1654-1656

Chapter 1654: Calculated Precision 

The Chronicles of Narnia, the seven-volume fantasy series by British author C.S. Lewis, tells the tale of a magical world called Narnia—from its creation to its crises, its revival, and ultimately, its end. 

So, how should we evaluate the Chronicles of Narnia series? 

To put it bluntly, Narnia is a fantasy epic that can stand shoulder to shoulder with The Lord of the Rings. 

C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien were close friends. Back in the 1930s, the two would often meet at a small pub near Oxford University, exchanging wildly imaginative ideas. It was in that very setting that the seeds for The Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia were planted. 

Without a doubt, Tolkien and Lewis are hailed as the founding fathers of British fantasy literature. The Lord of the Rings leans toward a more mature, complex narrative, while Narnia is rich in allegory and has had an immense influence on children’s fantasy—its structure, world-building, and symbolic depth are unparalleled. 

And not just in Britain. The Chronicles of Narnia has a massive global following and is considered a cornerstone of fantasy literature worldwide. 

When The Lord of the Rings was adapted for the big screen, discussions about when Narnia would follow suit never stopped. 

Now, Disney is ready to take that leap. 

This move fits perfectly within the cultural trends of the time. The success of Gladiator reignited interest in epic films in Hollywood, but one film alone couldn’t carry the genre’s revival. 

In fact, Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings had already laid the groundwork. Their success reminded studios of the untapped potential in large-scale fantasy films, leading to a wave of epic projects. 

Still, movies like Master and Commander, King Arthur, and Troy all flopped, sending warning signals across the industry. Many projects hit the brakes. But Disney? Disney was the outlier. 

We’re talking about Disney here—a company known for its cautious, methodical approach, never one to lead the charge. When other studios dove headfirst into the genre and came out battered, Disney had just started moving. 

Today, studios like Warner Bros., Sony Columbia, and 20th Century Fox have shifted focus to the superhero genre. Disney, however, is still advancing slowly and steadily. They believe there’s still untapped potential in fantasy epics. 

What’s the proof? 

Well, Harry Potter is only on its third movie. There are four more to go, right? 

From Disney’s perspective, The Lord of the Rings has concluded, Harry Potter is still climbing, and with other studios pulling out of the fantasy market, there’s now a perfect window of opportunity. Disney can step in, take its time, and capture the market share without taking major risks—just by playing the timing right. 

The Chronicles of Narnia is no less epic than The Lord of the Rings, and it can easily rival Harry Potter in children’s literature. Disney had to fend off fierce competition to secure the rights to it. 

Bob believes this is a hidden gem, a secret weapon. While Michael Eisner hadn’t given it much attention, it could very well be the breakthrough Bob needs to shift the power dynamics. 

Everything is lining up perfectly. 

So— 

Bob stood before Anson, calm and confident, and in Anson’s eyes, he could see a glimmer of excitement. 

"The Chronicles of Narnia"—just hearing the name is enough to stir anyone’s heart, right? 

Sure enough, Anson showed a flicker of interest. 

But it wasn’t out of excitement—it was a moment of realization. 

While the whole of Hollywood had been obsessing over comic-based superheroes, Disney had remained quiet. Now, Anson understood why. 

Typically, Disney’s style is cautious and conservative. While this ensures minimal mistakes, it often means missing out on the highest peaks. But in reality, Disney quietly observed how studios like Warner Bros. kept making mistakes in the superhero space. Then, once the time was right, they entered the race—and went on to build an empire. 

The whole process feels like a legend of its own, full of twists and surprises. 

Of course, behind every success story lies hardship and setbacks. But timing—timing is always the key. 

Anson met Bob’s gaze calmly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "The Chronicles of Narnia—any childhood without it feels incomplete. For our generation, Harry Potter came a bit too late. Narnia is what we grew up with. You too, Mr. Iger?" 

Bob chuckled. "Who would’ve thought that The Chronicles of Narnia would be a memory we share? Does that mean we’re from the same generation?" 

"Ha." 

"Thank you for making me feel young again." 

A lighthearted joke, then a swift pivot. "We’re preparing to bring the original story to the big screen. CGI work has already begun. The script, director, sets—everything is ready. All that’s left is the cast." 

Then Bob looked directly at Anson—his meaning clear. 

Anson raised an eyebrow slightly. "Mr. Iger, are you sure?" 

Bob looked puzzled. 

Anson explained, "Are you sure that recommending The Chronicles of Narnia to me is the right move?" 

"I’ve played too many high school characters. I can’t keep playing teenagers forever. Yes, I know I look young, but Hollywood barely has space for high school or college roles as it is. That’s why I’ve been trying to graduate—even Peter Parker isn’t an exception." 

"And now, you want me to go back to elementary school?" 

His tone was playful, not mocking, but definitely teasing. 

Clearly, Anson didn’t find Bob’s proposal all that appealing. 

Bob hadn’t expected this. Anson had rejected him outright—without even the usual social niceties. 

Most actors, when facing the COO and President of Disney, would at least say something like “I’ll think about it,” or “Looking forward to reading the script,” and let their agents handle the rejection behind the scenes. 

But not Anson. 

Bob studied Anson’s expression carefully, keeping his own face composed. "But that’s Disney. The family market is—and always will be—Disney’s foundation." 

"Working with Disney means knowing your market positioning. It’s also a major boost to your personal brand." 

Anson lifted his chin. "Of course. Absolutely." 

Bob noticed the nuance in his expression. "But?" 

Anson grinned. "But even within Disney, even within that market, you have different styles and types of roles. And yet, you chose The Chronicles of Narnia for me, Mr. Iger?" 

"If it’s because you think I’ll always be Peter Pan and never grow up, then fine. But if not, maybe it’s because you haven’t quite figured out how we should work together." 

Chapter 1655 – In Complete Control 

“…Either Mr. Iger truly believes I’m Peter Pan who’ll never grow up, or he simply hasn’t figured out how to cooperate yet.” 

Light, witty, playful. 

Anson’s tone remained breezy and conversational, but his sharp words cut straight to the heart of the matter, exposing the core issue with pinpoint accuracy. 

His remark stung Bob—just slightly. 

But Bob didn’t show it. On the surface, he remained calm and composed, completely unshaken. “So this is your strategy?” 

Anson raised an eyebrow, a hint of confusion in his expression. 

Bob continued, “Sony-Columbia. Warner Brothers. That’s your strategy? To interfere from the decision-making level and shift the balance into your control?” 

Anson chuckled. “Wow, that hat’s a bit too big. Not sure my head’s big enough to wear it.” 

Bob replied, “I don’t know the specifics of those companies, but I do know one thing: at Disney, that kind of thing would never happen.” 

He spoke in a calm, flat tone—no emotional fluctuation, just matter-of-fact—but his words carried a hidden blade, cold and unyielding. 

Far from being thrown off by Anson’s sudden strike, Bob launched a subtle counterattack and swiftly regained the upper hand. 

Never judge a book by its cover. 

Anyone who underestimated Bob simply because of his mild appearance or because he’d long operated in Michael Eisner’s shadow… they’d be the one to pay the price in the end. 

Anson raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Forgive me for my arrogance. I should’ve remembered—Hollywood isn’t my Hollywood.” 

Bob’s eyes flashed with surprise—part astonishment, part curiosity. He couldn’t tell if Anson was sincerely apologizing or just playing along with the act. Either way, the gesture helped defuse the tension and flipped the situation again. 

Sure enough, Anson continued, “What I mean is, I’m an actor. I have to manage my brand and career just like a company does.” 

“If I don’t even know what my brand or value is, how can I expect others to find the right direction when working with me?” 

Bob’s expression shifted, his pupils contracting slightly. “You mean… Disney didn’t find the right direction? That Narnia was the wrong choice?” 

Anson asked calmly, “So does Disney want Narnia to be the next Harry Potter, or the next Lord of the Rings?” 

“Either way, Narnia doesn’t suit me. Or let’s put it another way—does Mr. Iger think I’m better suited to a role in Harry Potter, or in Lord of the Rings?” 

Bob was caught off guard by the question. His instinct was to say “Legolas”—the elven prince that made Orlando Bloom a star. But the words got stuck in his throat. 

Not because Bloom was just a pretty face, but because of his position in Hollywood. 

In Pirates of the Caribbean, Johnny Depp was the lead. Orlando Bloom was the sidekick. Clearly, Anson was more like Depp, not Bloom. 

Still, Bob recovered quickly. “Narnia was just one of many options. We’re not limited to that.” 

“Trust me—Disney always has more than one card to play.” 

Anson smiled, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “Of course. A hundred percent. No doubt about it.” 

“So… has Mr. Iger figured out Disney’s next steps?” 

For the first time, a sharp glint flickered in Bob’s eyes. A trace of tension emerged—deep in his pupils, something cold and dangerous stirred. A brief lapse in composure. 

The words weren’t just surface-level. 

Had Anson seen through him? Did he somehow know Bob was planning to betray Michael Eisner and seize control? How? 

If Anson were aligned with Eisner, even though Eisner was on the ropes, he could still bring Bob down with him. Anson’s questions… were they a threat? 

A thousand thoughts surged in Bob’s mind in an instant. He didn’t even realize that his back was soaked in cold sweat. 

Michael Eisner’s shadow still loomed large. Bob knew just how ruthless he was—how he could never tolerate betrayal. 

Bob stared at Anson, searching his expression for any clue. 

Anson, sensing it was time to back off, ended the exchange gracefully. “I’m genuinely looking forward to working with Disney. Who could possibly say no to Disney? But it definitely won’t be for Narnia.” 

Bob smirked. “You say you’re not refusing, but then immediately refuse. Isn’t that a contradiction?” 

Anson replied, “Not at all. That’s just the arrogance of a superstar. I’m still adjusting to this new role, so if I came off a bit brash, I hope you’ll forgive me.” 

Soft words with a steely edge—unyielding, inch by inch. 

Bob kept his eyes on Anson, his gaze now mixed with both curiosity and caution. 

But Anson didn’t linger. After a few polite words, he excused himself under the pretense that the screening was about to begin, and casually turned to leave. 

Bob stood rooted in place, his eyes never leaving Anson’s retreating figure. 

He couldn’t tell. 

Anson remained utterly composed, masterfully in control of the situation. 

Bob had no idea whether Anson had really figured out the truth, or if he was Eisner’s mole sent to test him… or perhaps something else entirely. 

Then again, Bob realized he might just be overthinking it. Anson had no deep ties with Disney, and Bob had only decided to attend this premiere last minute. All those conspiracies might just be his imagination running wild. 

But even so, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down. If Anson had picked up on anything, did that mean Bob’s ambitions weren’t as well hidden as he thought? Even if Michael Eisner was too busy dealing with other issues, what if this caught his attention? 

No. There was no turning back. He couldn’t sit around and wait for disaster to strike. He certainly couldn’t retreat now. 

There was only one way forward… strike first. 

Bob didn’t linger at the theater. He turned and left in a hurry. 

Later, when Anson didn’t see Bob in the screening room, he didn’t think much of it. He never imagined his probing had rattled Bob so much that it would trigger an acceleration in Disney’s internal power struggle—three months earlier than in the timeline he remembered. 

Soon after, Michael Eisner lost the battle for control and was unceremoniously kicked out of Disney, disgraced and defeated. Amid the chaos, the unassuming Bob Iger was suddenly thrust into power. Reluctant at first, but ultimately decisive, he took charge. 

And just like that, Disney’s Eisner era ended. The Iger era officially began. 

After Sony-Columbia, Disney too completed its power shift—both in the same year. 

And bizarrely enough, both events were closely tied to Anson. 

To which Anson could only say: “I honestly have no idea what happened.”

Chapter 1656: The Growth Process 

The Butterfly Effect. Parallel Universes. 

Anson had always been keenly aware of these concepts. He knew this world was no longer the one he once remembered — things were changing, and would only continue to diverge further until it became something entirely new, an unfamiliar realm filled with unexpected adventures. 

Still, understanding this in theory was one thing; seeing it happen in reality was something else entirely. 

And this time, the shift didn’t happen to Anson himself — it happened to Disney. 

Anson swore he hadn’t tried to manipulate Bob. Bob had approached him first, and Anson merely responded as best he could. Why Bob chose to strike early and seize power remained a mystery to Anson. 

In the timeline Anson knew, Michael Eisner held on until January 2005 before finally being ousted after losing an internal power struggle. But now? The coup happened in November 2004 — a swift storm that swept through Disney, ending with Bob Iger being named CEO. 

And the details were different, too. 

Unlike the confident, decisive figure from Anson’s memories, Bob initially came across as cautious, restrained, even nervous — to the point that everyone thought he was just a puppet. 

To them, Roy Disney, sitting on the board, was the real mastermind behind the scenes. 

This gave a false sense of security to Michael Eisner’s old inner circle — the loyalists he had planted throughout the company. Bob, after all, seemed like someone they could control. He’d spent years as Eisner’s right-hand man, and now, he’d need their help to solidify his position. That meant he wouldn’t get rid of them. 

Or so they thought. 

Three months. That’s all it took. 

In just three months, Bob not only stabilized his position — he quietly completed the handover of power. Then, like a thunderclap, he swept through the company in a brutal purge. He ousted over 700 employees — a massive hemorrhage for Disney, but one that cleared out all the rot and deadweight. 

Only then did people begin to realize Bob’s true nature: A wolf in sheep’s clothing. No one climbs to the top of a Fortune 500 company by being simple. 

Now that Bob had finally relaxed and exhaled, he assumed Anson’s silence meant allegiance — that Anson had chosen his side. 

Anson: “What??” 

He knew nothing about Disney’s internal battles. He had no inside connections, no access, no leverage. He had no idea what was going on behind closed doors. 

The comments he made at the Princess Diaries 2 premiere were purely about The Chronicles of Narnia. 

First of all, just like Peter Pan or Harry Potter, the protagonists in Narnia were children — minors. Unless the film was reimagined the way Alice in Wonderland later was (turning Alice into an adult), it was clear Anson wasn’t right for the role. 

(Alice in Wonderland was part of Bob Iger’s future strategy as CEO — a step toward darker, more mature fairy tales. While the core remained Disney’s family-friendly values, the presentation took a bold new turn.) 

But at this point in time, Disney wasn’t ready to make such sweeping changes to Narnia. 

Second, even setting aside the age issue, Anson's comments weren’t just for show — he had valid points: 

Did Disney even know what they wanted from this adaptation? What was the tone? The message? The target audience? 

Harry Potter succeeded not because it was magical, but because beneath the fantasy was a story about growing up. The Lord of the Rings succeeded because it told a tale of faith — about choosing to do right while staring into the abyss. 

So what was Narnia really about? 

That was why Anson asked the question. Was this just another attempt to ride the fantasy wave? Or had Disney genuinely thought it through? 

Judging by his memories, the answer was obvious: 

They hadn’t. 

The Narnia film series spiraled downward with each sequel — both in box office returns and in audience reception. 

• Film 1 had a budget of $180 million, earned $290 million in North America, and $745 million globally. A modest success. 

• But Film 2 cost $225 million and made only $140 million domestically, with a global total of $420 million — a huge loss. 

• Film 3 cut the budget to $155 million, but still only made $100 million domestically, and $415 million worldwide. 

It was a freefall. 

Other fantasy adaptations launched by Disney and its competitors followed a similar fate. Apart from Alice in Wonderland, which was a surprise hit, Disney's efforts like The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, Eragon, and more all flopped. 

The truth was plain to see: Disney had no idea what it was doing. 

That was the real message behind Anson’s words. 

They weren’t political. They had nothing to do with company power struggles. But Bob Iger read them that way, imagining deeper intent that didn’t exist. 

Originally, Anson had planned to keep an open mind. This was, after all, a different world — perhaps outcomes could change. If Disney had a clear vision, he would’ve been willing to sit down and hear them out. 

But that was just wishful thinking. 

Still, it wasn’t a total loss. 

In fact, Anson gained an important insight: 

Bob Iger wasn’t there yet. His grasp of storytelling, branding, and vision hadn’t matured. He still believed in projects like Narnia, unsure of how to truly shape them into hits. 

That meant he lacked the decisive courage he would later become famous for. 

In the original timeline, it was only after the Narnia failure that Disney reevaluated. Only then did they cautiously wade into the superhero space… And then, Iron Man was born. 

Through repeated mistakes, adjustments, and experience, Bob and Disney finally transformed into the Hollywood titans of the 2010s. 

But right now? They were still newborns. 

And that gave Anson a wild, ambitious idea: 

If Disney hadn’t seen the value of the treasure yet… Then maybe Forest Pictures could get there first. 

Not just to snatch Iron Man... 

But to seize the entire Marvel empire.