Just as Chris Columbus had expected, Tim Story's attempt to invite Robert Downey Jr. failed.
And the process of failing went like this—
After receiving the invitation, Downey said he really wanted to play Doctor Doom, but he just couldn't make time for it. He already had two projects lined up to start filming soon.
One was Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.
The other was Good Night, and Good Luck.
The former was a collaboration with Val Kilmer.
And that guy? Definitely no ordinary person.
Kevin Spacey and Mare Winningham were his classmates, and his breakout roles were in Top Gun and Heat.
The latter project was with George Clooney.
Even though Clooney had never really been a box-office powerhouse, his reputation in Hollywood circles was solid.
Now, since Downey's situation at the time was miserable—practically a washed-up druggie no one wanted around—when he finally found a chance to cling to a well-known B+ list celebrity's coattails, he latched on tight. That was his one burning desire.
So when Story invited him to join Fantastic Four, Downey was grateful… but could only say "sorry."
His reasoning was airtight.
So airtight that Story couldn't find a single flaw in it.
Still, inside, Story was frustrated.
He wasn't forgetful. He remembered clearly that earlier, Michael Barnathan had told him not to invite Downey.
So…
"Bernard, Robert Downey Jr. turned us down," Story said.
"I think this will really affect our movie."
"In superhero films, the quality of the villain can make or break the whole thing. Look at Spider-Man—Willem Dafoe's Green Goblin made Tobey Maguire's Peter Parker feel so much more relatable."
"Or Batman—Jack Nicholson's Joker, that hysterical yet perfectly controlled madness, directly reflected the darkness within Michael Keaton's Bruce Wayne."
May 1, 2004.
After hitting a dead end with Downey, Story met with Bernard Eichinger.
Though Story spoke politely, Eichinger knew exactly what was happening.
Story was here to tattle—to complain about Columbus.
Story suspected that Downey's polite refusal was orchestrated by Columbus. Because, realistically, Downey's top priority right now should've been to take any gig he could get, to climb out of the pit.
As for schedule conflicts? Downey would've found a way.
Eichinger actually wanted to say, "Buddy, I totally agree with you."
But he couldn't say that out loud.
Instead, he replied smoothly, "Tim, running into problems during casting is perfectly normal. Don't let one setback discourage you. Whatever happens, we have to keep moving forward."
"Since you're here, let me give you a little piece of advice from my years of experience."
"Since I started in this business, I've worked on dozens of films. When it comes to casting, I always send out invitations to all the desired actors simultaneously the first time around."
"That way, I know right away who's interested and who's unavailable."
"I list the truly unreachable ones, find backups, and then hand over the ones that might be possible—but not for me—to the producer."
"Because producers, well, they can do anything. If the shortlist came from them, the actors who ignored my invite might not ignore theirs. And if the producer can't get them either, then…"
"…then maybe the producer's the problem."
"Tim, you get what I'm saying?"
Eichinger smiled.
Story nodded quickly. "Oh—of course—"
They chatted a bit more before Story got up to leave.
He knew his complaint had landed.
Eichinger now "suspected" Columbus had pulled something. And his advice was clear: endure for now, keep working, let the issues pile up—and then hit Columbus with them all at once.
Even if Columbus could handle everything, he'd still be swamped.
And if he couldn't handle it?
Well then, time to sit down and "discuss" his competence.
The logic was simple—
In a producer-centric system, if you're the project's producer and can't get anything done…
What are you even doing here? Trying to fly to the sun?
So with Eichinger having shown him a "clear path," Story followed the advice and got back to work.
And promptly hit one failure after another.
And no, it wasn't sabotage.
Nor was he incompetent.
All these failures were because he and Columbus came from different worlds.
When Columbus entered the industry, he debuted as one of Spielberg's students. With that connection, everyone greeted him with respect. And he had the talent to back it up, which made his career soar higher and higher.
Story, on the other hand?
The biggest star he'd ever met was Ice Cube.
And sure, Ice Cube might be famous in music circles… but come on—
Rappers don't count as "prestige."
So here was the issue—
In Columbus's plan, he wanted to cast Michael Chiklis as The Thing—
the lead actor from the hit TV show The Shield.
Then he wanted to invite Christina Aguilera or Cameron Diaz to play Invisible Woman.
No need to introduce those two, right? Both megastars.
And there were even more big names after that—each one bigger than the last.
When you're an A+ director like Columbus, getting meetings with these people is easy. His go-to producer, Barnathan, just has to make a few calls, and they show up eager.
But Story?
He didn't even know where to get these stars' phone numbers.
So when an A-list director's "minimum" is a B-list actor, a B-list director like Story has to settle for cold-calling their agents.
So…
After being rejected by everyone, on May 3, 2004, Story called Barnathan again.
He said that nobody on Columbus's casting list had agreed to come.
Maybe Barnathan could hear the frustration through the phone, because he immediately tried to calm Story down. Still, he waited until Columbus finished filming Goblet of Fire before bringing up what was happening on the West Coast.
Then Columbus asked, incredulous, "What did you say? Not a single one?"
"Yes," Barnathan confirmed.
"That can't be right…" Columbus muttered. "Bernard's been in Hollywood longer than I have. How could casting be a problem?"
In his mind, even without him there, things should've gone smoothly.
After all, aside from Resident Evil, Eichinger had produced several well-known films—
For instance, Heavy Metal—an animated movie that turned a $25 million investment into $100 million.
Or The Name of the Rose—a Jean-Jacques Annaud film that made $77 million on a $17 million budget.
Or Plenty—which flopped financially but starred Meryl Streep.
Eichinger was respected for his experience and connections. That's why the Kirch Group had trusted him.
So in Columbus's eyes, with Eichinger in charge, nothing should've gone wrong.
But now…
After confirming it was all true, Columbus called Eichinger directly.
He heard Eichinger's apology:
"Sorry, Chris, there have indeed been some… unexpected issues."
"We followed your list and reached out to everyone you wanted—and they all declined."
"And they even gave detailed, polite reasons for turning it down."
"Like Cameron Diaz—she said she didn't want to do Fantastic Four because she hated wearing superhero makeup. You know she was in Charlie's Angels with Steven's goddaughter Drew Barrymore? All those leather outfits and action scenes—she said they were physically uncomfortable, so she doesn't want to do that kind of movie again."
"And Michael Chiklis—he just won an Emmy for The Shield. That show is his home base, and since Fox renewed it, he doesn't have much time for other projects."
Everything Eichinger said was true—
but only partly.
He didn't mention how little he'd actually participated in the casting process. Because if he'd gotten too involved and accidentally messed up Rupert Murdoch's bigger plans, he'd be swimming with sharks in the Pacific.
So…
"Oh, I see. Bad luck, then," Columbus said.
No plan survives unchanged.
No actor is irreplaceable.
Once he confirmed Eichinger's explanation was plausible, Columbus stopped worrying.
"Alright then," he said. "If they're really not coming, just redo the casting. Start from scratch. I trust you to handle it, Bernard."
"If it really gets tough, I'll send Barnathan over to help."
"Oh—no, no, that won't be necessary," Eichinger interrupted quickly. "Barnathan should stay with you on Goblet of Fire. That's far more important. I'll keep an eye on things here."
"And you're right—even if we redo everything, it's no big deal. I've been in this business for thirty years. I know how to handle these things."
That reassurance was enough for Columbus.
After all, Eichinger was an old hand at the Hollywood game.
But once the call ended, Eichinger turned to look across his desk—
at Tim Story.
Yes, they were together in the same office—Constantin's headquarters.
Catching Story's questioning gaze, Eichinger sighed and said, "Tim, looks like we'll have to hold a massive open casting call. Chris said if none of the planned names are coming, then so be it."
The moment he said that, Story's temper flared.
"Mr. Eichinger! Did I hear that right? You're saying Mr. Columbus said that if none of the people on the casting list come, we'll just do open auditions?"
"Yes," Eichinger nodded.
He pushed the still-warm phone toward Story.
"That's exactly what he said. If you don't believe me, you can call and ask him yourself."
Story, of course, believed Eisenger's words.
After all, he'd literally just watched the man answer that call himself.
The only reason he'd even asked for confirmation was because the sudden change was so absurd it defied logic.
His eyes reddened as he glared at Eisenger, spitting out every word like a bullet:
"Mr. Eisenger! If I'm not mistaken, I distinctly remember telling you that my boss at Fox only invested in your Fantastic Four project because he loved your development plan!"
"To be more specific, my boss believed that with big-name actors joining, Fantastic Four could surpass Spider-Man and become a new legend — writing a new page of cinematic history!"
"So now you're telling me that everything's changed?"
"Am I supposed to take that as proof that you've been deceiving my boss from the very start?"
Every syllable cut like a knife, and Eisenger could feel the heat of it.
The tension was so thick you could spread it on toast. He knew then that Story had fallen neatly into the trap.
Now, if Story went off like a bomb, Columbus would have no way to shake off the stain of guilt.
And even better — Story couldn't say too much, because he didn't actually know anything.
This trick is filthy, Eisenger sighed inwardly.
But he also knew he had to play his final card.
He pursed his lips, forcing a weary smile, stood up, poured Story a glass of water, then rested a hand on the back of his chair. His voice dropped, quiet but full of feigned sympathy:
"Tim, I owe you an apology. The truth is — Fantastic Four already had a director before you came on board."
"That person was Sean Astin."
"You were brought in because Fox joined the investment."
"I know you probably know how you got here. But about Sean Astin…"
"You probably weren't told. Fox must have kept that part from you."
"They didn't think it mattered back then. Investors and producers wanting to control the set — it's not exactly rare in this industry. I mean, even in Mission: Impossible, Tom Cruise likes to control his set, right?"
BOOM.
Eisenger's words hit Story like a grenade.
"Bernard? What did you just say?"
Story's voice cracked as he shot up from his chair like a spring.
"So all the crap I've been through was intentional?!"
"Chris Columbus wants to push me out, doesn't he?!"
"He's trying to replace me with his own guy?!"
"I didn't mean—" Eisenger waved his hands, trying to calm him down.
But before he could even form a sentence, Story exploded.
"Motherf—! That bastard Chris Columbus set me up?!"
"Oh, hell no! I'm going to Fox! I'm gonna blow this whole thing wide open!"
"Damn it! Chris Columbus might be a big deal, but he picked the wrong person to mess with!"
…
With a stream of curses that would make a sailor blush, Story stormed out of Constantin Films.
Watching him stomp off, Eisenger took a long, slow breath.
He knew his job was done.
Whatever storm came next — however ugly it got — it wouldn't be his problem anymore.
As for revenge, if Columbus somehow came out on top later?
Well, Eisenger had already thought that through.
But when Rupert Murdoch has a metaphorical knife pressed to your throat, there's not much room for bravery.
Still, he'd been careful.
Every word he'd said to Columbus earlier had been technically true.
And if questioned later, he could easily explain Fox's "hidden investment" as standard Hollywood procedure.
After all, the contract did allow Constantin to seek outside investors.
Fox simply offered the best deal — what's wrong with that?
And keeping an investor's identity under wraps? That's practically tradition in Hollywood.
Just look at Titanic. Back then, when Cameron's production bled Fox dry, the media kept saying Universal was thinking of jumping in. Only later did the truth come out — it was Paramount who secretly stepped in. Why hide it? Because nobody believed in Titanic at the time.
If Paramount had announced it publicly, three things would've happened:
The market would lose faith, and the stock would tank. Investors would panic — and the stock would tank. Production trouble? The press would tear them apart — and the stock would tank again.
When market emotion matters more than truth, you act first and explain later.
That's how business works.
So, really — what was wrong with Constantin doing the same thing for a little extra funding?
Eisenger felt he'd done everything by the book — his version of it, anyway.
Meanwhile, Story, fuming and shaking, rushed straight to Century City to tattle to his boss.
And then—
"What did you say? Columbus wants to get rid of you?"
Tom Rothman, chairman of Fox, looked stunned.
"I know Chris. He's not that kind of guy. Maybe this is just a misunderstanding?"
"There's no misunderstanding! None!" Story barked. "Mr. Rothman, we've both been tricked by that bastard Columbus! Bernard Eisenger told me himself — before I even joined Fantastic Four, Columbus had already chosen his own director! Sean Astin! His own damn crony!"
Rothman winced at the volume, his eardrums protesting — but deep down, he was delighted.
He was one of the few at Fox who knew the real plan.
And seeing Story now, all riled up and ready to attack? Perfect. A sharpened blade.
Still, he kept his poker face.
"You're sure?"
"I swear it!"
"Well… if that's true, that's very upsetting… but hmm… tell you what, why don't you call Chris? We'll set up a meeting. I think this should be discussed calmly, face-to-face."
Before Rothman could even finish, Story was already dialing.
He hit speakerphone. After two beeps, the call connected.
"Hello?" came Columbus's voice.
"Chris?" Story said coldly. "Where are you? We need to talk. Face to face."
"Why? Is this about production trouble? I already spoke with Bernard—"
"No, no, no! This isn't about production!" Story snapped. "It's about you trying to fire me and replace me with Sean Astin!"
"What?" Columbus froze.
In London, fork halfway to his mouth, his brow furrowed. "Tim, what are you talking about? I have no idea what you mean."
"Oh, you 'don't understand,' huh?"
"Chris Columbus — you're nothing but a hypocrite in a priest's robe!"
"Bernard Eisenger told me everything! You never liked me!"
"So we're going to talk! Right now!"
Columbus narrowed his eyes.
Something about this felt off.
Before he could piece it all together, another voice joined the call:
"Hi, Chris, it's Tom. Tom Rothman."
"I know you're not the kind of guy who'd plot against someone," Rothman said smoothly. "This sounds like a misunderstanding between you and Tim. But he's furious, and it's affecting the production. So could you come to California for a quick chat? It won't take long. You know I trust you — we're friends, after all. Remember Home Alone? That was a great partnership."
Ah, beautiful.
All attacks are just tactics in disguise.
Summoning Columbus "to discuss the script" or "to discuss a personnel issue" — same result.
But if they'd claimed the script was a problem, Columbus could've shrugged it off with a technicality:
Fox joined after the project started. You read the script before investing. You can't complain now.
But a real personnel dispute?
That's trickier. Harder to dodge.
And just like that—
Columbus, now tangled in someone else's trap, sat there stewing in bewilderment.
Was he wronged? Absolutely.
Did that matter? Not one bit.
Because the whole point… was to make him feel exactly this way.