After reaching a preliminary understanding with the consortium, William White commenced his leisurely days again. The consortium found it hard to grasp the interests of the wealthiest man, asking why, with so much money, he wanted to be a director.
William White didn't want to tell these fools that this was a way for him to relieve stress. He had made so much money that he was sick of it. Without any hobbies, he might end up taking up alchemy just to pass the time.
Making movies was a great outlet. It allowed him to visually return to any era and become anyone he liked. It was far more exciting than customized experiences, as he not only enjoyed himself but also transported the audience back in time.
Handsome men and beautiful women were everywhere on the set of the film GoldenEye. Though surrounded by controversy, no one criticized its box office performance. They just hoped William White wouldn't make too many outrageous changes to this intellectual property.
In truth, they were worrying too much. Starting from GoldenEye, James Bond underwent a fundamental shift. After watching this film, the previous Bond movies seemed dull.
Of course, the main plot remained the same: Bond battling evil forces.
Space electromagnetic weapons?
He chuckled, wondering if that might give the Russians some ideas. The plot was purely fictional, and he hoped the Russians wouldn't get too worked up about it. Actually, this film was rather ill-timed, as relations between the Russians and America had warmed. Or perhaps it was that America planned to dismember Russia from within.
That way, the Russians couldn't be entirely painted as the villains. Only a few among them planned to do bad things. It was politically correct, given the circumstances. As long as they hadn't completely fallen apart, it was best to tread lightly. The only regret was that they might not be able to shoot in Russia.
...
"Darling, that little girl didn't scare anyone off, did she?" Nastassja giggled, the mischief in her eyes impossible to hide.
"What are you talking about? I'm a very upright guy. Cough. How's your martial arts training coming along? Your legs need to have some muscle; they shouldn't look fake."
"Hmph! My legs have gotten way thicker; just take a look."
"Cough, okay, okay, get ready then." William White had to concede; this woman was becoming more and more enchanting.
"Pierce, that suit looks great on you. Listen, buddy, if you want to make it in this biz, don't develop any bad habits. You know, as long as the box office holds up, Bond will keep on filming."
"Mr. White, don't worry. I know what to do."
"Good, just perform well. Don't let me down."
Since stepping into Hollywood, William White had made too many stars shine. If it were merely a matter of wealth, it was evident that he couldn't have done all this. This was the biggest headache for other Hollywood giants.
However, in present-day White Films, he seemed more focused on suppressing Fox than significantly impacting other studios.
...
Speaking of which, Murdoch was remarkably resilient, standing strong despite taking continuous hits. One could imagine how tough that old man really was.
"Boss, I gotta hand it to you, Murdoch really is something. He's become the public enemy of Hollywood, yet he still stands tall?"
"Public enemy? Not necessarily, Jason. You're overthinking it. Those old guys are crafty; they deliberately set up a target so they feel safe."
"Hah! Hearing you say that, I see your point. You think with that mindset, they still can't make a good movie?"
"You can't say that. They've been working hard to improve over the years. Their movies are much better than they used to be."
William White was not just blowing smoke. The overall progress in Hollywood was evident; they could learn from his approaches.
...
"Akina, you gotta work hard!"
"I know, please take care of me."
"No problem, I'll treat you to dinner tonight. How about French cuisine?"
"Sorry to trouble you."
...
Today marked the start of filming.
"William, you think this film will take a while to shoot?"
"Lucas, if your special effects delay us, I might have to find someone else."
"Ha, don't worry. Murdoch's too tight-fisted; I'm not interested in playing with him."
"Right? Guess I'll just let it slide. Just remember to collect your payments; don't go losing your shirt. Hahaha."
Lucas's special effects company was thriving now. The old man hardly had time to shoot Star Wars anymore, so it was a mystery how he was managing things.
"Sigh, money isn't lacking in Hollywood nowadays. The tricky part is incorporating the right cultural elements -- that's a hassle."
"Cultural elements? Hah! You see that beauty from Japan? She's a national treasure. Can't you just set up a bar scene for her to sing? How difficult can that be? Hah! It's definitely a matter of smarts."
Lucas fell silent. The cultural element might not be a challenge after all.
In a day, they only shot two scenes. It was just a formality; most of the time was spent just chatting. Yet, no one made any snide remarks. Those who came here were either investors or sponsors.
*****
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