Dunn hadn't expected that Isla Fisher, through her own connections, could actually bring help to Dunn Pictures. He sincerely praised her, "Isla, you did great!"
Isla Fisher's cheeks flushed slightly, a hint of shyness in her expression. "I… I wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing, so I came to ask your opinion."
"You absolutely did the right thing!" Dunn waved his hand confidently, looking at her with satisfaction. "David Simon, huh? Alright, set up a time for him to come by. I'd like to meet him."
When it came to talent, Dunn was never stingy with his time.
"Now? Isn't that a bit rushed? Gone Girl just hit the market," Isla said, her eyes widening.
Dunn paused, confused. "Huh? What does this have to do with Gone Girl?"
"It's totally related! I've got to handle the book's promotion, and… well, I was hoping to take a break for a bit. I'm not in a hurry to start writing a new book…"
"Wait a second!"
Dunn raised a hand, completely lost. "Isla, what are you talking about?"
Isla blinked slowly, explaining in an unhurried tone, "Gone Girl is a crime story, right? And now I've gotten to know a bunch of crime writers. If we get David Simon's help, he could definitely bring better ideas and real, solid case experiences to our next book!"
Dunn's eyes rolled back, and he nearly fainted.
So this was Isla Fisher's grand plan!
He couldn't help but laugh and groan at the same time.
He'd thought she'd grown, that her vision had expanded, and she was ready to contribute more to the company. But no—her little scheme was all about her own writing career.
"What's wrong? Did I say something dumb?" Isla fluttered her big eyes, looking innocent as ever.
Dunn was speechless.
His other assistant, Reese Witherspoon, made time to act, networked with tons of people, and tirelessly pulled resources toward Dunn Pictures. She was even learning producing skills—clearly operating on a whole different level.
Dunn had even considered giving Reese a VP role at Rose Pictures in a few years.
But Isla Fisher? Well… she was probably destined to stay a warm-the-bed assistant for life.
At least her writing skills were decent enough to moonlight as an author.
"Ahem…" Dunn cleared his throat. "So, Isla, have you ever thought about taking David Simon's material to the script department for a film or TV adaptation?"
"Huh?" Isla gasped, covering her mouth. "Would that work?"
"Why wouldn't it?"
"Well, a lot of crime stories are pretty dark. They don't really fit for movies."
Dunn sighed, a little exasperated. "If they don't work for movies, turn them into a TV series! Haven't you read the script for Six Feet Under? That's got some serious edge."
"Oh… right…" Isla muttered to herself. Suddenly, her eyes lit up, and she smacked her forehead as if it all clicked. "Wait, I remember now! David… he told me he's been working on a script based on crime stories he's experienced. It's called… oh yeah, The Wire!"
"The Wire?"
Dunn's pupils shrank, his expression shifting as something clicked in his mind.
David Simon… crime writer… The Wire…
No way. Another future HBO legend?
In the years to come, HBO would dominate the world with its polished productions, and a big part of that was their bold, dark crime series.
And behind those shows stood a crime genre expert: David Simon!
Right now, HBO was far from the powerhouse it'd become. Like many niche cable networks, it was still a scrappy operation, lacking its own production arm and mostly relying on leasing content.
But now, Dunn had snagged Alan Ball, and David Simon had just popped up…
"Dunn, did I mess up?" Isla wasn't clueless. She seemed to realize her approach to this had been a bit narrow and self-serving.
Dunn burst out laughing, stood up, pulled her into a hug, and planted a kiss on her. "Mess up? Not at all—you've earned a gold star! David Simon… if he's interested in the film and TV world, tell him to come by. As long as he's got talent, I'm all in!"
---
Last year, Dunn Pictures invested in two TV series. Six Feet Under was already wrapped, and Band of Brothers was set to finish by the end of April.
Now, with a gem like The Wire in his hands, it was time to shake up Tarz TV with some strategic reforms and industry adjustments.
In early 2001, HBO's TV network hadn't yet established a dedicated production division. Its profits were modest, and it was still figuring out its business model.
It wasn't until they teamed up with DreamWorks, Sky TV, and others to co-invest in Band of Brothers—and saw it blow up—that HBO locked in its premium-content strategy.
But Dunn had swooped in and snatched Band of Brothers. Now it was time to cut HBO off at the knees with a new business approach.
Dunn called a top-level meeting on the TV division.
Attendees included Dunn Pictures President Bill McNick, VP West Cotton, TV Production Head Moritz Eckhart, Deputy Head Alan Ball, Market Analyst Andrew O'Hare, Tarz TV Network President Tony Granmo, Tarz Station Chief Martin Donwen, and writers Jonathan Nolan, David Simon, and Deacon Whistler, among others.
"There are 100 million households in North America—a massive audience! Yet niche cable networks have never properly tapped this market. Not HBO, not Showtime—none of them have over 10 million subscribers. Our Tarz network? A measly 3 million. To me, that's an embarrassment!"
Dunn didn't hold back, firing off his opening salvo.
At its peak, HBO had half of North America's households subscribed, raking in over $2 billion a year. This was a goldmine waiting to be cracked open.
Tony Granmo shook his head. "Boss, I've got to disagree. We're not like those cheap basic cable channels. Fox Family has over 80 million users nationwide, but we're targeting a different crowd."
Martin Donwen chimed in, "Exactly. Tarz may only have 3 million subscribers, but we're the third-largest niche cable network in the U.S. And we've been around way less time than HBO or Showtime."
Andrew O'Hare wasn't having it. "Tarz launched in 1994—'less time'? Come on, where's your ambition? Dunn Pictures started in 1997, and now in Hollywood, who'd dare call us a newbie?"
"That's not the same!"
"What's—"
"Enough!" Dunn cut them off sharply, his face stern, his gaze like a hawk sweeping over Tony Granmo and Martin Donwen. "I know you're both Tarz veterans, and I like promoting from within to keep management stable. But if the leadership doesn't satisfy me, I won't hesitate to shake up Tarz's staff. Got it?"
Tony Granmo and Martin Donwen exchanged a glance and nodded reluctantly.
Tarz's HQ might not be in Hollywood, but Dunn's ruthless reputation had spread far and wide—some said he outdid even Disney's Michael Eisner!
Eisner had shareholders and a board to answer to, but Dunn? His power was unchecked.
When you're eating someone else's food and taking their money, sometimes you've got to swallow your pride and bend.
"What's Tarz's monthly subscription fee right now?"
"First month's free. If you sign up for six months, it's under $3 a month. For a full year—"
"Stop!" Dunn frowned, cutting in brusquely. "That's way too cheap! What's the difference between us and those bargain-bin channels? We're a premium cable network—no ad revenue from businesses, no decent subscription fees from users. How's the station supposed to make money?"
Tony Granmo hesitated. "We've done market research. Unlike HBO and Showtime, we don't have big media conglomerates backing us. Without a price edge, it's tough to break into the market."
Bill McNick sighed, shaking his head. "The last thing a company should do is get stuck in a price war. Competition isn't about price—it's about product!"
Andrew O'Hare nodded. "Exactly. Why's Dunn Pictures growing so fast? Forget the external factors—it's because our films are top-notch. That's the real key!"
Tony Granmo gave a bitter smile. "I get that content is huge for a network, but… the best movies and shows always go to HBO or Showtime first. They've got deeper pockets and bigger audiences. We can't compete."
Alan Ball grinned. "If we can't buy it, we'll make it ourselves!"
Moritz Eckhart, head of Dunn Pictures' TV production, had always played second fiddle to the film division in terms of power and prestige.
But now, with Dunn dead-set on revamping and turbocharging the TV side, his moment had arrived.
"I'm with him! Alan's Six Feet Under is done, and I'll say it loud and proud: this $20 million series blows every TV show from the last few decades out of the water!" Moritz declared with total confidence.
Tony Granmo blinked, stunned. He'd heard rumors but figured they were exaggerated. "Wait… you really dropped $20 million on a TV show?"
Martin Donwen looked just as shocked.
Tarz's base in Colorado—low taxes, pro-media policies, perfect for up-and-coming networks—kept them a bit out of the Hollywood loop.
Moritz laughed heartily. "$20 million's nothing! Ever heard of Band of Brothers? Produced by Steven Spielberg, Tom Hanks, and our boss himself—that one's got a $120 million budget!"
The Dunn Pictures execs couldn't help but chuckle.
Behind that laughter was a swell of bold, fiery pride!
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