制霸好莱坞

Jenny has never been a lofty person; she knows her own weight. Although she always challenges Cesare's dominance "beyond her ability," she knows in her heart that only an agent like Cesare can plan a way for her to reach the top. He has the ambition, the ability, and seems to have the intelligence—and he values Jenny enough. If she hadn't met Cesare, she would probably have started playing supporting roles in B-level productions last year or taken the lead in small projects. It would have taken at least two or three years of ups and downs. When those films were released, and if one or two were lucky enough to get a good response, she could try to compete for the leading role in A-level productions or for a major supporting role. If she were unlucky, she would only climb to the lead in B-level productions step by step.

Although she is still very poor now, at least she has the qualifications to star in a popular Broadway musical. In Jenny's opinion, this can at least save her a year. Now, with Cesare's ability, she can challenge for the leading role in B-level productions. She had never thought that this first film would be connected to an A-level production like Pirates of the Caribbean—and as far as she remembered, there was no young female supporting role in the first Pirates of the Caribbean with many scenes, so Cesare wanted her to compete for the position of the heroine.

Her? The heroine? It's not that she can't act well, but isn't it a bit too bizarre? Jenny knew that the only big movie that would cast an unqualified newcomer as the heroine was Transformers—and that was because, in fact, the heroine of that movie was probably just a vase. For example, in her world, the heroine of Pirates of the Caribbean, Keira Knightley, although this was also her first starring film, had not only starred in TV series and played minor roles in several influential productions, but also portrayed the second female lead in a youth inspirational film. Compared with Jenny, her resume is obviously much richer, and she is a typical third- or fourth-tier actress.

But the most important thing now is not to ask why Cesare has such a fantastic idea. Jenny asked, "Is he Agata's—?"

"They are all descendants of Eastern European immigrants. Gore was a music video director before. Agata and he crossed paths at work and became good friends," Cesare said. "But there is no current work contact. Agata doesn't know my plan. She shouldn't invest such a big favor in you like Rob does."

So Agata can only play the role of introduction at best. Jenny pondered for a moment, "I'll try again."

She held her wine glass and approached Ann with a clear goal, but inevitably she was delayed by many people who came to say hello along the way. When she finally reached Ann, Agata was still there, but Gore was gone.

Jenny didn't give up. She chatted with Ann for a few words and kept searching for Gore in the room. By the way, she gathered some information from Ann: yes, Gore admired her singing and dancing but didn't mention anything about auditioning. It seemed that he simply liked her performance. Ann didn't even know that he had a big project in his hands; he only knew that he was Agata's friend.

She had seen Gore twice, but when she walked over, Gore disappeared again. Finally, Jenny gave up and walked back to Cesare. "Either my luck is really bad, or it's a ridiculous guess—Gore is avoiding me."

Cesare looked at her meaningfully, and Jenny shrugged, "Well, that's a bit self-conscious. Not everything in this world is related to me."

Indeed, not everyone in this world will be conquered by her charm; otherwise, she could run for the US presidency with her acting skills. Gore may have just watched a show and felt mediocre about her, but admired Ann more, then walked over to say hello to her and then disappeared to have fun. From beginning to end, he never considered either me or Ann as the protagonist.

"This is a good opportunity, but it's a little beyond my ability." Jenny and Cesare clinked their glasses, and Jenny comforted him in return, "Don't look so sad—a person can't always get what they want. Besides, even if Gore likes me, the possibility of Disney agreeing to let me play the leading role is very slim."

"In fact," Cesare said as he changed to another glass of wine, his tone slightly gloomy, "among these 16 blockbusters, Pirates of the Caribbean is the one where you have the best chance of getting the leading role, but Gore has no interest in you, which is really beyond my expectation."

"Are you kidding?" Jenny asked back, "The best chance? This is starring Johnny Depp—" Halfway through her words, she suddenly remembered that Cesare didn't know about the amazing box office success of Pirates of the Caribbean, and it seems that the current Depp is not yet the super A-list actor he will be later. Although he has starred in movies such as Chocolat and Edward Scissorhands, he doesn't have much box office appeal and can only be regarded as a powerful actor.

"This is an A-grade production starring Johnny Depp—after all, it's an A-grade production!" she changed her tone. "I believe that in a film like this, even a minor supporting role will be fiercely competed for, and you make it sound as if, as long as Gore is interested in me, the leading lady will be within easy reach."

Cesare shook his head, obviously not intending to continue the topic. Now it was Jenny who would not let him drop the subject. She followed his footsteps closely, "Don't worry—this won't discourage me. I never thought I could marry the leading lady of this film, but can you explain your thinking? I mean, I thought you would pick some art films for me—"

While she pestered Cesare, the two of them had already circled the venue, but did not find Gore. It seemed that he had either left or gone out to have fun. Although the after-parties of this theater group don't provide contraband, they often play a role in intimate encounters. After all, this is Broadway—full of artists who don't take things too seriously. Jenny doesn't go to the bathroom or dressing room at this time—those are high-risk areas.

Until Cesare walked out of the theater, Jenny kept asking him to share his ideas, "Of course I know that you are the designer of JJJ, and I am just the main productivity, but the reason I don't hire a manager is to maintain a certain degree of participation, so you really don't have to worry that I will be disappointed or feel that there's no need to share with me—Cesare, just tell me what you think, okay?"

Cesare seemed to be in a bad mood tonight. Although there were no cracks in his mask, Jenny noticed that he had not only drunk a lot in the theater just now but also began to make small, human sighs and other movements frequently. When he was at his best, perhaps her entanglement wouldn't work, but now Cesare was like all men in the world—unable to stand the persistent nagging of women.

"OK." After Jenny reiterated her right to know for what felt like the hundredth time, Cesare finally raised his hands in surrender. He frowned, "It seems you won't give up until I explain it clearly."

Jenny immediately smiled victoriously. In fact, it was not without purpose that she asked Cesare about her design ideas; she simply couldn't draw a conclusion before confirming his thoughts. "Want to find a place to have another drink?"

"Judy shouldn't be off work yet," Cesare said as he glanced at his watch. "Let's go back to the apartment for a meeting. I'll explain everything on the way—in fact, I still have many questions about Gore's performance tonight."

"Come on, what makes you so sure that Gore will be obsessed with me?" Jenny couldn't stand Cesare's confidence in her now. She called Mary, found a landmark building, and pulled Cesare to stand by the roadside to wait for the car.

"First of all," Cesare began, pausing before answering, "in your mind, what is the development route I planned for you? Start with small-scale art films, play to your advantage with your acting skills, and then transition to commercial large-scale productions—all while not neglecting small art films that win awards and make money?"

"Yes, I think that's a very orthodox route." Before tonight, Jenny had thought so. She felt that Cesare had taken over Chicago for her and worked tirelessly to let her play the leading role—to showcase her acting skills and convince investors and directors that she could handle the lead in art-based small productions. Even so, she felt that the leading role in a small production should be the level she must strive for. She had never even thought about starring in a project with an investment scale like Pirates of the Caribbean. "And you don't think so?"

"This is a very time-consuming route, and it has a very high failure rate." Cesare crossed his hands and leaned against the edge of a telephone booth—an unusual display for him. He asserted, "This is a loser's route."

"But—" Jenny began to argue. "Most movie queens—"

"Of course, a loser's path can lead to a winner, and there will always be a winner in every lottery, but that doesn't hide the fact that most people's money is wasted." Cesare said. "Perhaps for some, this route suits their circumstances and serves as a shortcut to break out of their cocoon and become a butterfly, but statistically, the failure rate is almost 100%."

Jenny narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Cesare continued, "If you quantify everyone's abilities, the chance of success can be roughly calculated. For example, if I want to assess your current competitive situation in Hollywood, I would collect data. In all of Hollywood, there are about 10,000 beautiful actresses; the number of those with entry-level acting skills drops to 5,000; those with decent skills, to 1,000; and only about 100 actresses possess top-notch acting skills. Among them, there are only about 15 blondes with blue eyes like you. Perhaps half of them remain undiscovered for various reasons—so in fact, you only have seven competitors now. My job is to find a role that best suits you before the agents for the remaining six do, so your chance of being selected is actually over 70%."

"And you think the heroine of Pirates of the Caribbean is the most suitable role for me?" Jenny said, feeling that she had roughly grasped Cesare's train of thought. "Or is it that Pirates of the Caribbean is the most influential project among those suitable for me, so you're trying to market me for it?"

"There are about 2,000 movies planned for Hollywood every year, but only about 600 get funded and produced. Among those, no more than 50 have an investment of over 5 million. The vast majority of films never get released and only enter the DVD rental market." Cesare continued, "Of these, there are absolutely no more than 15 A-level productions with an investment of over 100 million. Even if only one of these 15 is successful, when you star in an A-level production, the chance of box office profit is 1 in 15—that is, 0.06. This probability is still much higher than when you star in an art film. You must understand that when you star in a low-budget film, you're spinning in a turntable of 550 films, and the chance of box office profit is almost zero. According to the Matthew effect, the chance of profit for A-level productions is greater than for non-A-level productions. So, mathematically speaking, if you star in an art film, you've almost given up hope of box office profit. Instead, you're relying on industry insiders to offer you a chance at a big-budget film and on winning awards with your performance in art films."

He rolled up his sleeves and said, "But you must know that acting awards are also a cost-intensive industry. Every year, the Oscars are a PR carnival. First, to get your film nominated, the film company must invest in pre-production publicity so that enough people see it. Then, once nominated, compared with big productions, small productions have to pay more to ensure all judges see the film. There are over 5,000 Oscar judges. The 'Lobbying Law' stipulates that a PR firm cannot lobby more than two judges at a time, and the lobbying fee is 5,000 US dollars—you can imagine how expensive an Oscar-level PR campaign is. If the film company doesn't invest, your small production won't even be considered for nomination. Very few production companies in Hollywood can invest in award-winning films. Aside from those that win by chance, perhaps only 10 to 20 companies each year have the strength to invest. They choose one or two films from the many they produce for full-scale PR, and the rest are abandoned."

"Every film is produced with a clear purpose. Big productions aim for box office success, while small productions aim for awards. If you're an investor, you distribute your resources evenly and choose one among many small productions to win awards. Almost every film has the potential to win awards, but you can never be sure how much budget will eventually be allocated for PR and award campaigning."

Cesare's expression grew intense—perhaps the closest he had ever come to fanaticism. He even raised his hand and gestured as he continued, "From a mathematical standpoint, if an actor is in the early stages of her career without a reputation and only aims for small-budget art films, then she's choosing a path with a success rate near zero. All she can hope for is that her film is one of the better ones among 550, and that she is lucky enough to get the film company's recognition and funding for award campaigning. And even if she is lucky enough to win or be nominated, there's another cruel probability: in the past 20 years, almost no actress has won an Oscar in the first five years of her career. If you expect to win an Oscar as a young actress, you must star in at least three films with Oscar potential in five years. How low is that probability? It's so low that 990 out of 1,000 beautiful and decent actresses will be eliminated. You can only count on being one of the remaining 10—and I call those who rely on that probability losers."

His alcohol seemed to have worn off. Cesare stood up straight and rolled up his sleeves. "You know, we have many best actor and actress winners at CAA, and some of them came through art films. When an agent reviews their resumes, he sees that they all starred in art films, and he concludes that if you don't do art films, you can't win an Oscar. But what they don't realize is that every year, many actors who star in art films are forgotten and never get another opportunity. This is the trap of art films. Most A-level productions fail spectacularly and serve as lessons, but most art films fail silently and are never remembered. So, when you look at it, you get the illusion that art films are easier to succeed in than commercial films. Ninety percent of agents in this industry fall victim to that illusion. When they get a beautiful girl with good acting skills, they think: let her act in art films, build her reputation—hopefully secure a few nominations—and then switch to commercial films... and then we'll never hear her name again. This is how the industry works."

"But when you prioritize commercial films, even if there are no awards, at least you get exposure," Jenny said tentatively.

"You at least get exposure, which means the basic fame," Cesare nodded. He straightened up, as if emerging from a setback and finding solace in endless statistics. "Ah, your car is here—so yes, for me, in the early stages of your career, commercial films are better than art films. If you can act in a big-budget commercial film, don't hesitate. Even if you're just a vase, the director will at least shoot you beautifully—and there will be enough people to appreciate you as a vase. Once you gain enough popularity, our options will widen. When you later return to act in art films, good resources will lean toward you, and you'll have the capital to negotiate for better PR and publicity."

Jenny had to admit that although Cesare's ideas were unorthodox—and even difficult for her to accept at first—she and many others had instinctively believed that acting in art films first to hone one's skills and build fame, then switching to commercial films after earning one or two award nominations, and finally returning to work with acclaimed directors was the path to success. After careful thought, she found little logical error. Cesare didn't detail all the data, but she understood the basic premise. She only found one flaw. "I have to admit that you're right, but I believe there is no one else with the same idea as you. God knows how many people in Hollywood are waiting to become famous. As long as they get an opportunity, they won't care about whether it's art or business. But what prevents most people from starring in big productions is that without the fame and acting skills accumulated from art films, how can a film company trust you with an A-level production? We're talking about investments of hundreds of millions of dollars. If I were an investor, even if I saw your entire performance and admitted that you are talented and beautiful, I wouldn't feel comfortable letting you star in a big-budget film until I'd seen a movie starring you."

"You're right." Cesare opened the car door for her, and they got into the back seat together. "So, a suitable commercial production is a low-probability event that only comes by chance. I consider A-level productions as the first prize. When I arranged for you to come to New York, I envisioned a vase heroine with tens of millions of dollars in investment. Even so, it's a tough battle, because B-level productions tend to invest heavily in actors—cutting special effects and set costs—and they focus more on an actor's fame. But every aspect of Pirates of the Caribbean is very suitable for you. First, it's a big production. Second, it's not favored by most people—you know Disney made it mainly to promote the Disneyland project of the same name. Third, its budget is limited due to that original intention. It's a special effects-intensive movie, so the actor budget isn't high. To invite Johnny Depp, they spent most of the actor budget. Fourth, I have read its script. The heroine, Elizabeth, is essentially a vase role. She doesn't need much acting skill—only enough beauty. I know they are preparing to invite a newcomer to play this role, and you happen to be very beautiful, with acting skills sufficient for the script."

He glanced at Mary through the rearview mirror. Mary suddenly became alert and looked forward again. Jenny noticed that Mary, like herself, had been listening attentively without realizing it. When the light turned red, Mary even turned her head to look at Cesare.

"The most important factor is the fifth," Cesare said with a slightly irritated expression, "all the girlfriends that Gore had before he got married were blondes; his wife was blonde, and several of his regular lovers were blondes. You completely fit his aesthetic. In fact, in my opinion, you are the concentration and synthesis of his aesthetic."

For the first time, Jenny discovered that Cesare also had a childish side—like a child confronting a problem. His brows wrinkled, and he even showed a hint of innocent doubt. "And I don't understand why he ignores you. That's totally illogical."

"Now that it's happened, there's no need to dwell on it." Jenny had to admit that Cesare's analysis made her feel a little lost. Until now, she had never thought she was so close to the heroine of Pirates of the Caribbean—at least, the audition for the heroine was theoretically that close. "The conclusion now is that we've lost Gore's favor, so can you consider recommending me to the producer or investor? At least give me the opportunity to audition. Although it's a British role, I can speak with a London accent—"

She suddenly recalled the classes she took last year: accent class, horse riding, and swordsmanship. "Ah, you've been eyeing this film since last year, right?"

"Yes, and after careful consideration, I finally decided to go with Gore's route," Cesare said, frowning again, but soon the tension loosened. "So you should know that there's no hope for the producer route, but even so, we have to give it a try. However, we can't hold out too much hope."

Mary reluctantly parked the car downstairs of Cesare's house—she hadn't heard enough of his wise advice. Jenny followed Cesare into the hallway. "So, what's the content of the meeting with Judy now?"

"Of these 16 films, you only have a real chance to compete for the leading actress in three. After Pirates of the Caribbean is out, the remaining two B-level productions are your best chances this year," Cesare said while rubbing his nose. "But to compete for those two films, we need to change our PR strategy."

"What are those two films?" Jenny trotted to keep up with Cesare.

"Girls Power." Cesare glanced at Jenny. "McGilbert."

Seeing Jenny's expression change, he smiled slightly. "Yes, it sounds like Pirates of the Caribbean is more attractive, right? But there's no way—in this industry, you must learn to deal with failure. If you can't accept it and can't wake up one day and put everything behind you, then you won't make it in the long run."

Jenny still had a vague impression of these two movies. They seemed to be popcorn flicks starring blonde girls. The box office might be good, but they were definitely not phenomena. The heroines of those movies were not famous either. While waiting for the elevator, she searched the performance space and confirmed her opinion: these are certainly not as good as Pirates of the Caribbean.

In that case, there was nothing to hesitate about. After listening to Cesare's explanation, Jenny was convinced that her thinking was sound. Cesare's view wasn't wrong—in fact, it might be quite advanced, though he couldn't predict the box office. It's impossible for him to pick out the few successful art films from the many produced each year. So, from his point of view, the failure rate for choosing art films is very high.

But Jenny was different. Although her golden finger isn't omnipotent, her identity as a time traveler gives her an advantage in selecting films. For example, from what she knows, among the art films released in 2003 there are Love You the Most, Lost in Translation, and Girl with a Pearl Earring. For her, the success rate of choosing art films is much higher than that of her peers—in fact, she is ahead of the curve. With Cesare's ability and her current status as the leading actress of Broadway musicals, as long as Cesare remains my agent, these three films might not all be snatched up, but at least I can secure one leading role, right?

With a ding, the elevator door opened. Cesare pressed the door-opening button, motioning for her to step out first, but Jenny was distracted as she looked at his handsome face.

—Thinking carefully, the biggest difficulty of this whole thing should be convincing Cesare...

How do I convince Cesare to recognize my vision for film selection without exposing my golden finger?

Jenny couldn't find the answer at all.

The Author's Note:

It is true that the Oscars are a public relations carnival, and the part about lobbying is also true.

The annual production in 2002 is about 600, but the other data has not been verified in detail; please take it casually and don't take it too seriously.

Cesare's statements are his personal opinions and do not represent the author's opinions.