制霸好莱坞

Since the release date of Pirates of the Caribbean was set, the production timeline became extremely tight. The film is scheduled for release in June 2003, with filming set to begin at least one year in advance—no later than July. The shooting cycle typically lasts about three months. Once principal photography wraps in October, post-production (including special effects, editing, soundtrack, and pre-promotional activities) will take an additional six months. Internal previews, critic screenings, and world premieres will then follow in April. This entire business process is highly refined. In fact, projects like Pirates that finalize casting for the lead just two months before filming even seem to be running behind schedule. Consequently, as soon as the candidate was chosen, the producer moved decisively, signing Jenny for $300,000; the very next morning, the parties went to CAA and inked a three-party contract.

That $300,000 is only a fraction of what Johnny Depp earns. Jenny's fee isn't even as high as that of Geoffrey Rush—who portrays Captain Barbossa—whose reputation even eclipses Depp's. (For context, Depp has yet to win a "real" Best Actor award, whereas Rush won the Oscar in 1997 for The Pianist.) Yet, in terms of commercial value, Depp's drawing power is greater than Rush's. The complex salary agreement for Pirates includes not only a guaranteed fee but also a share of the box office once it hits a set threshold. This arrangement reflects both Disney's reliance on Depp and the overall risk sensitivity regarding the project. Although Depp's net worth had never previously reached tens of millions, Pirates vaulted him into that league—and he still demands a box-office share before agreeing to join. In other words, Depp secretly believes that even if he earns tens of millions, the film might not fully compensate for his waning stardom. Disney's decision to offer a box-office percentage rather than a salary increase clearly indicates their reservations about the film's commercial prospects (with $10 million being the upper limit of direct cash pay).

For Jenny, although she would prefer to work solely for a share rather than a fixed fee, Hollywood's unwritten rules don't work that way. Box-office shares are typically reserved for producers, directors, and established stars. If you cannot carry the box office, you have little right to discuss a share—even a modest one. Pirates relies on the combined star power of Depp's fame and acting, Rush's performance, and Josh Branch's appeal among teenagers. These are precious resources in the eyes of film producers; if Jenny refused the role, the producer could quickly turn to Keira Knightley or another actress—there's no shortage of talent. Thus, offering her $300,000 is considered a sign of respect.

Of course, this is the current scenario. Looking ahead, it's hard to predict. Jenny has been in the industry for less than a year, and landing her first leading role in an A-level production not only demonstrates her talent but also suggests that a very strong team of agents stands behind her. Even if CAA were to commit all its resources to her, no one would doubt her potential. Disney has no reason to undervalue the market; even if Jenny were offered only $30,000 at first, she'd still take the role. But what if the film turns into a hit? For a newly debuted actress, $300,000 is a very reasonable fee. Moreover, for a major production with a budget of $100 million, the difference between $30,000 and $300,000 is relatively insignificant. A competent producer will never skimp on spending when it's time to invest in the lead—the female lead's salary is not an area to cut costs.

Jerry Bruckheimer is an industry elite, renowned for his ability to reinvent himself. Although he didn't attend the signing that morning, he called Jenny shortly afterward to invite her to dinner at his home—presumably while awaiting a call from the film company.

"I guess you'll be heading back to New York in the next two days, so there isn't much time left for our little group," Jerry said on the phone. "You must come tonight. Nearly all the core crew members will be there—it's essentially a warm-up party."

If Chen Zhen hadn't been reborn in America, she might never have fully experienced the American passion for parties and nightclubs. Although Chinese people enjoy dining and tea, in America friends gather for far more lively affairs, where everyone holds a glass of wine and engages in animated conversation. Jenny finds these late-night gatherings and forced wine-drinking a bit irksome—but she has little choice. Refusing such invitations would be unwise. "I'll definitely come. Thank you for inviting me, Jerry," she replies.

After hanging up, Jenny changes her flight ticket. Originally, she'd planned to fly back to New York that afternoon and resume work the next day. Now, she must rearrange her schedule to fly tonight or tomorrow morning, so she can be on set again by tomorrow night. After all, she's already taken two days off for the audition—an unusually long absence for one of the troupe's core performers.

Jenny informs Cesare, who already knew about the change. "I'll be there tonight as well. Jerry just called me," he says dryly when she asks, "So, are you guys reconciled now?"

"You could call it a rational choice of a mature businessperson," Cesare replies.

Now that Jenny is earning $200,000 in income after taxes and profit sharing—and her prospects look promising—she can afford to update her wardrobe. She spends the entire afternoon shopping. Although there's a saying in Beverly Hills, "If you ask the price in Beverly Hills, it means you can't afford it," Jenny doesn't mind. In her previous life, she'd asked the price without a second thought. After all, if merely asking makes the clerk squirm, then she's not responsible for their poor sales.

Of course, that remark is more bluff than truth. Celebrities belong to an industry characterized by high income and even higher expenses. According to Cesare's calculations, only about 100 out of thousands of Hollywood actors earn more than $10 million a year—and that figure doesn't even account for taxes, commissions, or other expenses like luxury cars, mansions, personal assistants, makeup artists, and reinvestments. Earning $10 million a year doesn't automatically mean one can buy a $1 million watch without altering one's image. Very few customers on Beverly Street can casually pick up a $200,000 bag without feeling guilty. Even entry-level models from top brands in Beverly Hills tend to attract instant attention.

Though Jenny isn't wealthy, she's still a welcomed customer in high-end stores. With impeccable taste, she never tries on clothes frivolously, always maintaining a neat, odorless appearance and decisiveness in her spending. Even if her total spend isn't astronomical, the service she receives is always enthusiastic. Jenny ends up spending roughly $50,000 to $60,000 in one go—buying scarves, wallets, bracelets, necklaces, various shoes, several small dresses, and a few understated women's bags.

While a quarter of her film fee has now been spent (and the deposit still hasn't been transferred), Jenny feels the expense is necessary. Since her rebirth over a year ago, she's been financially stretched and forced to budget tightly. Now that she finally sees a glimmer of hope to escape poverty and attain wealth, she believes she deserves a little indulgence.

After shopping, Jenny drives to Cesare's house to meet him—and she has truly transformed. Lillian's eyes light up as she praises Jenny repeatedly, and even the usually critical Cesare shows rare patience (though it's still hard to extract compliments from him when he isn't drinking).

Generally speaking, when invited to dinner, one should bring a gift—wine being the most common choice. When Jenny sees Cesare, he's brought a bottle of 1982 Lafite, a legendary wine that's a staple in movies and TV shows and is rarely sold out. Before her time-travel, the golden tasting period of 1982 Lafite was nearly over and stocks were almost depleted due to rampant fakes. A genuine bottle might have sold for over 100,000 yuan in China. Now, in the U.S. in 2002, it's worth a few thousand dollars—a remarkably generous gift.

Additionally, before leaving, Lillian presents a small frosted gift box from the refrigerator: "The Perro and Beluga caviar that was just delivered this morning."

"Did you spend all the commission from this order?" Jenny calculates that, not counting Cesare's initial investment, these gifts alone are worth over $10,000. "Honestly, the scale of your spending makes me wonder—who is the real star here?"

"Oh, then don't compare yourself with Cesare," Lillian laughs. "You know Cesare has a whole roster of A-list clients. He gets a cut of all their film revenues. If someone's production falls short this year, their annual income might not be as high as his."

Compared to A-list stars, what more can Jenny say? Cesare never flaunts his wealth; he's always so considerate. He invited Jenny to ride with him and Lillian—both to save on gifts and to spare her the embarrassment of driving her modest Volvo to Jerry's mansion. Sometimes, it's not that everyone is chasing fame and fortune out of sheer vanity; rather, the prevailing atmosphere in the circle is so compelling that it's hard to resist. Jenny has now entered the realm of A-level production. At tonight's dinner party, the vehicles driven by the host and guests are all worth under $500,000. Do you feel embarrassed driving a secondhand car worth only a few thousand dollars?

Of course, some maverick artists might feel embarrassed—or even proud—but in the world of commercial production, good clothes and expensive sports cars function like business cards. While they may not define one's character, they certainly signal one's professional standing. When you can't afford to buy a car, renting one is preferable to showing up in an old Ford or Volkswagen at a high-end party.

Jerry's residence isn't in Beverly Hills; he lives in Hollywood Hills, near the Hollywood sign. Compared to the traditional American houses where Lillian and Cesare live, Jerry's home is a genuine luxury mansion—with a sprawling lawn, security gate, and driveway. As cars pull in, Jenny can see the tennis court. The main building is also quite large, with a single-story usable area estimated at over 300 square meters. A luxury home like that would cost tens of millions of dollars. If the interior is extravagantly decorated, the price might approach 100 million yuan. Even Chen Zhen's ex-husband's family would have to think twice before paying cash for such a property. Cesare was right to invite her here; the driveway is filled with guest cars—none of which are cheap, not even minivans. Nearly all are supercars or high-end vehicles with drivers.

"Cesare!""Jerry!"

At the gate, Jerry arrives in person. The two men warmly embrace, their previous grudges seemingly vanished. Jerry praises Cesare's impeccable style: "Always so tasteful, isn't it, Cesare? I always say you should try your hand at acting in a few movies…" He then greets Lillian enthusiastically: "Honey, how is your grandfather? We haven't seen each other since last year's birthday party. He should visit Hollywood more often…"

This once again proves that Hollywood is a small circle—Jerry and Lillian are old acquaintances, though not necessarily close friends. Lillian giggles and kisses Jerry on the cheek: "He's fine. Maybe next time you can come to our farm for a vacation—the maple syrup there is exquisite."

After a brief greeting, Jerry turns his warm smile to Jenny, opens his arms, and gives her a hearty hug. "My girl, you are so radiant tonight. I bet that by this time next year, you'll be Hollywood's most eye-catching new face. You know, I'm also a producer on CSI. It would be my honor to see you make your debut in movies and TV series…"

Although such dramatic transformations can be hard to swallow, producers—like agents—must be smooth-talking. In films with many big names, the director is solely responsible for filming; the producer is the one who coordinates between directors, actors, and various departments. Hollywood is not like China—actors and directors wield tremendous power. The social dynamics among crew members, from photographers to sound engineers (all of whom have their own unions and awards), are complex. Without a skilled producer, it's nearly impossible to coordinate a crew of hundreds.

Jerry is undoubtedly an exceptional producer. Although he once had differences with Cesare, those days are behind them now. With Jenny cast as the lead—a decision ultimately made by Jerry—he has quickly turned over a new leaf. Cesare, too, has shown genuine sincerity. After handing over a generous gift, Jerry and his wife's smiles become even warmer. "It's perfect. We'll open this after dinner with some wine—I need to go to the wine cellar to find it. The white sturgeon sauce should be paired with vodka," he declares.

Jerry is thoughtful. Despite the formality of tonight's gathering, the dinner is arranged as an open-air barbecue—a common, relaxed family-style event in American households. Neighbors often bring wine or their own meat, and everyone enjoys a lively meal. There are waiters, extra ovens, and plenty of snacks and small dishes; it feels like a buffet, but the atmosphere is casual, which helps bond the crew.

Throughout the evening, Jenny greets many guests. Besides Johnny Depp and his live-in girlfriend Vanessa Paradis, director Gore and Mrs. Verbinski, Geoffrey Rush and his wife, and, of course, Josh Branch are in attendance. Like Jenny, Josh appears to be accompanied only by his agent's family—on the surface, he still seems single. Even CAA CEO Ino Martin and his family make an appearance; as Jerry's longtime agent, his visit is considered highly respectful.

Although these actors are dazzling on screen, in person they are often quite ordinary—thin and unassuming. Whether they're being photographed or recorded, they display a coordinated star quality. Yet, when groups of actors dine together, the experience can be surprisingly mundane. Even veteran Geoffrey Rush is conscious of maintaining his figure; he jokes that as they age, overeating and drinking might leave them with "two extra pieces of meat hanging from their cheeks."

Jenny, on the other hand, is careful not to indulge too much. Josh follows a strict fitness diet and can only manage a specially prepared sandwich—he doesn't drink wine, only water. Meanwhile, the agents, directors, and even some actors' families eat heartily. Vanessa, Depp's girlfriend, even samples a couple of ribs, drawing playful envy.

Generally, the relaxed nature of the dinner—along with the presence of children from various families—makes the gathering enjoyable. Several agents converse animatedly with Jerry, and the actors quickly become acquainted. Johnny and Jeffrey, both older, enjoy chatting, while Jenny and Josh, sharing a similar status, naturally bond.

"So, you still live in Silver Lake?" Jenny asks, a bit surprised. "With your income from Star Wars, you should be able to afford a place in Beverly, right?"

"They're really pushing me to find a house in Beverly," Josh replies with a wry smile. "My landlord in Silver Lake is already prepared for a rainy day and wants me to move out ASAP—he doesn't want paparazzi harassing other tenants after the movie's release. Jerry mentioned he has a vacation villa in Malibu that I can borrow, and I'll move to Beverly once I secure the contract for the next Star Wars. You know, even though I've paid a deposit and taken Lucas's salary, my money goes first to my self-established pension fund, so I don't have much cash left for rent."

"You can always use a credit card," Lillian offers.

"I don't like debt," Josh replies firmly. "I never use credit cards or borrow money—I'm a bit like the Amish in that respect, always refusing to compromise with modern finance."

"Then you really are like Jenny—she never overdraws her card," Lillian giggles. "Jenny always says that the habit of pre-consumption will eventually ruin our country's economy."

"Really?" Jenny is surprised. She can't recall ever making such a wise remark—though it might be plagiarism, given that the American pre-consumption habit did drag the US economy into a crisis after the subprime mortgage debacle in 2008. "I must've drunk too much that day; I'm usually not that smart."

Just then, Jenny feels two taps on her back. She turns around to see Cesare nodding for her to follow, and notices Josh leaving his seat to join them at his agent's signal.

Without much time to ponder whether this was a small, impromptu meeting, Jenny quickly greets everyone at the table and follows Cesare into the mansion. As soon as the glass door closes, the outside noise fades to a distant murmur. Jenny clears her throat, "Don't tell me you're taking me to some secret smoking room to devote myself to someone?"

Cesare leads her into a spacious study. Jenny is startled to find Jerry and Ino Martin waiting there—apparently, they had been there for some time. Of course, Josh and his agent are also present. The scene is imposing, and Jenny's heart begins to race. She stops her lighthearted banter. "What's happening?"

"You haven't told her yet?" asks Josh's agent—a kind, middle-aged woman named Anna—surprised.

"It's the same as before," Cesare replies nonchalantly before turning to Jenny. "Jenny, I believe you already know Josh."

As he speaks, Josh turns around and waves at Jenny. She awkwardly raises her hand in response. "Uh, right?"

"I'll introduce him again formally," Cesare says, gesturing toward Josh. "This is Josh Branch—Jenny, your boyfriend Josh Branch."

Author's Note:I originally wanted to title this chapter "Luxury Silhouette," but it seems that everyone is more fascinated by the subject of boyfriends. Please note: this definitely will not be her last boyfriend. Jenny's love life is far from exceptional in Hollywood—after all, her relationships are part of the perpetual, intriguing drama of the industry. At just 21 years old, which Hollywood star has ever started dating at 21, remained faithful to marriage, and then stayed together into old age? In Hollywood, that's practically impossible.