*Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace* has wrapped up its final cut. Compared to Dunn's original 168-minute version, George Lucas trimmed it down to 134 minutes—mostly by cutting a bunch of Natalie's scenes.
That left Dunn feeling a little awkward.
Still, the two got along great during the process, and George Lucas really took a liking to Dunn, the young guy with big ideas.
A bit of personal bias? Eh, no big deal.
Truth is, the movie's framework shifted quite a bit from Lucas's original vision. It started as a "planet story," but now it's full-on *Star Wars*—a galactic showdown!
By the last 40 minutes, the horn for the grand finale blares, splitting into four epic parts:
- The Queen's Palace: Queen Amidala leads her crew, dodging killer robots in a thrilling escape.
- The Grasslands: Native Gungans clash with the Trade Federation's robot army in a massive, jaw-dropping battle.
- Space: Anakin Skywalker pilots a ship, blows up the robot control fleet—cue interstellar explosions!
- Jedi Showdown: Jedi "Qui-Gon" and "Obi-Wan" face off against the dark warrior Darth Maul. This is the film's peak—Dunn poured his heart into filming it. Lightsabers flash across the screen, and the Jedi shine in all their glory.
Dunn's pacing is super tight—almost too much for an era when blockbuster films were just finding their footing. It didn't quite fit the mainstream back then, but it's exactly the kind of experience Hollywood would perfect after a decade or two of making commercial hits.
For big-budget flicks—especially ones loaded with effects—the plot just needs to pass muster. What matters most is the *wow* factor!
Even Christopher Nolan, practically a filmmaking god, teamed up with Leonardo DiCaprio for *Inception*—a brilliant story—and still didn't hit the box office numbers people expected. Meanwhile, movies like *Transformers*, with plots straight out of preschool, rocked the world thanks to insane visuals.
Since George Lucas's script already leaned simple and a bit childish, Dunn figured there was no point wasting tons of footage on storytelling. Why not go the *Transformers* route and win with pure visual dazzle?
The final cut was done, and Dunn tossed out three small suggestions. Lucas agreed to tweak them—no big fuss there.
What *did* spark a debate was the future of special effects in movies.
This film's got a bunch of animated characters. George Lucas wanted them all done with live-action animation—pure computer-made stuff.
But Dunn switched things up during filming, using motion capture for most of the shots instead.
"George, movies are still about performance at their core," Dunn argued. "Human movement is crazy complex. Motion capture keeps it smooth and natural—full of rich expressions and tiny details. Live-action animation? No offense, but even the best techs tweaking it by hand can't match the subtle flex of human muscles."
Dunn might not be a tech wizard, but he's got a sharp eye for the future. Motion capture? It's *the* trend for blockbuster effects down the road.
Heck, even pure animated films started using real actors with motion capture to make characters feel fuller and more alive—ditching live-action animation entirely.
"I don't see the point," Lucas shot back. "Sure, like you said, motion capture's more detailed and realistic. But can the big screen even show that off? What's the resolution of a movie? You've seen the samples—live-action animation and motion capture look pretty close in practice, but the former costs way less."
Dunn couldn't help but roll his eyes internally. *Wait a decade or so for the 3D re-release, George, and you'll see how big the gap really is.*
"George, digital and 3D are the future!"
"Maybe, but not right now."
"We're at the front lines of Hollywood. I feel like it's my job—my duty—to push tech forward. Plus…" Dunn paused for effect, "we've got IMAX theaters now, right? Fans watching there will definitely feel the difference. It'll blow their minds!"
"IMAX? How many of those are even around? It's just bloating the budget for no reason."
Dunn glanced at Lucas and let out a long sigh.
He'd fought hard to convince Lucas to tweak the script and take his advice—and it worked. But to Dunn, Lucas was starting to feel more like an investor than a filmmaker.
Compare that to another big-shot Jewish mogul, Steven Spielberg.
When Spielberg loves a movie, he'll spare no expense to make it perfect.
Sure, that tanked DreamWorks, but it also left behind a legacy of classics.
…
*Wedding Crashers* is all wrapped up too.
Dunn didn't dive too deep into this one—just slapped his name on it as a producer to draw some extra buzz.
Good thing Andrew O'Hare says it's got solid potential. Will it pull off a miracle like *My Big Fat Greek Wedding*? Hard to say, but it's looking like a box office win either way.
Ever since *Pretty Woman* hit it big, comedies have been the go-to for low budgets and high returns. Julia Roberts and Cameron Diaz shot to fame that way, and Nicole Kidman's career took a turn with *My Big Fat Greek Wedding*.
*Wedding Crashers* flips the script, though—no female leads here. It's all about two guys, exploring love's warm fuzzies from a male perspective. Fresh angle, bound to turn heads!
Dunn trusts Andrew completely. Meanwhile, Manola Dargis—on the same level as Andrew—hasn't been slacking either. She pitched Dunn a new book.
"It's Michael Cunningham's third novel—follows three women. The big takeaway? Life's this radiant halo, a translucent envelope that wraps around our consciousness from start to finish."
Manola's words got Dunn on his feet. "What's it called?"
"*The Hours*."
"Awesome!" Dunn clapped his hands, pumped. "Manola, you know the company's strapped for cash right now—busy snapping up Marvel—so we can't jump into artsy films yet. But I promise, once the funds roll back in, we're making this happen!"
Nicole Kidman's already in his bed. She hasn't asked for favors, but Dunn feels like he owes it to her to boost her career.
This isn't just any fling—she's a fairy-tale companion!
No way he's taking that for granted.
A bit later, his secretary Reese popped in. "Word from AA—Arad and Perlmutter are backing off again. They'll sell all their shares for $85 million."
Dunn mulled it over. "Tell AA $80 million seals the deal."
Reese, rocking a sharp black-and-white suit like a pro secretary, hugged her clipboard, scribbled a note, then added, "Fox Studios reached out too. They want a meeting about *Wedding Crashers* distribution."
Dunn chuckled. "That Bill—never misses a chance to squeeze a buck. Tell them I'll—"
"Nope, not Bill!" Reese looked as puzzled as he did. "It's Tom Rothman, co-president of Twentieth Century Fox."
"Him?"
Dunn froze, stunned.
At the Oscars, he'd thought Tom Rothman was acting weird.
But this? The guy reaching out to distribute Dunn's movie?
Weren't they… enemies before?
Dunn couldn't wrap his head around it.
---