Chapter 63: Ad Show

"Hey, Jones! Allen!"

Sitting on the sofa in their rented apartment, Kunitz shouted toward the kitchen. "It's halftime! The best part is about to start! Hurry up!"

"Coming!"

Jones and Allen hurried out, carrying beer and popcorn. Sitting down next to Kunitz, they asked, "Is Michael Jackson on yet? Today's game has been too dull. The Dallas Cowboys' tactics are way too conservative; they mostly rely on the ground game..."

Allen had barely finished complaining when Jones shoved a can of beer at him. "Forget the game. I've been waiting for Michael Jackson. I bet this is going to be an epic performance."

"Did you hear?" Kunitz said suddenly. "There's a rumor going around that Michael sexually assaulted a young boy."

"I don't believe it..."

"I don't believe it either..."

The topic was a bit heavy, so the three of them turned their attention back to the TV screen. Before the halftime show, there would be a spectacular string of commercials.

"What's the first ad going to be?" Kunitz murmured to himself. "Chanel? Dior? Lauder?"

"I bet it's Versace!"

"Maybe Tiffany!"

Jones and Allen chimed in one after the other.

Most Super Bowl ad blocks kicked off with lavish commercials for luxury brands. Featuring dazzling visuals and top-tier models, these ads easily grabbed everyone's attention.

However, they were all wrong.

"Boom..."

The commercial break opened with an earth-shattering explosion. Flames from the blast filled the entire TV screen, billowing layer upon layer as if erupting right before their eyes.

"This is..." Kunitz's mouth twitched. He found the scene a bit familiar.

"This style of explosion..." Jones paused with his hand halfway to his mouth, popcorn still pinched in his fingers.

As the flames surged, a line of massive text appeared in their wake—The Rock!

Following that was the name of the director who had blown audiences away at the turn of spring and summer last year—A Film by Duke Rosenberg!

"It's a movie trailer!" Allen slammed down his beer can and let out a weird yell. "Duke Rosenberg's new movie! His film is finally coming out! I've been waiting forever!"

"Shut up!"

Annoyed that he was drowning out the TV, the other two glared at him. Allen quickly covered his mouth, eyes wide as he stared at the screen.

A Hummer and a Ferrari engaged in a life-or-death street race through San Francisco. Trying to escape, the Hummer smashed into everything in sight to create obstacles; trying to catch up, the Ferrari took shortcuts, sped down narrow alleys, and burst through a window.

Though it only lasted a dozen seconds, the ruggedness of the Hummer and the agility of the Ferrari were captured flawlessly.

"This completely blows the car chase in Speed out of the water!" the three muttered simultaneously.

The roar of the engines and the screeching of tires against the pavement, paired with a thrilling score, left them glued to the screen with their hearts pounding.

"This is a classic Duke Rosenberg piece!"

Their only regret was the lack of a massive explosion. That didn't match the soul-shaking, explosive style of Speed.

Just as they were thinking this, a squadron of F-18 Hornets soared past the Golden Gate Bridge and arrived over Alcatraz Island. One of the jets dropped a bomb before pulling up into a near ninety-degree vertical climb. The shot then plunged downward alongside the falling bomb, making it feel as if the bomb had become their own eyes. The whistling of it tearing through the air felt like their own screams, and the rapidly approaching ground looked as if it would smash into them at any second.

The shot plummeted at high speed entirely from the bomb's first-person perspective, the landscape of Alcatraz Island growing larger and sharper by the millisecond...

Finally, the bomb slammed into the island. Amidst a deafening boom, the sky was engulfed in fire. The scattering, erupting flames looked like a meteor had crashed into Earth.

All three wiped the sweat from their foreheads at the same time. For that brief moment, they had felt exactly like they were the bomb itself; their hearts were still trembling from the blast.

"The Rock, May 7th. Join us for a thrilling ride!"

Another line of text appeared within the fiery glow of the explosion. Kunitz read it aloud, firmly committing the date to memory.

Allen jumped straight up from his seat, bolted to the calendar in the living room, flipped to the month of May, and drew a heavy mark over the seventh.

"The Rock!" he shouted. "The opening movie of our summer vacation!"

In a detached house not far from their University of Southern California campus, Jason also took out a pen and jotted down the date in his memo pad, muttering to himself.

"God, how on earth did that director pull that off? That's a completely new cinematic technique! That explosion alone is enough of a draw!"

In an instant, he made up his mind to go see the film the moment it hit theaters.

Even though Super Bowl Sunday was touted as the most important unofficial holiday in North America, the office spaces of Century City CAA remained bustling. Martin Bob sat in his office, having just torn his eyes away from the TV screen.

Originally, he had intended to watch Michael Jackson. With numerous negative rumors swirling in the media lately, CAA had caught a whiff of something unusual and immediately scrapped their plans to poach the star. The reason was simple: no matter how powerful CAA was in the entertainment industry, it could not stand against the white-dominated society at large.

To his surprise, right as the halftime break began, he saw a movie commercial. From that short trailer alone, he could deduce that the film's quality was likely on par with, if not better than, Speed. That was especially true for the first-person bomb-drop shot; even he couldn't help but marvel at it. He had to admit that the kid named Duke Rosenberg truly possessed a unique perspective and deep understanding when it came to filming high-impact sequences.

And a talent like that actually wasn't a CAA client!

At this thought, Martin Bob dialed Lovett's number. Fighting back the urge to curse the idiot out, he ordered the agent to come see him immediately.

"Mr. Bob." Lovett sat down gingerly in his chair.

"Did you see that commercial just now?"

Hearing Martin Bob's question, Lovett nodded hastily. "Yes, I saw it. To think they actually poured that much money into a Super Bowl ad..."

"What's your take on it?" Martin Bob impatiently cut him off.

"No movie has ever advertised during the Super Bowl before, so the results are hard to gauge." Lovett thought for a moment before adding, "A trailer doesn't prove anything, either. There are always times when audiences simply won't buy into car chases and explosions."

"What about Warner?"

"Well..."

Lovett didn't dare lie to Martin Bob, so he told the truth. "Rumor has it that after Warner's executives saw Duke's initial rough cut, they made The Rock their top priority project for the Summer Season. They've already greenlit a preliminary marketing budget of 15 million dollars."

The situation was painfully clear: Warner Brothers was extremely optimistic about the profitability of The Rock.

"Warner will launch a massive promotional campaign on the heels of this Super Bowl momentum very soon," Martin Bob said, tapping lightly on his desk. "Meanwhile, Interview with the Vampire, our collaboration with Fox, has only just wrapped up filming. Time is not on our side. Go to the Connery estate and see Sean; we need to launch our own initiative at the right moment."

With CAA's capabilities, finding out that the film still featured a British spy character was not difficult at all.

Just as Lovett was about to leave, Martin Bob added, "Also, tell him this comes straight from Ovitz and me. If certain incidents really were his doing, there better not be a next time! The Rock is a Warner Brothers project, not an independent production by Duke Rosenberg. Crossing the line once is enough. If there's a second time, CAA and Twentieth Century Fox will no longer protect him!"

Even though Warner had never issued any formal statements or protests, several high-ranking Warner executives had expressed their displeasure to him and Michael Ovitz in exceedingly subtle terms during a few party encounters. If they truly provoked an all-out retaliation from Warner, Martin Bob knew without a second thought that the rest of the Hollywood studios—Twentieth Century Fox included—would simply stand by and watch.

The traditional powers in Hollywood both competed and cooperated with one another, sharing deep-rooted histories. CAA, on the other hand, had only truly risen to prominence in the eighties and had driven film production costs up to terrifying heights. Strictly speaking, it was the public enemy of every Hollywood studio.

This circle could be incredibly complicated, yet it was also remarkably simple. All competition and cooperation ultimately revolved around one thing: profit!

For the sake of profit, enemies could become friends, and friends could become enemies.

As a veteran agent and a powerful figure in Hollywood, Martin Bob understood this perfectly. He wasn't sure if the incidents were actually tied to Connery, but he did know that Duke Rosenberg had severely offended the actor. Connery had a fiery temper, especially after heavy drinking; in a moment of impulsive rage, there was no telling what decisions he might make.

"Make absolutely sure you relay this message to Sean Connery!" he instructed one last time.

"Yes, Mr. Bob!"

Just as Sofia Coppola had suggested, Duke chose to temporarily set aside the fire and throw himself entirely into post-production. When Super Bowl Sunday arrived, Charles Roven gave the whole studio the day off. Duke politely declined Naomi's invitation, choosing instead to return to Santa Monica to watch the game with his mother.

Unfortunately, Mrs. Leah's focus clearly wasn't on the game. Even while sitting in front of the TV, she kept a thick stack of documents by her side.

In a way, Duke's workaholic tendencies were largely influenced by his mother.

After watching the commercial for his own movie, Duke lost interest in the rest of the ads and Michael Jackson's halftime show. He simply reached over and grabbed the thick, glossy book resting next to his mother. Upon flipping it open, his eyes immediately lit up; the pages were filled with sexy models wearing all sorts of lingerie.

'Could this be new business for Santa Fe Advertising Company?'

Making this deduction, Duke shifted his eyes to the lingerie brand. It was an exceptionally familiar name—Victoria's Secret!