Chapter 86: Nothing I Hate More Than Coercion

William White's rivals were at their wits' end. They could foresee Hollywood turning into a battlefield, as not a single studio boss could resist jealousy. Two consecutive low-budget films grossing over a hundred million at the box office—what does that mean? It’s blatant provocation.

So what if Superman made a hundred million? The production cost alone is at least thirty million, right? Promotional expenses of five million are hardly unreasonable. Excluding other subsequent profits, the money you make is a mere fraction compared to his. Even if your video rentals are decent, does that mean you're better off than him?

Hollywood’s screenwriters have been driven mad. If they can’t deliver scripts that satisfy their bosses, they might all end up out on the street. Experience? What good is it? All you've accumulated are failed experiences, not even worth that of a sophomore in college.

Does Hollywood lack scripts? In a place where even taxi drivers write screenplays, scripts are never in short supply. For top directors, second-rate scripts have always been the norm—this is the reality of Hollywood.

Actors, too, are struggling to adapt. It’s not that they can’t act; William White’s standards are just shockingly low. Police Academy is one thing, but those two in Home Alone had it rough—such roles are only taken by actors on the verge of obscurity.

No matter how much money you offer, Stallone and Mel Gibson would never take these parts. They prefer charismatic roles; playing the fool simply isn’t an option for them.

They won't do it, but Hollywood’s struggling actors don’t care. In their eyes, those two got touched by Lady Luck herself.

William White’s requirements for roles are now common knowledge: acting skills are irrelevant; he just picks whoever looks like they deserve a beating. Now, the pay for those two has started at five hundred thousand—a level equivalent to Hollywood’s B-listers.

These struggling actors were surprised to discover that White Pictures is extremely generous. Crew members get a percentage of the profits, up to five percent—only for North America, perhaps, but even so, it's astonishing.

Home Alone’s box office already surpassed a hundred million, the pay for the two was two hundred thousand dollars, and with bonuses, their earnings easily topped half a million.

Ordinarily, paying the two actors two hundred thousand would already be generous; who would give them a share of the box office? But that’s the rule at White Pictures—the boss himself takes his share according to the same ratio.

To be honest, William White actually received less—script and directing together earned him only one and a half million. Clearly, he wasn’t playing games with the numbers. Truthfully, any script of William White’s is worth at least two million.

You might not accept this, but results speak for themselves. Unless he fails once, his price will only rise.

Both film scripts are held at the film academy; acquiring them isn’t difficult.

His directing abilities are debated, but regarding his scripts, not even directors like Lucas could find fault.

It’s obvious he has formal training—even if he hasn’t graduated yet. His scripts are textbook examples; if you can’t make a good film with them, you probably aren’t cut out to be a director.

William White isn’t a saint; he allocates profits this way out of necessity. These struggling actors don’t have agents, which makes things easier. But once they have agency teams, negotiations become a nightmare.

Many good films can’t have sequels mainly due to excessive actor pay. What did Tom Cruise and Vin Diesel’s fees eventually reach? Ten million dollars.

And that doesn’t include other peripheral profits.

Why did the lead change in xXx? Who could afford that price?

Mission Impossible has become Tom Cruise's private project. Without a strong heart, it’s best not to work with these people.

But it’s not all the actors’ fault. Here, we must mention Hollywood’s hidden overlords.

Hollywood has two kinds of talent agencies: one called CAA, and the other, everything else.

CAA specializes in packaging deals; they often decide the supporting cast. While such bundled arrangements seem fine, when your film becomes a hit, they’ll squeeze you during sequel negotiations.

William White’s approach essentially replicates CAA’s—he does internal packaging.

Contracts are based on franchise models; if he plans several films, actors must sign ahead of time, with pay for each installment increasing considerably.

But human nature is greedy; if you don’t share profits, they’ll feel resentful. If CAA stirs things up, sequels could become impossible.

Americans aren’t shy about this. No matter how good your relationship, if their demands aren’t met, they’ll opt for mutual destruction.

William White isn’t stingy, but he absolutely won’t accept unreasonable pay demands. This bundled profit-sharing works well, at least temporarily avoiding many risks.

CAA has realized their tactics don’t work at White Pictures. If they refuse White Pictures’ terms, actors are simply removed, with no future audition opportunities.

Before Home Alone became a sensation, CAA wasn’t concerned; if that film flopped, their clients would mock it.

Now, things have changed—the two actors who were kicked out are furious, which is bad news for CAA. If they don’t manage the situation, their reputation will suffer.

When casting for Detective Out, CAA was already excluded. They didn’t care much at the time, but now things are different; many of their clients have expressed dissatisfaction.

These idiots finally figured it out: White’s films are small comedies, with plenty of actor choices. No matter how many big names you control, he simply doesn’t need them.

If relations continue to deteriorate, White might start his own agency—or just acquire one. Then they'd be rivals, a complete and normal split.

Reconciliation isn’t easy; White Pictures’ culture is clear—no one is indispensable, and actor pay will never be raised without limits.

Agencies earn commissions, so they dislike this model. To them, William White’s approach is madness.

Why should lighting and camera crews get bonuses?

Extras, too? That’s outrageous—their wages are already high enough. How could they demand more?

CAA’s thinking is shortsighted. Hollywood workers welcome William White’s method. If White Pictures expands again, even the core teams of the big studios could waver.

This isn’t small money. For films grossing over a hundred million, their earnings are substantial.

Can a single star make a movie? Why should only you get a bonus?

Your pay is already scary, and your share of profits dwarfs everyone else's. Yet you still want to take our share? That's intolerable.

Any attempt to cut the crew's profits will be resisted by the entire team. William White wouldn’t want such people, and even if they entered the crew, they’d have no future—the best they could hope for is to avoid being sabotaged.