Jim Abrahams continued, his voice calm and reasonable. "A Second Unit Director isn't some lofty artistic endeavor; it's just shooting B-roll and inserts. Why does it have to be Joe Dante? Jerry says the PA's work on the main unit had a few minor issues, but which New World picture doesn't? It's only a few days of shooting. I don't understand why this can't work."
He probably didn't realize that the "PA" he was referring to was Ronald, sitting right there in the room.
The group fell silent. Of course, it was a viable solution. But Roger Corman wasn't running a charity.
Jerry Zucker was trying to break a contract to go make millions at Paramount, and Roger wasn't about to let him off the hook with just a shrug.
Ronald's heart raced. He never expected the opportunity to fall into his lap so quickly.
I can do this, he thought.
If I become the Second Unit Director, I can join the DGA. Even as a low-ranking member, that card is gold. I can pull talent, shoot headshots, and network like a pro.
But he kept his expression solemn. His lips remained sealed. He said nothing.
Roger Corman cleared his throat, leaning forward. "The crux of this matter is integrity. Jerry signed a contract. He must honor it. If you signed a $3.5 million deal with Paramount today, and Warner Brothers offered you $7 million tomorrow, would you abandon Paramount?"
Jerry Zucker shot back, "It's not about the money, Roger! It's about the career break! We spent five years shaping Airplane! into what it is now.
Forcing us to stay here would destroy the only chance we've had in a decade. It violates industry standards. This is our dream. Don't stand in the way."
He took a sip of lukewarm coffee to calm himself. "We're not being unreasonable. Besides refunding the advance you gave me, I will cover the salary of the replacement Second Unit Director for the remaining five days. You lose nothing."
Roger paused. "But you've already completed two-thirds of the work," he said, casting a vague glance at Ronald. "I can't just slot someone in. The credit won't stick."
Roger was deliberately stressing the "two-thirds" figure. He was subtly warning Ronald: Don't jump in. Even if you take over now, the DGA won't invite you because you haven't shot enough footage. The credit will still go to Jerry.
Ronald caught the hint. He sat upright, head slightly bowed, expression stern. He remained silent.
Inside, his mind raced like a roller coaster. There must be a loophole.
"No one says a production can have only one Second Unit, right?"
As expected, Jerry Zucker leapt on the opening. He needed Ronald to take over so he could escape. "If we treat the remaining five days of footage as a separate, distinct unit, call it Unit B then whoever directs it will have completed 100% of that unit's work."
Jerry looked meaningfully at Ronald. He was handing him the solution on a silver platter: Volunteer, kid. We both win.
All eyes turned to Ronald.
Ronald stayed silent.
You can't volunteer for this, he told himself. If you ask for it, you have no leverage. Roger has other options.
Let them come to you.
Silence wielded a powerful force. It was a massive black hole in the center of the room, sucking in the tension. Everyone wanted to say something to fill it, to free themselves from the awkward gravity.
Roger Corman took another sip of coffee. He knew he had no legal leverage to stop Jerry from leaving, a lawsuit would cost more than the film's budget. And he had no leverage to force Joe Dante to demote himself to Second Unit.
But Roger wasn't ready to concede. He decided to make one last push.
"Typically, someone who has been a credited Director won't go back to being a Second Unit Director," Roger mused aloud. "But given the fragile state of the crew, with Allen just out of the hospital, we really need someone familiar with the team. Someone experienced…"
He turned his gaze slowly to Joe Dante.
Everyone followed his look.
A long, agonizing silence lingered.
Ronald's heart pounded so hard he could feel it thumping in his ears.
His throat grew dry and itchy, begging him to cough, to speak, to break the tension. But he fought it. He maintained his mask-like silence.
He knew that his DGA card hinged on these next few seconds. He had to deploy the skill he had learned during his years of "aphasia" the art of being invisible, the power of the mute.
Seconds ticked by. No one responded to Roger's implied request. Joe Dante stared at the table, refusing to make eye contact. He wasn't going to bail Roger out this time.
The air in the room grew stale....Muscles stiffened.
Finally, unable to bear the weight of the silence any longer, Joe Dante cracked.
"I think Allen's health is still fragile," Joe said, his voice tight. "Leaving his side now would be risky. I need to focus on the Main Unit."
He looked up at Roger, then shifted his gaze to Ronald.
"Yesterday's dailies fully showcased Ronald's ability. He has the eye. I believe establishing a new Second Unit crew under his command would solve the problem. He can finish the shoot without issue."
Bingo.
Before Joe could finish, Jerry Zucker sprang up and grabbed Ronald's hand.
"That solves everything!" Jerry beamed, shaking Ronald's hand vigorously. "Congratulations, Director!"
Ronald stood up slowly. He politely shook Joe Dante's hand first.
"Thank you, Joe," he said calmly.
Then he turned to Roger Corman.
"I'm ready if you are, Mr. Corman."
Authors Note:-
Well bonus chapter.....
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