325-327

Chapter 325: The Privilege of Picking the Leading Lady 

Nicole Kidman was gone, and Natalie and Rose Byrne were off filming, so lately, Charlize Theron and Penelope Cruz had been getting a lot of attention. They even tagged along when Dunn visited Marlon Brando.  

And the nights? Well, no need to spell it out—Dunn was having a blast with these two fiery beauties, living it up every evening.  

Nina Jacobson didn’t know much about Penelope Cruz, the Spanish girl, but Charlize Theron had some name recognition. She glanced at Dunn and tested the waters. “How about giving Charlize a shot? She’s got the moves and the figure—should be a good fit for Erika.”  

Christopher Nolan, on the other hand, treaded carefully. He’d already figured it out: he had plenty of say as director when it came to male actors, budgets, and scripts. But the leading lady? That was Dunn’s call—always had been, ever since the first film from Dunn Films.  

Take My Big Fat Greek Wedding—Nicole Kidman was the star. Wedding Crashers had Reese Witherspoon. Girl, Interrupted featured dual leads Nicole Kidman and Natalie Portman. Spider-Man went to Jessica Alba, A Beautiful Mind back to Nicole Kidman, Mr. & Mrs. Smith had Sophie Marceau, Unsinking starred Liv Tyler and Charlize Theron, and Resident Evil was all Mila Jovovich.  

For Pirates League: Curse of the Black Pearl, the main cast—aside from Johnny Depp as the lead—hadn’t been announced yet. But as Dunn’s trusted director, Christopher Nolan was in on the secrets.  

The second male lead, Will Turner, was set to be played by British actor Tom Hardy. Hardy’s first gig had been Band of Brothers, where he’d impressed everyone, earning a strong recommendation from executive producer Tom Hanks.  

But what really sealed the deal for Dunn? Hardy’s knack for playing smart. Band of Brothers hadn’t aired yet, but Hollywood’s a small world—no big secrets here. A newbie backed by Tom Hanks was a safe bet. So when Jerry Bruckheimer started prepping Black Hawk Down, he invited Hardy to join the war flick—a natural next step for his career.  

Hardy, though, saw the bigger picture. He knew Dunn Walker was the producer behind Band of Brothers, that Dunn had tight ties to the British film scene, and—most importantly—that Dunn and Bruckheimer were like oil and water. So, he ditched the Hollywood golden boy and threw his lot in with Dunn.  

Dunn loved that kind of loyalty.  

Tim Burton had pitched a few solid British up-and-comers—Henry Cavill, Colin Farrell—but Dunn stuck with Hardy. It was his reward.  

As for the female lead, Elizabeth Swann? Dunn picked Anne Hathaway.  

The original actress, Keira Knightley, had worked with Dunn on Star Wars: Episode I. She was a delicate beauty, but her chest was a little too flat for his taste. Plus, at 15, she was just too young, no matter how you sliced it.  

Anne Hathaway, though? She’d had a little mix-up with Dunn last year, but she owned up to it with genuine apologies and good vibes. Dunn wasn’t one to hold a grudge—especially not with a young, pretty girl. They got a pass to mess up now and then. Besides, he’d already marked her as his in his mind; it was just her throwing a little tantrum.  

Anne seemed to get that, too. She’d been busy filming The Princess Diaries, but she kept in touch with Dunn via email. When he asked for some risqué, no-clothes pics, she didn’t hesitate—sent him seven or eight shots, all angles, all close-ups, the works.  

She even had a tattoo on her lower abdomen—a vibrant rose with two letters inked inside: “DW.” Not DreamWorks’ “DW,” mind you, but Dunn Walker’s.  

Still, Dunn wasn’t in a rush to claim her. He’d been meeting plenty of gorgeous new girls lately—plenty of fresh thrills to keep him busy. Anne, though, kept dropping hints about moving into the Mid-Level Villa, eager to live that top-tier billionaire life.  

That kind of initiative, awareness, and obedience? With Dunn’s personality, he couldn’t not reward it.  

Elizabeth Swann’s role wasn’t huge, but it was memorable—key to balancing the two male leads. With Pirates League: Curse of the Black Pearl as her launchpad, Anne could skyrocket to global fame and A-list status fast.  

Just as Christopher Nolan had clocked, Dunn always flexed his privilege when it came to picking the leading lady.  

Hearing Nina Jacobson’s suggestion, Dunn shook his head. “Charlize doesn’t need the Erika role. We’ve got to spread the limited resources around, give more talented actors a shot.”  

Nina was sharp—she caught his drift instantly and smiled. “Then how about Penelope Cruz? She’d fit, too.”  

“Penny?” Dunn pretended to mull it over, then nodded. “Yeah, Erika’s a good match for her. What do you think, Chris? You’re the director—you’ve got a say.”  

Christopher Nolan wasn’t dumb. “I haven’t worked with Ms. Cruz, but I know she’s a solid actress. If you both vouch for her, that’s proof enough she’s got the goods. I say we skip the auditions and lock her in for Erika.”  

Dunn grinned. “Alright, done! Oh, and Penny hasn’t done action scenes before, so you’ll need to put in some extra work there.”  

Nolan nodded firmly. “I’m the director—it’s my job!”  

That night, Dunn was back at it, reveling in the lush, full curves of Charlize Theron and Penelope Cruz—tossing and turning, shaking the earth, leaving the room buzzing with energy.  

Penelope cleaned up every last drop, then shot Dunn a shy, flirty glance that dripped with charm before climbing onto Charlize for a kiss—clearly trying to lure him back for round two.  

Dunn soaked in the bliss, totally satisfied. He pulled Penelope into his arms with a mock scold. “You think I’m made of steel? Give me a break—I’ve got something serious to talk about!”  

“What?” Penelope blinked her big eyes, playing innocent. “Is there anything more important than this? Didn’t you say life’s all about having fun?”  

Dunn laughed and gave her a solid smack on the backside. “You and that sweet talk! It’s about a movie—want to hear it?”  

“A movie?” The dreamy, intoxicated look on Penelope’s face vanished. Her eyes widened. “I’ve got a new role?”  

Charlize, exhausted, propped herself up and turned to look, curiosity and hope written all over her face.  

At the end of the day, they were actresses. Movies were their life’s work.  

Dunn smiled. “Daredevil needs a leading lady. You should give it a go.”  

“Daredevil? The big project our company’s pushing this year? The one on par with Spider-Man?” Penelope’s excited flush made her face even more radiant.  

“Yup, that’s the one!”  

With Dunn’s confirmation, Penelope let out a thrilled squeal, practically tackling him as she showered him with kisses.  

“Whoa, whoa, hold up!” Dunn pushed her off with a laugh.  

Charlize cracked up, shaking with laughter. “Penny, you forgot what you just had in your mouth! Dunn’s not kissing you after that!”  

Penelope was so hyped she’d lost herself a little. She didn’t know all the details about Daredevil, but Spider-Man’s global domination was fresh in her mind. A project on the same level as that? The implications were obvious.  

She was so worked up she started stumbling over her words. “Dunn, I—I love you to death! You’re so good to me. I’d give you everything, I swear—I’ll be your girl, as long as you want, however you want. I’m in, I’m in!”  

Dunn’s ego swelled. He pulled Charlize over with a sly grin. “And you?”  

Charlize nestled into his arms, whispering in his ear with a dreamy sigh. “I’m already right here, aren’t I? You can do whatever you want with me—take it all.”  

Dunn was in heaven, grinning ear to ear. “You two are my treasures—worth every bit of love. So good to me!”  

Penelope and Charlize snuggled up on either side of him, two stunning flowers, eyes hazy with adoration, practically begging for his favor. 

Chapter 326: A Big Reputation 

The curtain slowly rises on the 73rd Academy Awards. 

As the grandest and most influential film festival in the world, the Oscars don’t hand over production rights to a third-party company like the Golden Globes do with Dick Clark Productions. Instead, much like the three major European film festivals with their long histories, the organizers take full control. 

For this year’s Oscars, Disney’s AB Broadcasting Company has secured the broadcast rights for the fourth consecutive time. The producer, Gil Cates, and the director, Louis Horvitz, both hail from the AB Group. 

Given the rocky relationship between Dunn and Disney, it’s easy to imagine that the TV coverage won’t exactly be kind to him. The camera angles are bound to be less than flattering. 

You can see it even more clearly in the advertising slots. Disney’s big war epic, Pearl Harbor, effortlessly snagged a 45-second ad—the longest of the night. Meanwhile, Dunn Films shelled out a record-breaking $1.1 million just to get a 30-second spot for Never Sinking. Talk about a difference in treatment. 

So, at this year’s Oscars, Dunn has to play it smart—dress sharp, keep his image clean, and watch his influence. He’s toned things down a lot. No parading around with other actresses on his arm this time. Instead, he’s sticking close to Natalie, keeping quiet and low-key the whole way. 

When AB’s reporters swarm him with eager questions, he doesn’t even bother responding. Natalie brushes them off with a cool, “Sorry, my throat’s not feeling great today. I’d rather not talk much.” 

But then she spots director Steven Spielberg, and her mood flips like a switch. She lights up, diving into an enthusiastic chat. “Director Spielberg, I heard you’re gearing up for a new movie—is that true?” 

Spielberg had promised her a while back that they’d work together someday. He nods slowly. “I just finished post-production on Artificial Intelligence. The next one… I’m guessing it’ll get greenlit by May.” 

Natalie flashes a flattering smile. “You’re so hardworking!” 

Spielberg chuckles, glancing at Dunn beside her. “This director next to you isn’t exactly a slacker either,” he teases. “Since he started, hasn’t he churned out a new movie every year?” 

In Hollywood, the production cycle for a commercial film usually runs between 15 and 20 months. Most of that time goes to post-production, where studios run multiple internal screenings to tweak things and minimize risks. 

But there are exceptions—like Spielberg. When he makes a movie, no one dares to give him notes! His films typically wrap up in under 12 months. 

Dunn’s the same way—a real quick draw in the industry. Natalie grins proudly, then says with a playful pout, “He’s different. I’ve already done a bunch of movies with him.” 

Spielberg raises an eyebrow. “Have you read Philip K. Dick’s short story Minority Report?” 

Natalie shakes her head. 

He hesitates. “There’s a female lead in it—a mysterious precog named Agatha—but her screen time isn’t huge.” 

“No problem! I’m fine with that!” Natalie jumps in eagerly. 

Spielberg grimaces a little. “Thing is… I’ve already promised Tom Cruise the male lead. You know, it’s a commercial film. I’ve got to think about the box office.” 

Outsiders might not know, but Spielberg’s well aware of the tension between Tom Cruise, Dunn, and Natalie. 

Natalie shrugs it off like it’s nothing. “That’s fine. At the last Golden Globes, he was my presenter and acted totally professional. I’m sure he’ll bring even more of that star vibe to the set.” 

“Star vibe?” Spielberg silently marvels. 

Tom Cruise is notoriously tough on set. Even when he’s not officially a producer, he acts like one—calling out specific camera angles and blocking to make sure he stands out as the biggest star in every frame. 

That might work with others, but Natalie Portman’s got Dunn Walker in her corner. Asking a proud Harvard grad like her to play second fiddle to Tom Cruise? No chance. 

Dunn catches Spielberg’s hesitation and feels a bit stuck. In his mind, Natalie doesn’t even need Spielberg’s movies. He’s got the clout to boost her up himself—maybe even to a Best Actress throne someday. 

But Spielberg’s charm is undeniable. In Hollywood, no one says no to him. He’s got a mansion on Long Island in Manhattan, and while he might not be the richest, his status and influence are top-tier. 

Natalie wanting to work with a director like him? Totally understandable. It’s every actor’s basic dream. 

Minority Report might not be Spielberg’s most iconic film, but it’s no flop either. If Natalie wants in, Dunn won’t stand in her way. 

As for Tom Cruise… Dunn’s not the same guy he was three years ago when Cruise was still throwing tantrums and cozying up to Nicole Kidman. Back then, Cruise could get away with it. Now? Unless he’s clueless, he’ll steer clear. 

Even Michael Eisner couldn’t handle Dunn’s pushback, and that sent a clear message to all of Hollywood about Dunn’s power. 

At the last Golden Globes, Dunn saw it firsthand. Cruise played it cool, praising Natalie during the presentation—probably a peace offering of sorts. 

Since Natalie won’t be pushed around by Cruise on set, Dunn’s fine letting her take the reins. He smiles. “Steven, Nat’s always looked up to you. Give her a shot.” 

Dunn’s got serious pull these days. When he speaks, even Spielberg can’t say no. The director nods. “Alright then… come audition. But Dunn, I’m not trying to make this hard. This film’s Kubrick’s last project—rights are with Twentieth Century Fox. I’m just directing it out of respect for him. I’m not the producer here.” 

All those words show how much he respects Dunn. 

Dunn laughs. “No worries. I’ll handle Twentieth Century Fox. As long as you’re cool with it, we’re good.” 

Spielberg can’t help but marvel at Dunn’s insane connections and influence. As the head of Dunn Films, he’s even got sway over Fox. That’s wild! 

His mixed-financing model is the kind of genius that makes people jealous and awestruck. 

Rumor has it Michael Ovitz has been hitting up Wall Street lately. Looks like Legendary Pictures is about to score another big cash injection. 

Spielberg sighs, shaking Natalie’s hand lightly. “Well, beautiful lady, seems like we’re working together no matter what?” 

Natalie beams, barely containing her excitement. “Director Spielberg, thank you!” 

He shakes his head. “If you’re thanking anyone, thank that impressive boyfriend of yours.” 

Natalie tilts her head, sneaking a glance at Dunn with a little smirk. “Nah, I’m not thanking him!” 

… 

This is the last time the Oscars will be held at the Shrine Auditorium. The Kodak Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard is almost done, and future ceremonies will move there. 

The show kicks off like always: the host steps out and does a stand-up bit summing up the year in Hollywood. 

But this year’s guest host, Steve Martin, isn’t exactly a pro at this. He stumbles through his jokes, and most of them flop hard. It’s painfully awkward. 

Dunn can’t help but laugh—not at the jokes, but at Disney and AB Broadcasting. After this mess, AB’s chances of getting next year’s broadcast rights are toast. 

Then comes a performance that hits Dunn right in the feels, nearly bringing tears to his eyes. 

For the first time since the Oscars began in 1929, Chinese culture takes the stage! It’s a massive show blending Peking opera, martial arts, and dance—Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon: A Classic Martial Arts Dance. The crowd goes wild. 

Dunn’s so pumped he jumps to his feet, clapping like crazy. The Soul Shift Girl crew sitting next to him follows suit. 

Natalie Portman and Nicole Kidman, on either side of him, exchange a surprised look and shake their heads. 

This Dunn guy… understanding the art of Eastern martial arts? No way! 

He’s just a total goof! 

Chapter 327: The First Oscar 

There’s no doubt that Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon is a film with both artistic and social value, a vibrant showcase of Eastern culture.  

Getting Eastern martial arts to strut confidently onto a prestigious stage like the Oscars is, in a way, a bigger boost to the prestige and depth of Chinese-language cinema than anything Bruce Lee or Jackie Chan ever did. Ang Lee’s contribution here is massive.  

But maybe because of the whole “artists look down on each other” thing—or perhaps due to Ang Lee’s background as an elite Asian director—Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon got a lot of flak from industry folks across the strait. They sneered at it, calling it an Eastern art piece shot with Western techniques, basically pandering to Hollywood.  

A bunch of fifth-generation directors weren’t happy. They trashed Crouching Tiger while secretly copying Hollywood’s filmmaking tricks. What did we get? A string of awkward flops like Hero, The Promise, and The Banquet—movies that tried too hard and ended up as punchlines.  

Western vibes or Eastern skills, it doesn’t matter—gold doesn’t stay buried!  

Hollywood’s the global trendsetter in movies. Even Japan, with all its masterful directors, has commercial films leaning toward Hollywood’s style. There’s no shame in learning. The real shame is when you copy shamelessly but still strut around claiming you’re “staying true to yourself.”  

Think about films like Monkey King: Hero is Back, Wolf Warrior, or Operation Red Sea—movies that had Chinese audiences screaming with excitement. Weren’t they all borrowing Hollywood’s playbook?  

There’s no need to cling to outdated ways. Those film industry snobs across the strait love to blame their flops on “strict national censorship.” That’s nonsense!  

Hollywood’s got a rating system and seems all free and easy, right? Think again.  

That’s dead wrong!  

Hollywood’s internal censorship is even tougher than what’s across the strait!  

According to modern Western social theory, individuals have full rights to expression, so art shouldn’t be censored or restricted by political powers. In the U.S., every other art form—painting, music, whatever—gets by without a formal social censorship system. Movies? They’re the exception.  

Back on November 4, 1907, Chicago’s city government passed a film censorship ordinance. Governors could ban movies deemed immoral or touching on race, religion, whatever.  

Then, in 1915, the “Mutual Film Corporation v. Industrial Commission of Ohio” case went to the Supreme Court. They ruled that movies, as an entertainment industry, weren’t protected by the First Amendment’s free expression clause. That decision locked in federal and industry power to censor films, with full legal backing.  

Later, the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America pushed a moral code—written by a Catholic guy from a church perspective—into an industry self-regulation standard to keep directors in line.  

That’s the famous “Hays Code”!  

Since it’s industry self-regulation, there are clear, public rules for directors and producers to follow so they don’t veer off track.  

It’s not government censorship, and the rulings don’t carry legal weight. But here’s the kicker: no distributor in the association will touch a film that doesn’t pass review. And since all the big distributors are members, failing the review basically kills a movie’s commercial shot.  

That’s why this system’s stuck around in Hollywood for so long!  

By the 21st century, the rules had piled up. When Dunn shot Titanic, his producer handed him a restriction list with over 300 things to avoid—pretty much anything that didn’t vibe with Catholic values was off-limits.  

Sure, across the strait it’s mostly national policy calling the shots, while in Hollywood it’s industry standards. But either way, there’s no escaping the limits.  

If a director doesn’t play by these complicated, redundant rules, they’re out of the mainstream game. That’s just how it works.  

No director can topple Hollywood’s near-century-old universal values, shaped by Catholic thinking!  

It’s not so different from the socialist values across the strait—both are restrictive, both choke freedom. The only difference? One’s got a global audience and a hundred years of polish; the other’s niche.  

Plenty of artsy types across the strait blame their lousy movies on government rules, then turn around and scoff at Ang Lee’s overseas success. That’s just shameless!  

Dunn’s take on Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon? No sour grapes, no fawning, no jealousy, no hate. He just knows this: a film dripping with Eastern flair snagged 10 Oscar nominations and became the first Mandarin-language movie to turn heads in America’s cultural melting pot. It hit U.S. theaters in two versions—English and Mandarin.  

This year’s Oscars are shaping up to be a blockbuster showdown.  

Besides Crouching Tiger with its 10 nods, there’s Gladiator with 11, Erin Brockovich with 9, and other standouts like Traffic, Almost Famous, and You Can Count on Me.  

Dunn’s sitting with the Erin Brockovich crew—Natalie on his left, Nicole Kidman on his right.  

It’s Natalie’s first Oscar nomination, but she’s way more chill than Nicole.  

Her Best Supporting Actress nod? Pretty much a lock for this year’s Oscars.  

Her competition—Kate Hudson, Frances McDormand, Julie Walters, Marcia Gay Harden—doesn’t have the fame or clout to challenge her.  

Nicole’s Best Actress nod, though? That’s a bloodbath!  

She’s up against Julia Roberts in Erin Brockovich, Juliette Binoche in Chocolat, Ellen Burstyn in Requiem for a Dream, and Laura Linney in You Can Count on Me. Every one of them’s a heavyweight.  

Dunn’s careful not to get caught on camera doing anything awkward. He covers his mouth and whispers to Nicole, “Even if you don’t win, it’s fine. Don’t forget A Beautiful Mind is still coming! I promised you—I’ll get you that Best Actress win!”  

Nicole forces a stiff smile. “Thanks. You’re overthinking it. I’m okay.”  

Dunn just shakes his head, a little helpless.  

Yeah, it’s the Oscars—who can really let it go?  

The committee’s clearly dragging out the suspense this year. Unlike past shows, they don’t kick off with Best Supporting Actress. Instead, they start with the technical awards.  

The big three—Crouching Tiger, Gladiator, and Erin Brockovich—sweep the first three: Best Art Direction, Best Costume Design, Best Makeup.  

After those low-stakes wins, the night’s first real highlight finally hits.  

Robert Downey Jr. and Kate Winslet step up as presenters.  

“Seen Traffic?” Robert Downey Jr. asks, his fast-talking vibe reminding you of his kid.  

Kate Winslet, all grace, says, “Yeah, Soderbergh did a great job.”  

Robert frowns. “Is England really that wild?”  

Kate looks a little exasperated. “No.”  

He gives her a dramatic once-over, smirking. “I think it has to be. Chaos breeds beauty, right?”  

Kate grins. “Thanks, but you’re no Clark Gable!”  

The Shrine Auditorium erupts in laughter.  

After the quick banter, Robert gets serious. “Alright, let’s check out the nominees for Best Adapted Screenplay!”  

The big screen behind them flashes a fast-cut reel of the five nominees: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Traffic, Chocolat, Erin Brockovich, and O Brother, Where Art Thou?.  

Under the table, Natalie and Nicole each grab one of Dunn’s hands.  

No one cares about the broadcast cameras now.  

The heart-pounding moment’s here!  

Dunn’s up for Best Adapted Screenplay for Erin Brockovich!  

Compared to his Titanic Best Director nod a few years back, this is his closest shot at an Oscar yet.  

This could be Dunn’s first-ever Oscar win!  

Robert Downey Jr. opens the envelope, glances at the name, and flashes a knowing smile. He hands it over to Kate Winslet like a gentleman.  

Kate takes it, looks, and beams—a rare, radiant smile that lights up the room like spring flowers. It’s a moment so stunning it could go down in Oscar history!  

Her voice trembles with excitement as she announces, “Erin Brockovich, Dunn Walker!”