Made In Hollywood

The editing room, painted white, was unusually quiet. Duke leaned forward, his hands pressed firmly on the table, watching intently the two shots that had just been pieced together on the monitor.

"Mike..." he said to the editor beside him, "Replace shot 178 with shot 175 and try it."

"This..." The experienced but not particularly well-known editor hesitated, but followed Duke's instructions and switched the shot.

The footage played again, and Mike Dawson frowned. "This doesn't follow editing logic," he reminded.

The scene on the monitor showed Jack driving a sports car in pursuit of a bus. In the first shot, Jack had just pressed the accelerator to speed up, and then the footage switched to the first-person view from the car, where only a small part of the hood and the road rapidly retreating could be seen.

Shot 178 was different—after Jack sped up, it showed a traditional overtaking scene.

"Keep shot 175 for eight seconds... no, four seconds is enough. Use the remaining four seconds to alternate between Jack's close-up and the spinning wheels," Duke instructed.

Hearing Duke's completely illogical editing request, Mike finally couldn't help but speak up. "Editing is like creating a puzzle maze. Every switch between shots should have its own logic. Your request ignores those rules entirely!"

"Then let's break that logic!"

Standing straight, Duke waved his hand slightly. "Mike, for action scenes like this, the continuity of the action's energy can completely replace logic! Don't you think that a first-person perspective during the car chase gives a stronger sense of immersion? Switching between Jack's serious face and the spinning wheels highlights the urgency and danger, providing more psychological tension for the audience!"

"What I want is to create the feeling for the audience of being on the scene through rapid editing and shot configuration," Duke added, the same enthusiasm returning to his face.

"I admit, what you're saying makes sense."

After completing the work as instructed, Mike took a gulp of his coffee and said, "This week, we've done about 20 minutes of initial editing. Even though I've watched it every day, I still feel the intensity. If I didn't already know the outcome, I would be on the edge of my seat. But..."

Seeing that the forty-something editor seemed a bit troubled, Duke gestured that he didn't mind. "Just say it, Mike, we're partners."

After briefly organizing his thoughts, Mike said, "These thirty minutes gave me another impression. This doesn't feel like a movie—it feels more like an extended music video or commercial."

"Exactly!"

Duke clapped his hands as if he'd found a kindred spirit. "That's the effect I'm aiming for!"

"Think about it, Mike..." he continued passionately, "From the moment the audience starts watching, they'll be so caught up in the rapid pacing that they'll feel breathless until it ends! I want a fast-paced film composed mainly of short shots, something that Hollywood has never done before!"

"But that kind of pacing might make the audience leave early because they're exhausted."

The door to the editing room opened, and Robin Grand walked in.

"That's true!" Duke raised a finger. "So, we need to control the film's length. It's best to limit the movie to about 95 minutes."

Robin Grand had also watched the rough cut several times. He nodded. "This is the style you're going for?"

"Flashy action shots, sharp editing, explosive effects," Duke walked a few steps, then seriously added, "That's the effect I'm aiming for!"

This was likely the safest path to success for the film. Even though Hollywood was already leading the world, its pacing remained slow. A fast-paced, thrilling, and visually dazzling film could still sell well, even if the story and logic had obvious flaws.

Although such films would surely be criticized by professional reviewers, what did that matter?

By mid-afternoon, Duke had left the studio and driven back to his home in Santa Monica. There, he prepared a formal suit and waited for his mother to return.

Christmas was approaching, and it was the busiest time of year for celebrities and the elite. That night, Duke would accompany his mother to a party.

This was the Spielberg family's Christmas appreciation party, held at the Four Seasons Hotel in Beverly Hills. When Duke arrived with his mother, he saw over twenty oak round tables sparsely placed in the grand banquet hall, with many familiar faces from the big screen. Even those less familiar were high-ranking figures from major Hollywood companies, as Duke could recall from the information he'd gathered.

Following the lead of a waiter, Duke accompanied his mother to the second empty table from the left in the third row and sat in the pre-arranged seats.

Duke wasn't familiar with the Spielberg family. The only ones he knew were Steven Spielberg and his sister, Annie Spielberg, but neither of them knew him.

After his mother introduced him, Duke walked to greet the distant guests at neighboring tables and then quietly waited for the banquet to begin. This was a formal and glamorous dinner, without any of Hollywood's usual behind-the-scenes scandals. Any misstep here would tarnish his mother's reputation.

"Hi, Leah."

Suddenly, a middle-aged woman approached from the front row. From her appearance, it was clear she was of Jewish descent. Duke recognized her—he had sent her a script not long ago. She was none other than the famous Annie Spielberg, Steven Spielberg's sister, and a well-known writer and producer.

"Hello, Annie," Leah nodded in greeting.

Annie Spielberg seemed enthusiastic and sat down at the table. Suddenly, she turned her head to look at Duke. "You... must be Duke, right? Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't recognize you last time."

"It's alright."

Duke responded politely, even though he wasn't naive enough to miss the underlying tone in Annie Spielberg's words. It wasn't the warm hospitality one would expect from a host.

"Leah, your generosity is truly surprising."

Annie Spielberg then turned her head again. "I heard from Amanda that you invested ten million dollars in Duke's film. Oh... you must be a wonderful mother."

Amanda was George Lucas's eldest daughter. Duke knew that, but what was this ten million dollars?

He glanced at his mother. Mrs. Leah was calm as she said, "It's just a small matter."

"Is it?" Annie Spielberg stood up, her smile filled with sarcasm, something even a child could notice. "It seems you're confident you'll get your investment back. Maybe you will. Who knows? Duke's first movie might create a miracle. I wish you all the best in making a hundred million at the box office. Ha..."

"You..." Duke was about to respond, but his mother tugged him back, and he could only watch as Annie Spielberg smugly walked away. Then, he heard his mother's calm words, "Words are the weakest and most powerless form of retaliation."

"I understand, Mom." Duke asked seriously, "What she said..."

"It's true," Mrs. Leah nodded slightly. "I invested ten million dollars in *Speed*."

Hearing his mother's confirmation, Duke quickly pieced together a lot of information. Why had George Lucas first rejected him, then supported him? Why had the producers agreed to convert his salary into investment? Why had he been given some of the power that other new directors could only dream of? Why had Robin quietly suppressed veterans like Cone?

It was because his mother was the film's largest investor, holding two-thirds of the total investment, which gave her significant influence.

Why had his mother invested in the highly risky film industry? The answer was simple: to create opportunities for him, even if she didn't have much faith in him!

"Mom..." Duke didn't know what to say.

"I've had deep conflicts with Annie since we were young."

After saying this, possibly for Duke's benefit, Leah Rosenberg looked at him. "Will you make me proud?"

"Yes, Mom," Duke replied solemnly. "I will make you proud!"

As soon as he said this, the pressure that had eased after filming wrapped came flooding back. He now had an additional reason for success. If he failed, not only would his mother suffer a massive financial loss, but she would also become a laughingstock for people like Annie Spielberg.

He couldn't let that happen, and he wouldn't allow it!

Duke also realized how realistic Hollywood was. His mother had secured a one-year bank loan by way of a mortgage, investing not only ten million dollars but also signing a guaranteed share agreement with Lucasfilm. Whether the film was completed or not, or whether it ever hit the screen, she would have to pay Lucasfilm two million dollars to ensure they would not incur any losses on the project. Once the film was released, Lucasfilm would enjoy ten percent of the North American box office.

In the guaranteed and shared profits, Lucasfilm had the right to choose whichever was higher.

Yes, Hollywood was this unfair. Lucasfilm hadn't invested a single dollar in the movie—the rest of the investment came from various film funds—yet they would still profit.

But that's Hollywood. The connections and distribution channels of Lucasfilm were worth that much.

Because of Annie Spielberg, the night ended on an unpleasant note. Words, indeed, held no power. If Duke wanted Annie Spielberg to be embarrassed and unable to face his mother, then a massively successful film was the best weapon.

The three-day Christmas holiday passed quickly, and after a brief break, Duke threw himself into the post-production of *Speed*. By the time the New Year came around, the initial cut of the film was complete, and the rough version received George Lucas's preliminary approval.

But this was only the first step in a long post-production journey. The following tasks—refining the edit, dubbing by the actors, confirming the soundtrack, and sound effect editing—would all demand significant time and effort. If Duke wanted the film to be a polished product rather than a hasty, rough cut, there could be no room for shortcuts or rushing through post-production.

Duke immersed himself entirely in the work at the "Speed" studio, paying no attention to anything else. Even the credit card bills sent by the bank were pushed to the back of his mind. Over the course of two months, from mid-December to mid-February, the post-production was finally nearing completion.