I am Hollywood

[Chapter 801: Bring It Here]

Although Jeffrey Katzenberg and Frank Wells, among other executives, found it hard to approve Eric's plan to sell the rights to The Matrix, they had to admit that given the circumstances, cashing out early from the project was not the worst solution.

Since the boss had made up his mind, Katzenberg started discussing the best handling approach, saying, "Alright, I'll put the word out tomorrow. At least we can shift the media and public attention away."

Frank Wells added, "That's a good way to handle it. If we wait until the last moment and can't find a suitable buyer, it's best not to sell at all."

Wells seemed a bit reluctant, but Eric didn't want to appear too stubborn either, so he nodded in agreement. They talked through a few more details before wrapping up the discussion.

Katzenberg then mentioned, "Eric, at the end of the month, Cameron will have the director's cut of Titanic ready. I've seen some snippets, and this version might run over three hours. I've talked to Cameron about trying to trim it down to under 150 minutes, but he insists that you need to see the footage yourself before making a decision."

Katzenberg's tone reflected his frustration; clearly, their back-and-forth wasn't as simple as he made it sound.

Eric thought for a moment. The filming schedule for Casino Royale had totaled five months. According to the timeline, the crew would head to the Czech Republic next for two weeks of shooting, followed by a month in Italy. They would finally spend two months shooting in the UK while also working on some post-production at Pinewood Studios in London.

After a brief pause, Eric turned to Kelly and asked, "When is this year's Venice Film Festival?"

Kelly replied, "August 28."

Eric nodded and spoke into the conference phone, "I'm not sure if there's enough time, but if possible, let's have Titanic participate in this year's Venice Film Festival. It doesn't matter whether it's in competition; it would be best if we could get it as the opening film. Also, I'll be in Italy next month, so have Jim bring the snippets to Europe ahead of time, I'd like to take a look."

Katzenberg responded, "Alright, Eric, we'll do our best to make it happen."

...

Firefly Group had a reputation for high efficiency. The next day, The Los Angeles Times reported that Firefly might be selling the rights to The Matrix.

Subsequently, Katzenberg verified this news in person, caught by reporters outside the Firefly headquarters.

In no time, both the media and fans were buzzing, completely baffled as to what was happening. Other major Hollywood studios were equally astonished. They had been making subtle moves behind the scenes, intending to cause trouble for Firefly, never expecting them to abruptly throw in the towel.

Moreover, from the outset, Firefly had a public relations strategy ready to go.

However, once the news broke, fans immediately erupted in excitement. Under media guidance, their attention shifted to the other big players in Hollywood, with fans quickly appearing outside Warner Bros. and Universal Studios, which were just a short drive from Firefly's headquarters, urging them to acquire the rights to The Matrix.

Of course, some media folks questioned whether Firefly was simply trying to divert attention, and some fans suspected Firefly might not have given up on the sequel's production rights after all. After all, could anyone really imagine Warner selling off Batman or Universal parting ways with The Mummy?

However, these doubts struggled to persist in the face of the public statements from Firefly's top executives.

Despite their surprise, Hollywood's other major studios reacted far more quickly than the media and the public. On the same day the news broke, countless calls flooded into Firefly's top executives and to Eric in the Bahamas to inquire about the situation.

...

In the Bahamas, the crew took a three-day break, with some staff already heading to Prague in advance. Eric planned to fly out with the last batch this afternoon.

Meanwhile, in the study of the villa where Eric was staying on Paradise Island, he was taking a call from Bill Gates. He had lost count of how many times they had spoken over the past two days.

"Yes, Bill, that's definitely true," Eric said cheerfully, maintaining a facade of cordiality despite their underlying business competition. "But if Amblin is interested in this project, you might want to negotiate with Jeffrey. I'm just too busy right now to focus on this."

Without a doubt, Bill Gates, or Microsoft, had caught the interest of Amblin Productions in The Matrix. Given Amblin's contract with Paramount signed a few months back, people were starting to guess around their ambitions.

Eight films over three years didn't seem like much for a newcomer aspiring to be a major studio. In fact, it was rather insufficient. Any big Hollywood studio, including the now-rejuvenated MGM, typically produced over eight films annually.

Given Microsoft's ambitions, Amblin would likely produce more than eight films in three years, indicating they were looking to expand their distribution channels through such projects.

However, even with Spielberg's star power at Amblin, that didn't guarantee every film he directed would be met with open arms by distributors, especially since he had been relatively low-output in recent years. After taking over the reins at Amblin, if he managed to direct even one film every three years, that would be a feat.

Consequently, Amblin was in urgent need of a film project that would attract distributors strongly. A project with the kind of box office guarantee and influence that The Matrix sequel represented would be just what they were hoping for.

Bill Gates said something on the other end of the line.

Eric simply shook his head, saying, "Bill, I can't just throw out a number without discussions. We'll need to sit down and negotiate properly. But don't doubt it; if Amblin offers a fair price, we will sell. Hm... $250 million? Heh, Bill, while I don't want to negotiate right now, if that's the only offer you put on the table, I don't see much point in discussing further."

Just then, as Eric was talking with Bill Gates, there was a gentle knock on the study door. Kelly pushed it open, and alongside her, Miranda Kerr was peeking in with a somewhat eager expression.

Eric waved her in, and Miranda walked in while Kelly stayed back and closed the door behind her.

Noticing Eric was on the phone, Miranda's anxiety eased a bit. She hesitantly made her way to the desk, her eyes flitting around nervously. She glanced at the couch to her left but didn't dare sit down, standing obediently in place, putting her hands behind her back, looking up at Eric with her best innocent expression.

Eric looked up at the girl, smiled, and while still on the phone with Bill Gates, he made a few clicks on his computer with his mouse.

The printer nearby soon whirred to life.

Cautiously, Miranda glanced over, and when the buzzing stopped, she could see the papers on the A4 page -- credit card statements.

It was clear it was the CitiBank black card she had in her hand.

She instinctively shrank her neck, a bit worried as she looked at Eric. Her mind wandered back to the past month's experiences.

...

Initially, when she cajoled Eric into giving her a black card, Miranda's heart wasn't exactly set on anything else. She had simply heard that this type of credit card had a high status and even allowed for unlimited overdrawing, and she was just curious when she asked Eric for one.

Miranda considered herself a clever person, and even after finding out the eight-digit balance associated with the card, she didn't show much excitement because she knew that money wasn't hers; she couldn't and wouldn't squander it.

However, what followed still exceeded her expectations.

That such a CitiBank black card represented not just the millions of dollars in her account but a symbol of social power.

Because of that black card, her past month could be summed up as a series of "at your service" moments.

From the moment she arrived in the Bahamas, she had been receiving the most meticulous care -- airport VIP lounges, 24-hour luxury cars and drivers in Miami, personal butlers at top hotels in Orlando, and direct service from the managers at Chanel.

Once, while in Orlando, when she caught a cold, she made a phone call late at night, and within half an hour, a medical helicopter was there to whisk her to the best hospital in Orlando.

Throughout her life, not even her parents had ever provided her such attentive care.

Miranda often thought that even a princess wouldn't have a life much different from hers.

Despite her mentally mature demeanor, she was still just a young girl, and this intoxicating sense of vanity led her to lose her way. After enjoying her time in Miami and Orlando, the girl, on the travel consultant's advice, flew to New York and even attended a soiree with the wealthy kids of the Upper East Hydee. Although they didn't know her identity, because of that black card, those once-arrogant boys and girls treated her exquisitely.

Eventually, Miranda couldn't bear to even check the statements on that credit card. She sometimes thought just living this princess-like life for a month would be more than enough.

However, a month had passed, and as expected, her joy quickly turned into regret.

Waking up in a top suite at the Hilton in New York, she was handed a plane ticket back to the Bahamas by the front desk manager.

...

After talking with Bill Gates for over ten minutes, Eric finally hung up.

Setting down the receiver, Eric looked at the girl who had been shifting nervously on her toes. He pointed to the printer's credit card statement and said, "Bring it here, I want to take a look."

Miranda approached with an anxious expression. She sorted the papers, hesitantly moved beside Eric, and handed them to him. After a moment's thought, she mustered the courage to step closer, but Eric pointed back to her previous spot.

"Uh-oh!"

She sighed inwardly, returning to her spot dutifully, but still bravely said, "Eric, I'm sorry, I made a mistake."

Eric examined the long statement in his hands.

Luxury car rentals, personal drivers, medical helicopters, European breakfasts, limited-edition Prada bags, stays at Carlton Hotel, Dior dresses...

He shook his head in disbelief, occasionally clicking his tongue in appreciation.

To cap it all off, the bill for one month totaled $110,000.

With the American income level, a middle-class household where both partners worked might not even earn $110,000 in a year.

Eric looked up at Miranda, her pleading expression striking him; could she really just be a naive girl -- it felt more like she was an extravagant house cat.

Eric suddenly recalled something he had seen online in a previous life about a cat owner who installed a GPS tracker on their pet, and the next morning, they saw a shocking series of routes their cat had taken.

"Now, what did I say back then?" Eric finally asked after a lengthy pause.

"Don't spend wildly, enjoy it for a bit, then go back to Los Angeles," Miranda obediently murmured.

Eric set down the bill, "And now?"

"Eric, I was wrong. Will you forgive me?"

Of course, Eric didn't mind the money Miranda spent. With his current fortune, even if she kept spending at her current rate for a hundred years, it wouldn't affect him much. However, her behavior had certainly become unreasonable.

Without further ado, Eric stretched out his hand to her, "Give it here."

Miranda froze for a moment, suddenly realizing Eric was asking for that black card.

As memories of recent experiences flashed before her, the scenario of being turned back into a pumpkin like Cinderella upon losing that card loomed in her mind, and she instinctively took a step back.

But soon, she understood that Eric wanting the card back was simply something she couldn't refuse.

Hesitating, Miranda cautiously pleaded, "Eric, I promise I won't spend recklessly anymore. Could you please let me keep this card?"

Eric looked at the girl's pleading expression. Given his vast experiences, he understood all too well the thoughts running through her head.

Ah, the dreadful vanity.

*****

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