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Chapter 1639: The Anson Frenzy 

Anson Wood. Anson Wood. Anson Wood. 

Everything that even remotely related to Anson suddenly became extraordinary. It was as if Anson had become the sun, and the entire galaxy was spinning around him. The world didn’t just love him—it orbited him. 

Fashion was just the beginning. 

Cities large and small around the world were rolling out “Anson-themed services”—Anson outfits, Anson hairstyles, Anson meals, “places Anson supposedly visited,” Anson-style breakfasts and drinks—anything to let fans experience "Anson’s life." 

In some countries, people became famous overnight just for vaguely resembling Anson. In France, a man with a mere 50% resemblance to Anson—highly dependent on lighting and angles—was being swarmed by fans, landing ad deals and appearances. He didn’t even have a name anymore; people just called him “Little Anson.” 

That’s how powerful Anson’s influence had become—so strong that it erased someone’s identity. 

Elsewhere, fans flocked to fan clubs just to take photos with Anson's life-sized cutouts—a trend inspired by the “Spider-Man 2” premiere, where fans queued to pose with cardboard standees. What had once been considered a punishment from the studio had morphed into a full-blown cultural phenomenon. Sony-Columbia could only watch in shock and disbelief. The joke was clearly on them. 

And still, that was only the tip of the iceberg. 

In St. Louis, a student watched Spider-Man 2 thirty-seven times. His obsession worried his family to the point they thought he’d been recruited into a cult and even called the police. 

In Mexico City, the film was sold out everywhere. A 26-year-old woman missed out on tickets three times and broke down sobbing on the street—landing her photo on the front page of the newspaper. 

Old merchandise from Anson’s earlier films—long since forgotten—suddenly became hot collector's items. Their resale value in secondary markets had exploded, often fetching more than 100 times their original price. 

Gloria and her friends could hardly believe that the keychains and badges they once bought with pocket change had become valuable collectibles. Just like '90s-era basketball and baseball cards, these originally cheap trinkets had now become modern art pieces—sought-after memorabilia with genuine market value. 

The same was now happening with Anson Wood merchandise. 

This wasn’t just a box office success. The real revolution was happening off-screen—through the unstoppable infiltration of Anson into people’s daily lives. A fashion and cultural wave was sweeping across the globe, and Anson was its epicenter. 

At this point, Anson was no longer “the next Leonardo DiCaprio” or “the new Tom Cruise.” He was Anson—an entirely unique icon. 

The Anson Frenzy. 

It wasn’t a phrase that could fully encapsulate the madness, but it was the best summary of a truly insane cultural moment. 

It was dizzying. Overwhelming. 

And amid this frenzy, there was an unexpected victim: William Morris Agency. 

Fan mail from around the world flooded the agency in waves. Although email was slowly gaining traction, handwritten letters still dominated, especially for die-hard fans seeking a personal connection with Anson. To them, the William Morris Agency was the last known contact—so they flooded it with mail. 

The content? Mostly love letters. Many proposed marriage. 

Some included engagement rings. Others had blank checks. Some sent wedding photos. Others sealed their envelopes with lipstick kisses. 

It was a deluge. 

According to rumors in Century City, the agency’s email servers crashed after receiving over 100,000 messages. But email was just digital data. It was the physical letters that truly stunned everyone. 

Over 500,000 pieces of fan mail. 

That’s right—half a million. Possibly more. 

The sheer volume was unimaginable. Postmen had to deliver them in trucks. Trucks! William Morris staff stood dumbfounded as crates of mail were unloaded like cargo. 

Anson had already left the agency, but his contact info hadn’t been updated—so all this madness landed squarely on William Morris’s doorstep. The crazier it got, the more miserable they became. Their CEO, Brian Swarthorne, was fuming. And it was only going to get worse. 

Then came the punchline: 

Creative Artists Agency (CAA) showed up. 

Kevin Shewin, CAA’s rep, led a team of twenty people on foot (not by car) through two city blocks to deliver an “apology” to William Morris. 

They claimed: “We’re sorry our actor caused you trouble,” “This is part of our responsibility now,” “We can’t expect colleagues like you to carry this burden,” —all delivered with the smuggest, most self-righteous grins imaginable. 

Rumor has it, Brian Swarthorne nearly exploded from rage right then and there. 

Then came the real humiliation: Kevin and his team pushed grocery carts full of letters and gifts—like ants moving a mountain—across Century City from William Morris to CAA headquarters. The entire operation took an entire day. 

Yes, literally an entire day. 

The mail weighed over ten tons, filling four entire shipping containers, which were dumped in a corner of CAA’s parking lot. 

The whole affair was a public spectacle—an absolute power move. All of Los Angeles was talking about it. CAA had just humiliated William Morris in front of the entire industry. 

And no one—absolutely no one—came to their defense. 

Other agencies seized the opportunity to kick William Morris while they were down. Rumors of talent poaching—actors, directors, even agents—spread like wildfire. William Morris was in total chaos. 

In a desperate move, Brian called an emergency meeting and publicly fired five “traitorous” agents to send a message. Not only were they fired, but they were blacklisted with bad press, their careers torched to prevent them from defecting. 

It bought him a brief moment of calm. 

But everyone in the industry knew: this was only a temporary reprieve. 

The real chaos hadn’t even started. 

This was Hollywood—where profit rules all, and vultures circle endlessly. The William Morris Agency had become wounded prey, and every shark, hyena, and scavenger—big or small—was ready to tear them apart. 

The real disaster was just beginning. (End of chapter) 

Chapter 1640: The Sole Champion 

Standing by the floor-to-ceiling window in his office, gazing out at the hustle and bustle of Century City—no different from any ordinary day—Brian Swarthorne could still sense a shift. The winds in Hollywood were changing, and the tide was surging toward the camp of the Innovative Artists. 

After this battle, William Morris not only lost the power to contend with Innovative Artists—they now faced an even graver threat: a siege from the other three major agencies. One small misstep could bury the legacy of a century-old institution in Brian's hands. 

A chill ran down his spine. 

Brian couldn’t help but wonder—where had it all gone wrong? 

Maybe William Morris was still stubbornly denying their failure. After all, they had stood tall in Hollywood for over a century. They’d witnessed overnight stardom, meteoric rises and sudden crashes, even seen lonely legends whose glory had faded. How could someone like Anson Wood shake their foundations? 

Let’s not forget—this is Hollywood! 

William Morris had survived the glamour and chaos of this industry for over a hundred years. In comparison, Innovative Artists were still rookies—not even thirty years old. How could a company with such deep roots and strong backing be so easily toppled? Just give them a moment to breathe, and they would bounce back. 

And yet, the harsh reality in front of them was undeniable. William Morris’s stubbornness only made them look more pathetic and disoriented. 

Under this overwhelming pressure, even someone as cunning and politically adept as Brian felt breathless. There was a dazed look in his eyes. 

After all, even industry giants like Sony-Columbia and Warner Bros. had bowed their heads to Anson. The crisis was very real. 

Even worse, the media and public, who had just been gleefully mocking William Morris, quickly shifted their attention back to Anson. 

The legend of Spider-Man 2 was reaching its grand climax under a storm of flashing cameras and buzzing headlines. 

• North American Box Office: $728 million 

• International Box Office: $1.13 billion 

• Global Box Office Total: $1.858 billion 

Boom. 

Like a mushroom cloud rising slowly, the entire world bore witness to history being made. 

"Spider-Man 2, the new global box office champion." 

"Titanic’s seven-year reign has ended—Spider-Man 2 takes its place." 

"A record once thought untouchable, unrepeatable, is now broken." 

"A miracle is born—Spider-Man 2 makes history." 

"Spider-Man 2 achieves the impossible and sets a new global box office benchmark." 

No words could capture the sheer scale of the shock. In moments like these, simplicity conveyed the weight of history. Everything else was left for the audience to experience—getting lost in the echo and afterglow, spinning madly with the rest of the world. 

Haters. Critics. Attacks. 

They still existed, as they always would. But right now, no one cared. Their voices were drowned out by the brilliance of Spider-Man 2. The clowns and cynics were lost in the glare of the fireworks. 

Previously, Titanic held the record with $1.843 billion. Now, that number had officially been surpassed. 

While Spider-Man 2’s comic book roots may have had some influence, and analysts pointed out that Anson’s growing fame in North America hadn't fully carried over to overseas markets yet—limiting its international box office potential—the domestic performance more than made up for it. 

So although Spider-Man 2 didn’t surpass Titanic's international record, it demolished its North American performance, setting a new standard. 

Thanks to that, its global total still broke the all-time record, establishing itself as the new box office king. 

$1.858 billion. A number that now held new power, new meaning. A figure etched into the legacy of film history. 

Bitter voices continued to grumble: 

• “It barely won by a sliver.” 

• “A record-breaker by just a few million? Not impressive.” 

• “To me, Titanic is still the true box office king.” 

• “Adjust for inflation and the rankings stay the same.” 

• “It’s a manufactured victory—hype, not merit.” 

And so on. 

But the more envy, jealousy, and resentment there was, the more Spider-Man 2’s brilliance shone through. It had crossed a chasm that once seemed impassable. 

Those who had witnessed Titanic's global frenzy were now witnessing the rise of Spider-Man 2. That in itself was a privilege. 

Many pointed out: Titanic had broader age group appeal, skewing slightly older. In contrast, Spider-Man 2 clearly drew a younger crowd. 

From a business standpoint, advertisers typically target the 18–49 age group. So Spider-Man 2's youthful demographic might have seemed like a drawback for Anson’s commercial value—but reality told a different story. 

The cultural influence Spider-Man 2 had among younger audiences was reshaping trends. Comic books were becoming mainstream. Anson’s personal fashion and taste were leaving a much deeper cultural imprint. 

Fashion. Merchandise. Music. 

These were things Leonardo DiCaprio didn’t have during Titanic’s rise. Anson, on the other hand, was creating a cultural storm with what some called “distractions.” 

In truth, Anson’s commercial appeal surpassed Leonardo’s—sending advertisers and investors into a frenzy even more intense than that of the general public. 

Because while the public admired him, investors smelled profit—the kind that makes people lose their minds. 

Look at Supreme. Once an obscure brand stuck in the world of skateboards and streetwear, struggling to stay afloat after ten years of business—it exploded overnight because of Anson. 

And the most mind-blowing part? Anson never even signed an endorsement deal. No official promos. Just organic buzz from passionate fans online. A miracle of modern marketing. 

Back then, Titanic made Leonardo a superstar, but the real titan behind it was James Cameron, who cemented his status as a one-of-a-kind director. 

Today, Spider-Man 2 basked in glory, but all eyes were on Anson. From the top to the bottom of the production team—Kristen Dunst, Sam Raimi, even Sony Columbia—they were all just background noise. 

The spotlight belonged to one person only: Anson. 

History was rewritten. 

But the storm? 

It was just getting started. 

The New York Times: “*Anson Wood: A Leader of a New Era.*” 

Chapter 1641: The Lingering Heatwave 

The height of summer. The blazing golden sun pierced through the clear blue sky, bathing the world in waves of relentless heat. 

Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles was as packed as ever. The crowds moved shoulder to shoulder, dripping with sweat, faces flushed from the heat—yet none of that could hide the joy and excitement in their eyes. 

Summer movie season was nearing its end. 

Usually, by the time August rolls around, the buzz in the movie industry begins to die down. It’s rare for any film to stir up the box office this late in the season—especially this year. 

First, the early Oscar ceremony pushed film studios to adjust their schedules, and then Spider-Man 2 completely dominated the market with its phenomenal success, draining all the momentum from other releases. By the time August arrived, it felt like there was nothing left, just a void. 

But life went on. 

After Will Smith was steamrolled by Spider-Man 2, even Tom Cruise couldn’t stop its momentum. And oddly enough, that realization made people more relaxed— 

If even Will and Tom couldn't compete, why not just enjoy the ride? 

On one hand, everyone dove headfirst into the Spider-Man 2 craze. On the other, if there was a movie they were personally excited about, they’d go out of their way to support it. 

After all, Spider-Man 2 had become a black hole, sucking up every bit of energy from the market. Other films barely had room to breathe, so they needed all the support they could get. Just because they weren’t box office hits didn’t mean they weren’t worth watching. 

And honestly, going to see something other than Spider-Man 2 might mean you had the entire theater to yourself. That’s its own kind of luxury. 

Because of that, the late-summer movie releases still stirred up buzz. Hollywood wasn’t slowing down—it was entering an unexpected golden stretch. 

And today was no different— 

Tuesday, August 10. Clear skies. 

Another perfect sunny day, and The Princess Diaries 2 was about to hit theaters nationwide this week. Today marked its grand premiere. 

To celebrate, Disney held a massive event at the TCL Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard, mirroring the approach from the first Princess Diaries premiere two years ago. This time, though, they upped the ante—it wasn’t just a royal-themed masquerade. Disney opened the door to every animated character in their catalog, turning it into a full-blown costume party. 

And just like that, they awakened everyone’s party spirit. 

August, after all, should be for vacations, parties, and pure joy. If you couldn’t fly to the Caribbean or the Mediterranean, couldn’t join Carnival in Rio or the tomato-throwing madness in Spain’s Buñol, at least you could show up for a giant Hollywood bash right in your own backyard. 

Two years ago, the first Princess Diaries snuck in quietly with low expectations and ended up becoming a pivotal win in Disney’s movie lineup. 

Now, The Princess Diaries 2 was finally here, and anticipation was sky-high. Not just from fans, but from the media, too. 

After all, the first film had launched two stars—Anne Hathaway and Anson Wood—into stardom. No one wanted to miss the sequel. 

Most reporters figured Disney would keep things a bit more low-key this time. With Spider-Man 2 still dominating and Anson not returning for the sequel, it would make sense to tone things down. 

But Disney did the exact opposite. 

Instead of shrinking the premiere, they went even bigger—copying Spider-Man 2’s playbook and turning their event into a full-on carnival. They even subtly hinted that Anson might have a cameo in the sequel, despite official word saying otherwise. 

Anson? Really? 

Hollywood journalists weren’t so easily fooled. 

TMZ reported that Anson was never spotted on set. “This is just bait,” they claimed. 

Still, Disney kept playing coy. The promo team wouldn’t confirm or deny the rumors, and both Anne Hathaway and the director just laughed them off, repeating that Anson, sadly, wasn’t part of the movie. 

Two versions of the story, two conflicting attitudes. It was impossible to tell what was real and what was a bluff. Even reporters started to wonder— 

Could there be a surprise? 

So the premiere for The Princess Diaries 2 didn’t just go big—it exploded. 

Hollywood Boulevard was flooded with fans. Wall-to-wall crowds turned the whole area into a sea of excitement. The vibe wasn’t like a quiet end-of-summer farewell—it felt like the wild opening days of summer all over again. Even stacked up against Spider-Man 2, it held its own. 

Unbelievable. 

Classic Disney—never one to back down from a challenge. 

But more than that, Disney played it smart. 

They knew star power alone wouldn’t cut it. No matter how big your cast, you couldn’t outshine the spectacle of Spider-Man 2's premiere. Not even a lineup of A-listers could beat the name recognition of Anson Wood. 

So they pivoted. 

They focused on the fans. They turned the premiere into a festival for anyone who loved fairytales and Disney magic. 

Just like how comic conventions brought niche fans together, this was a rare moment for movie nerds, animation fans, and Disney lovers to gather and celebrate what they loved. In 2004, there were few mainstream spaces for that kind of fandom—outside of small-scale conventions, these communities had no stage. 

Now, Disney gave them one. 

No one wanted to miss it. 

And what a sight it was. 

The crowd stretched endlessly, packed tight around the Chinese Theatre, radiating outward like a ripple of joy under the afternoon sun. 

It was the biggest turnout since Spider-Man 2’s premiere. 

Technically, that one was in New York. So for Los Angeles, the last time crowds looked like this was for Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban—two months ago. 

August was supposed to be quiet. Instead, it came alive. 

Even the jaded reporters were stunned. Once again, Disney proved they knew exactly how to read the market. 

Critics often complain that Disney movies lack flavor or individuality—that they’re just mass-produced products. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe that’s Disney’s strength: consistency, reliability, knowing how to always secure their place in the spotlight. 

Who knows? Maybe The Princess Diaries 2 will surprise us—just like the original did. 

And hey, if Spider-Man 2 is any sign, maybe sequels really are the new trend. 

(End of Chapter)