The Mummy Returns is honestly a total mess of a movie. It tosses character development out the window and treats the story like a sidekick to special effects and action scenes. If it weren't piggybacking off the first Mummy, this sequel wouldn't have a leg to stand on.
Lucky for Universal, they brought in Industrial Light & Magic for the effects, roping in the world's top talent—150 crew members, 30 animators, and nearly seven months of work to polish every stunt shot to perfection. In 2001, when cutting-edge effects were still a rare treat, that might just be the film's biggest selling point.
After the screening, Ron Meyer, sitting next to Dunn, noticed him yawning and looking bored. A little worried, he asked, "Dunn, is the movie really that bad?"
In the world of commercial films, Dunn's a certified legend. His track record speaks for itself. Ron, though? He used to run CAA, so he's a pro at management, not movie-making.
Dunn shrugged casually. "Yeah, it's pretty awful."
Ron's face dropped. "I told you we should've had you come give notes at the internal screening. Now…"
Dunn waved him off with a small smile. "Relax. It's a dud, sure, but the box office? It'll be fine."
"Huh?" Ron looked puzzled.
Dunn explained, "The Mummy Returns hits theaters May 4th, so it's got a timing edge. The next big releases—Pearl Harbor and Never Sinking—don't drop until May 25th. Three weeks is plenty of time to break even."
He wasn't just talking out of his hat. In its past life, The Mummy Returns pulled in $200 million in North America, with $160 million of that coming in the first three weeks. That's the standard blockbuster pace.
Ron let out a relieved breath. "Ha, honestly, I don't like it either. It's a chaotic mess!"
Now it was Dunn's turn to be surprised. "You don't like it? Why didn't you push for changes?"
Ron shook his head, keeping it cool. "To keep a tight-knit management team, you've got to let go of some control."
Dunn mulled that over for a bit, then cracked a grin. "Good thing I've already handed off the reins at Dunn Films."
Ron chuckled, losing interest in The Mummy Returns. He shifted gears to chat more with Dunn. "Lately, Pearl Harbor's been making a lot of noise. Aside from Ben Affleck and Kate Beckinsale, the whole crew's been throwing around some pretty fiery comments."
Dunn just shrugged, unbothered. "Small-time actors, you know? They'll do anything to grab attention and make a name for themselves. It's par for the course."
Ron shot him a sly, half-smirk. "And you're just gonna let it slide? That doesn't sound like you."
Dunn laughed. "What do you want me to do? Strip down and charge in like the old days?"
Back when Dunn had nothing to lose, he'd go barefoot into any fight—shirt off, ready to brawl. Now? He's a different beast. With Dunn Films and his patchwork investments as his heavy artillery, he's got the air of a big shot. A few pesky grasshoppers hopping around don't warrant his personal attention anymore.
Ron was genuinely impressed by how much Dunn had matured. The growth was unreal! Just last year, Dunn was still acting like a reckless kid half the time. Now, with the Pearl Harbor crew poking at him nonstop, he's steady as a rock.
Ron said, "Without your help, I'm worried Jamie won't hold up."
Dunn shook his head, calm as ever. "James isn't great at trash talk, sure, but the movie market boils down to quality. Jerry Bruckheimer and Michael Bay can yap all they want—it doesn't matter. All I know is Never Sinking has James Cameron at the helm."
Ron grinned. "Didn't expect you to have so much faith in Jamie. His biggest box office haul's what, $500 million? Terminator 2?"
In this timeline, without Titanic to boost him, James Cameron's rep and skills don't quite match Steven Spielberg's. Some skepticism's only natural. Pearl Harbor's hyping itself up so hard that even if it doesn't touch Titanic, it's still got a $1 billion floor. Can Cameron's Never Sinking stand up to that?
Ron figured Never Sinking probably wouldn't lose money—Dunn's the producer, after all, and his commercial instincts are razor-sharp. Even if ticket sales flop, DVDs, TV deals, and merch could cover it. But Dunn's real edge? His golden streak. Since breaking into the biz, he's never flopped a movie or tanked at the box office. If Pearl Harbor overshadows Never Sinking, even without a loss, it'd dent Dunn's invincible image big-time.
Dunn's lips curled into a faint smile as he shook his head. "James… heh, I've got total confidence in him."
It's not just Cameron's past-life glory fueling that trust. When Dunn directed Spider-Man, he "channeled" Cameron's mojo, pushing it to a global haul of over $1.26 billion—way past the original's $820 million. Sure, Never Sinking is a fresh project with no past-life benchmark, but Spider-Man's triumph is Dunn's biggest confidence booster.
Ron paused, forcing a smile. "Guess Pearl Harbor's gonna own the promo season, then."
As Never Sinking's distributor, Universal handles the marketing and release. With Pearl Harbor crushing their hype, Ron's feeling the heat. He'd hoped Dunn's golden touch could save some face, but the guy's not budging.
Dunn's tone turned dry and mocking. "Don't you start stirring the pot either. Let them run wild! I'd love to see how long Jerry Bruckheimer and Michael Bay can keep this hot streak going."
Ron's face stiffened a bit, and he quickly changed the subject, lowering his voice. "I think I just saw Ms. Weisz earlier…"
Before he could finish, Dunn cut him off with a raised hand. "Don't go there. I'm keeping it in check."
"In check?" Ron almost laughed out loud. He'd buy anything Dunn said about anything else, but this? "Who're you kidding?"
…
Sure enough, after the screening wrapped and the crew took their bows, Dunn slipped over to Rachel Weisz's side.
"Ms. Weisz, your moves… they're pretty impressive, huh?"
"Huh?" Rachel blinked, her cheeks flushing a soft, radiant pink.
Dunn grinned. "How about we find a chance to… test them out?"
"Sure, let's give it a shot!" Rachel flashed a dazzling, shy smile. "It'd be my pleasure."