Chapter 40: Former British Agent

"The new project is still an explosive, thrilling action film. As for the specifics? You'll have to wait until it hits theaters to see for yourselves."

Facing the crowd of reporters, Duke maintained his usual calm expression, answering their questions flawlessly. "Why choose Warner Brothers? Because Warner Brothers is my favorite film studio. They have a long history, established philosophies, and a rigorous system. They are the dream partner for every film director..."

This was Duke's official signing ceremony with Warner Brothers. In stark contrast to his deal for Speed, Warner had hosted a full press conference for the occasion, drawing over fifty reporters. To these seasoned entertainment journalists, the name Duke Rosenberg was no longer unfamiliar.

Naturally, this was all to promote the film!

From the moment Duke initialed the agreement, Warner Brothers' promotional machine had roared to life. News about The Rock began appearing across the Warner Group's newspapers and magazines. Several national tabloids also started hyping rumors that Keanu Reeves would return to play the male lead, while the female lead was already locked in between Julia Roberts and Jodie Foster...

As long as anyone following entertainment and film noticed that a movie called The Rock was about to begin production, the goal of this early promotional push was achieved.

As for the actual male and female leads, they would definitely have nothing to do with the names the media was tossing around. Besides, this movie didn't even really have a female lead to speak of.

"How does it feel to be the center of media attention?"

As soon as Duke stepped into the back lounge, he heard Sofia's signature voice. He shrugged and said, "I'd rather sit bored behind a monitor..."

Preparations for the crew had already begun. Duke didn't linger long at the hotel where the signing ceremony was held; he headed straight for Warner Brothers headquarters.

Today was mostly for publicity. The formal contract had actually been signed yesterday.

Just as Duke had hoped, he secured a one-fifth investment stake in the film—amounting to $10 million—while taking on the triple duties of director, screenwriter, and executive producer for a total personal salary of $3.5 million. Meanwhile, Sofia Coppola, Zack Snyder, Mike Dawson, Robin Grande, and John Schwartzman had also passed Warner Brothers' assessments, stepping into their respective roles as assistant director, first assistant director, editor, second production manager, and director of photography.

These were actually the first details finalized during negotiations, as their individual capabilities were never in question. What took the longest to hash out, naturally, was the investment profit split for Duke Studio.

The film primarily had three main investors: Warner Brothers, Duke Studio, and the AUG Film Fund from Malibu, alongside a few smaller backers. To guarantee the film would be completed and released, Warner Brothers also took out a policy with America International Assurance Company, bringing them in as a third-party completion guarantor.

Frankly speaking, Duke didn't like bringing in a third party. It meant many aspects of the shoot would be subject to their audits, but this was the standard production system in Hollywood—not something a single individual could fight against.

The investment structure of a Hollywood film was incredibly complex, often involving presales. Without a third-party insurance company acting as a guarantor, why would investors—including overseas distributors who paid in advance—believe the film would actually make it to theaters? If the project was abandoned halfway, wouldn't their investments just go down the drain?

Instances like that were far from rare, which was exactly why the third-party insurance system had emerged.

Investors and advance buyers didn't hand their money directly to the film studio or the crew; instead, the funds were supervised by the third-party insurance company. Every single expense made by the production team was strictly audited. If the project ultimately failed to finish, the guarantor would have to figure out a way to complete it or compensate for the resulting losses.

In short, it was a highly complex and refined system, acting as a crucial safeguard to keep the Hollywood film industry running smoothly.

Even so, past, present, and future, stories of Hollywood production companies conspiring with crews to swindle investors' funds were hardly uncommon.

For a director, having a third-party auditor hovering over them was certainly an uncomfortable feeling. But let alone the current Duke, even future heavyweights like Spielberg and James Cameron had to operate their films under this very system.

According to the information Duke received, there were over a dozen small investors who had thrown a few hundred thousand dollars into The Rock. This indirectly reflected that after the success of Speed, the investment market did hold at least some confidence in him as a director.

As for how Warner Brothers split profits with them, that was a trade secret. Duke didn't care either; focusing on his own share of the earnings was enough for him.

Since Duke Studio accounted for a fifth of the film's investment, it rightfully deserved a fifth of the profit share. And on the surface of the signed division agreement, that was exactly the case.

One-fifth of the film's global net box office revenue and one-fifth of the television and Videotape syndication fees—that was what Duke Studio stood to gain. Just as Nancy had pointed out, these were all short-term returns. According to the contract, Warner Brothers was required to pay this in full within six months of the film leaving theaters.

However, any future commissions from television and Videotape sales, as well as other merchandising revenue, would have nothing to do with Duke Studio.

Furthermore, once the profits were deposited, Duke Studio would automatically forfeit any corresponding copyrights stemming from their investment. Warner Brothers would retain complete ownership of the film, including the rights to any sequels.

Outside investors not receiving copyright ownership was an unspoken rule in Hollywood. Duke could have objected, of course, but that would have touched Warner Brothers' bottom line. And it wasn't just Warner Brothers—even second- and third-tier studios in Hollywood would never allow pure financial backers to share in a film's copyright.

It was important to note that some films might look like absolute financial flops based on their box office or initial merchandising runs. But as long as the studio held the copyright, they could generate long-term revenue. Ever since Star Wars, the most significant shift in Hollywood was a drastically reduced reliance on box office returns, countered by a clear increase in profits derived from copyright licensing—a trend that had only grown stronger over the years.

The traditional Big Six—or Big Seven—studios were considered Hollywood giants not merely because they boasted flawless distribution networks, but because they held the copyrights to thousands upon thousands of films.

The Big Six might share copyrights amongst themselves, or even with second-tier studios, but a newly established entity like Duke Studio? They didn't stand a chance.

Duke hadn't planned to meddle with the copyright anyway. All he wanted was the box office cut and the initial TV and Videotape licensing split. If the film hit its projected earnings, that alone would be enough to give Duke Studio a beautifully padded ledger.

Of course, Duke didn't overestimate Warner Brothers' integrity either. The agreement explicitly included provisions for his hired team of accountants to participate in the entire process—from prep, filming, and post-production, right down to marketing, distribution, and the final collection of funds.

In reality, wresting this chunk of profit from Warner's hands hadn't been easy. Duke not only proactively reduced his own salary, but he also signed a "1+2" deal with them. This meant Warner Brothers now held the right of first refusal for investing in and distributing his next two films.

Upon arriving at Warner Brothers, Duke headed straight for a large conference room. The crew members who had currently initialed their agreements were gathered there for the time being, discussing their next steps.

Jeff Robinov personally took on the role of producer, with Warner Brothers' representative Charles Roven as the first production manager, and Robin Grande as the second production manager. Paired with Duke as the director and executive producer, and the financial supervisor dispatched by the insurance company, they formed the foundational tier of The Rock's production team.

The meeting was held among this core group. After listening to the third-party representative rattle off a dizzying string of numbers, they needed to finalize key positions like art director, sound designer, sound supervisor, action choreographer, and pyrotechnics supervisor from the pool of candidates Warner Brothers had vetted and those looking to apply.

Unlike with Speed, where George Lucas had made all the final calls, Duke needed to be involved from start to finish. He had to seek out people whose creative philosophies aligned with his own—especially when it came to pyrotechnics. The technical skills of the team on his last film had been distinctly average.

Having once been an expert in this field himself, he naturally knew the names of the top pyrotechnic teams in Hollywood. Unfortunately, he had no idea where most of them were right now, and their names were nowhere to be found on the candidate list.

"Let's put the pyrotechnics team on hold for now," Duke suggested. "I need top-tier pyrotechnicians, and I want to speak with the applicants personally."

The others raised no objections. Selecting the right fit for every department was a process that took time.

"Regarding the actors for the main roles, do any of you have suitable audition recommendations?"

The topic shifted. As production manager, Charles Roven was the first to speak. "Tom Cruise is very interested in Goodspeed, but his agent is demanding that the character be rewritten..."

He looked up at the group. "Well, even though he's a huge box-office draw, we might as well count him out."

"Let me throw out a few names for auditions," Duke said.

He gestured for Sofia to distribute the prepared files to everyone at the table. "For Stanley Goodspeed, I suggest Nicholas Cage. As for General Hummel, I think Ed Harris perfectly fits the image I have in mind."

Both Nicholas Cage and Ed Harris had been grinding in Hollywood for years and had starred in multiple films. Their acting chops were unquestionably solid, so Duke had no worries on that front.

There was another candidate he didn't mention out loud. After the project was greenlit, Nancy had suggested Naomi Watts to play Goodspeed's fiancée. For a purely decorative role like that, the choice of actress didn't really matter, so Duke had raised no objections.

"You're forgetting an important role..." Robin Grande looked at Duke. "The candidate for John Mason."

"A former British agent," Duke said, spreading his hands as he looked around at the chuckling group. "Is there really a more fitting candidate?"

"Sean Connery. Nobody is better suited for it than him!"

"But Sean Connery is notoriously difficult! He has a violent temper, is impulsive, and struggles with both alcohol and drug addictions," someone pointed out with concern.

"Let's at least reach out to him first," Charles Roven said. "After the meeting, I'll send a formal invitation to CAA."

'CAA?'

Duke suddenly realized he had overlooked a glaring issue: Sean Connery wasn't just a signed actor with CAA—he was one of their most senior clients!