Chapter 62: Requirements for the Score

"Let's hear it, Duke."

Charles Roven gestured for him to continue. After all, Duke making a suggestion was one thing; whether Warner would adopt it was another.

"The Super Bowl halftime commercials!" Duke said quickly. "Put a thirty-second teaser trailer for the film in the Super Bowl halftime show. It's the highest-rated broadcast in the country. The promotional impact..."

"That would be a massive marketing expense," Charles Roven interrupted. "A thirty-second spot costs a full million dollars!"

"But over fifty million people across the country would see the trailer!" Duke replied.

Super Bowl commercial breaks were about more than just the ads themselves. Since the mid-eighties, companies wanting a slot had been producing dedicated short films specifically for the game. These commercials gathered the best concepts, the most dazzling visuals, and the biggest stars and models. Even viewers with no interest in the Super Bowl itself would switch over during halftime just to watch the blockbuster ads and the halftime show.

Because of this, the Super Bowl was an event with bizarre viewership patterns: the ratings during halftime often exceeded those of the game itself.

Naturally, the ad rates were astronomical. In the final years of his past life, Duke had paid a little attention to it: back then, a single second of airtime demanded a hundred thousand dollars. A thirty-second ad required at least three million, and it had become the norm for major films to advertise there.

As Charles Roven mentioned the Super Bowl, memories that had slowly faded over time trickled back into Duke's mind. If he remembered correctly, in this era of lower marketing budgets, no film had yet advertised during the Super Bowl. The first person to eat a crab seemed to be Independence Day. That blockbuster had a global marketing budget of only twenty-four million dollars—a figure absolutely unimaginable in the future.

As for the promotional impact of the Super Bowl, Independence Day could serve as a benchmark. It was precisely the massive success of that film that made Hollywood advertising during the Super Bowl a tradition.

In North America, the Super Bowl crushed all other games and television programs. Events like the NBA Finals and the World Cup final couldn't even compare. Its influence was enormous; based purely on the economic value it generated, it was easily the number one single-day event in the country.

Duke knew this, and Roven knew it too.

However, this involved a massive marketing expense, and with the Super Bowl right around the corner, neither of them had the authority to make the call. Roven could only promise to relay Duke's suggestion to Warner. Whether it would be adopted depended entirely on Warner's decision.

A Super Bowl ad was merely icing on the cake, not the deciding factor in a film's success. The Rock wasn't the kind of unapologetic summer season spectacle that Independence Day was. Even if it made it onto the Super Bowl broadcast, it could never sweep the globe the way Independence Day did.

The true key to the film's success lay in excellent production quality. Duke soon tossed the Super Bowl matter aside and continued with the lengthy post-production process.

To his surprise, however, Charles Roven brought good news a few days later. After Warner Brothers' screening experts reviewed the rough cut of The Rock, the top executives at Warner Brothers decided to place an ad in the Super Bowl.

This news reinvigorated Duke, whose energy had been flagging under the heavy workload. In just one day, he cut a thirty-second highlight trailer. Naturally, the bulk of the footage featured the car chases, explosions, and fight scenes that summer season audiences loved most.

In addition, he specifically included the bomb's-eye view shot in the trailer. This wasn't Bullet Time, which had been born in the eighties; a cinematic shot like this had never appeared in Hollywood, let alone the rest of the world.

A trailer couldn't just be visuals without a score, so Hans Zimmer, who was still buried in his composition work, was called over to Rock Studio by Duke.

Sitting in his chair, Duke pulled his gaze away from Hans Zimmer the moment the powerful, soaring orchestral music began, focusing entirely on the track. Composing a score himself was something Duke couldn't do, but he had crystal-clear judgment on whether a piece of music fit the movie.

Overall, the track fit the mood well, yet Duke's brow remained slightly furrowed. The piece was similar to the classic score from his past life, but not quite identical. Perhaps due to his own preconceived notions, he couldn't shake the feeling that it was half a tier lacking.

Sweeping his gaze over the solemn-faced Hans Zimmer once more, Duke suddenly understood. Whether it was a star, a director, or a composer—much like Naomi Watts and Zack Snyder right now—there was always a long process of accumulation before they truly shined.

Without a doubt, the Hans Zimmer from after The Lion King was a grandmaster of film scoring, but right now, he was a craftsman at best.

The few-minute track soon finished playing. Hans Zimmer looked at Duke and asked tentatively, "Not satisfied?"

"No." Duke shook his head. He thought for a long while before speaking. "Hans, I want the music to be a bit more powerful and intense."

Though he could read basic sheet music, Duke didn't know how to compose. He had once tried humming the score from memory, but his grasp of melody was simply too poor. His only listener, Sofia, had bluntly told him that what he hummed was just noise. After listening to the recording Sofia deliberately made of his humming, Duke had to agree.

He had even tried whistling it, but the results were far from ideal. Perhaps he could discern some rhythm from his whistling, but that didn't mean someone else could take an off-key whistle and turn it into his ideal track.

When Hans Zimmer first arrived that morning, Duke had also played him the whistle recording. The composer had simply shaken his head.

Finding a composer, humming a tune, and expecting them to perfectly replicate a song or score was completely unrealistic. It was pure wishful thinking.

There was no helping it; the score would just have to stay this way for now. Even though it differed from his past life, it was hard to say that this version wouldn't become a classic itself in the future. Moreover, Hans Zimmer would continue to make adjustments. This wasn't the final version of the score.

While they were still discussing the score, Shania Twain also arrived at Rock Studio, bringing the master tape of the film's theme song composed by Hans Zimmer. Duke listened to it a few times. Although it couldn't compare to Shania Twain's peak works, it was enough for the movie. Aside from needing to tweak a few details, he fundamentally agreed to use the song.

By adding Hans Zimmer's score and a brief snippet of Shania Twain's song to the thirty-second teaser trailer, Duke finished the film's Super Bowl commercial. His recent stretch of intense work could finally come to a pause.

"You look more confident," Duke noted.

In the quiet restaurant, Duke looked at Shania Twain sitting across from him. Her aura was completely different from Naomi Watts'. With her high arched eyebrows and slightly messy curly hair, she projected a bit of the wildness of the Canadian countryside. Her bright eyes were full of confidence and determination.

"Recording for my first album is finished." Shania Twain ate only a very small amount of her food. "The company invited a lot of radio DJs and music critics for a listening session, and their reviews were all pretty good."

"Here's to your album being a massive hit." Duke raised his glass to her.

"And to your movie being a massive hit," Shania Twain replied.

"Shania, I think we share some similar traits," Duke said, setting his glass down. Shania Twain tilted her head to look at him. "Do you always use lines like that to smooth-talk women? Or are you trying to pursue me?"

"I've never liked smooth-talking women." Duke wasn't embarrassed at all. "I just feel like we really click."

Shania Twain didn't say anything, merely continuing to tilt her head and stare at him. Duke looked back at her. Their eyes met in the air, and they both laughed at the same time.

"Someone with your background can't even imagine the life I used to live." Shania Twain suddenly changed the subject. "I swore I would escape poverty. I swore I would make my younger siblings members of the upper class, and I swore I would become the top singer in the world."

She raised an eyebrow. "What about you, Duke?"

"A director," Duke shrugged. "The greatest director."

"So, neither of us will stop moving forward."

This woman's past was far more complicated than Naomi Watts'. Fighting her way up from the very bottom of society to where she was now had made her mind much more rational. "I need someone who can give me substantial help with my music."

Her words were remarkably direct. "As far as I know, you aren't that kind of person."

Hearing this, Duke laughed. Regardless of anything else, she was a rather straightforward woman. He vaguely remembered that her first husband was a famous music producer who helped propel her career to its peak. When the media and the public finally began comparing her to the likes of Madonna and Mariah Carey, she divorced him and married a wealthy businessman.

After finishing dinner, the two left the restaurant and slipped into the same car with a mutual understanding. Duke drove straight to a famous hotel nearby. Shania Twain simply hooked her arm through his and, without saying anything more, walked inside with him.