Chapter 191: The Victor

"Director Rosenberg, rumors are circulating that you want to bring the classic Broadway musical Chicago to the big screen. Is this true?"

Duke had just walked out of the Los Angeles International Airport terminal when a massive swarm of reporters surrounded him, throwing out all sorts of questions about Chicago.

"Duke, isn't Chicago too big of a departure from your usual style?"

"What are you thinking? Why choose a declining genre like the musical?"

"Are you going to make a version of Chicago full of explosions and shootouts? Do you plan on having the two female leads shoot at each other with Chicago Typewriters?"

The scale of this mob of dozens of reporters—and the fact that they had camped out specifically to ambush him—proved just how much this news had shaken the industry. After all, if someone went around saying the Explosion Maniac wanted to film a musical, people would either call it a lie or assume all of Hollywood had gone mad. But this time, the source of the news was incredibly reliable.

Duke Rosenberg was going to shoot an artsy musical! When these reporters first got the news, it felt like the end of the world had arrived.

Of course, Duke wasn't about to tell the media that Penny Kalis had actually leaked the news herself. It was all for hype and publicity, meant to let people know as quickly as possible that his next film was set in stone and that it was called Chicago!

The chaotic scene caught the attention of airport security, and personnel quickly hurried over to maintain order. However, the reporters remained tightly packed around Duke, seemingly determined not to let him leave without a clear answer.

Duke raised a hand. Seeing that he was about to respond, the reporters fell into a rare silence.

"My next film is indeed a musical adapted from a Broadway play!"

The moment the words left his mouth, the reporters and paparazzi swarmed forward again like sharks smelling blood, no longer able to keep quiet. They hurled out endless questions, and the escalating chaos made it impossible for Duke to say anything else. With the help of the security guards, he finally broke through the siege and ducked into a car waiting on the periphery.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Penny Kesley signaled Tina Fey to start the car and get them out of there, then turned to Duke. "Looks like the effect was pretty good."

"Doing this once in a while is fine," Duke said, straightening his rumpled clothes. "Any more than that, and I'll go crazy."

"Hollywood, and even the entire North American film industry, has already gone crazy!" Penny Kalis said meaningfully. "I think this world is pretty crazy, too!"

"Is it really that exaggerated?" Duke had figured the reaction would be intense, but he hadn't expected it to be as crazy as Kalis described. "I'm not the only director in Hollywood to change styles, am I? Not counting the failures, just look at Spielberg. Didn't he shoot Empire of the Sun while making a series of commercial blockbusters?"

"Because Hollywood has never had a director with a style as distinct and successful as yours!"

Penny Kalis turned to look at Duke. "If I hadn't been hypnotizing myself into believing in you, I'm afraid..."

She shook her head and trailed off.

In truth, Duke also knew this stylistic shift was quite drastic, so he couldn't blame the people working for him for struggling to understand.

But he offered no explanation, nor was there any need to. If the film failed in the future, any explanation he gave now would be a joke. And if the film succeeded, what use would those words be anyway?

Penny Kalis wasn't the only one who thought Duke was crazy. Many Hollywood insiders felt the same way.

In the Century City Fox building, distribution head Charlie Adam hurried down the corridor. He greeted the CEO's secretary, stepped up to an office door, gave it two light knocks, pushed it open, and sat down across the desk from Thomas Rothman.

"I just received confirmed news from a Fox Television reporter." Skipping all pleasantries, he jumped straight into the topic they had been discussing for the past two days. "Duke Rosenberg just admitted at the airport that his next film is Chicago!"

Thomas Rothman still seemed unable to believe it. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure!" Charlie Adam said rather helplessly. "What on earth is Duke Rosenberg thinking?"

"Maybe only he knows." Thomas Rothman furrowed his brows tightly. Over the past three years, Duke Rosenberg's projects had been an absolute cash cow for his partners. Now, this very same cash cow was pivoting to an artsy film. With future performance on the line, how could he possibly be happy about it?

Charlie Adam also wore a bitter expression, looking as though Twentieth Century Fox would go bankrupt without Duke's commercial projects.

"Are we going to invest?" he asked tentatively.

Thomas Rothman didn't answer. Instead, he brought up another matter entirely, seemingly trying to bolster his confidence. "What's the accumulated box office for Saving Private Ryan?"

"It's still playing in 897 theaters across North America, with an accumulated box office of 275.82 million dollars!"

These figures concerning Duke seemed deeply etched into his memory, and Charlie Adam rattled them off without a second thought. "The combined global box office is 541.77 million dollars. According to predictions from Wall Street and our own research agencies, the film's final global gross could cross the 600-million-dollar mark!"

"He has clearly demonstrated absolute mastery in explosive action movies, war films, and sci-fi..." Thomas Rothman's tone was thick with reluctance and frustration. "Why go out of his way to touch a completely outdated musical with barely any market value?"

"Maybe his continuous string of successes has inflated his confidence," Charlie Adam guessed. "He thinks he can achieve what others can't."

He sighed. "If that's really the case, then he's in a bad spot. When a director starts thinking like that, it's usually the beginning of a downfall. Hollywood has seen too many examples of this in the past."

"Do you think we should pass on investing in his new film?"

Hearing Thomas Rothman's question, Charlie Adam gave a slow nod. "The risk is too high."

Curling his fingers, Thomas Rothman slowly tapped the desk twice, seemingly speaking to himself. "James Cameron is demanding additional funding again. All of our liquidity is tied up in that ship of his. We don't have the resources to worry about anything else."

"Fox will not be participating in Duke Rosenberg's new project!" Based purely on pragmatic interests, Thomas Rothman made the final decision.

Thomas Rothman and Twentieth Century Fox weren't the only ones hesitating. Upon receiving the confirmed news, Walt Disney's management was just as torn. The staggering triumph of Saving Private Ryan gave them the feeling that Duke would continue his winning streak, yet the new film's wildly different style filled them with heavy reservations.

"I believe we should continue to deepen our partnership with Duke Rosenberg."

Having recently taken charge of the live-action film production department, Robert Iger possessed a certain degree of authority. He addressed the room of executives. "Live-action film production has always been Disney's weak point. We've finally managed to establish a working relationship with Duke through Saving Private Ryan. People who are skeptical about his new film will be everywhere. If Disney supports him at a time like this, it will inevitably—"

"Bob, have you considered one thing?"

CEO Michael Ovitz cut Robert Iger off directly, completely ignoring the flash of displeasure in his eyes. "It's a musical! A musical that declined long ago! There is a very high probability that this will be a failed investment!"

"Before you say that, Michael," Robert Iger retorted without backing down, "please take a clear look at the track records of Duke's previous three films! Do I need to read them out to you? I recall there was even a project among them that CAA didn't favor! A project you people had zero faith in, yet Duke turned it into a massive success!"

"You..."

Michael Ovitz's eyes went wide. If they had been at CAA, the conference room would have surely turned into an icebox. But Robert Iger wasn't buying it; instead, he pushed right back.

With the two executives at odds, Disney's true powerholder, Chairman Michael Eisner, had to step in.

He looked at his childhood friend, Michael Ovitz, and asked bluntly, "Is your decision to abandon our continued collaboration with Duke Rosenberg?"

Blinded by anger, Michael Ovitz completely missed the trap in his words. "I've decided to pass on Duke's new project."

Michael Eisner nodded. He said nothing more, and CEO Ovitz's choice became Disney's final decision.

When the meeting adjourned and he walked out of the conference room, the fury Robert Iger had sparked in Ovitz gradually cooled, and he instantly realized Eisner's linguistic trap. If Duke Rosenberg's project failed, it would be fine. But if it succeeded, he—as the CEO—would inevitably be forced to bear the responsibility for a strategic blunder...

Could that explosion fanatic really succeed? He desperately wanted to see the man's transition turn into a joke.

Not far from the Walt Disney headquarters, another building towered at the forefront of a sprawling studio lot. This was Warner's West Coast headquarters, the main offices of Warner Brothers.

"Batman Forever hasn't been as successful as we expected."

As CEO, Jeff Robinov was exchanging opinions with a few executives. "Over the past few years, our most profitable film projects haven't been the Batman series, but rather our collaborations with Duke. The performance growth of Warner Brothers is inextricably linked to his movies."

"I understand Duke's importance to Warner." Robert Solomon frowned, but he said anyway, "However, if we knowingly participate in a project that is likely to lose money, we won't be able to justify it to the corporate group."

"There's something you all might not know."

Jeff Robinov wasn't in a rush to argue. His gaze swept over the executives in the room one by one. "Before Speed was ever filmed, Duke actually came to Warner Brothers to submit the script. I met him then, and I had exactly this same mindset. I rejected him... No, I didn't pay him any attention at all, and as a result, I missed out on a project that I will regret losing for the rest of my life."

"I don't want to experience that kind of regret a second time."

That young director's continuous streak of success was Jeff Robinov's greatest source of confidence. "We need to maintain close contact with Nancy Josephson!"