Chapter 10: The Paycheck.
It was a day in early August. Ryan took the phone from Nicole's hand and scratched his head. He really couldn't imagine what the fat man wanted with him. Was Miramax really that bored, or had Harvey Weinstein lost his mind and decided to chat with a kid about the future?
"Hello, Harvey." Miramax didn't have the same clout back then that it would later. The brothers were shrewd, but they still knew how to be friendly toward people who could make them money. "Yes, Pat is already here and the contracts came over. The terms? Of course I'm satisfied. No issues at all."
"What? No, no, no, Harvey. I don't want to interfere with your decisions. I did grow up in Los Angeles, but Philadelphia is one of the oldest cities in North America, right? Don't you think shooting on location there would feel much more authentic?"
When he heard Harvey Weinstein wanted to move the filming locations to Los Angeles, Ryan couldn't help voicing his objection even though he knew his words carried little weight. Luckily Harvey hadn't become arrogant yet and quickly dropped the idea.
"Alright, that's settled then. Wait — Harvey, I wanted to ask, have you decided on the director and male lead yet?" Listening to the name that came through the receiver, Ryan subconsciously scratched his cheek. "David Fincher? The guy who shot Madonna Ciccone's music videos?"
After getting confirmation, Ryan hung up the phone. Well then! Another Hollywood heavyweight had just had his life trajectory bent by Ryan's giant butterfly wings.
"Ryan, what does it feel like to act in a script you wrote yourself?" Pat Kingsley asked with a smile, sipping her coffee.
Ryan rolled his eyes dramatically as if to say Are you stupid? "Pat, filming hasn't even started yet. How would I know what it feels like?"
"Ryan, come here." Nicole spoke up at that moment. She pointed at the two contracts on the table in front of her. "These are the screenplay contract and your acting contract. I've already signed them. The rest is up to you."
Pat Kingsley, sitting on the other side, explained, "For the screenplay, the fifty thousand dollars stays the same, but there are a few small issues that need polishing."
"I understand."
"As for your acting fee, Harvey should have mentioned it on the call. Filming won't start until the end of next month. Even though you're playing one of the three most important roles, you're a complete newcomer with zero credits. Miramax pushed the price down — only one hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
"And?" Ryan still remembered the special conditions he had instructed his agent to demand.
"Of course, the reason the fee is so low is mainly because of those conditions you insisted on." The agent sighed. She still couldn't wrap her head around Ryan's crazy ideas. "The contract already states that if the film's North American box office exceeds two hundred and fifty million dollars, both you and Nicole will each receive one percent of the gross."
"Wow~" Ryan let out an excited shout. He could already picture Harvey Weinstein spitting blood when the movie came out.
"Don't get too excited. For the same reason, Nicole's fee is also only one hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
Pat Kingsley poured cold water on his enthusiasm. She knew very well why Miramax had agreed to those clauses: first, they were certain the film would never reach that astronomical number; second, keeping the upfront salaries low would save their tight budget a considerable amount.
In the eyes of experienced film people, The Sixth Sense was indeed an excellent story and screenplay. If handled well, a few tens of millions — or even over a hundred million — in North American box office was possible.
But two hundred and fifty million domestic? Only Star Wars and Jaws had ever done that. Could a family drama wrapped in a thriller skin really achieve those numbers? Don't make them laugh.
It was precisely because of short-term profit calculations that Miramax had generously offered this contract.
Of course, Pat Kingsley had played a crucial role too. Even though it would reduce her own commission, as a smart woman she naturally believed Ryan's real value lay in his writing — that was where her biggest earnings would come from.
With The Sixth Sense temporarily settled, Ryan's routine continued. Unlike Nicole, who had to study the script and her character, he had written the screenplay himself and watched the original film more than ten times in his previous life. Thanks to his extraordinary memory in this life, every scene was etched in his mind — there was no need for extra study.
That wasn't entirely accurate. During tea breaks, daily exercise, and evening walks, he would still discuss the script with Nicole, especially the interactions between their two characters. His deeper understanding and feelings about the film naturally influenced her, which would help during filming.
Just as Nicole had once complained, Ryan had almost no friends. Having been shaped by the internet culture of his previous life, he was somewhat reclusive by nature.
Compared to the sociable Australian beauty who loved lively crowds, his current lifestyle was much quieter and more disciplined.
Every morning and evening he and Nicole exercised together. After breakfast came reading and writing. Every afternoon he set aside time to practice instruments.
Sometimes inspiration struck and he would compose a simple melody, add English lyrics, and torment Nicole Kidman — plus the neighbors in the same building — with his childish voice.
After dinner he would watch television and news for a while, often debating current events with Nicole. Using more than twenty years of extra experience, he would leave the cool, stunning woman speechless. When she occasionally won an argument, he would act spoiled and use every child privilege he had until she surrendered.
It had to be said that Nicole spoiled him far too much, letting Ryan become more and more outrageous in front of her.
Of course, most of his evenings were still spent writing. Since The Sixth Sense had found a home, he needed to prepare for the next step — and the ones after that. With the experience of writing one screenplay, he had gained quite a few insights.
For Ryan, who had clear images already in his head, building a screenplay was now simpler and faster than adapting a novel.
Screenplays rarely needed the flowery language or complicated descriptions of novels, which suited him perfectly. Besides, he had already claimed all the age-appropriate ideas he could use. If any studio wanted to make those movies later, they would have to come talk to Pat Kingsley — slowly.
He didn't mind being seen as a little monster, but he also didn't want to shock the world too much. In his current plan, it was enough to release a few high-quality, high-box-office films each year that came from his hand. That way he could earn huge money and still wrap himself in a halo of genius.
The person he had been in his previous life was just an ordinary nobody. The only thing special about him was that his job and hobbies had let him watch far more movies than most people. In this life he had started as a helpless orphan. Even though he had some wild dreams he wanted to fulfill — and sometimes got a little greedy — he didn't have the legendary ambition of most reborn protagonists.
What he wanted was actually very simple: to realize the dreams of both his lives and help the people he liked and loved.
Unless the world ended or the collapsing red empire decided to take the whole planet down with it by playing with mushrooms, Nicole would knock on his door every night a few minutes after ten thirty to remind him to go to bed. In the very first year after she adopted him, she had often stayed by his side until he fell asleep.
That was the portrait of Ryan's daily life for the past few years — even during school. It was well known that in class he only did whatever he felt like. At first the school had called Nicole about it, but after he kept getting straight A's, they gradually shut their mouths.
For Ryan, who had endured harsh education in his previous life, the knowledge taught in Western elementary schools was child's play. Of course it wasn't completely useless. For example, they didn't start brainwashing kids with "love for the motherland" the moment they entered school. The first things they taught were safety rules and how to protect yourself — and those remained the core of daily teaching.
The scorching month of August passed in the blink of an eye. At the end of the month, Nicole found Ryan a new elementary school.
As a transfer student he still had to take a placement test, but he passed easily and was placed in third grade. Luckily Ryan had always treated school as optional and didn't care much. If skipping wouldn't have gotten Nicole in legal trouble, he would never have set foot in this damn American elementary school again.
Of course, he only had to endure it until the compulsory education age ended. Unless something unexpected happened, he had no intention of wasting time on college.
In that one month, Ryan had outlined the main plots and key scenes for two new movie scripts and even sketched some concept art.
He had written some dialogue and sequences, but music and other matters had taken up a lot of his energy, so both scripts were still only frameworks.
Most of the films Nicole had starred in during her previous life were art-house movies.
Except for a few, he didn't remember them clearly. One of the two new scripts was a romantic comedy — the kind that was hugely popular in the nineties. He had prepared it especially for her. The only problem was that a romantic movie written by a ten-year-old boy sounded a little too absurd.
Forget it. He would wait a while longer. Once The Sixth Sense was released he would be one year older, which would add some credibility. If people still complained, let them.
Besides, he was a boy, not a girl. Society was far more willing to accept male geniuses than female ones.