Chapter 151: 42nd Street

Musical films once enjoyed immense glory in Hollywood, only to plummet into decline during the seventies and eighties. They never fully recovered, not even in Duke's previous life. Although Chicago was appearing several years ahead of schedule, Duke wasn't particularly worried. After all, the so-called revival of musical films in the new century was nothing more than a false premise.

Moulin Rouge! had dragged musical films back into Hollywood's line of sight, and by the time Chicago premiered, a nostalgic mainstream industry couldn't wait to declare that the genre's golden age had returned. But what was the reality?

It was nothing but a flash in the pan. The subsequent Honey barely avoided becoming a complete flop. High School Musical was a television movie—meaning its influence was limited—and it belonged to the teen idol genre, which mainstream Hollywood despised the most. Musical films merely rode a brief resurgence sparked by Moulin Rouge! and Chicago, a resurgence entirely tied to the specific subject matter of those two movies.

Nostalgia was practically a staple of mainstream society. Every era harbored its share of nostalgic people, and there was no shortage of them in Hollywood or among moviegoers. That nostalgia provided the very soil in which Chicago could thrive. Even setting aside the film's satirical edge, its sheer retro appeal was bound to stir up sentiment. When the opening notes of "All That Jazz" played, it would awaken fond memories for countless viewers who had seen the stage musical...

More importantly, Broadway had recently announced a revival of Chicago, bringing the classic musical back to the stage!

With both the film and the stage production launching a two-pronged attack, prompting a segment of the audience to reminisce about the golden age of musicals wouldn't be too difficult.

Furthermore, Duke was acutely aware that the musical genre was in irreversible decline. This project would only serve to stir up fleeting memories for a specific demographic; it could never spark the kind of massive theatergoing frenzy seen with action and sci-fi blockbusters.

These were the key reasons why he chose the distinctly American Chicago over Moulin Rouge!.

Granted, such a dramatic shift in genre would undoubtedly shock the media and his fans. It was hard to say how the reviews would pan out, but the pivot had its advantages. The film would hardly lack topicality. Controversy bred curiosity, and a portion of that curiosity would inevitably translate into box office returns.

In truth, there were many other reasons behind his choice. After directing several feature films, Duke had built solid confidence in his narrative techniques. And Chicago, plainly speaking, relied heavily on visual impact to draw its audience in—something Duke had no difficulty with. The real challenge lay in the song and dance sequences, as he lacked professional expertise in that area.

However, Hollywood and Broadway had no shortage of such talent. Hiring professional choreographers and vocal coaches might be a minor hassle, but it was an easily solvable problem.

Additionally, the production budget would be relatively low, making it much easier to turn a profit. As far as the studios were concerned, awards were meaningless on their own; they were merely tools for generating revenue. If a film swept the awards circuit but lost money, the studio would still downgrade the director's investment tier—or even blacklist them altogether.

Finally, just like his previous works, this would be a standard mainstream film. Drifting away from the mainstream wasn't strictly off-limits, but the timing wasn't right just yet. After all, his capital was not yet abundant enough.

As for pure horror films—notorious for their low budgets and high returns—they weren't even on Duke's radar. Why was he trying to transition in the first place? And why did horror directors always try to transition out of the genre? Pivoting to schlocky gore-fests or low-quality horror that burned through a director's credibility would just be driving himself into a dead end. He would be better off not transitioning at all.

Still, all of that would have to wait until after Saving Private Ryan. Duke's current priority was finishing the production of this war epic.

After spending three days with his mother in London, Duke returned to Ireland, where the crew had reconvened on the set just outside Dublin.

The production had very few soundstage scenes; the vast majority of the shoot took place outdoors. Following a brief check-in with his team, Duke stepped out of the temporary soundstage and headed toward the "radar station" set, which bordered the Braveheart production. As he arrived, he noticed a large crowd milling about a short distance to his front left. It seemed the neighboring Braveheart crew was currently rolling.

"What's going on?" Duke asked.

The main shooting locations for the two productions were separated by a fair distance, but the edges of their respective sets were barely a few hundred feet apart.

"That's their set, though it's on the absolute outer edge," Robin Grande said, having a better grasp of the situation. "They started building it before Christmas. It shouldn't be a very important scene."

Duke nodded, brushing the matter aside. He was on a tight schedule. As long as the other production didn't cross the boundary and disrupt his own crew, he couldn't care less.

Arriving at the base of the fully dressed radar station set, he found Tom Hanks already in position. Duke briefly conferred with John Schwartzman regarding camera placement and lighting tones before walking over to the actor.

"Tom, this scene is a bit tricky," Duke said, taking a seat on the rubble. "But it should be nothing for you. Keep in mind, this is a silent breakdown. You're the backbone of the squad. You absolutely cannot let the others see this moment of weakness and overwhelming grief."

"Don't worry about it."

Now that the two of them had grown more familiar with each other, Tom Hanks would occasionally crack a joke. "I practiced it a few times over the Christmas break. Colin even asked me what I was doing."

Duke knew that Colin was Hanks' eldest son. He gave the actor a pat on the arm, stood up, and headed back toward the director's monitors. Just as he had said, the scene indeed posed some difficulty, but for Tom Hanks, it was only a minor issue.

Preparations were quickly completed. At Duke's signal, an assistant director grabbed the clapperboard and stepped in front of the camera lens.

"Scene twenty-one, take one. Action!"

Sitting behind the monitors, Duke rested his chin on his hand, his eyes locked onto Tom Hanks on the screen.

He sat atop the rubble, unfolded the map in his hands, and cast a glance over his shoulder. Suddenly, he dropped down beneath the debris. Hiding himself away as if afraid of being discovered by the others, he fought to suppress his grief and sorrow, keeping himself from crying out loud. Just as two lines of tears slid from his eyes and the emotional tension was reaching its peak...

The neighs of a horse rang out several times in rapid succession. Even from nearly a thousand feet away, the sound carried with absolute clarity across the open, quiet set. A distraction like that was an absolute deathblow for an actor. Tom Hanks broke character instantly.

Duke stood up and turned to look toward the Braveheart set. The distance was a bit far, and aside from the figures of men and horses moving about, he couldn't make out any specific details. But before his eyebrows could even knit together, another chorus of neighs echoed through the air.

In any other environment, the noise wouldn't have been an issue, but on a perfectly quiet film set, it completely disrupted the shoot.

"Hold for a minute," Duke said.

Though annoyed, the two productions were in such close proximity that it was hard to say the other side was doing it on purpose. Duke signaled for his crew to stay calm. "Let's take a break for a bit."

To his surprise, nearly twenty minutes passed with no sign of the disturbance stopping. Although the horse neighs weren't quite as relentless as before, it wouldn't be long before another sound erupted.

"Robin,"

Things couldn't go on like this. Duke finally lost his patience. "Send someone over to have a word with them."

In truth, it wasn't hard to resolve. If the other crew just put bits on the horses, they would surely quiet down.

"I'll go over."

Charles Roven walked over and intercepted Robin Grande. He knew that Duke's people were on bad terms with the other production, so he simply went over himself, tracked down Mel Gibson, and spoke with him for a while.

Over ten minutes later, Charles Roven left.

Sporting long, disheveled hair, Mel Gibson returned behind the monitors to review the take they had just wrapped. On the screen, stuntmen dressed as English soldiers galloped wildly through a village. The warhorses let out occasional neighs, as rampant as the way the English treated the Scots.

The horses elevated the men, and the men elevated the horses. Mel Gibson was extremely satisfied with the footage.

"Mel, you aren't actually going to make a concession, are you?"

Sean Connery had walked up behind him at some point. "If we lose the horses' neighing, the shots definitely won't achieve..."

"Put bits on the horses?" Mel Gibson seemed to be thinking.

"That's Duke Rosenberg's production over there," Sean Connery deliberately reminded him. "He's always been on bad terms with us, and he's directly clashed with you before. Besides, Martin really dislikes him too."

Mel Gibson's fingers tapped lightly against the arm of his chair as Sean Connery continued. "We're just shooting normally. No one can say anything about it. They can completely adjust their schedule and shoot other scenes first."

"Break their rhythm?" Mel Gibson turned his head and looked at Sean Connery. "They would end up wasting more time, energy, and money, wouldn't they?"

Sean Connery spread his hands and nodded. Within the limits of what they could do, creating trouble for their rival was an opportunity too good to pass up.

"I'll tell you the truth, Sean," Mel Gibson said, his face looking every bit as arrogant and rebellious as the William Wallace he was playing. "From the very first time I saw Duke Rosenberg at Cruise's party, I've really disliked him!"

With that, he turned to his assistant. "Pass the word down. We shoot according to the original plan!"

On the other side, Duke had just finished speaking with Charles Roven. His negotiation seemed to have gone well.

Duke had his assistant notify the various departments, and Tom Hanks quickly fell back into position. Following another brief round of preparations, the shoot was about to begin.

"Scene twenty-one, take one. Ac—"

The assistant director stopped himself before he could even finish, because another chorus of neighing rang out from over there!

Duke shot up from his director's chair, his dark eyes fixed on the Braveheart set. As another horse's neigh reached his ears, his gaze turned gradually icy. Standing beside him, Charles Roven's old face also looked extremely grim. It was obvious that he had been played for a fool by that arrogant Australian.

"Charles, we're changing the shooting schedule!" Duke's voice was flat. "We'll shoot the final battle first!"

"I couldn't agree more!"