By July, the frenzy around *Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace* had finally simmered down, giving other movie studios a chance to breathe. With films like *Tarzan* and *Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me* crowding the market, *The Phantom Menace*'s weekly box office dipped below $20 million. Still, after over 40 days in theaters, its North American total had soared past $480 million! *Titanic*'s North American record was starting to look shaky.
As the film rolled out overseas, June's international haul came in at $140 million. Compared to the North American wildfire, the overseas market was calmer. But distributor 20th Century Fox was optimistic—July was when big markets like the UK, Germany, France, Australia, and Japan would get their releases. They were betting on a major rebound. Sure, *Star Wars* culture didn't hit as hard abroad, but the movie's killer effects and slick action were bound to rake in cash. Matching *Titanic*'s global triumph was a stretch, but crossing the $1 billion mark worldwide—making it the second film in history after *Titanic* to do so—seemed within reach.
Dunn wasn't sweating it anymore; he was just waiting for the checks to roll in. His focus had shifted to two projects Dunn Films was cooking up. *Girl, Interrupted* couldn't start shooting until *Spider-Man*'s tax rebates came through, but that didn't stop the prep work. Natalie, Nicole, and even Naomi Watts—who'd snagged the third female lead—were deep into their scripts, getting a feel for their characters.
That's how Natalie ended up at Dunn's place for the first time, hashing out her role with Nicole Kidman. Watching her chat and laugh with Nicole, Naomi Watts, and Jessica Alba, Dunn sometimes felt like he was hallucinating. Say what you will—Natalie had a big heart.
The *Girl, Interrupted* script was on its fifth rewrite and close to being locked in. The main cast was already set internally, but picking a director? That was a headache. A young, unknown director might lack the chops or experience to handle a complex film like this—risking a repeat of the original's mess. But a seasoned, big-name director might chafe at being boxed in by the producers, especially with no say in script changes or casting.
After nearly a month of digging, Glenn Fierro handed Dunn four names: Ron Howard, Jonathan Demme, Pedro Almodóvar, and Lasse Hallström. Lasse got the boot first—too green, mostly known for tearjerkers. Pedro, a European maestro, was too artsy and off-trend for Oscar bait, so he was out too. Dunn Films sent script copies to Ron Howard and Jonathan Demme's agents.
Three days later, Ron Howard's camp replied—he was tied up with Universal's $120 million A-list holiday flick *How the Grinch Stole Christmas*. No dice. Two days after that, Jonathan Demme's agent showed up at Dunn Films in person. Demme was hooked on the project! But the terms Dunn Films offered? They sent the guy reeling.
"No way! Jonathan's an Oscar-winning director—*The Silence of the Lambs*, *Philadelphia*—he's one of Hollywood's best drama filmmakers! We love the script, but he's got to pick the actors, and we're not taking less than $8 million."
"Sorry, Mr. Patton, looks like we're at an impasse," Dunn said with a sigh, a little resigned.
It came down to clout. If this were Warner or Paramount, even an Oscar champ like Demme—who'd been quiet for years without a hit—would have to bend. Dunn had two box office juggernauts under his belt, but when it came to dramas, he didn't have the pull to rein in a Hollywood heavyweight.
Back home, he found Natalie with wild hair, sitting across from Nicole. Her eyes were weird—dazed yet defiant—staring at Nicole in a strange way. Nicole looked rough too, pale as a ghost and trembling like she was sick.
Dunn cut in fast. "What are you two doing? Is this experiential acting? Watch it—you'll mess yourselves up!"
Natalie spotted Dunn, blushed a little, and fixed her makeup quick. She hopped over, grinning and tilting her pale chin up. "You're back!"
Dunn hugged her, feeling a pang. "Do you have to push yourself this hard?"
Natalie pursed her lips. "The script's great, the role's great—I want to bring Lisa to life."
Dunn sighed. "What's wrong with method acting?"
Naomi Watts, apron on, slid over—zero awareness that Dunn was Natalie's boyfriend. "Ever since Marlon Brando invented method acting, it's been the gold standard for Hollywood guys. But it doesn't work for women—at least not newbies like us."
Dunn sat Natalie on the couch, not dumb enough to flirt with another woman in front of her, and glanced at Nicole. "You're a newbie too?"
Nicole Kidman shook her head gently. "Naomi's half-right. Truth is, the only woman in Hollywood who pulls off method acting like it's nothing is Meryl Streep."
Dunn was hearing this for the first time. "Why's that?"
"Women are emotional—acting comes from the heart, off the cuff. Method's all logic. Usually, only guys with insane control can handle it," Nicole said with a sigh.
Dunn brushed Natalie's hair, worried. "Method acting… it's too brutal."
Natalie looked up, miffed. "I'm not experiential—I'm expressionist. Luc Besson taught me back in the day. He said after the French New Wave, expressionism's the way to go!"
Dunn chuckled. "You're right—my Nat's the best!"
Expressionism beat experiential any day. Throwing yourself completely into a role could wreck an actor. Take Daniel Day-Lewis, the poster boy for experiential acting—six months prepping to get in character, six months after to get out. Torture! Success wasn't luck with that approach—if they didn't make it, it'd be a crime against nature.
"By the way, who's directing *Girl, Interrupted*?" Natalie asked, still green and carefree compared to Nicole. She didn't sweat acting styles—just curious.
Dunn stretched, sighing. "Still up in the air. None of the shortlist fits."
"Huh? What about Luc Besson? I like him," Natalie mumbled thoughtlessly. Seeing Dunn's teasing glare, she stuck out her tongue and giggled. "Kidding! He's a blockbuster guy—I know."
Naomi Watts, oblivious as ever, scooted closer to Dunn. "Why not a female director?"
A woman? Dunn's eyes lit up. Sofia Coppola popped into his head first—her *The Virgin Suicides* was out this year, but her style was still raw, not matching Dunn's ambitions. Then he thought of Patty Jenkins, the one behind *Monster* and *Wonder Woman*. Problem was, she hadn't directed anything yet.
Nicole Kidman caught Dunn's thoughtful look and spoke softly. "Dunn, I've got someone in mind."
"Oh? Who?"
Nicole was poised, tactful—miles ahead of Naomi. Dunn valued her input.
"Sam Mendes."
"Sam Mendes?" Dunn froze, thrown off.
Nicole nodded slowly. "I did a stage play, *The Blue Room*, with him directing. He's good—really good."
Natalie frowned, confused. "A stage director? That's not the same as movies."
"I know," Nicole said. "But last year, he directed his first drama film, *American Beauty*. Unless something goes wrong, it's out this year."
"Oh." Natalie wasn't a fan of Naomi's tactlessness but didn't mind Nicole. Her being Dunn's companion wasn't her fault.
"Sam Mendes…" Dunn shot up, his face lighting up with excitement.
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