The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!

Chapter 246

“Sean, I’m not asking for too much!”

In an office at Universal Studios, Helen looked at Sean Daniel and said, “An eight-million-dollar fee is a fair reflection of Matthew’s current standing.”

“No, that’s too high.” Sean’s tone, compared to Helen’s, was a little more polite. “The production budget is only twenty-eight million dollars. For Matthew alone to take nearly a third of that in salary is more than the production can afford.”

Helen countered, “Since the release of Pirates of the Caribbean, Matthew has been the center of media and audience attention. He’s currently ranked second on IMDB’s list of most-viewed movie stars.”

The popularity of Pirates of the Caribbean and the fact that both Matthew and his character, Will Turner, were immensely popular and well-received by fans gave her significant leverage. “Disney Pictures and various marketing agencies conducted a study. Matthew was the second most popular actor in Pirates of the Caribbean, accounting for thirty-nine percent of the surveyed audience—the demographics of which, I’m sure you’re well aware. All of that can be carried over to the Dawn of the Dead project.”

Sean remained polite but firm. “Helen, if Matthew takes nearly a third of the production budget himself, what am I supposed to do about the director and the other actors? We can’t expect them to work for free, can we?”

They had spoken many times already and had agreed on everything else; the only point of contention was Matthew’s fee.

Helen had initially proposed ten million dollars. After two rounds of discussion, she had lowered her price to eight million, and now she was digging in her heels, unwilling to retreat any further.

Although negotiations with Universal Pictures had increased the budget for Dawn of the Dead from twenty-five million to twenty-eight million dollars, an eight-million-dollar salary for the lead actor alone was still too much for him and the production team.

The salary was too high and would have a direct impact on the team’s ability to function properly.Helen had her own plans and intentions, and she simply wouldn’t let go of the eight-million-dollar figure. “Sean, I want to remind you that in the two productions Matthew previously starred in, The Scorpion King grossed over one hundred million dollars at the North American box office. Pirates of the Caribbean has already surpassed two hundred million dollars domestically and is still going strong. It’s clear to anyone that the film won’t dip below three hundred million dollars in North America.”

She raised her voice for emphasis. “Matthew was the absolute lead in both of those films, portraying characters who were incredibly popular with audiences. Given the box office performance of the two films he’s starred in, is eight million dollars really that much to ask?”

Sean laughed. “Matthew’s salary can’t be calculated that way.”

Helen couldn’t resist a direct retort. “That’s exactly how Hollywood has always calculated it.”

Hollywood studios have a system for evaluating movie stars that has little to do with acting ability or awards; the main metric is the box office result of an actor's last three films. If the last three movies have been failures, not even an Oscar winner can command a high price.

Of course, for a new actor who hasn’t proven themselves in the market, even one with dazzling, super-talented acting skills, it amounts to nothing.

The same principle applies to behind-the-scenes work, such as directing.

Sean’s smile vanished, and he said seriously, “If I had a fifty-million-dollar budget, none of what you’re saying would be a problem. It would all be negotiable. But I only have a production budget of twenty-eight million. If Matthew’s salary is eight million, even if I squeezed every penny from the other actors and crew, I’d still have to pull over two million dollars from the filming and post-production budget just to cover his fee.”

Helen said nothing, letting Sean continue.

“What does it mean for a moderately-budgeted film like this to lose over two million dollars from its shooting and post-production funds?” Sean didn’t need Helen to answer; he told her himself. “Many aspects of production will inevitably have to be cut, which will definitely affect the quality of the final film. And a poor-quality film can drag down the box office.”

He looked at Helen. “You know as well as I do that the quality of a film isn’t something a movie star’s personal appeal can fully compensate for. If Dawn of the Dead doesn’t perform well at the box office, Matthew, as the lead actor, will bear the brunt of it. His career growth will slow down or even stop.”

Helen certainly knew this. Everything she had said up to this point was really just a way to pressure Sean into conceding on other aspects.

Sean wasn’t finished. “Helen, for a movie star, the moment he stops moving forward, it means stagnation. It’s hard to climb back up again.”

He gestured as he spoke. “Why can’t we look at the bigger picture? I’ve been friends with Matthew for a long time, and I don’t want to see him lose a long-term benefit for a small, short-term gain. And I can’t believe a brilliant agent like you can’t see that.”

“You make a fair point.” Helen seemed convinced. “Matthew and I can make appropriate concessions.”

Sean smiled slightly and continued, “Four million dollars. That will reflect Matthew’s status as the absolute lead of the cast without compromising the film’s production.”

So-called friendship could prove useless in negotiations like these.

How could Helen not understand that? She rejected his offer bluntly and sternly. “That’s impossible. If you and the team aren’t being sincere, then there’s no need for us to talk any further.”

Her tone then softened. “I’m not sure if you know, but Matthew turned down another project of yours last time because of his schedule and felt quite guilty about it. This time, when you and Zack Snyder approached him, he decided he couldn’t postpone your offer under any circumstances. After all, you gave him his break.”

“Matthew passed on an offer from Jerry Bruckheimer to work with you. Sean, do you know what kind of project that was? A top-tier production with an investment of over a hundred million dollars. Jerry immediately offered Matthew the lead role in King Arthur. And he turned Jerry down out of friendship with you.”

Sean remained silent.

Helen scoffed softly. “Sean, is this your sincerity? How much has Matthew given up to work with you? And what about you?”

Her tone sharpened. “Matthew has no shortage of projects, and I’m sure you’re well aware of that. There will be a sequel to Pirates of the Caribbean, and another one of Jerry’s big adventure-action projects is also interested in casting Matthew for the lead role.”

Hearing this, Sean looked embarrassed and seemed to struggle with himself for a long moment, as if he were particularly indecisive, before he finally spoke. “Five million dollars. Any more than that, and the production of the film will suffer.”

“We can accept five million.” Helen stopped there. “Matthew and I aren’t the kind of people who only care about money and have no sentiment.”

Before Sean could breathe a sigh of relief, she changed her tone and continued, “But I have a few small conditions.”

Since she was willing to make a concession on the fee, Sean nodded.

Helen smiled faintly. “First point: in the opening credits, Matthew’s name must be listed first among the cast, in a separate font that we agree upon, not in the same column as the other actors.”

That was perfectly acceptable. Matthew was the absolute lead, and Sean had no objection. “Fine.”

“Second,” Helen clearly wasn’t finished, “only one actor, Matthew, can be on the main movie poster, besides the zombies in the background.”

Sean nodded.

Helen added, “Third, if there are any supporting roles in the film that actors from the Angel Acting Agency are suitable for, you will prioritize using actors from my agency.”

Sean thought for a second and nodded again. “I’ll talk to the casting director.”

For those supporting roles that weren't particularly important, as long as the terms weren't terrible, it didn't make much difference which agency the actors came from.

“And last.” Helen laid out her most important condition. “Sean, Matthew and I can both accept a fee of five million dollars, but!”

She raised her tone. “Five million is only the base pay! Matthew must get a share of the box office!”

Sean’s brow furrowed instantly. “Helen, you’re asking for too much.”

“We are making a concession on his fee to reduce the project’s risk.” Helen had her words prepared long ago. “It’s only right to seek a share of the subsequent revenue. Matthew is taking a risk with the crew and the film. If the movie fails, his share of the revenue will be lost, and this will motivate Matthew throughout his work.”

She laid out the plan. “We’ll use thirty million dollars as the cutoff point. If the film grosses more than thirty million dollars at the North American box office in the future, Matthew will receive one percent as his share. For every additional ten million dollars in North American box office revenue, his share will increase by one percent.”

“That’s impossible!” Sean refused flatly. “If the box office in North America exceeds one hundred million, he’d take tens of millions of dollars! No production team, let alone me, would agree to that. Matthew doesn’t have that kind of leverage yet!”

Hearing Sean’s firm refusal to give up a percentage of the gross, rather than a share of the profits, Helen sensed where his bottom line was through this test.

She conceded, “Then we can talk about a percentage of the profits.”

Sean considered it and said, “That’s not something I can decide on my own. I have to talk to Universal Pictures.”

He stood up. “That’s all for today.”