Chapter 312: The Agent Abandoned by the Actor

"You can't deny that most works passed down to the present day and recognized as classics are tragedies."

In the hotel's Western restaurant, Kate Beckinsale had long since set down her knife and fork and was sipping from a glass of water.

"Like Shakespeare's four great tragedies, or The Diary of Anne Frank, which you mentioned."

"Tragedies do resonate more easily."

How did one communicate with a beautiful woman who had majored in literature at Oxford University and find common ground? For someone like Duke, who possessed enough artistic refinement and directorial experience, it wasn't difficult. He asked at just the right moment, "Why do only tragedies become classics?"

"Tragedy has a long tradition and a deep, systematic legacy," Kate Beckinsale said with great interest, setting down her glass.

"It's a major focus of aesthetic study. Tragedy is profound. Aristotle believed it was the art of arts, and Schopenhauer considered it the highest peak of art. It's always been a challenging subject in aesthetics. Tragedies emerged as early as Ancient Greek mythology, taking on philosophical undertones. King Oedipus killing his father and marrying his mother was a tragedy of fate—one he desperately tried to escape but ultimately couldn't."

"Let's look at Hollywood," she added. "If Titanic didn't have the tragedy of Jack and Rose, it could never have become such a brilliant classic."

"I'll admit that."

Setting down his knife and fork, Duke picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth.

"A flawed ending is always more memorable than a perfectly happy one. What you can't have and what you've lost leave a sense of regret, yet they're impossible to forget."

"Yes, exactly."

It had seemingly been a long time since she'd met someone so easy to talk to. Kate Beckinsale spoke enthusiastically.

"Imperfection is a special kind of beauty. It makes people think and leaves a lingering aftertaste."

She suddenly smiled and asked, "How do you, a major director, view tragedy and comedy?"

Duke frowned in thought for a moment before answering.

"Tragedy destroys what is valuable in life for people to see, while comedy destroys what is worthless for people to see."

"A very pointed perspective..." Kate Beckinsale asked curiously, "Is that your own viewpoint?"

"Of course not."

Duke shook his head.

Kate Beckinsale's curiosity seemed piqued.

"Who said that? How come I've never come across it?"

"An Eastern literary figure."

Duke mentioned a country and a name. Seeing Kate Beckinsale's blank look, he added, "You probably haven't heard of him."

"If I have time, I'll try to find his works and read them."

Hearing this, Duke asked, "Do you read often?"

She nodded.

"It's my biggest hobby."

"It makes a person smarter." Duke tapped his forehead. "Unfortunately, I've been so busy with work these past few years that I rarely have time for it."

"To be honest, there haven't been any particularly outstanding literary works in recent years, either."

Finishing the water in her glass, Kate Beckinsale pointed to a Harry Potter poster on the restaurant wall.

"Commercial literature is thriving nowadays, and the survival space for true literature continues to shrink."

Before Duke could reply, she checked her watch.

"Thank you for dinner. Chatting with you was a pleasure, but it's getting late, and I should take my leave."

"So early?" Duke offered. "Why don't we grab a drink at the bar next door?"

"Some other time," Kate Beckinsale politely declined. "I still need to go back and study the script and my character..."

She gave Duke a slight smile and joked, "I don't want you to regret casting me once shooting starts."

"You won't let me down, will you?"

As they spoke, Duke stood up, stepped behind her, and retrieved her coat from the rack by the booth.

"I'll walk you back to your room."

Not long after returning to his own room, Duke received a call from North America. The caller was Tina Fey, who had returned a while ago to handle some investment matters on his behalf.

Sometime prior, when his investment agent David attended a Yahoo shareholder meeting in his stead, he heard that two Stanford University students were soliciting investment from Yahoo for a project seemingly related to internet search. Upon learning of this, Duke immediately sent Tina Fey back to North America to meet with their lawyers and David to track those two students down.

He wasn't sure if the search engine those students had was the Google from his memories. He only knew that the company's founders were named something like Page or Sergey. His recollection wasn't entirely clear, so he simply decided to have his people make contact first.

"One is named Larry Page, and the other is Sergey Brin..." Tina Fey detailed the backgrounds of the two men over the phone before adding, "They're looking for investment and plan to establish a privately held company to design and manage an internet search engine."

"Tina, stay in North America and negotiate with them alongside David."

The initial round of funding wouldn't cost much anyway. Even though Duke couldn't be absolutely certain, he still planned to take the risk.

"Find an investment plan that all three parties can accept."

Apple, Microsoft, and Google—these were the three companies Duke remembered most clearly. After all, for anyone who used the internet in his past life, very few didn't know these three giants. These commonplace memories were actually among his few real investment opportunities.

There was no need to go into detail about Microsoft; he only held some scattered shares, serving mostly to preserve his assets' value.

Apple was currently his biggest investment target. When Apple was struggling a few years ago and many people wanted out, a substantial portion of Duke's salary and dividends from his first few films had been poured into the company. When Steve Jobs returned to Apple and raised funds externally, he first accepted investment from Bill Gates, and additionally took $25 million in funding from Duke.

Steve Jobs was exceptionally shrewd; aside from himself, he clearly didn't want anyone else gaining too much power within Apple.

Yahoo was in a similar situation to Microsoft. Duke had entered the market too late. By then, Yahoo had already gone public and its stock was showing a clear upward trend. Aside from the loose shares he bought on the open market, he merely picked up the scraps left behind by major investment institutions.

As for Google, he definitely needed to find a solution that allowed all parties to reach a compromise. Otherwise, even if he knew it was Google, what use would it be?

In fact, as far as Duke knew, there were quite a few people in Hollywood investing in the IT industry. Not all Hollywood stars were financial idiots like Nicolas Cage. The net worth of many Hollywood stars and directors was far more substantial than the annual income rankings published by the media suggested.

This current era was a bit distant from his past life, and some of Duke's fuzzier memories had faded. However, in the later internet age, Leonardo DiCaprio and Ashton Kutcher were both massive winners in IT investments. The latter's net worth earned from investing in websites was even ten times his income as an actor.

Having spent so many years in North America, no matter how unversed Duke was in business, he could still see that traditional industries—especially General Electric, various oil companies, insurance, media, and finance—had long since been carved up. Opportunities to invest in those sectors were incredibly slim.

Could just having a bit of extra experience really change the rules of a society? Did anyone actually think the whole world revolved around one person?

In contrast, emerging products that hadn't yet received enough attention still presented some opportunities, especially in the internet industry. It was a sector with a degree of freedom far exceeding any other circle.

Though Duke couldn't be called an expert or deeply knowledgeable about the internet, he knew it was an industry that would eventually change the whole world. Even the most conservative traditional conglomerates would have to adapt to it, whether actively or passively. Failing to adapt would simply mean extinction.

He harbored no unrealistic fantasies about controlling some internet conglomerate. He merely wanted to use his currently rather generous net worth to grab a tiny slice of the pie during this boom, just enough to grow his assets.

From the day he set his goals, Duke knew exactly what he was good at. The film industry was both his greatest passion and his future.

With the end of September 1998, Titanic, which had set both North American and global box office records, bid farewell to North American theaters and officially ended its run. The maritime epic's North American box office ultimately settled at $675.22 million. Perhaps due to Duke's presence, the film's promotion and distribution had been even stronger. Its North American box office was higher than he remembered, though it still hadn't broken the figures of its future 3D re-release.

However, the film could still be converted to 3D in the future for a theatrical re-release to rake in more money. As long as the film generated revenue, Duke Studio would enjoy a quarter of the share.

Slightly earlier than Titanic, another film Duke invested in had also ended its theatrical run in North America. Mission: Impossible, starring Tom Cruise, raked in $181.59 million from the North American market. It trailed only behind Duke's The Matrix at $327.58 million and Michael Bay's Armageddon at $189.22 million, temporarily ranking third on the North American annual box office chart.

Because the film's production budget alone was as high as $80 million, the North American box office wasn't enough for the investors to recoup their costs. But the film's overseas box office was climbing steadily, having already brought in over $232.5 million. It would definitely achieve profitability through box office revenues in the end, and the various subsequent ancillary rights would bring in massive influxes of cash.

More importantly, Duke had a firm grip on a portion of the rights. Mission: Impossible, one of the most successful film franchises, had become a long-term meal ticket for him.

Moreover, if Tom Cruise wanted to make a sequel, he had to get Duke's nod of approval.

Just as October began, Tom Cruise called. The success of Mission: Impossible made him impatient to produce a sequel. Beyond just making a phone call, to secure Duke's full support, he and Nicole Kidman specifically chose to vacation in New Zealand.

After their clashes during The Rock, the mutual smear campaigns of Interview with the Vampire, the open and secret competition during Independence Day, their colluding to ruin Mel Gibson, the easing of tensions during Chicago, and their close collaboration on Mission: Impossible, Tom Cruise—no matter how arrogant and oblivious he could be—finally recognized the immense value Duke brought to the table. He clearly wanted to push their relationship into a new stage.