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Chapter 110 - Chapter 110: No Less Than Ten Film Deals!

Sam Mendes is undeniably a top-tier director.

His works like *American Beauty*, *Road to Perdition*, and *Revolutionary Road* are classics that made waves in their time.

Sure, right now Sam Mendes is just a Hollywood newbie. His first feature film, *American Beauty*, hasn't even hit theaters yet. But Dunn's already dead-set on bringing him onboard.

*American Beauty* snagged Best Picture at the Oscars and handed Sam Mendes a Best Director win to boot.

The sweet spot to lock him in? Right before that film drops.

Mid-July rolled around, and Dunn Pictures got a tax rebate from Germany—$21.5 million total. After coughing up $1 million to Constantin Film as a middleman fee and $500,000 for legal costs, they pocketed a cool $20 million.

Three days later, David Heyman came through with more good news: the UK rebate landed, a hefty $23 million. Minus $1.5 million in fees, Dunn Pictures scored another $21.5 million.

With that, the company's cash pile hit $195 million—plenty to juggle *Spider-Man* and *Girl, Interrupted* at the same time!

The *Spider-Man* crew kicked off auditions and casting for key supporting roles.

For the lead, Peter Parker, Dunn had his guy in mind—James Franco.

The leading lady? Jessica Alba, no question.

By late July, the sunglasses system pinged him with a notification: he'd unlocked another "mirror possession" skill.

*Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace* had racked up $460 million in North America, over $240 million overseas, and crossed $700 million worldwide.

Dunn's personal box office total soared past $3 billion, earning him his third "mirror possession" reward from the system.

By the end of July, Sam Mendes officially signed on with Dunn Pictures for $1.2 million to direct *Girl, Interrupted*.

But Sam had some conditions. He wanted his *American Beauty* collaborator, Alan Ball, to join as executive producer.

Dunn nearly cracked up when he heard that.

Alan Ball—the legendary producer, "Uncle Ball," a TV god behind iconic American shows, and a key player in HBO's global domination later on.

A talent like that? Dunn didn't even need Sam to ask—he'd have chased Alan down himself.

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"Dunn, the Creative Committee's not on board with our script changes."

As Marvel Studios' president, Nina Jacobson was producing *Spider-Man* and playing middleman between all the moving parts.

Dunn rubbed his forehead, annoyed. "What's wrong with those old-timers? Do they really want the heroine to die?"

In the original *Spider-Man* script, it followed the Marvel comics beat for beat. Peter Parker's first love, Gwen Stacy, dies because of his fight with the Green Goblin, indirectly caused by Spider-Man himself. That's what sparks his growth.

To Dunn, that's way too heavy. He's after a light, fun popcorn flick. If he wants depth and gravitas, *Spider-Man*—the quip-slinging hero—isn't the vehicle for it.

So he axed Gwen Stacy entirely, swapping in Mary Jane, Spider-Man's eventual wife, as the female lead. Through a *Spider-Man* trilogy, they'd face trials, end up together, and ride off into the sunset.

"Nina, what's your take?" Dunn shot her a glance.

Nina Jacobson thought it over. "I'm with you. Spider-Man starts as a shy kid and grows into this outgoing, chatty superhero. That's enough of an arc—he doesn't need a tragic backstory weighing him down. Spider-Man's the funny one. He shouldn't be bogged down by too much pain."

Dunn gave her a big thumbs-up. "Well said. Nina, I've told you—I'm bringing all of Marvel's heroes to the big screen. Spider-Man's first, then Iron Man, Captain America, Ant-Man, Black Widow! I'm building the Avengers up there! This is a massive series, and I need it to be fun, light, and crowd-pleasing—not some pretentious deep-dive."

Nina hesitated. "If that's the case, should we tweak the script again? Peter's mistake getting Uncle Ben killed doesn't really fit your big picture, does it?"

Dunn waved it off. "I've thought about that. It's fine—time can smooth it out. With current VFX, pulling off the Avengers on screen is tricky. Even if we did, it wouldn't be perfect. The *Spider-Man* trilogy can build fan trust in Marvel while we wait for tech to catch up. That's when Marvel takes over the world."

Nina knew Dunn had poured his heart into *Spider-Man*—and taken on a mountain of debt. Without insane confidence in the future, he wouldn't be betting this big.

"Alright, I'll handle the Creative Committee. One more thing—James Franco's cool with a trilogy deal, but he thinks ten film commitments are too much. He wants to cut it down."

"Hmm?"

Dunn's eyebrow twitched, irritation flaring.

Under California's Talent Act, studios can only lock actors into three-film bundle deals—keeps contracts from dragging on too long and screwing over the talent.

That's why so many movies come in trilogies.

But to stop actors from jacking up their rates after a breakout hit—screwing the studio and sequel plans—there's a "pre-booked film" loophole.

Studios can lock in extra films at the actor's current market rate, heading off any outrageous demands later.

Take Gal Gadot—she signed a trilogy with Warner for *Wonder Woman*. After it blew up, her *Wonder Woman 2* paycheck was still just $300,000.

Johnny Depp only signed for three *Pirates of the Caribbean* films. By *Pirates 4* and *5*, he was demanding insane money.

Robert Downey Jr.? Once his deal ran out, *Iron Man 4* stalled. For half an hour in *Avengers 2* and *Captain America: Civil War*, he pocketed $40 million—a payday even Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Cruise couldn't touch. No contract cap, no limit to the asks.

"I've said it before—the Avengers is an unprecedented mega-series. We're talking dozens of films. We *have* to play it safe!"

Dunn's face hardened. "He can skip the trilogy bundle. Even if he asks for more, $20 million per film's the ceiling. But ten films? Not one less!"

Nina looked uneasy. "James Franco… he's ambitious. He doesn't want to be stuck as Spider-Man forever. He's after bigger, broader opportunities."

"Spider-Man wears a mask, and we're making movies, not a TV show!" Dunn threw his hands up. "He's overthinking it. Tell him this is my call—non-negotiable. If he doesn't like it, there's a line of actors dying to play Spider-Man!"

Nina felt the steel in Dunn's voice. "Got it. I'll let him know. He's smart—he'll come around."

"Nina, the last decade was the superstar era—Mel Gibson, Tom Cruise, those giants. But times have changed. The VFX era's here, and the superstar days are done. Actors are actors—no one's irreplaceable."

Dunn liked James Franco's talent and wanted to work with him, but not at the cost of his own interests.

"Oh, how's the casting for Harry going?"

"Yep, we've got five guys through the first round. Whenever you're free, you can run the final audition."

Dunn nodded. "Any standouts?"

"Yeah!" Nina thought for a sec. "Tobey Maguire, 24, did Ang Lee's *The Ice Storm* and Woody Allen's *Deconstructing Harry*. He's got a sunny vibe and solid acting chops."

"Tobey Maguire?"

Dunn's eyes widened, and he froze.

Now *this* was interesting.

In the old *Spider-Man* films, Tobey Maguire was Peter Parker, and James Franco played his buddy Harry Osborn.

In Dunn's version, it's flipping completely.

James Franco as Spider-Man, Tobey Maguire as Harry Osborn…

This is gonna be fun!

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