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Chapter 137: A New Movie Project
🕑 Added 2025-05-02 02:31:57 +0000 UTCEver since Bill McNick joined the team, my workload’s gotten a lot lighter. Unless it’s something I’m really focused on, I’ve pretty much handed over all the big and small stuff at Dunn Films to him.
Right now, I’m chilling in my office, flipping through a faxed report that just came in from New York.
Scott Swift made his move!
From February 4th to February 9th—six days—he snagged 10.86 million Yahoo shares using an average stock price of $3,674, 20x leverage, and a $200 million margin. He borrowed from 13 securities firms and successfully shorted it. On February 14th, a Monday, when the market reopened, Yahoo’s stock plummeted to $1,735 right at the opening bell. The trend was set!
Internet companies are still riding this wild wave of hype. According to the latest reports, in just the first month and a half of 2000, 489 venture capital firms pumped $9.8 billion into seven up-and-coming internet startups. And get this: a few days ago, some website on a reality show handed a contestant a cool $10 million as a prize!
Even though Yahoo’s stock just tanked by 50%, Wall Street’s still all in on tech stocks. The NASDAQ keeps climbing steadily. I’ve already told Scott Swift that come early next month, it’s time to strike—targeting big names like Microsoft, Cisco, AOL, Dell, Oracle, and Amazon.
Knock knock knock!
Reese Witherspoon pops in after tapping the door, rocking a chic dress that hugs her figure perfectly. “The agency hasn’t gotten back to us yet,” she says. “Dunn, after that whole Bruce Willis mess, we pissed them off. You think they’ll refuse to work with us?”
I think it over for a sec. “Nah, they’re not that dumb! Plus, with that name in play, any agency would be crazy not to bite.”
A big chunk of Dunn Films’ cash is tied up in Soderbergh’s movie right now, so that project won’t kick off until at least April. The production team’s tearing their hair out over who to pick as director, though. Just like with that other one, those massive fantasy effects scenes are a total headache. And since it hasn’t hit theaters yet, no one knows what the final product will even look like.
It all boils down to this: computer effects tech is still in its early days. Directors bold enough to pioneer and push the boundaries? You can count them on one hand in all of Hollywood.
The production team only gave me three names—Steven Spielberg, James Cameron, and Robert Zemeckis.
Spielberg’s busy prepping a new film and overseeing a WWII TV series that’s about to get greenlit—no time. Cameron’s knee-deep in his “ocean rescue” project, set to start this summer—also unavailable. Zemeckis, the effects wizard, is obsessed with digital motion capture right now. He even funded a “Robert Zemeckis Center for Digital Arts” at USC to develop new tech. But after shooting two films in 1999, he’s wiped out and wants a two-year break. No dice there either.
So, the problem lands back in my lap.
Then it hits me—a familiar name: Ang Lee.
This guy’s a Hollywood marvel. He’s not a tech whiz, but he’s got this relentless drive for perfection and fearless creativity. From that one film to another, sure, people had doubts, but shooting at 120 frames per second, 4K resolution, and 3D? That’s proof he’s all about chasing cutting-edge tech. Across all of Hollywood, besides the big dogs, Ang Lee’s the only one I can picture pulling this off.
I’ve got a bit of a connection with Peter Jackson. I’ll set up Ang Lee to check out The Lord of the Rings post-production—should be enough to spark some vivid fantasy world ideas in his head.
Just then, the office door creaks open again. My other secretary, Isla Fisher, peeks her head in sneakily.
“What’s with the creeping around?” I snap, half-annoyed.
Isla giggles. “I thought you two might be… you know. Didn’t want to interrupt anything juicy!”
Reese shoots her a glare. “Spit it out if you’ve got something to say!”
Isla just hums, totally unbothered by the icy vibe, and waltzes past my desk. Next thing I know, she’s plopped down on my lap, arms around my neck. “We’ve secured the adaptation rights for that one.”
“Oh,” I say, glancing at Reese—who’s already storming out, slamming the door behind her. Ugh, headache incoming. I can handle extra assistants for work stuff, but one secretary for admin? That’s plenty.
“You’re not happy?” Isla tilts her head, giving me a curious look.
I shrug. “It’s fine, I guess.”
Back at the start of the year, I told the production team to snag the rights to the musical Chicago. I even hashed it out with Mel Gibson—we were gonna team up for a movie, Chicago. But after chatting with Bill McNick, I switched gears.
If all goes as expected, Universal Pictures won’t be up for grabs this year. The next shot’s two years out, when Vivendi tanks hard. To make up for my lack of creds, I’ve got a plan—Bill’s advice: focus on the Oscars for the next two years!
Sure, Chicago snagged Best Picture once, but I’ve run the numbers. If I shoot it this year, there’s no way it’s winning. Filmed in 2000, released in 2001, up for awards in March 2002… but then 9/11 happens in 2001. That mess leaves a scar on the American psyche. No chance the Academy picks a crime musical after that—they’ll want something warm and healing to soothe the nation.
So, I’ve pivoted. I’m taking the reins myself on a film Dunn Films was already eyeing last year—A Beautiful Mind. Plans change faster than you can blink, and I’ve learned that lesson a few times now. But this? It’s too good to pass up!
I’ve already tasked Manohla Dargis with assembling a writing team to adapt the biography my way. Russell Crowe’s in, teaming up with Nicole Kidman to star. Of course, I can’t jump in right away—Dunn Films is strapped for cash, and my total box office as a producer-director’s at $3.72 billion. I need another $2.8 billion to trigger “Mirror Possession” again. That’ll have to wait until that other film hits theaters.
“Boss, Reese has already done a bunch of movies,” Isla whines, giving me those puppy-dog eyes. “When’s it my turn?”
“Small roles? Easy. Lead? Give it a few years—you need to ripen up a bit first.”
“What?! That’s so boring!” She pouts dramatically.
I blink, then remember something. “Wait, didn’t you write a couple books?”
“Yeah, back in ’96,” she says with a sigh. “Sales sucked, so I quit.”
“What kind?”
“Romance.” She presses her lips together. “My mom’s a big-deal romance writer—I picked up a lot growing up.”
I nod, then grin. “Wanna get back into it?”
Her eyes go wide. “You mean… write that?”
I laugh. “Yeah! You’re twiddling your thumbs here, wasting energy fighting Reese for attention. Why not get busy and chase that writer dream instead?”
“Fighting for attention? Pfft!” She rolls her eyes playfully but scoots even closer, looking up at me. “Mom says my story structures are too cliché, though.”
“Forget that. How’s your writing style?”
“Awesome, obviously!” she declares, brimming with confidence.
“Then we’re golden!” I pull her in, planting a quick kiss on her lips. “I’ll give you the story, you flesh it out—details, logic, all that—and we’ll turn it into a book.”
“You’re telling the story?” She stares at me, stunned.
I grin. “Yup. What, you don’t trust my scripting skills?”
“No, no, no, of course not!” She’s quick to backtrack. Isla knows I’ve got chops—my work on this and that proves it. She hesitates. “Wait, am I just ghostwriting for you?”
I burst out laughing. “What? No way! We’ll slap both our names on it—yours first, mine second!”
“Really?!” Her face lights up.
“Duh! You think a big-shot boss like me needs to trick a little secretary like you?” I wink at her a few times, lowering my voice. “You little vixen, you’ve got me hooked again!”
She smirks, feeling the tension, and slides off me like a mermaid, kneeling in front with a flirty glance. “So, how do we split the royalties?”
“Fifty-fifty.”
“Cheapskate! Big boss, my foot!” She huffs, turning her head away.
I sigh. “Fine—under a million, it’s all yours. Over a million, we split it even.”
“That much?!” She freezes. “What’s the story?”
“The Devil Wears Prada.”
I smirk, leaning back with a long, satisfied exhale as her jaw drops.
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