Chapter 157: Annual Fashion Show

"Why should we fear competition? What successful Summer Season film hasn't won out through fierce competition?"

Mel Gibson stood at the conference table and leaned forward, bracing both hands on the surface as if using his posture to drive the point home. "Are you saying that just because Saving Private Ryan claimed that date, we have to change ours? We'd become the biggest joke in Hollywood!"

"No one ever said we were changing it."

Sherry Lansing, the CEO of Paramount Pictures, rubbed her forehead. "But we have to be cautious! Duke Rosenberg has earned the right to make any competitor tread carefully!"

Paramount Pictures' entire promotional and distribution strategy—for North America and overseas alike—was built around the Memorial Day weekend. Changing the release date would be the most foolish move they could make.

"There's really no need to be so worried."

Martin Bob wore the most relaxed expression in the room. "I have reliable intel. Duke Rosenberg isn't shooting the purely explosive war film we all assumed he was. Word is he wants to gradually transition his style. You can see it in the current promotional spots, too—the film lacks his usual exaggerated, popcorn-style plots."

He chuckled. "Think about it, everyone. Why are Duke Rosenberg's films so popular during the Summer Season?"

Not waiting for a response, Martin Bob answered his own question. "Dazzling moving camera work, razor-sharp editing, and explosive special effects!"

"Exactly. That's the foundational style of a Duke Rosenberg film!" Mel Gibson chimed in. "And it's his biggest selling point!"

"And what if he wants to change that style?" Martin Bob's lips curled into a full smirk. "My sources say he wants to inject humanistic themes and a heavy dose of anti-war ideology into the film! Think about it, everyone. A purely commercial director who relies entirely on visual effects suddenly deciding to make a deep, thought-provoking movie—just how disastrous will that be?"

Many people in the room, Mel Gibson included, burst into laughter.

"We all know exactly how hard it is for a commercial director to successfully transition," Martin Bob continued. "Even counting this year, Duke Rosenberg has only been in Hollywood for four years. I'll admit he's achieved a level of commercial success most directors couldn't touch in a lifetime, but thinking he can successfully pivot his entire career with just one movie? Is there a funnier joke than that?"

"True, some commercial directors can manage it." Sherry Lansing clearly agreed with Martin Bob. "But even a genius like Spielberg took nearly a decade and multiple films to earn success and recognition outside of the commercial realm!"

The atmosphere in the conference room lightened considerably. The group discussed things further before circling back to Saving Private Ryan. After all, the two sides were set for a head-on collision during the Summer Season, and the competition wouldn't just be settled with words.

"We will lock down the film's exact style and genre as soon as possible," Martin Bob said, "so we can formulate a targeted suppression strategy."

"Viacom's media outlets will coordinate with our marketing campaign," Sherry Lansing added. "If necessary, we will take extreme measures!"

Mel Gibson, who had been quiet for a moment, suddenly looked up. "Is there any way we can target Duke Rosenberg himself? He's cost us a lot of unnecessary losses!"

Every day a production fell behind schedule meant a corresponding spike in expenses. Because of the disruptions from those explosion scenes, Mel Gibson had taken nearly ten extra days to wrap his shoot. Factoring in the extra payments to the horse wranglers and stunt performers—and especially the injury compensation for Sean Connery—the tally was exorbitant. It had directly inflated Braveheart's production budget by almost 5 million dollars!

"That would be difficult!" Martin Bob sighed. "Aside from being a bit of a womanizer and tangling with a few pretty actresses, Duke Rosenberg doesn't have many weak points we can exploit."

If the man were secretly gay or nursing a drug addiction, Martin Bob would never have sat idle; he would have plastered the scandals everywhere long ago.

But sleeping with beautiful actresses? Nearly every director in Hollywood did that. It wasn't as if the tabloids hadn't tried to hype up Duke Rosenberg's romantic escapades before, but it only amounted to idle gossip. The man had no wife and no official girlfriend; that angle simply couldn't be weaponized against him.

"Beautiful actresses?" Mel Gibson tapped the table lightly, muttering to himself. "I think I heard Sean mention that he once chased after Sophie Marceau."

"Martin, as long as we can find a suitable angle of attack..."

The clash between Braveheart and Saving Private Ryan directly impacted Paramount's bottom line. Sherry Lansing didn't hesitate. "Paramount will strike with everything we have!"

The meeting concluded. The specific groundwork would naturally fall to the professionals. Mel Gibson said his goodbyes to Martin Bob and Sherry Lansing, left the conference room, and headed toward the elevators.

"Hi, Mr. Gibson."

Hearing a greeting from ahead, the deep-in-thought Mel Gibson nodded. The man was Lovett, someone who had nearly become one of his co-managing agents. Lovett had once been CAA's most promising young agent, but regarding Duke Rosenberg, he had made a foolish mistake—just like the rest of CAA—and unfortunately ended up taking the fall for all of it. After Martin Bob took the reins, Lovett not only lost his partnership status but got demoted all the way back to the mailroom.

Initially, Mel Gibson had no intention of paying Lovett any mind, but he suddenly remembered that the man used to be Duke Rosenberg's agent. He quickly called out and stopped him.

As they stood waiting by the elevators, Lovett wore a pensive expression, seemingly straining to recall events from several years ago.

"There was nothing particularly special about Duke in the past. His biggest strengths were his focus and hard work, even though he didn't seem to have much talent back then. If he had a flaw, it was that he dumped his girlfriends way too fast."

"Do you know any of his girlfriends from his school days?" Mel Gibson asked.

"I remember a few," Lovett said carefully. "Though 'temporary flings' might be a better term."

Mel Gibson nodded. Lovett suddenly seemed to recall something else. "There's one thing... I don't know if you've heard about it?"

"What is it?"

"A rumor coming out of Madonna's camp." Lovett lowered his voice. "A friend of mine is pretty close with Madonna's personal assistant. She heard that when Madonna was in London for the Victoria's Secret fashion show, she engaged in a bit of BDSM play with someone."

"That's it?" Mel Gibson gave an impatient look. "Is it really that rare for something like that to happen with Madonna?"

"This time was different!" Lovett said secretively. "Rumor has it Madonna was the masochist this time, and she was whipped so hard she couldn't get out of bed for two whole days!"

Mel Gibson looked intrigued. Who could have beaten that crazy woman to such a state?

"It was Duke Rosenberg!" Lovett delivered the punchline. "That assistant said Duke whipped Madonna with a leather belt for five whole minutes!"

"He has that kind of fetish?"

A calculating glint flashed in Mel Gibson's eyes, but he quickly shook his head. Too much time had passed. Madonna hadn't made a peep, meaning she clearly had no intention of pressing the issue. Besides, who was to say she hadn't thoroughly enjoyed it? What if they tried to provoke Madonna into speaking out?

Madonna wasn't someone who could be easily manipulated, and CAA held no real leverage over her.

The elevator doors opened. Mel Gibson stepped inside, still mulling over the tidbits Lovett had shared and wondering if any of them could be exploited.

Beautiful, sexy female stars—any normal man would like them, and some even developed a perverse urge to destroy beautiful things. In the movies Duke Rosenberg produced, he never bothered to hide his penchant for mass destruction. Could that stylistic trait extend to his actual personal life?

"Hi, Mel."

When the elevator doors opened again, Mel Gibson saw the French beauty waiting outside. He returned the greeting with equal warmth. "Sophie, what brings you here?"

"I'm here to negotiate some contract terms with CAA." She pointed into the elevator car. "I'm heading up."

Staring at the closed elevator doors, Mel Gibson finally remembered that Sophie Marceau was preparing to break into Hollywood and was currently hashing out contract details with CAA.

He pulled out his Mobile Phone and dialed Martin Bob's number. "Martin, I have a few thoughts regarding Sophie Marceau. I'll hash out the specifics with you later, but can you stall the negotiations with her for now? Great! Let's hold off until we've had a chance to talk."

Hanging up the phone, Mel Gibson hurried out of Century City, heading to a hospital in Los Angeles to visit the injured Sean Connery—and to confirm whether Duke Rosenberg really had chased after Sophie Marceau.

As for the matter with Sophie Marceau, Duke had long since forgotten about it. Far away in Ireland, he was currently shooting the final wrap-up scenes for his film.

Principal photography had been underway for over two months. With the extraordinarily difficult opening and closing battle sequences officially in the can, the crew had settled into a perfect groove and rhythm. Duke's biggest worry had been his ability to handle the slower, dramatic scenes. During the initial stretch, a few purely emotional, character-driven moments had indeed given him some trouble. But he was no longer the rookie he had been during Speed. After a week of adjustments, he gradually found his own cadence. Coupled with the fact that his cast had far more acting chops than typical action stars, they steadily made up for the lost time.

He wouldn't dare claim that he was currently doing a better job than Spielberg once had, but at the very least, his work was absolutely nowhere near the word "terrible."

"I have a feeling, Duke."

Sitting together in the set's rubble and drinking coffee, Tom Hanks said to Duke, "Once Saving Private Ryan hits theaters, Hollywood and audiences all across America are going to change their preconceived notions about you."

"Yeah, from a successful commercial director," Sofia teased, standing behind Duke and topping off both their coffees, "into a failed commercial director!"

Duke couldn't be bothered to retort. He just looked at Hanks and said, "To save me from being mocked like this in the future, Tom, give this role everything you've got!"