J.J. Abrams was no slouch in Hollywood—a director with real talent, especially when it came to sci-fi. He had a knack for it, and his work as a writer kickstarting the Star Trek trilogy and the Star Wars sequel trilogy had been massive hits.
Dunn, always on the lookout for talent, flashed a warm smile. "Jeff, we've met before—at the Golden Globes dinner."
Abrams had produced, directed, and written the TV show Alias, which nabbed several Golden Globe nominations. Dunn had spotted him from across the room back then.
Abrams lit up, clearly thrilled. "Director Walker, I'm really curious about the third point you made about making blockbusters. You said boosting added value comes from stars, big directors, and the film's inherent worth. Could you dive into that a bit more?"
Dunn nodded. "Stars, big directors, and a film's worth—these all add layers to a movie that spark audience interest. In terms of impact, it's a hierarchy: the film's worth trumps a big director, and a big director outweighs a star."
"For a while in the last decade, we had that 'tentpole' theory—remember? CAA pushed it hard: big stars, huge casts. But the era of megastars is fading. I mean, come on—someone in Hollywood's pulling 20 million bucks plus 20% of global box office? That's absurd!"
"I've backed a ton of films, and I've never once offered an actor a profit-sharing deal. To me, that's just enabling chaos—wrecking the market's rules! Handing over half a film's profits—or more—for a couple of famous faces? That's not just unfair; it's warped. The leading man gets a jaw-dropping paycheck, while the leading lady's stuck with 500 grand? How is that okay?"
"I'm a feminist—you all know that. This whole 'same work, different pay' thing for men and women? It drives me nuts, and I just don't get it. Let me say it again: the star halo is dimming! Movie studios lowballing actresses to chase big names—that's a broken system!"
His words hit home, especially with the women in the room, who erupted in agreement.
It wasn't just Hollywood—every industry had this issue. Same job, but women's paychecks were always smaller.
After a wave of applause, Dunn continued, "I'm 24 years old. I came up with the portfolio investment plan to fix film financing headaches. I laid out the blockbuster theory to share some thoughts on big commercial projects. Moving forward, I'm going to keep pushing to do more and better for the film industry—including fighting for the rights of actresses and women in film."
"Last year, Dunn Films rolled out a new mission: 'New Order, New Model, New Force, New Hollywood.' That's not just talk—I'm proving it with action. I want this industry to thrive, I want Hollywood's investment scene to get stronger, and I want film workers to have more of the rights they deserve."
He was basically taking shots at the top stars, but he didn't linger on it.
Still, he knew he'd tackle that issue eventually!
Hollywood's top male stars were paid way too much—unreasonably so. Unlike actresses, they didn't need endorsements or ads; their film salaries alone funded lavish lifestyles.
That didn't just hurt other actors—it hurt the studios too.
Worse, sky-high salaries ate into budgets, lowering film quality and risking an industry crisis, like the one he'd seen in his past life.
If Dunn was going to take charge of Hollywood, he'd make sure it had a healthier, stronger environment.
What Hollywood couldn't pull off in his old world, Dunn was determined to make happen here!
...
After wrapping up his speech, Dunn made a beeline for Abrams, grinning. "I caught a few episodes of Alias—pretty great stuff."
"Th-thanks," Abrams stammered, a bit starstruck. The gap in their status was huge.
Sure, Abrams came from a solid background—his parents were veteran TV producers with deep industry ties, which let him write and direct freely. But in the film world, he was still small-time.
Dunn clapped him on the shoulder. "What's next? Sticking with TV?"
Abrams answered honestly, "Yeah, I've got plans. I'm in talks with ABC to co-produce a show called Lost."
Dunn raised an eyebrow. "No thoughts about jumping to movies?"
Abrams nodded, then shook his head. "I want to direct, but films… I've worked on a few as a writer or producer, and I'm nowhere near ready to direct one. I figure TV's a good place to build experience."
"Smart move!" Dunn gave him a nod of approval. "So, what'd you think of my talk today?"
"Really inspiring!" Abrams blurted out.
Dunn gave him a long look. "If it hit you that hard, didn't it spark something?"
Abrams blinked, confused. "It did—I'm totally on board with the blockbuster theory!"
Dunn chuckled. "Then why are you still set on Lost?"
"Huh?"
Abrams was lost now.
Dunn grinned wider. "The blockbuster theory doesn't just apply to movies—it works for TV too! Look at Band of Brothers last year—huge hit! Haven't you thought about making a blockbuster TV show?"
"Me?" Abrams caught Dunn's drift, his eyes widening with a mix of shock and excitement. "Mr. Walker, are you saying… you want me to work with Starz?"
"What do you think? Interested?"
"Absolutely—uh, I mean, I'd need to think it over." Abrams gave an apologetic smile. "You know, I've got this company with some friends—Bad Robot Productions, and…"
Dunn waved it off. "No rush, take your time. I haven't nailed down the project yet anyway. But… I'm pretty sure it'll kick off this year, and it's gonna be a massive one!"
"Massive?"
"Yup. Maybe five seasons, maybe more. Budget per season? Probably 100 to 150 million dollars."
Abrams was speechless, jaw dropped. "Mr. Walker, you're not joking, right?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?" Dunn smirked, then patted his shoulder again. "Jeff, I really admire your talent. But TV? It'll hold you back. Movies are where you're headed. You know Chris Nolan and Zack Snyder?"
Abrams nodded slowly.
Dunn gave a soft hum. "They're around your age. Chris is shooting Daredevil—a 150-million-dollar project. Zack's prepping Ghost Rider, another 150 million at least. Jeff, you've gotta step up!"
Abrams's mouth hung open, a competitive spark flaring inside him.
Dunn smiled. "Rome wasn't built in a day, and their success took years of grind. But effort's only half the game—direction matters more. I'm sure you get that."
Abrams's face tightened, like he was wrestling with something. "I know. If you're heading the wrong way, the harder you push, the farther you get from your goal."
"Exactly!" Dunn said with a grin.
He definitely wanted J.J. Abrams on his team.
Recruiting wasn't just about collaboration—it was about steering Abrams's career to align with Dunn's interests.
This guy went back to TV after directing Star Wars: The Force Awakens—a total brain-fart move.
The rebooted Star Wars trilogy? Abrams set up its story framework.
But his exit tanked The Last Jedi's script. Sure, it grossed over 1.3 billion dollars, but compared to The Force Awakens' 2 billion, it was a letdown—and the reviews were brutal!
Dunn had his eyes on Lucasfilm for a while, practically counting it as his already.
Abrams's The Force Awakens got flak from George Lucas for its plot but won over North American critics and blew up the box office. (The Last Jedi tanked with critics too.)
Dunn needed to plan ahead for the future.
Like… winning Abrams over!
There was also a more immediate reason.
Abrams's parents were TV production heavyweights with serious clout, and Abrams himself was a sharp producer. If Dunn wanted a blockbuster TV show, tapping into that network would boost his odds.
When Starz aired Band of Brothers, its subscriber count peaked at over 15 million!
Three months later, it's down to 13 million and still dropping.
STA's subscription fees were steep!
Without a jaw-dropping show, North American households would stick with cheaper options like HBO or Showtime.
So Dunn was brainstorming a true mega-hit series to lock viewers into Starz.
Shows like Six Feet Under or The Wire were solid draws, but they weren't blockbusters—no explosive buzz.
The dream pick would be a TV version of The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings—Dunn even had the rights.
But the timing was off. The LOTR movies weren't done yet, and no TV show could match their visual spectacle.
Making an LOTR series now would be asking for a flop.
The sweet spot? Five years after the LOTR trilogy wraps, when fans are nostalgic and craving more—that's when you launch the show.
As for A Song of Ice and Fire… that was tricky too.
George R.R. Martin, that stubborn old guy, wouldn't sell the rights. He'd only published up to A Storm of Swords, and hadn't started A Feast for Crows.
His writing was slow—seven books total—and he didn't want the show outpacing the novels, spoiling too much. "Let's talk in a few years," he'd said.
No wonder Game of Thrones didn't hit screens until 2011, despite the books' massive popularity.
Dunn was frustrated. He desperately needed a blockbuster series to spike STA's subscriber numbers, ideally a big-budget fantasy epic.
With The Chronicles of Narnia, LOTR, and Harry Potter dominating, fantasy was the hottest genre right now.
But… what should he make?