Chapter 487: The Financier's Partnership

"David, since you're studying at the USC Film School," Michael Ovitz said, looking at the young man sitting across from him in the office building on Wilshire Street in Beverly Hills, "then you must understand that producing a movie is never simple. It requires more than just funding, a script, and a director. It requires a highly coordinated team. Only a successful team can make a successful film."

He emphasized his next words. "And what I excel at most is assembling a production team of proven winners!"

"Artists Management Company can provide any investor with all film-related services," Martin Bob chimed in. "The package projects we've produced—Godzilla, Pearl Harbor, and Fast & Furious—have all generated substantial returns for our investors."

David Ellison had thoroughly researched Artists Management Company before his arrival.

"Gentlemen, if you didn't have so many successful examples, I wouldn't be sitting here discussing a partnership with you," he said.

"I have money!" He straightened his back slightly. "But I don't have the right projects to invest in."

Michael Ovitz's eyes instantly lit up at those words. "David, have you ever considered starting your own film company and collaborating with Artists Management Company on projects? We could provide you with an all-in-one service, from pre-production to filming and all the way to distribution..."

"I've been planning to do exactly that," David Ellison said, resting his chin on one hand. "I just haven't found the right project. As soon as I do, my agent will fast-track the registration paperwork in Delaware."

"Projects?" Michael Ovitz murmured, tapping his fingers lightly on the desk.

With the Hollywood studio era entirely in the past, the major companies had all become cogs in massive media conglomerates. Talent agencies could no longer maintain the unnatural dominance they wielded in the eighties and nineties, and his Artists Management Company was no exception. Even CAA, currently the largest talent agency in Hollywood, was seeing its market share grow while its actual bargaining power against the film studios continuously dwindled.

Agents hated this state of affairs, especially men like Michael Ovitz.

The overwhelming dominance of the Big Six studios meant that agencies were pulling fewer benefits from their partnerships. Collaborating with second- or third-tier companies certainly allowed agencies to hold the initiative, but the most prominent second-tier studios had long since been bought out by the major conglomerates. The leftovers simply lacked the capacity to produce highly profitable commercial blockbusters.

To put it bluntly, agencies were still commercial enterprises. Profit was their ultimate pursuit.

Michael Ovitz knew perfectly well that if he wanted to develop Artists Management Company into a top-tier agency, massive financial backing was absolutely essential.

Profits required projects, and successful projects required guaranteed, substantial production funding.

Hollywood was never short on projects or scripts. What it desperately lacked was people or companies willing to invest in them.

And David Ellison, sitting right across from him, clearly had money to burn.

With that in mind, Michael Ovitz sharpened his focus. He summoned the exact same persuasive energy he had once used to convince Spielberg to join CAA, all to cater to this young financier.

They talked throughout the morning. After having lunch together, they continued their discussion into the afternoon. By evening, they had reached several preliminary verbal agreements.

Then, Michael Ovitz selected a few projects he was highly optimistic about and placed them in front of David Ellison. Every single one had been submitted to Artists Management Company by renowned industry producers or screenwriters. Having passed the scrutiny of the company's Editorial Department and Ovitz himself, they were all undisputed top-tier projects.

David Ellison flipped through them casually, but none caught his interest.

"Do you have anything else?" he asked.

Michael Ovitz frowned slightly at the question. "What genre are you looking for?"

"Ideally, something with airplanes," David Ellison said. "The more airplanes, the better. For every additional airplane in a project, I'll invest that much more money into it."

"Something about airplanes..."

Michael Ovitz thought it over for less than half a minute before replying, "How about this, David? Once we sign a partnership agreement, I will personally hunt down a premium airplane-focused project for you. If we can't find a suitable one, we can simply hire a few gold-medal screenwriters to tailor-make a script."

"I like your proposal!"

David Ellison stood up and shook Michael Ovitz's hand. "I hope we have a successful partnership."

"As do I."

Even someone as arrogant as David Ellison wouldn't make snap decisions on a whim. A partnership involving tens of millions of dollars—or more—would inevitably require meticulous negotiations and consultations.

With this, the ultra-wealthy heir had taken his very first step into Hollywood.

Duke had also heard rumors about Ellison's potential collaboration with Michael Ovitz, but he paid it no mind. He might not have influenced the broader world much, but certain people and events within Hollywood had already been permanently altered by his presence.

For example, David Ellison's most successful investment in his previous life undoubtedly came from the Mission: Impossible series. Now, however, the primary copyright holders for that franchise were Duke and Tom Cruise. Without Duke's explicit approval, there was no way Ellison could force his way into it.

Still, with Michael Ovitz guiding him, David Ellison would undoubtedly avoid a few detours.

After paying brief attention to the Ellison-Ovitz partnership, Duke left Los Angeles and flew to Paris. As the film's director and producer, scouting locations in person was mandatory. For this trip to France, he brought along art director Hannah Serena and director of photography John Schwartzman.

Over the following week, the three-person team inspected potential filming sites, including Charles de Gaulle Airport, the Banks of the Seine, and various minority neighborhoods in Paris. Hannah Serena and John Schwartzman fully agreed with Duke's assessment: aside from a few exterior shots that absolutely had to be filmed on location in Paris, the rest of the production would be completed on the soundstages at Warner Studios in Burbank.

The congested urban sprawl of Paris and its exorbitant labor costs were practical issues the crew simply couldn't ignore.

Once they finished scouting Paris, Hannah Serena and John Schwartzman headed back to Los Angeles, while Duke flew to Britain to check on the shooting progress of the Harry Potter Series.

Alfonso Cuaron had directed just one installment, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, before Robin Grande and the Harry Potter Studio decided to move on from him. Taking Joanne Rowling's opinions into account, the production team ultimately selected the British director David Yates to helm the subsequent films.

Although Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban wouldn't premiere until the Christmas season, filming for the next entry was already underway. Over the next few years, the franchise would enter a relentless cycle of production and release. Duke and Warner Brothers were determined to squeeze every last drop of profit out of Harry Potter.

As for the growth and education of the child actors, the production crew followed all legal regulations to the letter, hiring dedicated tutors and reserving ample study time. Whether Emma Watson and the others ultimately became academic prodigies or complete burnouts was of zero concern to Duke and the other investors. Once the series concluded, their commercial value would plummet toward zero anyway.

Did they want to successfully transition their careers? That would be a hundred times harder than transitioning as a Disney child star.

Of course, none of that mattered to Duke or Warner. The Harry Potter Series had made them stars, and it had pigeonholed them, but overall, these young actors were incredibly lucky.

Without Hermione Granger, Emma Watson might still have stumbled into fame, but given her atrocious acting skills, reaching the heights that the role of Hermione Granger had provided would have been essentially impossible.

"The child actors' agents are gearing up to negotiate with us again," Robin Grande said in the set's office, sounding utterly exhausted by the topic. "We just revised their contracts for the last movie, and they're already coming back for more."

"Stall them as long as you can," Duke said, his stance crystal clear. "Subtly leak it to them that we have both the resolve and the nerve to recast their roles!"

Negotiations were always a process of haggling and compromise. Only by displaying overwhelming strength could they secure favorable terms.

After all, these child actors were not Joanne Rowling.

"Robin, you can appropriately increase their base salaries," Duke instructed just before he left. "But profit sharing is our absolute bottom line. Try to restrict it strictly to box office cuts, if anything."

The lion's share of the franchise's revenue came from merchandise. Box office profits were actually not that high, and there was plenty of room for Hollywood accounting in box office numbers.

After spending three days on the Southampton set and holding separate meetings with David Yates and Joanne Rowling, Duke—now effectively a producer in name only for the franchise—left the Harry Potter set and met with Emma Thompson in London.

She had been recommended by ICM as a candidate to play the mother. Duke chatted with her briefly before deciding to pass. Not only did the Oscar-winning actress exude too much of an indie-arthouse vibe, but her asking price hadn't yet dropped to the levels it would reach in a few years. There was no way Duke was going to waste millions of dollars on a glorified cameo.

Most importantly, that multi-million dollar paycheck wouldn't translate into box office draw. He couldn't rely on an actress of Emma Thompson's type to possess genuine commercial appeal.

Since neither her salary nor her casting type fit the bill, Duke naturally walked away. Besides, he had only agreed to meet the British actress in the first place out of respect for Nancy Josephson.

Over the summer, the executive leadership at ICM had shifted. Nancy, already one of their senior partners, had officially become the CEO of ICM.

Shortly after Duke returned to Los Angeles, Nancy recommended another actress. This particular woman had quite a pedigree—back in the early nineties, she had stood on equal footing with Julia Roberts. But the two had since embarked on vastly different career trajectories. The big-mouthed Julia was now Hollywood's most iconic leading lady, and calling her the number one actress in the industry was no exaggeration.

As for the other actress, her starring vehicles had suffered a string of disastrous box office flops. Her status had severely plummeted over recent years. Let alone an A-list standing, she now rarely even appeared in mainstream film circles, slowly fading into obscurity.