Made In Hollywood

Words and images are two entirely different mediums, and Duke was well aware of this. He wasn't discouraged by his mother's evaluation. After taking a short break to adjust his mindset, he, like any newcomer eager to make a name for themselves in Hollywood, plunged headfirst into this unpredictable and deep waters.

He had certain advantages. As a native of Los Angeles, with a family that had some connections to Hollywood, Duke was also quite familiar with film sets and how Hollywood operated. Unlike a total newcomer, he wasn't blindly running around like a headless chicken.

Before taking any action, Duke did some preparatory work and set his goals.

In Hollywood, if a screenwriter writes what they believe to be a decent script, they typically follow one of two paths.

The first is to shop their ideas around to influential producers or talent agencies—like CAA. If their work is appreciated, these producers or agencies, with their extensive connections and resources, would recommend the project to a production company. After a thorough review, the necessary investment might be secured.

The second is to directly submit the script to the relevant departments at production companies. After multiple layers of selection and evaluation by the company, this is the most straightforward approach, though it's also the one with the slimmest chances of success.

Duke knew a few producers, but aside from George Lucas, who had some connection to his mother, they didn't know him personally.

So, Duke decided to try the second option first. Even if he failed, he wouldn't lose anything.

Armed with several copies of his script, Duke drove directly to Century City, located on the west side of Beverly Hills. Century City was one of Los Angeles' most renowned large-scale commercial hubs, home to numerous film, television, and music companies. His target was the largest among them—20th Century Fox, which occupied the entire Fox Plaza building.

Carrying his briefcase, Duke entered through the main entrance of Fox Plaza. His eyes quickly scanned the spacious lobby as he calmly walked toward the reception desk.

"Is there anything I can help you with, sir?"

The receptionist at 20th Century Fox displayed a high level of professionalism, greeting Duke with a warm smile.

"I'm looking for Mr. Tim Fisher from the script department."

Duke didn't beat around the bush, knowing that someone placed in such an important position at a major company wouldn't be easily fooled. "Is he available?"

"Do you have an appointment?" The receptionist's smile remained bright.

"No..." Duke slowly shook his head. "I wanted to make an appointment, but I don't have the number for his secretary."

Even if he did have it, he figured it was unlikely that the secretary would schedule him in.

"May I ask the purpose of your visit?"

The receptionist's skilled response prompted Duke to gesture toward his briefcase. "I'm a screenwriter and director, and I have a script I'd like Mr. Tim Fisher to review."

Seeing her slightly surprised expression, Duke added, "Do I not look like one?"

"That's not what I meant." The receptionist gave an apologetic smile. "It's just that you seem very young."

Duke sighed inwardly. His age and lack of experience were indeed a disadvantage.

"Could you make a call for me?" he asked again.

"Well…"

Seeing the receptionist hesitate, Duke quickly put on a sincere expression, just like any young person eager for an opportunity.

"I can contact Mr. Fisher's secretary for you."

Duke's earnest demeanor, along with his handsome face, worked in his favor. The receptionist quickly dialed a number and, after exchanging a few words, hung up the phone.

"I'm sorry, sir…"

"Duke. You can call me Duke."

"Alright, Duke. Mr. Fisher doesn't have time right now, but you can submit your script to the script department on the seventh floor. Someone there will take care of it."

"Thank you!"

Duke expressed his gratitude sincerely. After all, they were strangers, and it was unreasonable to expect the receptionist to do more.

Taking the elevator to the seventh floor, Duke inquired around a bit and eventually found an office. This was the department at 20th Century Fox responsible for handling script submissions. To put it bluntly, this department received hundreds of scripts every month.

"Speed "

A man in his thirties greeted Duke, took the script, and handed him a form. "Leave your name, phone number, address, and email. We'll notify you as soon as there's any news."

"Thank you…"

Duke quickly filled out the form and returned it. The man glanced at it, placed it inside the script, and casually added it to a nearby filing cabinet.

Duke watched the whole process, particularly noting the stacks of scripts piled high like small mountains on the cabinet, some even gathering dust.

He didn't mention the possibility of directing. There was no point in saying anything to a low-level employee. Besides, from what he observed, the chances of his script being picked up by 20th Century Fox were slim... very slim.

In less than ten minutes, this routine process—something the film company likely repeated countless times each month—was over. Though disappointed, Duke knew that with his current connections, it was almost impossible to meet someone with real decision-making power at Fox.

Back in the lobby, Duke waved at the receptionist from earlier but didn't leave. Instead, he walked to a seating area on the side of the lobby where he could still see the entrance to the elevators. He sat down and prepared to wait patiently.

Success was never an easy thing, especially for someone like him with no name or reputation. He had waited for opportunities before and had enough patience for it.

It wasn't until near noon that Duke's vigilant gaze caught sight of three people stepping out of the elevator. The one walking closest to him, almost entirely blocking the people behind him, bore a strong resemblance to Tim Fisher, whom Duke had seen in the papers. It must be him.

Grabbing his script from the briefcase, Duke quickly followed but didn't rush up to him immediately. Instead, he waited until they were all outside Fox Plaza.

  "Duke?"

Just as he stepped outside, Duke heard a familiar voice. "What are you doing here?"

Turning slightly, Duke realized that the person furthest from him was none other than Lovett, his former agent.

Ah... no, he should be referred to as his ex-agent, as their contract had expired in May.

Giving a slight nod in Lovett's direction, Duke turned back and approached Tim Fisher.

"I apologize for interrupting, Mr. Fisher," he said quickly but politely. "I have a script here, and I'd like for you to take a look."

Perhaps this kind of situation wasn't uncommon, as Tim Fisher wasn't surprised. He gestured for the security guard to stay back and accepted the script Duke handed him, then turned to the person next to him. "Lovett, is this someone from CAA?"

"Mr. Fisher, Mr. Bob,"

Lovett respectfully addressed both Tim Fisher and the man walking between them, Martin Bob. "He was one of my signed actors, but after the contract expired in May, the company chose not to renew with him."

His meaning was clear—CAA didn't see any potential in Duke and had actively let him go.

"An actor? Not renewed?"

Tim Fisher frowned slightly, lowering the script he had just started to flip through. "Duke, right? I'll take the script with me, and if anything comes up, someone will contact you."

With that, he waved off whatever Duke was about to say.

Duke wasn't foolish. He knew that if he pressed further, the security guard would surely step in. So, he offered a polite "thank you" and turned to leave slowly.

"Isn't that the Rosenberg kid?"

Behind him, a middle-aged man's voice spoke up. Duke knew it was Martin Bob, one of CAA's original five powerhouses and now one of the most influential figures in Hollywood. He clearly wasn't concerned about Duke overhearing. "I thought he had some potential, but during CAA's evaluations this year, his ability was rated a D, and his potential an E. He's someone CAA gave up on."

Even without turning around, Duke could imagine the expression on Tim Fisher's face. Someone discarded by the currently dominant CAA—what future could he have in Hollywood?

Resisting the urge to look back, Duke only glanced at Fox Plaza from around the corner, just in time to see Tim Fisher, after parting with the two agents from CAA, casually hand the script to a passing staff member before turning and walking back into the building.

This wasn't unexpected, was it?

Starting up his second-hand Ford, Duke turned the wheel and slowly drove out of the parking lot. Important figures needed to maintain appearances, and in public, they always had to show that they valued talent. But after Lovett's words, what Tim Fisher said was merely a polite gesture. After all, he hadn't even bothered to ask for Duke's name or contact information.

Maybe the other party does not have the power to directly decide on the approval of a film project, but it is not difficult to veto a script.

Outside of Beverly Hills, Duke found a place to have lunch and set out on his journey again. Failure could not defeat him, but only made him more stubborn.

His destination this time was Burbank. After driving into the city, he easily found the iconic Warner Building. After asking at the front desk, he took the elevator to the office floor belonging to Warner Bros.

Perhaps it was God's blessing that when Duke went to submit the script, he actually met Jeff Robinoff, who was in charge of the film business of Warner Bros. After hearing his brief self-introduction, this Eastern European Jewish man, perhaps because they were both Jewish, gave Duke five minutes of his time.

"...a bus with a bomb installed by criminals is speeding through the city. The bomb will explode if the speed drops below 50 miles per hour. There are many innocent passengers on the bus, a temporary female driver, and a policeman who is selected by the criminals to join the game..."

Five minutes is neither too short nor too long. Duke simply talked about the main idea of ​​the script and his desire to become a director.

The slightly bald middle-aged Jewish man adjusted his glasses, leaned back in his office chair, looked at Duke standing next to him, and asked, "If I understand correctly, Mr. Rosenberg, you... want to direct your own script?"

"Yes." Duke nodded seriously.