After about an hour of discussion, the team nailed down the storyline for *The Wedding Crashers*.
It's quite different from the original version, but in Dunn's eyes, this new framework is even better!
Don't forget, Dunn's currently channeling Spielberg-level expertise, so his judgment's pretty darn solid.
"What about the director for the movie?" someone piped up.
"That might be a bit tricky," Glenn Ferriero chimed in, scratching his head. With a "casting" skill level of 97, he's a total pro, but even he seemed stumped.
To make the movie really pop, you'd want a director with top-notch skills. But the more talented ones usually don't like being just a hired hand—they'll want to toss in their own ideas, tweak the script, or even switch up the filming style.
Problem is, the script's being handled entirely by the "writing department," so the director wouldn't get a say in it at all.
Younger or lesser-known directors would probably jump at the gig, but… are they up to the task?
Everyone was feeling a bit uneasy, but Dunn seemed totally chill. After all, he's got a secret weapon—his knack for digging up raw, grassroots talent with serious potential.
With a grin, Dunn turned to Nolan. "Chris, what do you think? Wanna take a stab at directing this one?"
Christopher Nolan blinked, caught off guard. He hadn't expected Dunn to put so much faith in him—this was a commercial flick with at least a $10 million budget!
He'd only ever directed an ultra-low-budget indie film with a $6,000 budget.
After the initial shock wore off, though, Nolan shook his head. "Sorry, Dunn, I don't think I'm the right guy to direct this."
"Chris, I believe in you. Plus… you're one of us," Dunn said warmly.
Nolan shook his head firmly. "No, I'm not great with comedies, especially when it comes to handling emotional arcs. It's just not my strong suit."
Dunn nodded with a smile, appreciating Nolan's self-awareness.
In his past life, Nolan's big films were critically acclaimed, practically god-tier, but the one glaring flaw was his handling of emotional storylines. That's probably why he never quite clinched an Oscar.
"But…" Nolan's eyes lit up as an idea struck him, "Dunn, I've got someone I can recommend. I think he'd be perfect for the job."
"Oh? Who's that?"
"Danny Boyle."
Dunn raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Glenn Ferriero.
When it came to casting decisions at Dunn Films, Glenn had the final say. Even Glenn himself wasn't sure how he'd landed this gig—he'd just been a small-time HR staffer at a talent agency for ten years before fate turned him into Dunn Walker's assistant producer.
To repay Dunn's trust, he always gave it his all.
"I know of Danny Boyle," Glenn said. "He's a British director, pretty young—probably in his early forties this year." Since he was in charge of casting, Glenn made sure to keep tabs on everyone worth knowing.
Christopher Nolan jumped in eagerly. "Exactly! He's a fellow Brit, but I'm not recommending him just because of that. He's got real talent. Back in 1996, he won Best Director at the Seattle Film Festival for *Trainspotting*."
"But…" Glenn shot Nolan a sideways glance, "I seem to recall that after he came to Hollywood, he directed a rom-com that didn't do so hot at the box office."
Nolan's face turned a bit red. "Yeah, that's true. *A Life Less Ordinary*. It had a $12 million budget but only made about $4 million at the box office. It didn't even get a theatrical release overseas."
"I've seen that one!" Andrew O'Hare piped up, his eyebrows shooting up. "*A Life Less Ordinary*? It starred Cameron Diaz and Ewan McGregor. It tried to juggle romance, fantasy, crime, and comedy all at once—way too messy. No surprise it flopped."
As Dunn Films' chief market analyst, Andrew had a habit of watching seven movies a day. His insane viewing backlog made him a walking encyclopedia for the team.
Nolan looked even more embarrassed. "That was more about the script. His directing chops aren't the issue."
Glenn stayed quiet, clearly unsure about the pick.
Dunn waved his hand decisively. "Alright, let's settle it then. Chris, you're in charge of reaching out to Danny Boyle."
"Boss!" The team gasped in unison.
Dunn just grinned. "No worries, I trust Chris's judgment."
Of course, that was just a polite front.
Truth is, Dunn had his own reasons for picking Danny Boyle. First off, Boyle had just stepped into Hollywood and taken a big hit with a box-office flop, so his fee would be dirt cheap. Plus, he'd likely play by the producer's rules and stick to the script without causing a fuss.
Second reason? Danny Boyle's name rang a bell. Dunn knew him well enough—at least from his future fame. *Slumdog Millionaire* had touched audiences worldwide and snagged Boyle an Oscar for Best Director and Best Picture.
A guy like that, as long as he followed the script to a T, wouldn't mess things up.
Nolan, of course, had no clue about Dunn's little scheme. He thought Dunn was genuinely backing him up and got so touched he didn't know what to do with himself.
Dunn then turned to Nia Vardalos. "Nia, for the script, let's model the female lead after Reese."
"Oh?" Reese Witherspoon burst out laughing. "The lead's a fancy aristocrat, isn't she? I'm not sure I can pull that off!"
Nia gave her a playful, teasing look. "Reese, you're not playing dumb, are you?"
"Huh?"
Reese froze, noticing everyone's odd glances. Then it hit her, and she jumped up from the sofa, covering her mouth in disbelief. "Dunn, you… you want *me* to play the lead?!"
Dunn chuckled. "What, you don't think you're up for it?"
"No… it's not that, I… I've never played a lead before! I…" Reese stammered, her excitement getting the better of her.
"Relax, it's our own production. Of course we're gonna prioritize our own people, right?" Dunn's half-joking tone got everyone chuckling softly.
"I…"
Reese's eyes welled up, tears spilling over despite herself.
She'd dropped out of Stanford just to pursue acting, and now… the chance to play a lead role had just landed in her lap like it was nothing.
Later, Dunn pulled his right-hand man, George Paxton, aside for a private chat.
"George, sign us up for a stock market course. Nothing too intense—just something covering the basics like short selling, pumping stocks, and market manipulation. We'll learn together."
George frowned at Dunn's words. "Dunn, you really wanna dive deep into the stock market?"
"Why not?" Dunn smirked confidently. "Remember those Yahoo shares we bought? They've already quadrupled!"
George still looked worried. "I dunno… feels too risky. We're total amateurs at this."
"That's why we gotta learn," Dunn replied.
"But…" George shook his head, "*My Big Fat Greek Wedding* cost us $15 million to make, and it's projected to bring in $1.5 billion. That's a tenfold profit! Dunn, we're filmmakers. Isn't it enough to just focus on making great movies?"
Dunn's lips curled into a sly grin.
Sure, tenfold profit sounds amazing in most industries, and movies are definitely a goldmine.
But compared to the stock market boom coming down the road, that's small potatoes.
A year ago, Dunn had bought 2.1 million Yahoo shares at under $40 a pop. By 2000, the price shot up to $450—even after a 15% capital gains tax, that's an 11x return!
And if he played his cards right and shorted at the perfect time, how much more could he make?
Dunn didn't know the ins and outs of the market too well, but he had a vague memory of the 2000 tech crash. If he didn't seize this chance now, he'd be kicking himself later.