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Chapter 147: Winning Over Gilbert
🕑 Added 2024-12-20 17:17:23 +0000 UTCOne movie a year, Gilbert seems to have no concept of fatigue or creative bottlenecks.
Even Spielberg, known for his efficiency, couldn't match Gilbert's intense pace. After making a film, even he needed a break.
Of course, Spielberg did once complete Jurassic Park and Schindler's List within the same year—both high-quality films delivered at an incredible pace, proving why he was Hollywood's quick draw of the past.
The reason we say "of the past" is because today's quick draw is none other than Gilbert.
After the project was officially announced, the production team specifically invited active Marine Corps officers to train the cast.
While some challenging scenes inevitably required stunt doubles, many action sequences needed actors to appear on camera and perform their own stunts.
These days, there isn't some AI face-swapping technology that lets a stunt double handle everything, with Tom Hanks' face edited in afterward—it's just not realistic.
Michael Ovitz, having volunteered to handle actor negotiations, immediately got in touch with Tom Hanks' agent, Eno Martin.
"Michael, I hear you're doing well at Disney. Congratulations," Eno Martin greeted Michael Ovitz as they met.
Facing this former CAA powerhouse, Eno Martin showed none of the respect he once had—his attitude was strictly business.
Michael Ovitz tried to build rapport, reminiscing about their early days starting out in a small office.
To be precise, Michael Ovitz, Martin Baum, Eno Martin, and two other agents who had since left CAA were the agency's original founding partners.
Pat Kingsley joined later and was considered part of the next generation.
"Eno, do you remember what our first office was like?" Michael Ovitz asked.
"Of course," Eno Martin reminisced. "Back then, we didn't draw salaries, rented a tiny office, and borrowed a phone and printer.
We furnished the office with $200 worth of second-hand furniture from a flea market.
To make connections, we once stood outside Warner Bros.' gates for three hours, and you even performed a tap dance for the executives."
Michael Ovitz couldn't help but laugh at the memory.
He said nostalgically, "Those were the days. We were pouring our hearts into building a business, striving for a foothold in Hollywood.
We elevated CAA to that level, creating the era of Hollywood super-agents, managing numerous stars and renowned directors.
Back then, we were full of ambition. But times have changed."
After sharing this sentimental moment and reconnecting, Michael Ovitz shifted the conversation.
"Eno, I've always believed you're more capable than Martin—you've just been waiting for the right opportunity. And I'm here to offer you that opportunity."
"An opportunity?" Eno Martin wasn't swayed by the emotional appeal. He knew Michael Ovitz too well.
This was someone who could smile while scheming against you.
Rumor had it Michael Ovitz loved reading The Art of War, claiming it taught him life and business strategies.
When CAA's headquarters was built, he even brought in a feng shui master from Chinatown to bless the place—though it didn't seem to help much.
After Sony acquired Columbia Pictures and Panasonic bought Universal, Michael Ovitz found himself up against Gilbert.
Time and again, Ovitz clashed with the young, almost implausibly talented director, ultimately stepping down after the "Animal Rights Battle" controversy.
Yet, in an unexpected twist, Ovitz resurfaced as Disney's president, even more prominent than before.
"Michael, by 'opportunity,' you don't mean pushing package deals onto Gilbert, or trying to poach him from Sheena Boone, do you?" Eno Martin asked skeptically.
Everyone in Hollywood knew Gilbert despised package deals and wasn't fond of CAA—or certain people within it.
Michael Ovitz had previously been ousted for trying to force package deals onto Gilbert.
Even Tom Hanks had warned Eno Martin not to let any side deals jeopardize his collaboration with Gilbert.
Michael Ovitz shook his head. "No, no. I'm representing Director Gilbert now, so his ideas come first.
The opportunity I'm talking about is in Gilbert's new project.
I've read the script, and I'm sure you've seen it too—it's incredibly well-written.
With Gilbert's talent, this film is bound to be a blockbuster, perfect for the summer box office."
"Just say what you mean," Eno Martin said.
"To make a great film, you need a solid budget. The total production cost is $80 million..." Ovitz trailed off, but Eno Martin understood his implication.
He wanted Tom Hanks to lower his fee. But as Hanks' agent, Eno Martin couldn't possibly cave to Ovitz's pressure so easily.
"Michael, $20 million, plus 20% of the global gross," Eno Martin countered boldly.
Michael Ovitz immediately rejected it. "That's impossible—$8 million, plus 10% of the North American net gross."
"Michael," Eno Martin retorted, "do you know Tom Hanks' track record? Two-time Oscar winner, proven box office draw—your offer is insulting."
"But your demand is unrealistic. Even if Tom Cruise and Arnold Schwarzenegger teamed up, they wouldn't get a global gross percentage," Ovitz argued.
"Fine, let's compromise," Eno Martin said confidently. "How about $20 million, plus 20% of the North American gross? That's already a significant concession."
"$10 million, plus 10% of the North American gross," Ovitz countered.
Negotiations dragged on as both sides tested each other's limits. Strictly speaking, Ovitz had overstepped his role.
This was a task for the producers, not Disney's president.
But Ovitz had his reasons:
The first was to send a signal to Gilbert. Ovitz wanted to convey, "Look, in the past, when I was at CAA, we had some unpleasant interactions, but that only shows that I'm a professional. Now that we're working for the same company, I fully support you. Please don't view me with hostility; let's cooperate happily."
The focus of the power struggle between Michael Ovitz and Michael Eisner was Gilbert. If Ovitz could gain Gilbert's support, his chances of retaining the position of Disney's president would increase significantly.
Unintentionally, Gilbert had become a major player capable of influencing the position of the president of the film division.
This was a result of unique circumstances. At Disney, the live-action film division's reputation rested entirely on Gilbert. If Ovitz could ensure that Gilbert remained firmly under Disney, the board of directors would undoubtedly support him.
But this was a difficult task for Ovitz.
The second reason was to earn some credit.
After all, Ovitz had boasted that he would take charge of the Saving Private Ryan project. If he ended up being just a figurehead on set, how could he prove his contribution to the board?
Thus, Ovitz had to take action to demonstrate that he was truly making a difference in the project.
Unfortunately, after Ovitz left CAA, his influence there had diminished significantly. Enno Martin, the agent on the other side, was entirely businesslike and unyielding.
The tug-of-war between the two sides had no resolution until Ovitz resorted to a final tactic:
"Enno, don't forget, many people are eager to star in Gilbert's new film. If you don't compromise, Gilbert may have to replace the lead actor."
Enno Martin appeared confident. "Don't forget, Tom Hanks was personally invited by Gilbert. If you undermine his choice, how do you think he'll react?"
A top-tier director like Gilbert was so dominant that producers only assisted, never interfering with his control over the production—let alone someone like Ovitz, who was essentially a figurehead.
Enno's words were meant to make Ovitz cautious. If Gilbert discovered that Ovitz had jeopardized his collaboration with Tom Hanks, Gilbert's temper meant Ovitz would not be met with a friendly response.
But Ovitz was unfazed. He countered with examples:
"Remember when Gilbert invited Sylvester Stallone to star in Real Steel? Stallone's agent demanded too much, so Gilbert replaced him with Bruce Willis. Stallone still regrets listening to his agent.
Look at The Rock. Sean Connery had a massive advantage, but he wanted to bring in his own funding, so he was rejected. Now, I hear he's in a wheelchair after breaking his leg.
On the other hand, Roger Moore seized the opportunity, revitalized his career, and made a comeback.
My past is your future. No one in Hollywood is irreplaceable. But Gilbert's projects aren't opportunities that come around every day."
Enno was momentarily taken aback. Ovitz's reasoning seemed to make sense. Gilbert was unpredictable, and who could say he wouldn't replace Hanks out of frustration with Ovitz and Martin?
Gilbert was known for not compromising with actors who clashed with his temperament or made excessive demands.
Tom Cruise, for instance, was anxiously waiting for a chance to work with Gilbert, practically pining for it.
If Hanks were replaced because of Martin, it wouldn't end well for Hanks either.
There was a long-standing rumor in Hollywood that agents controlled everything about their star clients. These legendary agents could allegedly make even A-listers bend to their will.
This claim was patently false.
The top of the Hollywood food chain was undoubtedly the major studios backed by large media conglomerates.
For these studios, the most valuable resources were the star actors and directors.
Agents, in essence, were intermediaries dependent on these stars and directors. They served as bridges for communication between stars and studios.
If agents were considered indispensable, it would imply studios were willing to abandon stars and directors in favor of the intermediary.
But bridges were just tools. What mattered was reaching the other side to access those scarce resources.
Without the bridge, studios could row across the river, and stars could row to the studios. It was simply more inconvenient.
Thus, the notion that agents controlled A-list stars or directors was laughable. It might hold some truth for up-and-coming actors and small-time directors who needed agents to secure opportunities.
For Tom Hanks, however, Enno Martin was merely a service provider. Hanks could replace him at any time if dissatisfied.
As a result, Martin couldn't make decisions independently. He needed to consult Hanks to understand his bottom line.
This round of negotiations ended in stalemate. Martin soon met with Hanks and explained Ovitz's relentless approach.
"It seems that if we don't make some concessions, Ovitz will suggest Gilbert replace the lead. Gilbert might not resist, as it would benefit the production," Martin said.
Hanks shook his head in exasperation. "After all these years, Ovitz is still as aggressive as ever, even at Disney."
After some thought, Hanks said, "$10 million base salary, plus 15% of North American box office revenue. That's the bottom line; I won't budge further."
"I understand," Martin replied, then added, "Why not call Gilbert directly to hear his thoughts?"
Hanks hesitated but ultimately decided against it.
"It's not appropriate. Talking directly to the director might lead to issues if we disagree, making future collaborations awkward," Hanks explained.
Martin understood and soon resumed negotiations with Ovitz. Both sides used the percentage as the focal point of their tug-of-war. Under pressure from Gilbert to finalize the deal quickly, they eventually reached an agreement.
A $10 million base salary plus 15% of North American box office revenue hit Hanks' bottom line. He wouldn't go any lower.
In truth, the deal was slightly underwhelming for Hanks, as he lost 5% of the box office share he was worth.
However, Hanks loved the script and respected Gilbert's reputation. He figured he could make up the difference in other projects and instructed his agent to agree.
It seemed Gilbert had a unique talent for convincing stars to lower their fees.
Ovitz, meanwhile, was quite pleased. Since he negotiated the deal, he could claim some credit.
Gilbert also appeared satisfied with the finalized contract. After Hanks signed, Gilbert even offered rare praise.
"Mr. Ovitz, good work…"
Ovitz, eager to ingratiate himself, responded enthusiastically, "Gilbert, focus on directing. Leave everything else to me."
He spoke grandly, seemingly unaware of Gilbert's faintly furrowed brow or Warner Bros. producer Charles Roven's unfriendly gaze.
The contract with Hanks was merely a small episode. Despite some hurdles, Hanks ultimately got his wish to work with Gilbert.
Apart from Hanks, Leonardo DiCaprio, and the cameo by Gilbert's father, Christopher Lee, the rest of the cast was selected through auditions.
