Chapter 770: Brothers Split!

"David, have you delved into his story?" Martin's eyes gleamed with anticipation as he clasped his hands eagerly.

David Fincher nodded, his expression serious. "I immersed myself in Billy's world before tackling 'Fight Club.' I combed through his medical records, dissected his life, and soaked up every detail of his struggles. And I wasn't alone; countless Hollywood productions exploring schizophrenia have drawn inspiration from Billy's experiences."

Martin's intrigue deepened. "Billy's case naturally captivates the imagination. I'm itching to adapt '24 Billys' into a cinematic masterpiece."

His enthusiasm bubbled over. "David, no one's better suited for this project than you. Care to collaborate once more?"

Having pored over two biographies, David cut to the chase. "How do you envision the adaptation?"

"We're tossing around two concepts," Martin revealed. "Firstly, a deep dive into Billy's psyche, focusing on his crimes, a raw portrayal of his inner turmoil."

He paused, gauging David's reaction before continuing. "The second idea broadens the scope, spotlighting the legal ramifications of Billy's case, echoing far beyond his individual story."

David shook his head at the latter. "Not my cup of tea. It sounds like Oscar bait, too formulaic, too constrained."

He had a point to prove, a departure from the conventional. "My days chasing Oscars end with 'Argo.'"

Martin persisted, eager for David's input. "And the first option?"

David's gaze sharpened. "That's where the real potential lies. It's all about Billy, his complexities, his multiple personas, demanding top-tier acting talent."

Martin chuckled, his confidence unshaken. "David, trust me. I've danced in similar shoes before."

With a wry smile, David replied, "I'll keep the faith, Martin. Just don't expect me to tread the same beaten path as the Academy."

As David Fincher's eyes fixated on the screen, a haunting image of a white face with vivid red lips flashed before him, evoking the chilling persona of the Joker. Though thoughts about the character raced through his mind, he knew discussing them was precarious given his delicate relationship with Warner Pictures. Even with Daniel replaced as president, trust between the parties remained scarce, a fact he concealed from Martin, who sat across from him.

Martin cut to the chase, "Have we settled on this project?"

Having collaborated with Martin before, David knew refusal wasn't an option, but he had to be upfront, "I've inked a deal with Netflix. After next year's Oscars, I'll dive into the 'House of Cards' project from prep to production. Your project will have to wait until it wraps."

Martin nodded, unfazed, "No rush."

"Great. Let's secure a script first," David suggested.

With that settled, Martin turned to Louise, and they delved into project specifics. Louise vowed to expedite studio registration, merge startup capital with Davis Studio, and brainstorm potential screenwriters with David and Martin, ensuring swift script adaptation.

David, acknowledging his scripting limitations, recommended Andrew Walker of "Seven Deadly Sins" fame, only to be met with Martin and Louise's disapproval. They cited Walker's downward career trajectory post-"Seven Deadly Sins," culminating in the lackluster "The Wolfman."

Despite setbacks, David believed in Billy's narrative, confident in his ability to craft it into cinematic brilliance. Martin's acting prowess was undeniable, but without a solid script, their efforts would flounder.

Their approach, conceptualizing projects before scripting, mirrored Hollywood's common practice, a method David knew all too well.

As the morning sun painted the set of "La La Land" with golden hues, Martin ventured to his usual spot, ready to practice piano and dance. To his surprise, he found Mene waiting for him.

"I aced the audition," Mene announced eagerly, "I snagged the role of your buddy in the film, Keith, the pop band singer."

Martin raised an eyebrow, "You sing?"

Mene beamed with confidence, "Absolutely! Don't forget, boss, I'm a black man with rhythm in my blood. Singing and dancing come naturally to me."

Bruce, skeptical, challenged him, "Just you?"

Without hesitation, Mene tossed his coat to Bruce, declaring, "Prepare to be amazed."

Martin gestured to the piano, "Let's hear it."

Mene nodded, clearing his throat, and as Martin played Sebastian's composition, Mene belted out Mia's lyrics with surprising skill. It wasn't the typical black rap, but Mene delivered it flawlessly.

Impressed, Martin halted his playing.

Bruce applauded, stunned, "I didn't see that coming."

Mene grinned proudly, "Don't forget my talents, Bruce!"

Bruce's realization struck him, "Your gift lies in persuasion!"

Mene chuckled, catching the coat Bruce tossed back to him, "Celine Dion, Emma Thomas, and Isabelle Huppert can vouch for that."

Curiosity piqued, Bruce inquired, "Are you still juggling them all?"

Mene sheepishly scratched his head, "Emma reached out again two days ago. I hesitated at first, but then, well, you know how it goes."

Martin and Bruce exchanged glances, then simultaneously scolded, "Scoundrel!"

Undeterred, Mene took a seat, eager to chat with his friends. When Emma's name came up, he leaned in with gossip in tow, "I overheard Emma dishing on the Nolan brothers. Seems there's some drama brewing."

Martin leaned in, intrigued, "Tell us more."

"Mene delved into Nolan lore, "Ever since Nolan hit Hollywood, Jonathan's been his go-to screenwriter. 'Memento,' 'Insomnia,' 'The Prestige,' 'Inception,' and the 'Batman' series—Jonathan's the mastermind behind them all. Now that Nolan's a household name, Jonathan's riding high as a top-tier screenwriter."

Martin pondered, "But Jonathan wants more than just being Christopher Nolan's brother?"

Mene nodded, "Exactly. According to Emma, 'Interstellar' marks the end of their collaboration, at least for now."

Martin recalled 'Memento' and probed, "Was there a falling out?"

Mene chose his words carefully, "No falling out per se, just some conflicts. Emma hinted that if they keep working together, a falling out's inevitable. Seems they'd be better off parting ways professionally."

Martin understood the dynamics, knowing that few siblings in business remained unscathed. The tale of the Weinstein brothers underscored this truth, Harvey's downfall owed much to Bob's betrayal.

As Sebastian signaled the start of Martin's piano practice, Mene excused himself, leaving Martin to focus.

After an hour of piano drills, Martin headed to the dance studio for training with Mandy Moore. In the film's schedule, Martin's character would showcase solo moves and a pas de deux with the leading lady. With Moore's choreography finalized, Martin's background in dance and combat training ensured he'd deliver on set, even if multiple takes were needed.

Following a brief lunch break, Martin convened with Louise and director Damien Chazelle for pre-production discussions. The film, set entirely in Los Angeles, would be shot on location, with Disney Studios secured for interior scenes and outdoor locales under consideration.

As the meeting adjourned, Martin and Louise departed the conference room, ready to tackle the challenges ahead.

As they strolled, Martin broached the topic, "For the project on multiple personalities, I've got a screenwriter in mind: Jonathan Nolan."

Louise, well-versed in Hollywood dynamics, nodded knowingly, "Isn't Jonathan exclusive to Christopher Nolan?"

Martin clarified, "Word on the street is, the Nolan brothers' collaboration's on hiatus. Jonathan's itching to strike out on his own. I reckon he's a perfect fit for tackling this theme."

Martin pointed out, "Take 'Memento,' for instance, Jonathan penned that gem. He's got a knack for weaving intricate psychological elements into his scripts. It's a signature of his work."

Louise concurred, "Jonathan's departure from the Nolan camp signals bigger ambitions. He's not content just being a screenwriter; I bet he's eyeing the director's chair too."

Martin, unaware of Jonathan's directorial aspirations and lack of notable directorial credits, remarked, "Let's reach out to Jonathan. If he's game for screenwriting, we'll offer him a hefty paycheck. But if he insists on directing as well, we'll have to reconsider."

"Agreed," Louise affirmed, "I'll handle the conversation with Jonathan."

As they entered Louise's office, her phone buzzed, Elon Musk on the line, extending an invitation for drinks that evening.