“Hello, Mr. Eisner.”
“Regarding the casting for Captain Jack Sparrow, I have a suggestion. What do you think of Johnny Depp?”
Johnny Depp?
The executives present exchanged glances, their faces showing confusion. They certainly knew the name, a talented independent film actor known for his eccentricity and unconventional style. But he had never been a box office guarantee, much less a mainstream choice for commercial blockbusters.
Michael Eisner cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound both authoritative and approachable.
“Allen, we’re pleased to speak with you. This is a… very interesting choice. Can you tell us why Johnny Depp?”
There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone.
Then, Allen asked a question that caught everyone off guard.
“Mr. Eisner, before I answer, I’d like to ask you a question. Do you want to make a mediocre film for children that will be forgotten after the summer, or do you want to create a great series that will appeal to all ages and remain popular for twenty years?”
This question was like a heavy hammer, striking Michael Eisner’s heart.
He opened his mouth but found he couldn't answer.
Allen didn't wait for him to reply, continuing his analysis in a terrifyingly steady tone: “The traditional Hero is dead. Audiences are tired of flawless characters. What they need is a flawed, unpredictable, yet charming scoundrel.”
“Johnny Depp has a huge fan base in the independent film world, especially among young audiences. He has a certain charisma, a dangerous and captivating eccentricity. This is key to breaking the traditional pirate image and creating a brand new screen idol.”
“Have you seen his performance in ‘Ed Wood’? That combination of innocence and obsession. And in ‘Arizona Dream,’ the confusion and madness in his eyes. These details prove that he can perfectly embody Captain Jack’s state, which is somewhere between madness and lucidity.”
The films Allen mentioned were all extremely niche art films. Most of them had not even seen them.
But this eleven-year-old boy had not only seen them but could also accurately analyze the core of the performances and perfectly connect them to a character that had not yet taken shape.
This kind of insight had already surpassed the realm of genius.
“Jack Sparrow is not a Hero; he is an opportunist, an artist walking on a tightrope, a rock star of the Caribbean.”
Allen’s voice resonated clearly through the speaker in everyone’s ears, sealing the deal.
“Only Depp can portray his soul. Otherwise, this movie will devolve into a children’s farce in pirate costumes.”
In the conference Room, there was complete silence.
The executives exchanged glances.
“I agree.”
Michael Eisner was the first to break the silence; his voice was a bit hoarse but unusually decisive.
He stood up and solemnly announced to John Lawrence.
“We agree to all your terms. Five million for the script, final cut rights, and five percent of the global box office revenue.”
He paused, then added.
“And Disney will officially bestow the title of ‘Executive Producer’ upon Mr. Allen Lawrence. He will have the highest authority in casting, script, and post-production.”
John Lawrence hung up the phone.
He stood up and, under the gaze of everyone in the conference Room, left without saying a word.
It wasn’t until he was in his Bentley, the door closed, cutting off all outside noise, that John leaned back in his seat and let out a long breath.
Just a few hours ago, these people had treated his son as a joke.
Now, they were elevating that joke to a divine status.
He started the car and slowly drove away from Disney headquarters. On the way home, his mind was blank… In the Lawrence family’s mansion, the atmosphere was warm.
His mother, Lee Soo-ji, is a famous contemporary artist, possessing the gentle grace of an Eastern woman and the sensitivity of an artist. When she heard the full story from her husband, she was first shocked, then tears welled up in her eyes.
She rushed over and hugged her son tightly.
“My Allen, my darling, you truly are… Mama is so proud of you!”
She held Allen’s face, looking him over and over, as if to reacquaint herself with this son who made her immensely proud yet felt incredibly unfamiliar.
Allen smiled, allowing his mother to hold him.
However, after the initial excitement, a hint of worry gradually surfaced in Lee Soo-ji’s eyes.
She pulled Allen to sit on the sofa, her expression becoming serious.
“Allen, listen to Mama. Mama knows what Hollywood is like. It’s a huge dyeing vat, full of fame, fortune, temptation, and traps.”
“You’re still too young. Mama doesn’t want you to get involved in those adult games so early. I’m afraid you’ll lose yourself, neglect your studies, and lose the happy childhood you should have.”
John, at his side, wanted to say something but was stopped by a look from his wife.
Allen held his mother’s hand.
“Mama, don’t worry.”
“I know what I’m doing. I won’t let those things affect my life. My studies, I won’t neglect them. My childhood, I’ll enjoy it fully.”
He paused, a sly smile appearing on his face.
“Besides, I’m just giving directions behind the scenes. Isn’t Dad the one who’ll really be dealing with those shrewd people?”
One sentence instantly lightened the tense atmosphere.
Lee Soo-ji looked at her son’s gentle face, which resembled her own, and then at her husband’s face, which clearly read, “That’s right, I’m here for it,” and finally smiled helplessly.
She knew that her son had grown into someone she couldn't fully understand.
But she chose to trust him.
At night, Allen stood alone on his Room’s balcony, looking at the myriad lights of Los Angeles and the brilliant starry sky.
The next day.
In the office of Hollywood’s most powerful agent, at an agency.
Johnny Depp’s agent looked at a casting invitation that had just come out of the fax machine, an incredulous expression on her face.
It was from Disney Studios.
An S-tier production pirate movie.
Inviting Johnny Depp to play the lead role, Captain Jack Sparrow.
None of this was strange.
What was strange were the signature and the additional clauses on the invitation.
On the invitation, besides the signature of the Disney Studios chairman, there was another co-signature.
Executive Producer, Allen Lawrence.
In the additional clauses, a sentence was written in bold: “This invitation is based on the strong recommendation of Producer Mr. Allen Lawrence, who believes you are the only choice for this role.”
Tracey immediately called Depp.
“Johnny, there’s a strange gig. Disney, a pirate blockbuster.”
“Pirates? Ha, I don’t want to wear an eye patch and say ‘Ahoy, my treasure.’” On the other end of the phone, Depp’s voice was lazy.
“That’s not the point.” Tracey’s tone was odd. “The point is, on this invitation, there’s a person named Allen Lawrence, and he says you’re the only choice.”
“Allen Lawrence? Never heard of him. Which old guy?”
“Unclear,” Tracey paused, “but I asked around, and his name is currently being talked about everywhere in Hollywood. Apparently… he’s a prodigy.”
Depp on the other end of the phone seemed interested.
“A prodigy? Interesting. Send me the script to take a look.”
At the same moment, in the Lawrence family’s study.
Allen sat in front of the computer, closing the news page about Johnny Depp he had just finished browsing.
He created a new document.
In the document’s title bar, he lightly typed a line of text.
“Iron Man: Script Outline (2008).”
Then, he moved the cursor to the main body and typed the first line of the story.
“Tony Stark, a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist…”
