Chapter 211: We Can Begin

"More than five years ago, Duke Rosenberg was still on CAA's roster, but during an evaluation, someone made a terrible judgment call and dropped him. And after Speed, we had a chance to bring Duke Rosenberg back, only for someone to make another bad call and push hard to sign Mel Gibson instead!"

Pat Kingsley's cold voice filled the conference room. Completely ignoring Martin Bob's darkening face, she went right on, "And the result? Not only has Mel Gibson failed to bring CAA any real returns, he's landed us in massive trouble!"

Her gaze brushed past Eno Martin, the two of them exchanging a subtle look before Pat Kingsley continued, "Speed grossed over $340 million worldwide, The Rock made $405.84 million, Independence Day pulled in $912.13 million, and Saving Private Ryan earned $649.27 million. In less than five years, with just four films, Duke Rosenberg's cumulative personal box office has reached $2.3 billion!"

Walking behind several partners, Pat Kingsley returned to her seat, planted both hands on the conference table, and demanded, "How does a useless piece of trash like Mel Gibson even compare to Duke Rosenberg? With his scandals? With the number of major studio blacklists he's landed on?"

"Pat, you can't put it like that."

A partner sitting next to Martin Bob adjusted his glasses and was just about to speak when Pat Kingsley forcefully cut him off. "Not put it like that? Then how should I put it? If we had signed Duke Rosenberg back then, CAA would have him and Spielberg as our two ace directors. Don't tell me you don't know how much a top director drives an agency's business! Can Mel Gibson do that? Even if you tally up every movie he's starred in over the past twenty years, his total box office doesn't match where Duke Rosenberg stands right now!"

The partner opened his mouth, but nothing came out. In this pragmatic industry, nothing spoke louder than hard numbers and commercial results.

"There's one more thing."

Taking a sip of coffee, Pat Kingsley continued, "Ever since Mel Gibson's scandal broke, the major studios have been putting pressure on us."

She looked around at the others in the room. "I don't know if the rest of you have felt it, but ever since the Golden Globe Awards, many of our projects have been shelved or pushed back by the studios. Our work has run into constant roadblocks—something CAA has never experienced since entering the nineties."

"It's true."

Quite a few people murmured in agreement; even some of the partners aligned with Martin Bob were nodding.

"And on top of that!" Kingsley added, "Spielberg has indicated that he's considering leaving CAA!"

Eno Martin picked up where Pat Kingsley left off. "I'm sure everyone here knows full well where all these unnecessary difficulties are coming from!"

"Mel Gibson has infuriated all of Hollywood! We need to do something." He turned to look at Martin Bob. "What do you think, Martin?"

Eno Martin and Pat Kingsley were clearly using the Mel Gibson fiasco to come after him. Martin Bob knew that all too well, and he also knew everything they said was true. Over the past month, CAA really had run into serious trouble. The Jewish influence led by the executives of the Big Six Companies had been putting heavy pressure on CAA, and all of it pointed straight at Mel Gibson.

All they were after was the seat right under him. While he wasn't in immediate danger of being ousted, handling this poorly would cost him a great deal of support and strip away the upper hand he held inside the company.

There was no such thing as conscience in business competition. Martin Bob was certain that if he didn't do something, most of the partners at this table would defect to Eno Martin.

But what was he supposed to do? Terminating Mel Gibson's contract looked like the most sensible choice. In fact, that was the exact outcome Pat Kingsley was pushing so aggressively to get.

Had Tom Cruise really aligned himself with Duke Rosenberg? It was impossible for him not to wonder, and in Hollywood, bitter rivals temporarily setting aside their feuds for shared interests was nothing new.

Was he really going to terminate Mel Gibson's agency contract?

At this point, dropping Mel Gibson seemed unavoidable, yet cutting him loose came with its own set of problems—otherwise it wouldn't have dragged on until today.

If a client on his roster ran into trouble and was promptly abandoned, what would his other clients think? What would the prospective clients he wanted to poach in the future think?

Lately, rumors had already been circulating that he was going to drop Mel Gibson, and that had directly led Will Smith to turn down his offer and sign with William Morris instead.

Was this the fallout of abandoning Mel Gibson? Yet what if he didn't drop him?

His gaze swept across the partners around the conference table. They were both shareholders and agents at CAA, and most of them held A-list or even top-tier superstars in their hands. If he lost their backing, even as the largest shareholder, stepping down would be his only path left.

It was a dilemma, and they had actually backed him into a corner like this!

Looking at Eno Martin and Pat Kingsley, Martin Bob saw a young figure surface in his mind's eye instead. Just what had Duke Rosenberg done behind the scenes?

After a long silence, Martin Bob finally spoke slowly. "CAA will terminate its agency contract with Mel Gibson. Call a press conference as soon as possible. I will announce it to the media myself."

Little more than ten minutes after the meeting ended, before CAA had even issued an official notice, Mel Gibson had already gotten the news.

His usual manic, volatile temper didn't flare up. Sitting in his living room, Mel Gibson simply downed drink after drink. Over the past month, he had been battered into numbness. Compared to the overwhelming wave of condemnation from the media and the public, and compared to being kicked off several projects, having his contract terminated by CAA was nothing.

"I'm finished!" he muttered to himself between drinks. "I'm finished!"

"No, Mel, you still have a chance!" His publicist was sitting right beside him. "You still have the Oscars to attend. As long as you can meet Duke Rosenberg and get him to forgive you publicly, your situation will turn around—it'll be at least a hundred times better than it is now!"

"Really?" Mel Gibson asked blankly.

"It's your last chance!"

"Have someone custom-tailor a tuxedo for me. I'm going to the Oscars!"

...

'Yes, I'm going to the Oscars!'

As she walked toward the uniquely styled Eye-Shaped Villa, Catherine Zeta-Jones kept cheering herself on. 'I must go to the Oscars!'

Of course, she could only say those words to herself. She and her agent were following Penny Kalis, whose promotional strategy for Chicago was her only chance.

"Make yourselves comfortable, everyone. No need to stand on ceremony."

Though Duke found it a bit odd to see Penny Kalis arriving with Zeta-Jones and her agent, he didn't let it show. He had the maid prepare coffee and black tea, then asked Tina Fey to call Nancy Josephson and Robin Grande back in from the terrace.

"Penny, tell us about your plan."

Kalis had come here specifically for a new promotional angle for Chicago, and she already had a plan drawn up. At Duke's prompt, she handed out four copies of a document to Duke, Robin Grande, Nancy Josephson, and Tina Fey.

After skimming just a few lines, the corner of Duke's eye twitched. This was going to put him right at the center of public attention!

"Duke, ever since the incident with Mel Gibson, you've been at the center of media and public attention, and your image has been overwhelmingly positive."

Penny Kalis went on to explain, "I don't know if you've noticed, but information has been traveling much faster over the past two years. Directors—especially those of your and Spielberg's caliber—can no longer just stay behind the scenes. You're the stars of the directing world. It may not be as extreme as it is for Hanks or Cruise, but your every move still draws plenty of attention."

"So you're planning to set up a romance for me," Duke said, immediately grasping Kalis's intent, "and use tabloid gossip to promote the movie?"

"Not entirely. Gossip only sparks temporary curiosity and attention, which does very little to actually drive a film's box office."

Glancing over at Zeta-Jones, Kalis continued, "A relationship sparked by a film—one that's lasting, steady, continually warming up, and closely followed by the media and the public over the long term—will serve as a powerful booster for a successful movie!"

Neither Duke nor Kalis brought any personal feelings into the conversation; both of them treated the matter purely as business.

"Is there no one more suitable?" Duke frowned.

Casting a real-life couple as co-stars in a movie was a major taboo, but no such taboo existed between a director and an actor, provided the director wasn't also acting in the film. Hollywood had no shortage of director-actor couples working together.

"The only real big names in the crew are you and Cruise," Kalis said, shaking her head. "If Cruise got involved with Miss Jones, it would certainly grab headlines, but that would be a scandal, which wouldn't do the film much good."

"What do the rest of you think?"

At Duke's question, Robin Grande leaned in, patted his arm, and said seriously, "My reason and experience tell me this is a proven, effective promotional strategy."

"I agree with Penny's plan too."

Nancy knew full well that everything they said was merely advice; the final decision rested entirely in Duke's hands. Duke didn't decide right away. Back when he had first entered Hollywood, he definitely would have vetoed it, but after years of being tempered by the industry, he understood that no success came easy and every opportunity demanded everything he had.

Although Warner Brothers was serving as the distributor, the film's genre meant they wouldn't pour massive resources into it the way they did for summer season films like Independence Day, so the promotional push was bound to be weaker than before. Chicago was independently financed by Duke Studio—meaning by Duke himself—with a production budget of $20 million. Aside from the 10 percent distribution cut Warner would take, he hadn't signed any profit-sharing agreements beyond standard guild residuals. In other words, the vast majority of the film's returns would go into his pocket alone.

He knew all too well how vital promotion was to a movie. If handled right, this film could potentially bring in tens of millions or even over a hundred million dollars in returns. Stacked against a fake romance that wouldn't last long anyway, which one mattered more?

For Duke, the choice couldn't have been easier.

"I agree."

After saying that, he looked at Kalis. "Also, during this period, I expect Miss Jones to watch her behavior and stay away from other men. I don't want this turning into a scandal!"

"We'll sign a strict agreement with Miss Jones's side!" Kalis outlined a few brief details. "Tentatively, the relationship between the two of you will last for one year. Duke, you especially need to keep in mind that this is a step-by-step process. From your first public date to the first time you hold hands, I'll draw up detailed plans for all of it."

Duke had seen this kind of promotional campaign many times before and had no objections to what Kalis said.

"I've already planned the very first occasion where the two of you will appear hand in hand!" Kalis was clearly a seasoned pro at this and knew exactly how to capitalize on the moment. "The red carpet of the Oscar Awards Ceremony!"