James Franco was a gifted actor with an artistic flair, and Dunn had high hopes for him at first—wanted to give him a boost to climb even higher in his career. But after Spider-Man blew up last year, the kid got cocky.
Especially during that whole mess with Dunn Films and Disney slapping each other with "ban orders," Franco tried playing both sides, thinking he could sit on the fence. That pissed Dunn off big time. If Spider-Man weren't already locked in, Dunn would've dropped him without a second thought!
And now, filming Spider-Man 2, this kid had the nerve to act like a diva?
Dunn gritted his teeth and snapped at Nina Jacobson, "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Nina clearly wasn't in the mood to coddle him. "It's an internal crew issue. You're here—how could you not know?"
As the executive producer, Dunn got called in for every little hiccup. It made her look weak, and she wasn't thrilled about it.
Dunn snorted, glancing toward the set. James Franco was running a dialogue scene with the female lead, Jessica Alba—smooth enough, at least. Guess Dunn showing up put Franco on notice; his attitude had improved.
But Dunn wasn't letting it slide. This kid needed a serious wake-up call!
He stormed over, barking, "Cut! Stop right there!"
The lovey-dovey actors froze mid-scene, and even the camera, lighting, and prop crews blinked in shock.
Ridley Scott, seasoned as ever, shot Dunn a look but stayed calm. He stood, waved a hand, and said, "Alright, everyone else, take a half-hour break."
Dunn's eyes locked onto James Franco like lasers. This kid was slippery—smart, too. Dunn had to come down hard, or Marvel Studios would be a nightmare to control later.
"Can you even act?"
"I…"
"I'm asking you—can you act or not?"
"I… I can."
James Franco looked like a kicked puppy. Jessica Alba stood beside him, pale and timid, terrified Dunn's wrath might spill over onto her. They'd been split for over half a year—last year's honeymoon phase long gone.
"You—go take a break," Dunn said, waving Jessica off. Then he glared at Franco. "You call yourself an actor? Look at you—what part of this screams 'professional'? Where's your work ethic? That was acting?"
Franco's chest felt like a bomb went off. Getting chewed out in front of everyone—he wanted to crawl into a hole. But what could he do? Fight back?
"Mr. Walker, let me explain, today I—"
"Shut it!"
Dunn didn't give him an inch, not caring that half the crew were freelancers. He roared, "Look at yourself! Five million bucks for this garbage? A college kid could do better! That scene just now—Jessica gets an 8, you're lucky to scrape a 0.8!"
Franco was on the verge of tears.
Spider-Man had made him a name in Hollywood—offers were pouring in, his stock was soaring. Anyone else, he'd have cursed them out or walked off.
But this was Dunn!
Forget the guy giving him his big break—Dunn's clout in Hollywood was at its peak. Franco had no choice but to eat crow.
He was a genius, sharp as hell. If there'd been any wiggle room, he wouldn't be standing there taking this beating. Against Dunn, he had zero shot.
This young mogul went head-to-head with Disney! Just recently, Minority Report dumped action legend Tom Cruise because he clashed with Natalie Portman. That alone showed Dunn's insane pull.
Dunn could tank Cruise mid-project at another studio. Franco knew if he so much as twitched, his Hollywood days could be over.
He might push Ridley Scott or Nina Jacobson a bit, but with Dunn? He didn't even dare breathe loud, let alone argue.
Dunn could blacklist him in a heartbeat!
"One question: Can you act or not?"
"Yes."
Franco mumbled, head down.
Dunn scoffed. "Then act like it! You're an actor—your job, your duty, is to perform! Want to strut and pose? Not on my set! Got it?"
"Got it."
"Louder!"
"Got it!"
Franco snapped to attention, shouting like a soldier.
The onlookers nearly lost it—James Franco, the "artist," showing off some real dramatic flair.
---
In the break room, Nina Jacobson was chatting with Ridley Scott. When Dunn walked in, she smirked. "Big boss energy, huh? You don't mess around!"
Dunn shot her a look. "Stuff like this needs to be nipped early! It's like seeing a doctor—better soon than late, or it festers into a real problem."
Nina bristled. "You think I can handle it like you? You're the big shot calling the shots in Hollywood. I'm just a woman—what am I supposed to do?"
"Woman or not, you can hold up half the sky!"
Nina blinked, then burst out laughing, sizing him up. "Wait, are you actually a feminist?"
Dunn waved it off. "Enough joking—serious time! Franco's stunt is a wake-up call. We've got to handle actors with care and steel. Marvel Studios has insane potential—bigger than Lucasfilm, even. Nina, as president, you need to think about this."
Nina shrugged casually. "Everyone in Hollywood knows Marvel Studios doesn't have real power—it's just coasting on Dunn Films' back."
"That's temporary," Dunn said. "As Marvel movies grow, its independence will too—hold on…" He stared at her, then chuckled. "Nina, why do I feel like you're hinting at something?"
Her poised facade cracked with a blush, then she huffed. "So what if I am? I think I've done a damn good job running Marvel—way better than Tosca Musk over at Shiri Animation!"
Dunn muttered, "Yep, women's jealousy always comes from other women."
"What was that?" Nina's brow furrowed.
Dunn coughed lightly. "I made Tosca VP at Dunn Films to deal with that old fox Redstone. Besides, Kathleen Kennedy at Rose Pictures has less power than you."
"Don't try that on me!" Nina wasn't buying it. "Kennedy's gig at Rose is part-time—mine's not. And Marvel's importance to Dunn Films? Rose doesn't even compare!"
"Alright, you win. What's your move? You're swamped at Marvel—making you VP at Dunn Films would just be a title."
With Ridley Scott right there, Dunn didn't want to bicker with her.
Nina smirked triumphantly. "Simple—I want Marvel's financial independence."
"Hm?"
Dunn's eyebrow shot up. He got her drift.
For a subsidiary president, cash control was king!
Nina pressed on, all business. "Marvel pulled in over $800 million last year, but the parent company sucked it all up. As president, I've got no room to maneuver financially."
Dunn cleared his throat. "Big revenue, sure, but big expenses too—Spider-Man to Spider-Man 2, Daredevil, Punisher, next year's Ant-Man—all hefty tabs."
Nina stared him down. "You're the boss—dodging like that doesn't cut it. Does that even make sense to you?"
"Fine, what do you want?"
"Marvel's revenue stays in Marvel's accounts."
"No way!"
Dunn shut it down flat.
Right now, Dunn Films relied heavily on siphoning cash from Marvel to keep the lights on.
Nina took a step back. "Before, Dunn Films drained everything, and I had to beg upstairs for funds. Keep the money in Marvel's books—if Dunn Films needs cash, you can ask me. I won't say no."
Dunn laughed. "What's the difference?"
"Huge difference!" Nina's face hardened, dead serious. "It's about my authority and dignity as a company president!"
Dunn grinned. "Alright, talk to Bill when we're back. I'm cool with it."
Where the money sat didn't matter to him—it was his private company, his cash either way, left hand or right. For Bill Mechanic, though? Ouch. He'd have to grovel to Nina for funds—his pride was toast.
Nina smiled, satisfied. "Great. That'll make my job easier. I promise—no more James Franco nonsense!"
Dunn waved it off. Playing bad cop was a guy's gig. "Diva antics are a professionalism issue. Let's see who dares mess with my movies now!"
Today, he'd reamed Franco out in front of everyone. By tomorrow, papers and media would be all over it.
Classic kill-the-chicken-to-scare-the-monkeys move!
Wait, no—kill the "spider" to warn the monkeys!