Honestly, with Dunn's status these days, he doesn't even need to try hard. When he's in a good mood, he shoots a movie. When he's not, he just kicks back, surrounded by gorgeous women, living the carefree high life.
But what makes a person human? Goals, dreams, ambition!
Sure, Dunn loves hanging out with all kinds of beautiful ladies—that's his hobby, not his purpose.
His real pursuit? Movies. His ambition? Hollywood!
So even though he knows the next few months will be a hassle—coordinating connections, securing loans to fund Spider-Man—he's all in. No regrets.
He's even planning to reinvest some cash later into another film, A Beautiful Mind. Part of it's to keep Nicole Kidman happy, but mostly? He wants that award!
In the commercial world, Dunn's already crushed it. Star Wars is the hot topic this summer. Now, he's chasing respect from the artsy crowd too.
Status isn't just about your own strength—it's about what others think of you.
Take right now: Dunn's decked out in a sharp suit, a light layer of makeup making him look dashing as ever, posing in a studio for a photoshoot.
He's landing a magazine cover. Not just any magazine—Time!
Back in '97, when Titanic raked in over $500 million in North America, Time invited him for his first cover. This'll be his second, slated for the first June issue.
After half an hour, the shoot wrapped up. Reese Witherspoon rushed over, breathless. "Brian Lord's got news—the loan's coming together!"
"Oh? Did he set a time?"
"2 p.m., Fox's president's office."
"Sweet."
Dunn nodded, all business, then flashed a grin. "Reese, being my secretary isn't too exhausting, is it?"
She smirked. "It's fine… just wish the pay was better."
Dunn froze, a little embarrassed.
That afternoon, Dunn and AA's Brian Lord showed up right on time at Tom Rothman's office.
Dunn skimmed a document listing loan offers from investment firms. He wasn't thrilled.
Low amounts, high interest? Ugh.
"Dunn, Wedding Crashers hasn't even hit theaters yet," Tom said earnestly. "Future profits are a gamble. Getting $20 million for it? That's already a favor to me."
Dunn's voice was icy. "I put $18 million into that movie. Add taxes and fees, that's $20 million out of my pocket. So what, I'm working for free?"
Brian jumped in to smooth things over. "Dunn, we believe in you, but those investors? They don't get the industry."
"Exactly," Tom added. "The loan for this one's small, but Star Wars is killing it! With your 15% global box office cut, you can easily snag a $100 million loan."
Tom was stoked about Star Wars's box office run—though he griped that merchandise sales were a bit low. Kids didn't totally get the movie.
"$120 million? That's nowhere near enough!" Dunn scowled.
Tom chuckled. "Relax! You've got My Big Fat Greek Wedding too. DVD sales are solid—should net you about $35 million this year. A $30 million loan's a lock. That covers your $150 million for Spider-Man, right?"
Dunn shot him a look. Tom had clearly hustled, piecing together $150 million from every angle.
But… Dunn's appetite had grown again.
Come August or September, he wanted to bankroll A Beautiful Mind too!
When Tom heard that, he rolled his eyes so hard he nearly passed out. Brian just laughed helplessly. This kid—always stirring up trouble. But man, he's got energy. Young and driven!
"How much is that one gonna cost?" Tom asked.
"It's an art film. Needs a lead with killer acting chops. For the female lead… I'm thinking Nicole."
Tom's face twisted. "That's gotta be $30-50 million at least. Dunn, aren't you rushing things?"
Dunn shook his head. "Spider-Man's just a popcorn flick. A Beautiful Mind is Dunn Films' flagship—I'm aiming for an Oscar with it."
Brian stayed quiet for a bit before saying, "There might be a way."
Tom groaned. "$150 million in loans is my limit."
Brian grinned. "Maybe we look elsewhere… like Germany and the UK."
"Oh?" Tom's eyes lit up. He slammed the desk. "Brilliant!"
Dunn blinked, totally lost. "Huh? What are you guys talking about? German and British investors? Sorry, my movies don't take foreign money!"
Brian chuckled. "Dunn, you're still green. There's some Hollywood insider tricks you haven't caught onto."
"Like what?"
Dunn looked clueless.
Tom shook his head, amused. "In Hollywood, when a producer gets a killer idea, the first person they call isn't a studio—it's a German."
Dunn shook his head, still foggy.
"It's the German tax rebate policy," Brian explained, no nonsense. "Lots of countries boost their film industries—and local economies—by offering subsidies, aka tax rebates, on movie investments."
"But what's that got to do with me? I'm not German."
Brian grinned. "That's the funny part. German tax law lets investors claim rebates upfront—even before shooting starts. It's not just for German films; it works for foreign movies with German backing too. The law doesn't care about filming in Germany or hiring German crew—just that a German production company owns the copyright and profits."
Dunn's sharp. He caught the gist. "So… if Spider-Man's produced by a German company, I get a rebate?"
"Bingo!" Brian clapped. "It's big money—10-15% of the budget. For Spider-Man's $150 million, that's at least $20 million back."
"Do I need to register a company in Germany now?" Dunn asked, skeptical.
"Nah, Hollywood lawyers already found the loophole," Tom said, a smug American pride in his tone.
Brian elaborated. "Partner with a German firm. Sell them the copyright, claim the rebate, then buy it back cheap. Boom—free rebate cash."
"That's allowed?" Dunn's eyes widened. "That's so blatant! It's basically robbery! High sell, low buy—anyone with a brain can see the scam."
Brian stifled a laugh. "Robbery? Nah. If we sell the rights later, German companies get first dibs. Paying extra for that privilege? Totally legit business."
Dunn got it now. A legal loophole—and a well-worn one, judging by their confidence.
"The Germans haven't tried fixing it?"
"Germany's a democracy," Tom said, smirking. "Changing laws—especially tax ones—takes parliamentary hoops. It's not quick."
Dunn nearly fainted. Democracy, huh? Gotta love those perks.
Brian waved it off. "Won't last forever, though. Hollywood's been milking Germany for years—they'll crack down soon."
"The UK too?" Dunn asked, shocked. The birthplace of modern law wouldn't fall for this, right?
Brian shook his head. "The UK's stricter. Their rebates require filming there, partial production, or hiring tons of British crew."
Dunn nodded. "Makes sense. They pay rebates but boost tourism, hotels, and dining. The government breaks even."
"Right," Brian said. "Hiring Brits en masse won't work, and filming Spider-Man there? Not ideal—it's an American hero. But you could team up with a UK firm for post-production—dubbing, music, rough cuts."
"How much rebate total?"
Brian held up four fingers. "At least $40 million!"
"Jackpot!" Dunn muttered, stunned. He'd never dreamed making money could be this easy.
Easier than playing the stock market with insider knowledge. No wonder legendary families built fortunes on legal loopholes—it's like printing cash!
Tom, watching Dunn's jaw drop, chuckled and flexed some more. "Dunn, with your clout as a blockbuster director, you could shoot Spider-Man without spending a dime. Pre-sell distribution rights in France, UK, Australia, Japan, Germany, Italy—you'd pull in $100 million. Add UK and German rebates, and you've got your $150 million."
"Pre-sell rights?" Dunn shook his head like a rattle. "I'd lose big! My movies don't flop. Trading future profits to dodge risk? No way."
Tom laughed. He knew Dunn's stubborn streak—hadn't even tried to sway him.
"What about A Beautiful Mind? Can that get rebates?" Dunn asked.
Tom gave a wry smile. "Your appetite's unreal. Rebates hinge on future profits. Art films? Like investors, no one can predict those. A Beautiful Mind probably won't qualify."
Brian added, "Even if it did, the amount'd be tiny—barely cover lawyer and broker fees."
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