Actor in Hollywood

Clearly, Anson had forgotten one very important detail—this wasn't 2023, but the year 2000.

In the era when superhero movies had risen to dominate the industry, contracts between movie studios and actors were often long-term commitments. For instance, Disney famously signed Chris Evans for six films at a modest $300,000 per movie, intending to squeeze every bit of value from him.

Of course, actors and their agents fought back. After Marvel movies achieved immense success post-2008—marked by "Iron Man" grossing $300 million and "The Dark Knight" pulling in $530 million domestically—agents renegotiated contracts, securing upgraded terms for these hardworking stars.

But that was all years away.

In 2000, other genres still thrived, and original storytelling and star power remained at their peak. Superhero movies were just another type of film in the market.

Movies adapted from comics, like "Blade," "Underworld," and "Hellboy," were still considered niche. Even with 20th Century Fox's well-received "X-Men" being a huge summer hit, its domestic box office grossed only $130 million.

Success? Certainly. But compared to sci-fi, action, comedy, or romance films, there was no distinct advantage.

On the contrary, given that CGI technology was still developing, making superhero films came with significant challenges. Studios either went the B-movie route with low budgets or attempted high-end productions that risked spiraling costs. So, Sony Columbia producing "Spider-Man" was seen as a gamble.

A risky venture. A high-stakes bet.

Even within Sony Columbia, there was nervousness.

This cautious approach to "Spider-Man" stemmed from a $100 million investment—Hollywood's first attempt to "crack the shell," so to speak.

For reference, the 1992 success "Batman Returns" had a production budget of $80 million but only grossed $160 million domestically. Without an international release, Warner Bros. had to rely on home video sales to turn a profit.

So, imagine the courage it took for Sony Columbia to put $100 million into a superhero movie.

All of Hollywood was waiting to see them fail. No one believed in "Spider-Man's" prospects; Sony Columbia was seen as desperate.

And then, at this crucial moment, the actor pre-cast as Peter Parker, Edward Furlong, was jailed. He actually went to jail!

Sony Columbia was livid.

After much back and forth, they finally found a suitable replacement actor—a choice that everyone agreed on without dispute.

This was Edgar's bargaining chip.

Edgar had figured out all the twists and turns.

"Yes, you're a newcomer, with a still-untouched résumé, and our bargaining power is limited. But don't forget, the 'Spider-Man' project is also a brand-new experiment."

"'X-Men' had a large ensemble cast, and Hugh Jackman's breakout success took 20th Century Fox by surprise—that wasn't their original plan. So, Sony Columbia has no reference point. They can't use 'X-Men' as a blueprint for negotiations. Even if they try, I won't let them."

"So, we need to be firm."

"Now, I have two ideas and need your input."

Perhaps Edgar lacked experience, but he didn't lack wisdom or ambition. From the moment he snuck Anson's résumé into that manila envelope, he'd been waiting for this moment.

He was both cool-headed and daring.

"First, we sign for a series of films. Sony Columbia is definitely planning a second movie, and I suspect a third is already in the proposal stage—they're just waiting to see the first film's box office performance."

"So, we demand a tiered payment structure: $3 million for the first film, $5 million for the second, and $10 million for the third."

Not just daring, but audacious.

As a reference, Hollywood's "Twenty-Million Club" was still the pinnacle of success. Before entering that club, a $10 million salary was the benchmark for top-tier actors. Only a select few—no more than fifty actors—were earning that kind of money.

And Anson? He'd only guest-starred in a TV show and acted in one movie—not yet released. Yet, Edgar was aiming this high.

It was a bold move.

Even Anson, upon hearing these figures, was a little surprised. These were numbers he could never have imagined earning in his previous life. Even his father's Ponzi scheme hadn't reached this level. Now, these figures were casually laid out before him. No wonder people say Hollywood is just another game on Wall Street.

Edgar seemed to notice the look in Anson's eyes, and he flashed a shy smile, revealing a hint of his inexperience.

"At William Morris, agents are often competitors. We don't frequently steal clients or projects from each other, but it's not unheard of."

"However, with Creative Artists Agency being so dominant lately, William Morris has come together, albeit temporarily. We need to land this project. And not just land it—we need to set a benchmark: This is William Morris. We have the professional capability to do this."

No wonder.

If William Morris could secure "Spider-Man" for a complete newcomer like Anson, and under extraordinary terms at that, they could make a strong statement against the aggressive rise of Creative Artists Agency, proving that they still had what it takes.

Anson subtly lifted his chin but said nothing more. 

After all, this was just William Morris's ambition. How the negotiations would actually unfold remained unknown.

"And the second idea?" Anson asked, not rushing to any conclusions.

Edgar was no longer surprised by Anson's mature and calm demeanor, so he continued.

"The second option is that we sign for just one film. If there are sequels, we would have the right of first refusal—to decide whether to continue or not. The specific contract terms could be negotiated at that time. If we reach an agreement, we continue; if not, we part ways amicably. It would be more flexible for both us and them."

"However, the fee shouldn't be too low. We should consider $6 million."

Wow!

This was clearly a proposal crafted by an agent, focused on maximizing the actor's benefits in every possible way.

Obviously, Sony Columbia might not agree to this—at least, if Anson were in the shoes of their negotiation team, he wouldn't.

But that's the nature of negotiations. Both sides throw out their terms and chips, and then the back-and-forth begins.

Edgar looked at Anson. "What do you think?"

Anson didn't immediately respond. Instead, he carefully pondered everything, digesting the conflicting emotions of shock and excitement, anticipation, and joy. After a long pause, he lifted his gaze to Edgar.

"I have a third option. Want to hear it?"

This was getting interesting.