353-355

Chapter 353: A Tale of Two Reputations  

The Hollywood Reporter isn’t a top-selling paper, but it’s deeply rooted in Hollywood. Decades of networking have built it a solid pipeline to first-hand scoops from the industry’s biggest players.  

That’s why heavy-hitters like The New York Times, Los Angeles Times, and The Wall Street Journal often reprint their stories.  

Dunn picked The Hollywood Reporter for an exclusive interview because of its clout in the biz.  

Like always, the reporter’s questions were prepped in advance, and Dunn had already gone over the answers a dozen times.  

“The Unsinkable, produced by Dunn Pictures, didn’t exactly light up the box office in its opening week. It got overshadowed by Pearl Harbor—something unheard of in your past projects. Mr. Walker, any thoughts on that?”  

It’s just a newspaper gig, but there’s a camera rolling.  

Dunn’s decked out in a sharp suit, exuding confidence. He glances at his assistant, Isla Fisher, by the office door. She’s holding a little chalkboard with “normal” and “reputation” scribbled on it—his cues.  

“The movie market’s unpredictable,” he says with a shrug. “Figuring out what audiences want is the toughest nut to crack for filmmakers. Sure, Pearl Harbor beat The Unsinkable at the box office that first week, but that’s just numbers. It’s not the big deal here. The Unsinkable’s racking up great reviews, isn’t it?”  

He flashes a small smile and nods at Isla.  

The reporter jumps in: “What’s behind both Pearl Harbor and The Unsinkable dropping on the same day? Is it true what people are saying—that you’ve got beef with Disney?”  

“Beef? That’s pure nonsense. I’ve cleared this up a million times, but I’ll say it one more time: Hollywood thrives on healthy competition. All this wild speculation from outsiders? It’s just irresponsible.”  

Dunn chuckles and keeps going. “I’ve talked it over with Michael Eisner, Disney’s board chairman, plenty of times. We’re good buddies—honestly, it’s not the mess people make it out to be.”  

“But Disney’s been hyping Pearl Harbor big time,” the reporter presses. “They’re claiming it’s the next Titanic—maybe even set to break its box office record. What’s your take?”  

“Break Titanic’s record with a $50 million opening week? Good luck with that,” Dunn says with a faint grin. “But them calling Pearl Harbor the next Titanic? That’s been bugging me, and I can’t quite figure it out.”  

“Oh? Care to elaborate?”  

Isla flips the chalkboard. New keywords: “creation,” “deception,” “legacy.”  

“Everyone knows Titanic—produced by James Cameron, directed by me, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet,” Dunn says. “Pearl Harbor? Honestly, not a single person from that crew worked on Titanic. I don’t get how they’re linked. It’s a totally different creation.”  

He leans in a bit. “The Pearl Harbor team and Disney keep name-dropping Titanic in their promo. I don’t know why—maybe it’s just marketing? I don’t buy that. Disney’s a solid company; they wouldn’t trick audiences into theaters with Titanic’s name. There’s got to be another angle. You’d have to ask them.”  

“As for Titanic,” he adds with a laugh, “The Unsinkable is its real sequel in every sense. Same producer, same director, most of the same crew—it’s a true legacy. Both stories center on shipwrecks. Titanic is a tragic sinking and a timeless love story. The Unsinkable? It’s a miracle of life after a wreck—a celebration of human love!”  

The reporter tees him up: “Mr. Walker, are you saying The Unsinkable is the true second Titanic? That you and Director Cameron are trying to redeem that shipwreck tragedy from four years ago?”  

“Absolutely, no question!” Dunn says, dead serious. “Titanic was me and Cameron’s baby. If anyone’s going to recreate it, it’s us—not Jerry Bruckheimer or Michael Bay.”  

“Is The Unsinkable really as gripping as Titanic?”  

“Without a doubt! James Cameron directing, Mel Gibson starring—they’re guarantees of quality. And me? I’m the producer. I’ve got total faith in my work!”  

The reporter grins. “So you’re saying The Unsinkable’s box office might bounce back in the next few weeks?”  

“Definitely,” Dunn says coolly. “Titanic had a rebound too, remember? This time, Cameron and I are teaming up to recreate that magic!”  

Shrek is a blast, but it’s an animated flick already in its third week. The box office spotlight’s still on Pearl Harbor and The Unsinkable—two commercial juggernauts in their prime.  

“Hi, everyone! This is NB Channel’s Movie Watch. I’m your host, Hannah, coming to you from the AMC theater on Sunset Boulevard in L.A. We’re about to chat with some random moviegoers!”  

Among America’s big three public networks, NB’s been slipping. Without a media titan backing it, its ratings are tanking. If it doesn’t pivot soon, Fox Movie Channel might just overtake it.  

But their outdoor show Movie Watch still pulls decent numbers—thanks in no small part to the blonde, blue-eyed, ever-smiling host, Hannah Wilmot.  

The crew spots a group of excited friends spilling out of the theater, buzzing and shouting about something.  

Hannah strolls over with a warm smile, introduces herself, and asks, “Hey, did you guys just catch a movie? Mind telling us which one?”  

“The Unsinkable!”  

A Black guy jumps forward, full of energy, clearly the loud one in the group.  

Hannah’s a stunner, and her constant grin puts people at ease. “What made you pick that one?”  

“Uh!”  

The Black guy blurts out a noise, not much of an answer.  

A white friend steps up, grinning. “Mel Gibson’s the star! He’s a legit superstar. It’s not an action flick, but it’s still awesome, heh.”  

“And Dunn Walker!” another chimes in. “He’s the producer—it’s on the poster! Plus, Cameron’s directing. That guy’s amazing—I’m obsessed with Terminator. But this? Way better. I’m in love with The Unsinkable!”  

“You all seem into action stuff,” Hannah says. “Why not Pearl Harbor? I hear it’s pretty intense.”  

Before she can finish, the Black guy spits, “That movie’s a pile of crap!”  

“Seriously!” another jumps in. “We saw it yesterday, and I nearly fell asleep! My buddy said it’s from the same director as The Rock—no way, it’s so boring. Felt like a French film or something!”  

“Nah!” a third cuts in. “We only saw Pearl Harbor ‘cause they said it’s like Titanic. We all love Titanic!”  

“Right? Then we watched it and wanted to cuss them out!”  

“Yeah, total scam. I’d demand a refund if I could!”  

“The lead actress was pretty hot, though, haha…”  

That group wraps up, and Hannah moves on to a few more.  

The big choices are Pearl Harbor and The Unsinkable, with Shrek and The Mummy Returns trailing behind.  

She chats with about a dozen groups. Most who saw The Unsinkable can’t stop raving—praising its heartfelt emotion, jaw-dropping effects, and rollercoaster plot. “So good!”  

But Pearl Harbor? Every single viewer—yep, all of them—either trashes it hard or grumbles in disappointment. “It’s not Titanic at all. If Titanic’s a 10, this is a 1—no, a 0.1!”  

When Hannah asks if they’d buy another ticket to rewatch, the split couldn’t be clearer.  

The Unsinkable fans mostly say they’d catch it again if they could. Even if not in theaters, they’d grab the DVD or tune in on TV later.  

Pearl Harbor viewers?  

“Watch it again? Are you kidding? Sitting through three-plus hours once was a miracle—don’t make me do it twice. Guinness record challenge?”  

“No way! It’s such a letdown. I’d rather waste time on textbooks than that trash.”  

“Again? Pearl Harbor? God, spare me—I can’t take that torture twice. The romance gave me secondhand embarrassment, and sorry, I don’t have health insurance for that.”  

“Rewatch? Just kill me instead—it’d be quicker…” 

Chapter 354: Losing the Wife and the Army  

With Joe Roth out of the picture, Disney’s production department was now Richard Cook’s kingdom.  

Fresh in the driver’s seat, this summer’s two big-budget bets—Pearl Harbor and Atlantis: The Lost Empire—were the ultimate test of his chops.  

Now, Pearl Harbor had hit screens, and the results… weren’t bad.  

Opening weekend raked in $53.63 million. Sure, it was just three days, but it still muscled past Shrek to claim the top spot on the weekly box office chart!  

As for The Unsinkable, the other big commercial flick in the ring? It trailed Pearl Harbor by over $10 million—a first-round knockout, barely worth a mention.  

Still, $53.63 million didn’t quite hit Disney’s sweet spot.  

They’d aimed to mold Pearl Harbor into a Titanic-level box office juggernaut. Forget overseas for now—North America alone was supposed to clear $600 million!  

That meant an opening weekend between $120-150 million, a second week topping $100 million, and a third week pulling in at least $80 million.  

Three weeks, $300 million in North America—that’s what would’ve satisfied Disney’s appetite.  

Right now? That dream was pretty much toast.  

Especially with Pearl Harbor’s audience buzz trending sour—staging a ticket sales comeback in the weeks ahead looked dicey at best.  

So, Disney’s production team had already slashed their North American forecast for Pearl Harbor down to $300 million.  

Naturally, the marketing game plan needed a tweak too.  

North American moviegoers… didn’t seem to vibe with pitting Pearl Harbor against Titanic.  

No biggie!  

Business folks care about profits, not prestige. As long as the cash rolled in, who cared about word of mouth?  

Richard Cook had climbed from Disney’s theater division chair to production head because of his knack for revenue and margins.  

Movies weren’t his passion—money was!  

Today, he called Pearl Harbor’s producer Jerry Bruckheimer and director Michael Bay into his office to hash out a new promo strategy.  

Cocky as ever, Michael Bay oozed confidence in his flick. “Pearl Harbor and Titanic are totally different beasts—one’s a war movie, the other’s a disaster flick. We should play up the film’s quality and effects, not the story or performances.”  

Jerry Bruckheimer, a Hollywood golden boy for over a decade, had way more clout and experience. “No way! We’ve got to switch up the marketing. We can’t keep leaning on Titanic—it’s pissing off the fans. We need a new angle.”  

In front of Bruckheimer, Bay was just a lackey, nodding along like a good soldier.  

Even Richard Cook had to show Bruckheimer some respect—he was Disney’s ace in the hole for blockbuster hits. “I’m with you on that,” Cook chimed in. “Let’s drop Titanic talk altogether. How about we pivot to themes like reflection and anti-war vibes?”  

Bruckheimer nodded. “Sure! The Unsinkable trotted out those old-timers from the real event for some serious emotional pull. We could do that too.”  

Cook frowned. “That… might not fly. It doesn’t fit Disney’s values. We’re pushing youthful, mass-market stuff. Parading out aging soldiers? Mr. Eisner wouldn’t sign off on that.”  

Bruckheimer pressed, his voice low. “They can do it, but we can’t?”  

“It’s different,” Cook said. “Using old soldiers’ pain as a gimmick could dent Disney’s brand image.”  

“Then let’s go with gossip! Have the leads fake a romance… nah, skip that—stage an engagement! Disney can set up the hype and a live broadcast.”  

Bruckheimer’s old-school tricks were dated but effective.  

Clearly, Cook was all in for this shady play. “Works for me. I’ll get their agencies on board and kick things off. No rush on the engagement—let’s have them ‘date’ for a couple weeks. Once the box office starts fading, they get engaged to juice up sales.”  

Just then, a knock on the door. Cook’s assistant stepped in, holding a few newspapers.  

Cook’s brow furrowed. “What’s up?”  

“Dunn Films and Universal… they’ve flipped the script on The Unsinkable’s marketing,” the assistant said, dropping the papers on the desk.  

Cook, Bruckheimer, and Bay tensed up, jumping to their feet and grabbing the headlines.  

Cook snatched Variety and a film review mag, pages already folded to the Unsinkable articles. One glance, and he sucked in a sharp breath.  

“Dunn Walker: Pearl Harbor Is Clueless—The Unsinkable Is the Real Second Titanic!”  

“Eureka! It’s the True Titanic All Along!”  

The headlines alone turned Cook’s face ghost-white.  

Over on Bruckheimer’s side, his expression was just as grim.  

He held the Los Angeles Times and LA Weekly, with entertainment front pages screaming about Cameron’s The Unsinkable.  

“Reputation Rankings? No Surprise—Dunn Walker Breaks It Down!”  

“Stop Falling for It! The Real Titanic? It’s The Unsinkable!”  

Bay clutched two tabloids, and their takes were pure chaos fuel.  

“Shock! Exposé! Disney Tricks Fans Into Buying Tickets—Pearl Harbor Has Zero to Do with Titanic!”  

“Exclusive: Director Dunn Walker Slams Disney for Duping Audiences!”  

…  

Everyone in the room was a sharp industry vet.  

Even stripping away the inflammatory slander, Dunn Films’ marketing pivot was enough to make them all break out in a cold sweat.  

This was a disaster!  

“Second Titanic”—that was the killer blow!  

How’d Pearl Harbor beat out Shrek and The Unsinkable opening weekend?  

Simple: its whole campaign rode Titanic’s coattails, banking on that classic’s hype to spark fan excitement.  

And it worked.  

During promo season, Dunn and Cameron’s The Unsinkable got steamrolled by Pearl Harbor—no buzz, no momentum.  

Post-release, the $200 million Unsinkable scraped together just over $40 million opening weekend. Jaws dropped.  

No doubt about it—Disney had crushed it out of the gate!  

Pearl Harbor vs. The Unsinkable: Round one to Disney!  

But then the cracks showed.  

Pearl Harbor’s plot and content rubbed audiences the wrong way. Industry buzz was brutal—it didn’t hold a candle to Titanic.  

Forcing the comparison now? That’d just be a punchline.  

Disney had to switch up its strategy.  

But they didn’t see it coming…  

Dunn struck first!  

And he didn’t just strike—he cut Pearl Harbor off at the knees!  

Universal and Dunn went all-in, loudly proclaiming that the rave-reviewed Unsinkable was the true second Titanic!  

Same creative team, plus thematic overlap—both films used shipwrecks to celebrate life’s beautiful emotions.  

Even better? Titanic ended in tragedy; Unsinkable delivered a feel-good finale!  

Pearl Harbor couldn’t ride Titanic’s wave anymore, but at this critical moment, The Unsinkable slapped a Titanic badge on itself.  

What did that mean?  

Pearl Harbor’s month-long, hurricane-force “Second Titanic” hype train was about to crash, leaving nothing but backlash in its wake.  

Meanwhile, Dunn—who’d been lying low—snatched that promo mantle, hoisting The Unsinkable up as the real deal, piggybacking on Pearl Harbor’s month of blanket buzz!  

“You’ve all been fooled! Pearl Harbor’s got nothing to do with Titanic—The Unsinkable is the real second chapter!”  

That pitch was a death knell for Disney!  

Richard Cook was on the verge of tears.  

For the past month, he’d poured his heart into Pearl Harbor, tapping every Disney resource and channel, hammering home the “Second Titanic” hook.  

But in just one month, the tables turned hard!  

All that effort didn’t just tank Pearl Harbor’s rep—it handed Dunn Films’ The Unsinkable a golden gift!  

Losing the wife and the army!  

Jerry Bruckheimer, burned by Dunn once again—and this time it was a brutal hit—slammed the newspaper on the desk, seething through gritted teeth. “That Dunn Walker—shameless! Bastard!”  

Michael Bay didn’t have a personal beef with Dunn, but as Bruckheimer’s right-hand man, he had to follow suit. His face darkened. “That punk… sneaky, slimy, downright dirty! No wonder he played nice during promo season—he had this up his sleeve the whole time. Damn it!”  

Richard Cook just flopped into his chair like a deflated balloon, muttering, “What… what do we do now…”  

He knew Michael Eisner’s temper all too well.  

Botching a juggernaut like Pearl Harbor?  

He might end up as the fall guy for Disney’s production department—just like Joe Roth before him.  

He was screwed! 

Chapter 355: Redstone’s Birthday Bash  

Right now, Dunn’s juggling two massive tasks: boosting The Unsinkable’s box office and getting the TA TV network off the ground.  

Between the two, TA TV’s the bigger deal!  

The Unsinkable might be a hyped-up, big-budget flick, but it’s just one movie. Even if it flops, it won’t tank Dunn’s film empire. He’s got the Marvel Universe, the Pirate Alliance, Transformers—plenty to keep the movie side humming.  

But TA TV? That’s different. At this delicate moment, one wrong move could wipe out his entire TV strategy!  

That’s no exaggeration.  

It’s 2001, and Time Warner’s a mess, tangled up in its merger with AOL—boardroom shouting matches nonstop. Meanwhile, Sumner Redstone’s Viacom empire is the undisputed king of media, hands down!  

Even Disney’s market value doesn’t hit half of Viacom’s!  

Dunn’s got the guts to take on Michael Eisner and Disney, but against Redstone’s raw power? He doesn’t stand a chance.  

Viacom’s just too massive!  

Four killer divisions: the core Viacom cable networks, the B Group, Paramount Pictures, and Blockbuster—each a titan in its field. Except for Paramount, the other three are flat-out industry leaders.  

Blockbuster especially—it’s got the U.S. video and DVD rental market in a chokehold.  

Dunn can poke at Disney because their focus doesn’t overlap much with Dunn Pictures’ game plan. But Viacom? That’s a whole other beast.  

Blockbuster alone could crush Dunn Pictures in the movie space.  

For TA TV to rise, it’s got to climb over two giants: Viacom’s H Network and Time Warner’s HB Network.  

Time Warner’s too busy imploding to worry about—easy to brush off.  

But Viacom? That’s a must-watch!  

Especially Redstone—that old shark. When he gets mad, all of Hollywood feels the chill.  

Everyone knows Disney’s Michael Eisner is the sharpest exec in town right now. But before him, who was the best?  

Barry Diller!  

And where’s Barry Diller now?  

Redstone ran him out!  

The guy who once ruled Hollywood—helming A, AB, Paramount, even founding the Fox Network—Diller’s off in the internet world now, messing with e-commerce, totally out of media.  

Can’t fight him—gotta dodge him!  

So with Redstone, Dunn can’t play the same reckless game he does with Eisner. He’s got to tiptoe.  

Luckily, the old man’s 78 now—not the razor-sharp mind he once was. He’s getting foggy, his grip on the company’s a mess, dumb moves piling up, but he still won’t let go of the reins.  

Even his kids are at odds with him over it.  

May 27th is Sumner Redstone’s big 78th birthday.  

But that day, the Redstone clan keeps it low-key—just a private family gathering.  

It’s not until May 30th that they throw open the doors, inviting elites from all corners to shower him with well-wishes.  

Talk about a grand affair!  

Tosca Musk, newly tapped as Dunn Pictures’ VP, isn’t just running Sillywood Animation—she’s also Dunn’s point person for dealing with Viacom, aka Redstone himself.  

She’s been killing it.  

Dunn scores an invite, complete with Redstone’s personal scribble: “Sincerely inviting you to my birthday party. Sumner Redstone.”  

For a formal gig like this, Dunn can’t roll up with some random date. Good thing Harvard’s summer break has started, and Natalie’s around.  

“What? You’re not going?” Dunn stares at Natalie, shocked.  

Natalie pouts. “How could I? It’s not some Hollywood party—it’s a serious business thing. Everyone there’s an old-timer, like forty or fifty at the youngest. Me, a little girl, a student—how awkward would that be?”  

Dunn brushes it off. “What ‘little student’? You’re a Harvard student! The best university in the world!”  

Natalie mumbles, “Sure, in the entertainment world, my degree’s a flex. But there? I’d be too shy to bring it up. Did you know Mr. Redstone got into Harvard at 17? And while he was there, he served in the U.S. military—a war hero!”  

“No way, that impressive?” Dunn’s eyes widen.  

Natalie flops on the bed, huffing as she tosses five or six dresses onto the floor. “I’m just a clueless actress. In front of those big shots, if I mess up, how embarrassing would that be? I’m not going!”  

Dunn mulls it over, then lets out a long sigh.  

He gets where Natalie’s coming from.  

She’s not worried about embarrassing herself—she’s scared of making him look bad.  

The latest Forbes list just dropped: Dunn’s worth $8 billion, ranking 37th globally. Nowhere near Redstone’s 18th spot and $14 billion-plus fortune, but still enough to turn heads at the party.  

No doubt, Dunn’s going to be in the spotlight. As his girlfriend, Natalie would face a barrage of questions from the wives and socialites.  

At not even 20, handling that scene would be brutal for her.  

One slip-up, and it’s a laughingstock moment.  

“It’s my fault—I’m not strong enough,” Dunn says, sitting on the bed and pulling Natalie into a hug, his voice heavy.  

Natalie shakes her head, leaning into him. “No way. You’re only 25! Even Bill Gates wasn’t this big at your age. To me, you’re already incredible.”  

Dunn smirks, a little self-deprecating. “Still too weak. If I were the world’s richest guy right now, hmph—even if you flubbed something, even if you’re an actress, so what? The whole world would kiss up to you!”  

Natalie giggles. “Then work hard and become the richest guy already!”  

Dunn’s laugh turns weird. “You’ve got that much faith in me?”  

Natalie tilts her head, biting her lip. “Doesn’t matter. I’m working hard too. At school, I’m minoring in etiquette, languages, social theory—a ton of stuff. By the time I graduate, I’ll be amazing. I’m confident!”  

Dunn chuckles, half-annoyed, half-amused. “That’s not faith in me—that’s faith in yourself!”  

“I’m an actress, sure,” Natalie says firmly, “but I’m going to make sure no one looks at me like ‘just’ an actress.”  

Dunn nods solemnly. “Let’s do it together!”  

When it comes to social graces, Dunn’s no match for Natalie.  

But status and wealth? That’s his armor.  

It’s like a class reunion: the rich, successful guy can misspeak a few times, and no one bats an eye—they’ll call it “real.” But the broke, down-and-out one? One gaffe, and even if everyone’s polite on the surface, they’re sneering inside.  

It’s the 21st century—money talks loudest!  

Tosca Musk steps in as Dunn’s plus-one for Redstone’s birthday bash.  

At 27, she’s blonde, blue-eyed, fair-skinned, leggy, and curvy—arm-in-arm with Dunn, they’ve got that golden-couple vibe.  

But the more perfect they look, the more uneasy Dunn feels.  

“Everyone knows my girlfriend’s Natalie Portman. Let’s not stir up rumors,” he says casually.  

Tosca flashes an awkward smile, loosening her grip on his arm. She falls into step beside him, more like a secretary now.  

That’s her gig tonight anyway—secretary duty. She leans in and whispers, “Nine o’clock, left side: that’s Rupert Murdoch, the big boss of News Corp!”  

Dunn glances over. Sure enough, there’s the newspaper tycoon Murdoch with his Chinese wife, chatting up another old guy about the same age.  

“The guy he’s talking to? That’s John Malone, the godfather of cable TV!” Tosca adds. “He’s a legend in the industry—even Redstone and Murdoch give him mad respect.”  

Dunn’s surprised, stealing a few extra looks. “How’ve I never heard of him?” he mutters.  

“He’s retired,” Tosca says with a shake of her head. “But his ideas shaped a whole generation.”  

“Oh?”  

“He’s got this famous line: ‘High profits mean high taxes. The way to build a giant is to use every trick in the book to cut reported profits and taxes, then plow pre-tax cash flow into growth and acquisitions.’ Comcast and Viacom both ran with that playbook to get where they are today.”  

Dunn’s eyes pop.  

What a slick breakdown!  

Wall Street usually values companies by earnings per share, so for ages, raking in profits was the holy grail for public firms.  

Then the internet era hit.  

But Malone was preaching this decades ago!  

Take Amazon—why’d it grow so fast? Beyond e-commerce basics, it dodged profits and taxes like a pro, pouring every dime of cash into expansion.  

Decades later, its shareholders haven’t seen a penny in dividends!  

And yet, its market cap’s closing in on a trillion bucks.  

Dunn swallows hard, nodding stiffly. “This guy’s unreal!”  

Tosca gives him an odd look. “You really don’t know John Malone? TA TV—it used to be part of his TCI empire!”  

“What?” Dunn’s jaw drops.  

Tosca smacks her forehead, piecing it together. “Oh, right—TA TV was tiny back then, and he was already checked out. In ’97, he sold the Teleport biz for $11 billion. ’98, he offloaded the Sprint chunk for $9 billion. ’99, General Instrument went to Motorola for over $11 billion. Then TCI’s core got snapped up by AT&T for $48 billion. TA TV? Barely a blip.”  

Dunn sucks in a breath.  

Only now does he realize how puny his precious TA TV is in the eyes of these titans!  

He scooped it up for just $1.7 billion.