Ridley Scott was well aware of the bad blood between Dunn and Jerry Bruckheimer, and it put him in a tough spot.
He didn't want to cross Dunn, but he loved the script for Black Hawk Down!
He'd even had several in-depth talks with Jerry Bruckheimer, tossing out ideas about casting and script structure.
"I'm already involved in the film's early prep," Ridley said, hesitating as he chose his words carefully.
In terms of experience, he had decades on Dunn. But status? Dunn was a titan in Hollywood.
Connie Nielsen sat there, listening to their exchange, feeling like she was on pins and needles. Her mind was reeling.
What was going on?
This was the Ridley Scott—the legendary director!
Sure, Dunn was a big deal, but Ridley was a veteran. Wasn't it a bit much for Dunn to question him in this almost threatening tone?
She had no clue about Dunn's real clout in Hollywood.
As a director, even with three global blockbusters over a billion dollars under his belt, Dunn wouldn't have the standing to lecture Ridley Scott.
But…
Dunn had another card up his sleeve: he controlled Dunn Films and Legendary Pictures!
These were two of the hottest, most buzzed-about studios in Hollywood right now!
With that kind of "big boss" status, he could absolutely talk down to Ridley Scott.
"Signed the contract yet?"
"Still negotiating."
Dunn smirked. "Then it's not a done deal, right? Ridley, you know I've got a solid relationship with the British film scene. I've worked with new directors like Sam Mendes, Christopher Nolan, and Danny Boyle. Plus… The Chronicles of Narnia and the Harry Potter series? Those are my projects."
Ridley nodded, letting out a small sigh. "Still… Black Hawk Down is a great story."
Dunn grinned, his tone loaded. "Ridley, lately… war movies seem to be popping up everywhere. That's not exactly mainstream, you know."
Ridley froze for a second. At sixty-something, with all his life's wisdom, he caught the hint in Dunn's words.
"Ha, I get it," Dunn went on, smiling. "Black Hawk Down is a solid story, and I'm sure you'd make it a knockout. But the timing's off. You've got Pearl Harbor in May, Windtalkers in October—back-to-back war films. People might get tired of it."
Just then, presenter Janet McTeer took the stage to announce the Best Actor in a Drama. Tom Hanks beat out Russell Crowe, snagging the Golden Globe for Best Actor!
Not great news for the Gladiator crew, but Ridley didn't flinch. He was too busy mulling over Dunn's words, one eyebrow twitching. "So, what kind of genre do you think fits the current trend?"
He'd figured it out.
Dunn's tight with the British film crowd—there's no reason he'd pick a fight with Ridley out of the blue. Even with his beef with Jerry Bruckheimer, this wasn't some petty power play.
Approaching him at the Golden Globes gala? This wasn't just about Black Hawk Down.
Dunn smiled. "Right now? Action sci-fi's where it's at!"
Ridley's eyes narrowed, and it clicked. "You mean superhero movies?"
Dunn nodded. "No need to spell out how huge Spider-Man was. Fox's X-Men did pretty well too. Word is, Warner's gearing up to reboot the Batman series."
"Those kinds of films need a massive budget," Ridley said coolly.
Dunn grinned wider. "Of course! Fact is, for a great project—a great movie—I'm never stingy. Cameron's Unsinkable got $200 million. Burton's Pirate League? $140 million. Scorsese's New York Storm hit $120 million."
Russell Crowe didn't win Best Actor, and the Gladiator team was quietly consoling him.
But Dunn and Ridley? They had bigger fish to fry.
"I've never directed a blockbuster like that," Ridley admitted.
"That's just regional bias and a lack of opportunity," Dunn shot back.
"What's your pitch?" Ridley asked, his face serious as he studied Dunn.
Dunn smiled. "Spider-Man 2 is in the works. I'd like you to direct—and maybe co-produce."
"Spider-Man 2…" Ridley shook his head. "That's a tall order. I don't think anyone can step out of your shadow."
"Why step out?" Dunn countered, unfazed. "Spider-Man—and the whole Marvel Avengers lineup—already has its tone set. No need to reinvent the wheel. Just tweak the details within the framework."
Ridley's face soured a bit.
No director—especially a big name like him—wants to live in someone else's shadow.
"Ridley," Dunn pressed, "you're a commercial director. Box office is the ultimate measure. Honestly, your past films… their numbers haven't been stellar. Even Gladiator won't crack $500 million worldwide. But Spider-Man? It's a contender to rival Star Wars."
"I'll think about it," Ridley said, brushing him off.
Dunn glanced at the stage, where Steven Gaghan was picking up Best Screenplay—Dunn's only nomination, gone. But the Golden Globes were small potatoes to him; he didn't care.
"Ridley, Spider-Man 2 is a big challenge, no doubt. But… I'd love to see you become the third director in history with a single film grossing over a billion globally."
That was a juicy carrot—immortality in the history books!
Ridley perked up. "Third? There are already two?"
Dunn tapped his chest. "Besides me, there's James—James Cameron."
"You're off, aren't you?" Ridley said, surprised.
Dunn laughed. "Past films, sure, no dice. But… don't forget, come May, his new one, Unsinkable, hits theaters."
Ridley chuckled, shaking his head. "Dunn, you're too cocky!"
Dunn shrugged. "Confidence comes from strength."
"Don't forget, Pearl Harbor's in the same slot!" Ridley, ever the polite British gentleman, couldn't stand Dunn's swagger and threw some cold water.
Dunn's face twisted with disdain. "Ridley, Unsinkable has James Cameron directing and me producing. You really think Jerry Bruckheimer and Michael Bay—those two clowns—can take me on?"
Clowns?
Ridley's expression shifted, unconvinced.
"Forget it," Dunn said, waving it off. "Wait till it's out. You'll see—Jerry Bruckheimer's not some wizard! You'll be glad you ditched him for me today."
"Hold up!" Ridley blinked. "When did I agree to work with you?"
"You'd turn me down?"
"Well…" Ridley faltered.
"Come on, no waffling. Do me a favor—give me some face. Spider-Man 2's yours!" Dunn clapped Ridley's arm, acting like it was a done deal. "Oh, and congrats in advance—Gladiator's taking Best Picture!"
Ridley shook his head again. "Dunn, you're too sure of yourself!"
"Don't believe me?" Dunn shot him a sly grin. "You'll see soon enough! And when you're holding that trophy, I hope you'll make up your mind quick."
---
Natalie pouted when Dunn returned. "Your screenplay award's gone!"
Dunn smiled. "Steven winning's fine. He wrote Traffic—it's a win for Dunn Films too."
"But I wanted you to win!" Natalie grumbled.
Dunn took her hand gently. "Doesn't matter if I win or not. As long as you do—that's your first Golden Globe!"
Three years back, Dunn had snagged Best Director for Titanic. With his status now, he didn't need Golden Globes to boost his rep.
"I heard… Tom Cruise is presenting?" Natalie's face twisted oddly.
As last year's Best Supporting Actor, tradition had him presenting this year's Best Supporting Actress.
"That'll be fun," Dunn said, nearly cracking up. He couldn't wait to see Tom Cruise's face when Natalie took the award from him—probably a mix of anguish and bitterness.
But they'd underestimated Tom's professionalism.
When Natalie, unsurprisingly, won Best Supporting Actress at the 58th Golden Globes and stepped up, Tom flashed his signature smile—like they'd been buddies for years.
The Best Director race, though, dropped a bombshell. Ang Lee's eastern martial arts flick Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon beat out Steven Soderbergh, who'd nabbed two nods for Traffic and Erin Brockovich. The night's biggest upset.
Crouching Tiger also snagged Best Foreign Language Film, topping a stacked field.
And the big finale—Best Picture, Drama? The epic Gladiator!
Ridley Scott led his crew onstage for the win. Before his speech, his gaze locked onto Dunn.
Dunn met his eyes, tapped his chest, and beamed with unshakable confidence.