Dunn picked James Franco for Spider-Man over Tobey Maguire for a few reasons: better acting, bigger potential, and—crucially—he was younger. The *Spider-Man* series wasn't just a trilogy for Dunn. He saw it as the key to cracking open the Marvel Universe, paving the way for the *Avengers* and beyond. Marvel's heroes weren't household names yet, and Spider-Man was the spark to ignite the whole thing. Picture it: Spidey popping up in cameos across countless superhero flicks, boosting their buzz. A measly three-film deal wasn't going to cut it for Dunn's vision. And with James Franco's smarts, Dunn was betting he wouldn't turn down the gig.
Two days later, after Dunn personally auditioned them, Tobey Maguire landed the role of Harry Osborn for $2 million, while James Franco's Spider-Man paycheck was a lean $500,000. *Spider-Man* was gearing up with a vengeance—shooting was slated to start by late August.
But then Sam Mendes swooped in, fast and fierce, kicking off *Girl, Interrupted* first. And just when you thought that was it, Dunn Films dropped another bombshell: they were greenlighting a third movie.
"Dunn, this is my brother, Jonathan Nolan," Christopher Nolan said, introducing the younger guy as they stepped into Dunn's office.
Dunn eyed Jonathan Nolan—young, sharp, handsome—and couldn't help but grin. A legend in the making, a freaking screenwriting god! He jumped up, eager, and shook Jonathan's hand. "Didn't you graduate back in June? What took you so long to get here?"
Jonathan smiled. "Chris told me after graduation I could work at Dunn Films. No job pressure, so I went back to the UK to hang with family for a bit."
Dunn nodded, chuckling at himself. "Smart move. You should spend time with family when you can. Not like me—lone wolf, no relatives to speak of."
Dunn's rags-to-riches story was old news by now, dug up by every outlet: orphan, high school dropout, clawing his way into Hollywood as a production assistant. Who'd have thought it'd lead to this?
Jonathan, quick-witted, quipped, "At least it gives you an excuse for all those women popping up around you."
Christopher frowned. "Jonathan!"
Dunn just laughed it off. "Hey, he's right! If it weren't for that, I'd be drowning in flak for my love life. Anyway, since you're here, head over to the writing department and sign up. No need to punch a clock every day—you're working on a script, right?"
Christopher exhaled, jumping in. "Yeah, Jonathan wrote *Memento*. I want to turn it into a film."
Dunn's brow creased. He'd promised Christopher funding for *Memento* ages ago, but with *Girl, Interrupted* ($35 million budget) and *Spider-Man* ($150 million budget) already in motion, cash was tight. The company had $10 million left in the bank for emergencies and to keep Dunn Films, Marvel Studios, and Marvel Entertainment running. Squeezing out more for *Memento*? Tough call.
Christopher clearly sensed the strain. "Dunn, I'm thinking ultra-low budget—small cast, minimal sets, leaning hard on tricky editing to build the vibe."
"Oh?" Dunn perked up, remembering Nolan's debut *Following*—shot for a measly $6,000. "How much are we talking?"
"Five million."
"Done!" Dunn slapped the desk, pumped. "If that's the case, we'll scrape it together no matter what. Chris, go for it—I believe in you!"
Jonathan, meeting Dunn for the first time, was floored by the guy's gusto. "I heard you're dropping $150 million on *Spider-Man*?"
Dunn grinned. "Yep, cast's locked in. We're rolling in two weeks."
Jonathan shot a glance at his brother and smirked. "You know… I've been a comic nerd since I was a kid."
Dunn gave him a sly look. "Oh? Interested?"
Jonathan blinked. "Me?"
Dunn clapped his shoulder, then turned to Christopher with a loaded tone. "Chris, I've got high hopes for you. Dunn Films can't lean on me alone forever—I need you stepping up. You get me?"
Christopher was speechless for a sec.
Dunn went on, earnest. "Chris, nail *Memento* first. Learn the ropes, stack some experience. Jonathan's a comic geek, huh? Maybe down the line… I'll hand you guys something big."
"Superheroes?" Jonathan's face lit up.
Christopher looked stunned. "Dunn, you… you're saying I could direct a blockbuster?"
"Why not?" Dunn shot back, shaking his head with a smile. "I told you—I believe in you!"
---
When Dunn Films announced a $150 million *Spider-Man* project, Hollywood was floored. No one expected Dunn to have the guts to throw that kind of cash at a superhero flick when the genre was supposedly "dead." But Dunn was the wonder kid—*Titanic*, *My Big Fat Greek Wedding*—his track record spoke for itself. Most folks just marveled, maybe muttering he was too full of himself.
Then came the *Girl, Interrupted* reveal: $35 million for Susanna Kaysen's adaptation. Hollywood went from shocked to speechless. Dunn was out of control—overinflated ego!
A small fry like Dunn Films should've stuck to co-productions with the big studios. Going solo on two massive films? Total investment: $185 million! Even the Big Six would hesitate at that scale. Dunn Films churning out projects this fast felt like a circus.
*The Hollywood Reporter* didn't hold back: "Dunn Walker's a stellar director. *Titanic* is a timeless classic in fans' hearts, and his *Star Wars* kicked off a new era of effects-driven films. But he's just a director, not a businessman. His management of Dunn Films is a chaotic, laughable mess."
*USA Today* piled on: "Dunn's blind overconfidence is a classic young-guy blunder—not womanizing, but reckless ambition. He's a directing phenom, but his lack of management know-how could tank his career." They even told him to "go back to school."
But just when the criticism hit fever pitch, Dunn Films fired back with a vengeance: they were funding British up-and-comer Christopher Nolan's *Memento*, effective immediately.
The news hit Hollywood like a thunderclap!
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