It was an early August day when Ryan scratched his head after taking the phone from Nicole. He really couldn't figure out what that fat guy wanted with him. Was Miramax so idle, or had Harvey Weinstein lost his mind and wanted to have a heart-to-heart with a kid about the future?
"Hello, Harvey." Miramax wasn't as confident now as it would be later. Though the Weinstein brothers were shrewd, they still maintained a proper closeness with those who could create value for them. "Yes, Pat has already come over, and the contract has arrived too. The terms? Of course, I'm satisfied, no problem at all."
"What? No, no, no, Harvey, I'm not trying to interfere with your decision. Yes, I grew up in Los Angeles, but isn't Philadelphia one of the oldest cities in North American history? Don't you think setting the movie's location there would be more convincing?"
When Harvey Weinstein mentioned he wanted to change the filming location to Los Angeles, even though Ryan knew he didn't have much say, he still couldn't help but object. Fortunately, Harvey hadn't gotten too arrogant yet and quickly gave up on the idea.
"All right, then. Wait, Harvey, I want to ask—has the director and male lead been decided yet?" Hearing the name through the receiver, Ryan subconsciously scratched his cheek. "David Fincher? The one who directed Madonna's music videos?"
After receiving a definite answer, Ryan hung up the phone. Well then! Another Hollywood figure whose life path had been altered by the flap of his butterfly wings.
"Ryan, how does it feel to star in a script you wrote yourself?" Ms. Kingsley asked with a smile, sipping her coffee.
Ryan rolled his eyes dramatically, as if saying "are you stupid?" "Pat, the movie hasn't even started filming yet. How would I know what it feels like?"
"Ryan, come over here." Nicole spoke up, pointing to the two contracts on the table in front of her. "This is the script contract and your actor contract. I've already signed them. Now it's your turn."
Ms. Kingsley, sitting on the other side, explained, "As for the script, the fifty thousand dollars hasn't changed, but there are a few small flaws that need to be revised."
"I understand."
"As for acting, Harvey should have called you just now. The film won't begin shooting until the end of next month. Even though you're playing one of the three main roles, you're a newcomer without any prior works. Miramax pressed down on your pay—only one hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
"What else?" Ryan clearly remembered what he had asked his agent to arrange.
"Of course, the reason your pay is so low is mainly because of the conditions you proposed." The female agent sighed. She really couldn't understand Ryan's wild imagination. "It's written into the contract: if the movie makes more than $250 million at the North American box office, you and Nicole will each receive 1% of the box office revenue."
"Wow~" Ryan exclaimed excitedly, already imagining the look on Harvey Weinstein's face when the movie was released—practically vomiting blood.
"Don't get too happy yet. For the same reason, Nicole is also only getting a salary of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
The female agent dumped a bucket of cold water on him. She was very clear that the reason Miramax was willing to include such a clause was, first, because they believed the film's box office would never reach such a ridiculous number, and second, because lowering the actors' salaries would save a significant expense for their already tight finances.
To those experienced film professionals, The Sixth Sense was indeed a very good story and script. If done well, it could pull in tens of millions or even over a hundred million at the North American box office. But $250 million? That was an astronomical figure. In history, only Star Wars and Jaws had ever achieved that. Could a family drama disguised as a horror film possibly reach those heights? Don't be ridiculous.
It was precisely because of this short-term thinking that Miramax seemed generous when it offered this contract.
Of course, Ms. Kingsley also played a key role in this. Although it seemed to reduce her own income, as a smart person, she took it for granted that Ryan's real value lay in his writing. That was where her real profits would come from.
With The Sixth Sense settled for the time being, Ryan's days were different from Nicole's, who had to study the script and her role. He was the author of the script and had watched the original film more than ten times in his previous life. Thanks to his exceptional memory in this life, the scenes were etched in his mind—no need to study it at all.
Well, maybe that wasn't entirely true. During leisure time, and in their daily workouts and walks, he would discuss the script with Nicole—especially their character interactions. His insights and understanding of the film were far deeper, and some of his perspectives naturally influenced Nicole. This would be helpful during future filming.
Just as Nicole had once complained, Ryan had almost no friends. As someone who'd been immersed in the internet in his past life, he had a bit of a homebody nature. Compared to the lively and sociable Australian beauty, he led a quieter and more disciplined life.
Every morning and evening, he and Nicole would work out together. After breakfast was time for reading and writing. Each afternoon, besides writing, he would also set aside time to practice musical instruments. Sometimes, when inspiration struck, he would compose a short melody, write some English lyrics, and, with his immature voice, "torture" Miss Nicole Kidman and their neighbors in the same apartment building.
After dinner, he would watch TV and the news, often arguing with Nicole about current events. With his two extra decades of experience, he would often debate her into silence. Occasionally, when he was refuted, he would act cute and play the age card until Nicole surrendered.
It had to be said—Nicole was spoiling him a bit too much, making Ryan more and more unruly in front of her.
Of course, most of his evenings were still spent writing. Now that The Sixth Sense had found a buyer, Ryan naturally had to plan ahead. With the experience of writing this script under his belt, he had gained a few insights.
For someone like Ryan, who had a vivid mental picture of the film, writing scripts—with that experience—was even easier and quicker than adapting novels. Scripts didn't require the ornate language or complex descriptions of novels, making the process much more manageable. Plus, the concepts suited to his age had already been claimed by him. If production companies wanted to make those films, sorry, they'd have to talk to Ms. Kingsley.
Though he didn't mind being considered a little monster, Ryan didn't want to be too shockingly extraordinary. In his current thinking, as long as the most acclaimed and successful films each year came from his hand, that was enough. That way, he could make a lot of money and surround himself with an aura of brilliance.
In his previous life, Ryan was just an ordinary guy. If there was anything special, it was that—due to his job and hobbies—he'd watched far more movies than the average person. And in this life, he started as an orphan with no one to rely on. Even though he had some unrealistic dreams and occasional greed, he didn't have the kind of grand ambition usually seen in reincarnation tales.
What he wanted was actually quite simple: to realize the dreams of both his past and present lives, and to help those he liked and loved.
Unless it was the end of the world, or the crumbling red empire decided to play mushroom cloud games with the world, Nicole would knock on his door every night at a few minutes past 10:30 to remind him to go to bed. In fact, during the first year after she took him in, Nicole often stayed with him at night.
This was what Ryan's daily life looked like over the past few years. Even during the school year, it was no different. He was famous for only doing what he wanted in class. Initially, the school contacted Nicole about it, but after he consistently earned straight A's, they gradually shut up.
For Ryan, who had gone through the harsh education system in his past life, what they taught in Western elementary schools was child's play. Of course, that wasn't to say it was completely useless. For example, instead of indoctrinating kids with ideological values right from enrollment, they taught safety rules and how to protect oneself first—those were top priorities in their daily lessons.
The hot month of August passed in a flash. At the end of the month, Nicole arranged for Ryan to transfer to a new elementary school. As a transfer student, he had to take an entrance test and was eventually placed into the third grade. Fortunately, Ryan didn't really care about school. If dropping out wouldn't get Nicole in trouble with the law, there was no way he'd attend this damned American elementary school.
Of course, he only had to make it through the mandatory education years. If nothing unexpected happened, he had no intention of wasting time going to college.
Over the course of that month, Ryan outlined the main plot of two film scripts and even drew some concept sketches. Although he'd written some scenes and content, his energy was scattered between music and other activities. Otherwise, the two scripts wouldn't still be just frameworks.
Since most of the movies Nicole starred in during her past life were art films, he didn't have strong impressions of many of them. One of the two new scripts was a 1990s-style romantic comedy—prepared specifically for her. But such a romance coming from a ten-year-old child seemed a bit absurd.
Oh well, better to wait a bit longer—maybe after The Sixth Sense is released. He'd be a year older then, which would lend him a bit more credibility. If people still wanted to whine, let them.
Besides, he was a boy, not a girl. This society was far more accepting of male prodigies than female ones.