Chapter 106 – "You Don't Want an Oscar?"
The press conference wrapped up in a cordial and harmonious atmosphere. However, Wayne didn't rush to leave. Kevin Tsujihara, CEO of Warner Bros., mentioned that he had a few more things to discuss.
Leaving the bustling conference room behind, Wayne and Kevin chatted casually as they made their way to the executive's office. Once the door closed, Kevin got straight to the point.
"Get Out is still playing in select theaters, Wayne. We'll be keeping it in circulation until awards season ends."
Wayne had already noticed that a few cinemas in the more remote areas of Los Angeles were still screening Get Out, but he hadn't expected Warner Bros. to have a deliberate strategy behind it. He raised an eyebrow and asked:
"The Oscars?"
Kevin nodded with a confident smile.
"Of course. We're aiming to secure nominations for Best Original Screenplay and Best Director. You don't have to worry about a thing—we'll handle all the lobbying. All you need to do is show up on awards night."
Wayne's face remained unreadable, his tone calm and steady.
"I'm too young, Kevin. Even getting nominated for Best Director would feel premature. I'm not in a rush. Building up credentials takes time—I don't mind waiting a few more years."
Kevin was momentarily stunned. Few people in the industry could remain so composed in the face of Oscar buzz. Even Martin Scorsese, one of the Big Four directors, had famously obsessed over that little golden statue for decades.
The last person Kevin had seen so indifferent to the Oscars was George Lucas, father of Star Wars and pioneer of the Hollywood blockbuster. But their situations were entirely different. Lucas had voluntarily withdrawn from every guild except the Producers Guild, essentially giving up any shot at an Oscar. Wayne, on the other hand, was just… genuinely unbothered.
"Kevin," Wayne continued calmly, "I suggest we shift all of Warner's lobbying efforts toward Best Original Screenplay. That's our best shot at actually taking home an Oscar."
This, in truth, had been Wayne's goal all along. Among the major categories, Best Original Screenplay was more accessible—less influenced by politics, less sensitive to age, and more open to newcomers.
For Warner Bros., it was a pragmatic move too. Get Out had already squeezed out most of its box office potential. Leveraging Oscar buzz to push home video sales and boost final earnings was just good business.
It was a mutually beneficial arrangement—Wayne got his screenplay nomination, and Warner got one last bite at the apple. And Wayne would remember the studio's support.
Kevin stared at Wayne's calm, resolute face and finally relented.
"Alright. Warner Bros. will shift focus and go all-in on Best Original Screenplay."
The truth was, Get Out had arrived slightly ahead of its time. North America hadn't yet plunged into its peak era of racial discourse—movements like Black Lives Matter were still in their infancy. Wayne was well aware that pushing for a Best Director nod based on Get Out wasn't going to yield much.
"Good. That's settled then. I need to get back to planning the new film. If you need anything, contact my agent—or my assistant."
With that, the meeting ended.
Once everything was finalized, Wayne stood up without hesitation. With a casual nod, he turned and walked out—whenever he entered work mode, he became like a machine: fully focused, completely immersed.
Much of his continued success could be attributed to choosing the right projects. But perhaps just as important was his relentless work ethic and unshakable passion.
"Wait, Wayne!" Kevin Tsujihara didn't mind the young man's abruptness. Talented people often had quirks—Wayne's were actually quite tame in comparison. "There's one more thing you might be interested in."
Wayne paused, slightly puzzled, and sat back down across from the Warner Bros. CEO.
Kevin leaned forward, lowering his voice slightly.
"Warner Bros. is planning a round of equity financing next year. If you're interested, it might be wise to start preparing some funds now."
Wayne smiled slightly.
"Got it. Thanks for the heads-up, Kevin."
"No need to thank me. Working with you has been a real pleasure. Why not keep this partnership going?"
Wayne shook his hand before leaving the office. Of course, he knew this was just a tantalizing maybe, not a promise. Kevin had dangled a juicy carrot in front of him, but it hadn't cost the executive a single cent.
Becoming a shareholder of Warner Bros.? Sure, it sounded amazing. But the condition was simple: make this high-investment project a hit. If the film flopped? Then there'd be no conversation to have. Kevin hadn't promised anything concrete.
As he descended the stairs and rejoined his waiting team, Wayne turned to John.
"Let's hold a team meeting tomorrow. Get everyone organized. We'll do it right here at Warner, okay?"
"Okay, no problem," John replied without hesitation.
He was already used to Wayne's style—results came first, everything else was secondary. He wasn't the type to play power games or get territorial. In Wayne's presence, John was a cooperative, mild-mannered producer. But that was only because Wayne earned that respect. With anyone else, John wouldn't give so much trust so freely.
After a glance exchanged between them confirmed that they were still aligned—focused on the work—they parted ways and returned to their respective duties.
Back in the car, Wayne ignored both his assistant and agent. He leaned back into the plush seat, eyes closed, already organizing production tasks in his mind.
Sergei, his steady driver, guided the long, luxurious Rolls-Royce with practiced ease. When they reached the estate, Nina noticed something surprising: her boss was gently snoring, completely asleep.
She turned to Jimmy, raising an eyebrow and whispering with amusement:
"Didn't you say that once a director signs a deal, the pressure begins immediately?"
Jimmy looked equally dumbfounded. He had never seen Wayne fall asleep like this before. Typically, the moment a new project started, Wayne would become hyper-alert—constantly troubleshooting, planning, adjusting.
Wayne stirred awake with a slight shiver, catching the two exchanging amused looks.
"What?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Can't a guy take a nap?"
He stepped out of the car and stretched his arms dramatically.
"Call Halle Berry. Have her come by the house to pick up the script—I need to brief her on a few things. Damn it, if she can't pass the first round of auditions after that, then maybe she doesn't deserve to become a star."
"O-okay! I'll call her right away!" Nina said, jogging toward the main house.
"Did Zack Snyder board the plane?" Wayne asked Jimmy as they walked toward the entrance.
"He should land before nightfall."
"Good. Tell him not to come here—just go straight to the meeting at Warner tomorrow."
Wayne gave out instructions calmly, one after another.
It was unusual for him to nap, especially right after signing a major production deal. But there was a reason: he had simply become accustomed to pressure. What had once felt suffocating now felt normal. And it had only taken him two films to adapt.
Once inside, Wayne ignored the bustling assistants and slumped into the living room couch with his eyes half-closed.
According to the new Warner Bros. contract, Wayne's core team would also be joining the production early for pre-production. Only one person wouldn't be there—Luke, who had taken on a directing gig for a low-budget horror film Wayne had never even heard of.
His replacement as assistant director? Zack Snyder.
The lighting director would still be the quiet but highly skilled Steve Wilson, and the main cinematographer remained CAA's Robert Carlos.
As long as these three key positions were held by people Wayne trusted, the rest of the production would remain firmly under control. No matter how many additional assistants or secondary roles there were, chaos wouldn't be an issue.
Ideally, the editor should also be involved in early shooting, observing Wayne's directing style to streamline post-production. Unfortunately, the studio's own editor was far too busy—cutting trailers and corporate pieces on a relentless schedule.
Still, this was a minor inconvenience. As long as Wayne and the producers kept a close eye on the post-production process, things would stay on track.
Not long after the press conference, media outlets began publishing articles about Wayne's new film. Most of them maintained a cautious tone.
["This morning, Wayne Garfield officially signed a new project deal with Warner Bros. Sources confirm that the film is a crime drama..."]
["DC's next character to hit the big screen will be none other than the iconic villain Joker—Arthur Fleck, to be specific..."]
The headlines were measured and professional—factual coverage, nothing overly hyped. After all, the film had just entered pre-production. Even with early PR, nobody expected a marketing blitz yet.