Made In Hollywood

Sunset Boulevard is lined with all kinds of bars, making it the center of Los Angeles' nightlife. Among them, the most famous is the Viper Room, owned by the big star Johnny Depp. The bar's exterior walls are painted Depp's favorite black, perfectly matching its name and exuding a dark, deathly aura that aligns with Johnny Depp's decadent and alternative persona.

This bar is full of stories and is one of the favorite hangouts for young Hollywood stars. Here, you can find everything needed for revelry—handsome men, beautiful women, alcohol, marijuana, cocaine, and even heroin. Although in 1993, River Phoenix collapsed on the sidewalk outside the bar from a drug overdose and never stood up again, Depp organizes an annual memorial for him. But people are forgetful, and the Viper Room remains Hollywood's most famous party spot.

"Hey, Duke."

As soon as Duke entered the bar, still adjusting to the dim lights and deafening music, he heard Johnny Depp's voice nearby. True to his usual style, Depp walked over and gave him a big hug.

"Welcome!" Depp patted Duke firmly on the back.

Duke, unaccustomed to such close contact with another man, slightly distanced himself after the hug. "I haven't even thanked you yet, Depp, for providing the crew with the best place to relax."

Looking around, Duke saw crew members scattered across every corner of the bar. Men were chasing women, women were teasing men, and small groups were gathered, puffing away.

"Didn't you guys pay already?"

Leading Duke towards the bar, Depp's casual demeanor made him look like a street hippie. "Should I thank you for bringing in high sales?"

They both laughed at this.

Sitting at the bar, they chatted briefly before Sofia Coppola came over. Depp shrugged at Duke and then wandered off elsewhere.

"One dark beer, please."

Ordering a beer, Sofia sat on the high stool next to him and curiously asked, "Where's your girlfriend?"

"She's temporary!" Duke reminded her, raising his glass to clink it with hers. "I came alone. I guess Kate won't show up tonight—who knows."

Taking a big gulp of dark beer, Sofia turned to Duke. "Don't put too much pressure on yourself. You're the one who's worked the hardest in the crew these past months."

"You really get me." Duke simply smiled.

Sofia continued, "With your current wealth, you can afford to lose this investment."

"This is $25 million!" Duke emphasized.

"There's an unspoken rule in Hollywood: directors never use their own money to make movies," Sofia reminded him, raising her glass before taking a sip. "You've broken that rule without hesitation. If it fails, you'll only have yourself to blame."

Other than Sofia, few people would speak to him like this. Duke nodded. "Thanks for the reminder, Sofia."

"You earned over $180 million from Independence Day, and more than $120 million from Saving Private Ryan," Sofia advised. "This kind of money means little in filmmaking. Two or three big-budget flops could wipe it all out."

Patting her hand lightly, Duke smiled. "With you around to remind me, I believe it won't be that bad."

Sofia Coppola suddenly fell silent, the smile on her face fading. The monotone nasal tone, absent for a long time, returned. "I'm afraid I won't be able to remind you in the future."

Turning to Sofia, Duke saw the seriousness in her expression. She wasn't joking. He sighed lightly.

Sofia Coppola had her own dreams of becoming a director, as did many on his production team. This was an unstoppable pursuit of dreams, especially with the Coppola family's strong backing behind her.

Moreover, their filmmaking philosophies were entirely different. Her choice to part ways with Zack Snyder was already within his expectations.

"Have you found the right project?" Duke asked.

Sofia nodded, then shook her head. "A novel—I'm still negotiating. It might not work out, but I plan to shoot a few experimental films first. The money I've earned working with you these past two years is enough to fund several projects."

Raising his glass to Sofia, Duke toasted, "I wish you success in becoming Hollywood's most outstanding female director."

After finishing his drink, Duke added, "Your first two works are crucial, Sofia. Don't rush it. Also, be mindful of the genres you choose. My advice? Avoid commercial films. Artistic films suit your style better."

"Thanks!" Sofia replied cheerfully, "If I run into problems I can't solve, I'll come to you. Don't think you can wash your hands of this!"

Before finishing her sentence, she laughed. "Duke, the past few years working with you have been the most rewarding and fulfilling time of my life. Sometimes I feel like time is so short…"

"Hey, sweetheart," Duke gently tapped his glass, interrupting her. "You're just moving on to work independently. This industry isn't that big. We'll see each other again. Stop making it sound like a dramatic farewell."

Sofia laughed, drained her beer, and said, "We'll have plenty of chances to meet in the future. I'm off for a smoke—joining me?"

Duke shrugged, showing no intention of moving. Sofia turned and walked toward the group puffing away.

Seated alone, Duke's gaze swept across the bar. Like Sofia, many members of his team had their own ambitions. More departures were inevitable. This was the nature of the industry. No major director's team remained constant; there were always people coming and going.

Besides, with Sofia Coppola's vision and family background, how could she stay his assistant for long?

"Hey, Duke."

Hearing a greeting, Duke nodded at the man nearby. "Long time no see, Keanu."

He then looked at the familiar face next to Keanu Reeves. "Your girlfriend? Aren't you going to introduce her?"

"Just a friend," Keanu Reeves quickly clarified, introducing her. "This is Sandra Bullock, the female lead in my new film, Speed 2."

"Hello, Director Rosenberg."

Before Reeves could continue, she extended her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," Duke said, briefly shaking her hand.

She was the epitome of an American gal—bright and direct, even a bit eager to flatter Duke. In just a few exchanges, the conversation shifted to their new film. Duke couldn't help but marvel at how events sometimes unfold in unexpected ways.

Keanu Reeves had risen to fame earlier but had struggled in recent years without a standout film. When Duke sold the rights to Speed, the sequel inevitably brought Reeves back as the lead. With Uma Thurman opting out, Sandra Bullock secured the female lead after auditions.

Duke also learned why 20th Century Fox was in such financial straits.

The studio had acquired full rights to Speed and funded the sequel with a whopping $100 million budget. Combined with investments in Titanic and other ongoing projects, James Cameron's demand for additional funding plunged Fox into a financial crisis.

A quick chat revealed Keanu Reeves' staggering $12 million paycheck for the sequel—a persistent issue for studios.

Duke quietly calculated: If Speed 2 flopped as it once had, Reeves' fee would plummet, making him a viable option for future projects.

After a short conversation, Reeves left to find Johnny Depp, leaving Sandra Bullock behind. She seemed interested, dropping subtle hints. Duke feigned ignorance, responding vaguely. Not only was she known for pursuing younger men, but her looks didn't appeal to him.

Besides, a much more attractive actress had just walked over.

Charlize Theron, appearing dazed as if she'd smoked some weed, leaned against Duke after sitting beside him.

"This place is boring," she murmured, glancing at Sandra Bullock before leaning close to Duke's ear. "Why don't we go somewhere else?"

"Where to?"

Charlize Theron's invitation was hard to refuse. This wasn't their first time. Duke had no intention of declining.

"My place," she whispered, blowing gently into his ear. "It's not far from here."

Her new place wasn't far, and in just ten minutes, Duke swapped cars with Ben Watts and drove to her rented bungalow. They entered the house, and, intoxicated by the smell of alcohol, headed straight to the bathroom.

Amid the cascading water, a fierce battle ensued in the shower. Charlize Theron, facing the wall, suddenly turned and knelt before him, her alluring eyes gazing up. "Darling, how did I do in that scene?"

"Excellent," Duke replied, understanding her meaning.

"Could you keep more of my shots?"

Feeling her warm breath, Duke nodded slightly. Charlize moved closer.

Her scene relied heavily on her looks, and Duke hadn't planned to cut much during editing anyway.

....

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