With the Nokia representatives bidding their swift adieus, the conversation pivoted to the vacant mobile phone endorsement slot.
"The mobile phone endorsement section is vacant, and I have prepared a few new candidates."Thomas, always one step ahead, proffered a dossier of prospective candidates for Martin's perusal. "Care to take a look?" he inquired, handing over the stack of documents.
Martin, now a seasoned pro in the realm of commercial endorsements, acknowledged the gravity of this decision. With five major endorsements under his belt in the past year alone, Martin's stature in the industry was undeniable. Coca-Cola, Cadillac, Cartier, and Brioni—all lucrative deals adding up to a staggering $57 million in pre-tax earnings.
Perusing the options laid before him, Martin's attention was drawn to three contenders: BlackBerry, Samsung, and Lenovo.
Thomas provided insights into each option, detailing their past pursuits and potential offers. "BlackBerry and Samsung came knocking last year," he explained. "Lenovo, on the other hand, has made significant strides in the Asian market, even sponsoring blockbuster films like 'Transformers 3.'"
Martin weighed his options carefully, considering each brand's trajectory and market reception. "Pass on BlackBerry and Lenovo," he decided, foreseeing their limited appeal and dwindling market share.
As Thomas disclosed Samsung's offer—$13 million per year for three years—he dropped a bombshell revelation. "They even offered to arrange Korean actresses at your beck and call," Thomas murmured, his tone laced with a mix of disbelief and amusement.
Martin's skepticism flared at the audacity of the offer. "Sugar-coated bullets," he mused, inwardly scoffing at the attempt to sway him with superficial allure.
Resolute in his stance, Martin countered, "Samsung can negotiate, but not a penny less than $15 million."
Sensing the need for leverage, Thomas suggested keeping BlackBerry and Lenovo in the mix to foster competition.
Martin waved off the notion. "Let's not entertain empty promises," he declared, shifting focus to Apple's prospects in the market.
Thomas, mindful of Martin's stake in Apple stock, divulged, "Steve Jobs' health has been precarious. His absence could impact Apple's trajectory."
The mention of Apple's founder prompted Martin to consider the wider implications, pondering the ripple effect of Jobs' potential departure on both the company's ethos and his own investments.
Martin nodded thoughtfully. "Focus on Samsung for now," he advised, recalling the delayed detonation of a Samsung phone several years in future.
Thomas interjected with another piece of news. "Vanity Fair is set to release its annual Hollywood stars' income rankings. You're slated to break into the top three," he disclosed, his tone tinged with pride.
Martin, no stranger to the celebrity earnings circuit, pondered his placement. "Only the top three? I was aiming for the top spot," he mused, a hint of ambition coloring his words.
Thomas offered a reality check. "The top two are formidable contenders," he reminded.
Considering the disparity in earnings, Martin conceded, "Johnny Depp and James Cameron, I presume?" But his mind was on the discrepancy between perceived wealth and actual income. "My earnings are largely speculative," he admitted. "Apart from my salary, residuals from 'Inception' and 'Gone Girl' are still pending."
Thomas nodded, acknowledging the looming uncertainty. "Warner Bros. may push the payments to the last minute," he warned.
Shifting gears, Martin excused himself to meet Nolan, fielding inquiries about a potential space sci-fi project.
Over coffee, Nolan broached the subject of collaboration, offering Martin a sneak peek at his latest script. "Jonathan's completed the first draft," he revealed, passing the manuscript across the table.
After perusing the pages, Martin inquired about the shooting schedule for "Interstellar."
Nolan outlined the tentative plans, noting the uncertainty surrounding studio partnerships. Martin remained noncommittal, aligning his schedule with the project's trajectory.
Nolan's confidence in Martin's potential involvement was palpable. "Your participation could be pivotal," he remarked. Shifting gears, he inquired about Martin's pending payments from Warner Bros.
Martin shrugged off the delay with a hint of irony. "Interest accrued could buy me a fleet of luxury cars," he quipped.
Nolan's expression remained stoic, hinting at underlying concerns. "My studio's involvement in 'Inception' may prove costly in hindsight," he noted.
Martin acknowledged the unspoken implications, opting for discretion. "I've chosen to part ways with Warner Bros.," he revealed, alluding to a more favorable deal elsewhere.
Their conversation veered into the intricacies of "Interstellar," dissecting its copyright and financial intricacies.
As Martin made his way home, Nolan's script in hand, he couldn't help but notice its formulaic premise—a quintessential Hollywood tale of love and family, albeit with Nolan's signature twist.
Naturally, these developments fell well within Martin's anticipated trajectory.
As Hollywood's investment stakes soared, the industry's creative compass veered towards conservatism. Yet, it was Steven Spielberg, not the Nolan brothers, who initially conceived the project—labored over for four years before the Nolans joined the fray, injecting their own creative essence into the latter half of the script.
The script's true custodian was DreamWorks, now under Paramount Pictures' purview post-DreamWorks' dissolution. Paramount, in a strategic alliance with Warner Bros., navigated the project's intricate web.
Martin grasped the intricacies of the collaboration, understanding that while his and Nolan's intentions aligned, the project's outcome was far from set in stone. Fortunately, with ample time ahead, Martin deferred deeper contemplation.
.....
January in Hollywood heralded the season of accolades and anticipation for the Oscars.
In recent years, the Oscars' waning viewership mirrored its antiquated conservatism, alienating younger demographics who found solace elsewhere. Why tune in to a ceremony where their preferred films were often overlooked?
With this year's ceremony, organizers endeavored to revamp tradition, eschewing seasoned comedians for hosts in favor of a fresh pairing: Anne Hathaway and James Franco.
With preparations underway, Anne, dedicatedly immersed in her role, frequented the Kodak Theater diligently. Her counterpart, James Franco, mirrored her enthusiasm.
During a lull in their morning routine, James perused a copy of Vanity Fair, a tool for mental respite.
Anne, reaching out to her friend Emily Blunt, caught sight of the magazine in Franco's hands, her gaze drawn to the cover's trio: James Cameron, Johnny Depp, and Martin Davis.
Curiosity piqued, she inquired, "What's caught your eye?"
Requesting the magazine, Anne delved into the article, her gaze fixed on the headline: "2010 Hollywood Star Earning Ranking."
James Cameron, the luminary director, claimed the top spot with a staggering $257 million, propelled predominantly by the colossal success of "Avatar."
Johnny Depp followed closely, his coffers brimming with $115 million, courtesy of his swashbuckling exploits in "Alice in Wonderland" and "Pirates of the Caribbean 4."
And there, nestled among the industry titans, Anne spotted Martin's name, sparking a ripple of intrigue.