So, if I asked Warner Bros. to ‘release the hostages’ right now, you wouldn’t be too keen, huh?”
(End of Chapter)
