Here is another bonus chapter for you. All thanks to — AnomalousApeiron
Join My Discord for chatting.
****
Marvin's smile widened ever so slightly. "The others..."
He let the sentence hang for a moment. "...are a different conversation."
That immediately caught Harvey's attention again.
"The others?" Harvey echoed. "How many scripts are we talking about?"
Marvin's smile barely changed. "Enough that I won't be looking for work anytime soon." He shrugged. "But they're nowhere near finished."
"They're still rough. Half of them exist as outlines and scattered scenes."
Harvey nodded impatiently. "What kind of movies?"
Marvin thought for a second. "One's another small film. A coming-of-age story." He smiled to himself. "It's basically about a... dumb teenage girl."
Harvey blinked. "A dumb girl?"
Marvin laughed. "Her words, not mine. It's another low-budget picture. I'm keeping it small on purpose. I don't need every idea to cost fifty million dollars."
Harvey stared at him for a moment before letting out a short breath through his nose.
Hearing it again, Harvey's interest cooled almost immediately.
A low-budget film centered on a teenage girl wasn't exactly a rare commodity in 1999. Every year, studios and independents churned out dozens of high school comedies, coming-of-age dramas, and modest teen romances, hoping one or two would break through. Most disappeared after a few weeks in theaters, earning little more than a brief mention in the weekend box office reports before being forgotten.
To Harvey, it sounded like another one of those pictures.
Marvin's name gave any project a certain value, of course, but not enough to justify chasing something that, on paper, looked so ordinary. Compared to supernatural thrillers, prestige dramas, or large-scale commercial films, a small, character-driven story about a teenage girl offered limited upside and plenty of risk especially when Marvin wasn't even in it.
He mentally pushed it to the bottom of his priority list.
If Marvin wanted to make it himself one day, Harvey wouldn't stand in his way.
But Miramax had no reason to fight for it.
"Well..."
"If that's what makes you happy."
There wasn't much else to say.
The conversation ended there—not awkwardly, but decisively.
Marvin hadn't raised his voice.
He hadn't argued.
He had simply made it clear that these films weren't looking for studio financing, executive oversight, or Miramax's approval.
They were his.
Harvey understood the message perfectly. He just didn't like it. For a brief moment, irritation flared beneath his practiced smile. The kid didn't need his money. Didn't need his producers. Didn't need his studio.
That wasn't how Hollywood usually worked. People came to Harvey. They needed Harvey. This boy didn't. Still, Harvey forced the annoyance back down where it belonged.
Harvey switched the topic again. He understood he couldn't take a piece of this pie, and he felt a flash of anger at the boy's arrogance.
He'd survived in Hollywood by knowing when to push and when to wait.
Besides...
From everything Marvin had described, the projects hardly sounded threatening. A tiny independent vampire movie. Another inexpensive film about an awkward teenage girl.
Neither sounded remotely commercial.
The market was already flooded with cheap vampire pictures. Every month another low-budget bloodsucker movie went straight to video, disappearing onto Blockbuster shelves before anyone noticed.
And Marvin's idea sounded even stranger. Not a sleek, sexy action film like *Blade*. Not a gothic romance.
Just... some bleak winter European style story with lonely children, bullying, where Marvin was weirdly inserting a mysterious vampire girl into the narrative.
Harvey couldn't picture audiences lining up for that.
Harvey even felt a dark spark of hope that Marvin *might* actually failed with this project.
‘Maybe...
Maybe this would finally be the one that missed.’
The thought quietly pleased him. Every wunderkind needed a stumble eventually.
If Marvin took part in his first real flop—critical and commercial—the myth surrounding him would crack.
Studios would stop treating him like an untouchable genius.
He would lose his leverage.
He'd become human again. And when that happened…
Harvey knew exactly how to play the role of the understanding mentor, the producer willing to "help him get back on his feet."
‘People were much easier to control after their first failure.’
Harvey could swoop in, and capture this golden goose even easier for future, studio-mandated projects.
His smile returned, warm and effortless, as though none of those thoughts had ever crossed his mind.
"Alright," Harvey said, spreading his hands. "Your money, your movies. I can respect an artist wanting to bet on himself."
Then he tilted his head, casually changing direction.
"But let's talk about the one that does surprise me." His eyes narrowed with genuine curiosity. "Are you really serious about putting hundreds of millions into Peter Jackson's *Lord of the Rings*?”
Harvey stepped a little closer, lowering his voice. "Marvin... can I give you a piece of advice?"
"You usually do," Marvin replied with a faint smile.
Harvey chuckled. "Fair enough."
He slipped both hands into his pockets. "Look, Peter's a nice guy. Passionate. Knows his fantasy."
He paused. "But let's be honest with each other."
"So far he's made splatter movies, horror comedies, and little independent pictures. Fun stuff, sure, but nothing on the scale you're talking about."
Harvey shook his head. "The Lord of the Rings isn't some little art film. It's an enormous gamble. Hundreds of millions of dollars. You really want to hand that kind of money to a director who's never carried a production anywhere near this size?"
He watched Marvin carefully before continuing. "If I were in your shoes… I'd do something different."
Marvin raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"You write the screenplay." Harvey spread his hands. "Then we bring in someone who's already proven he can command an army. Spielberg. Cameron. Somebody who's already delivered gigantic movies."
"That way you've got Peter involved as a consultant if you want him... but you've also got someone who's already driven a truck this size." Harvey smiled easily. "It just makes your investment a hell of a lot safer."
Truthfully, Harvey's opinion had changed.
When Peter Jackson had first walked into Miramax with *The Lord of the Rings*, Harvey hadn't seen a billion-dollar franchise.
He'd seen an expensive fantasy adaptation with limited commercial appeal. That was why he'd tried to force it into a single film.
But everything changed the moment Marvin unexpectedly intervened and offered to finance a trilogy, Marvin had become Hollywood's most reliable hit maker.
His instincts bordered on supernatural. If Marvin believed *The Lord of the Rings* deserved three films… Harvey liked to work with successful people because they were less likely to capsize his studio.
Then suddenly the property looked far more valuable than Harvey had first imagined.
The problem wasn't the books anymore. It was Peter Jackson.
Harvey couldn't bring himself to trust a relatively obscure New Zealand filmmaker with a production that expensive.
This fat, unkempt man from New Zealand was a little-known commodity. Harvey couldn't trust him with the screenwriting and directing duties for such a huge investment.
If there was any way to separate Peter from the driver's seat while keeping Marvin attached...
Miramax would gain control of what might become the biggest fantasy franchise Hollywood had ever seen.
Harvey wanted to test Marvin's position, to see if he could manipulate the boy into pushing Peter Jackson out, allowing Miramax to take creative control of the massive franchise.
So Harvey probed.
Carefully.
Looking for even the smallest opening.
Marvin listened without interrupting.
When Harvey finished, he adjusted the cuff of his jacket before answering.
"No." The single word wasn't hostile. It was simply final.
Harvey blinked. "No?"
Marvin shook his head. "Peter stays."
He said it so matter-of-factly that the discussion seemed over before anyone had a chance to argue. "I won't be writing this one," Marvin continued. "My schedule's already spoken for."
He leaned back slightly. "The vampire film is moving forward as an independent production. Without a major studio carrying the weight, my team and I have to keep an eye on everything—financing, production, distribution planning, marketing, the lot. It demands far more time than people realize."
Marvin looked toward Harvey. "You know exactly what that's like. Making a film without a studio safety net means every problem eventually finds its way back to you."
A faint smile crossed his face. "So no," he said. "This one is his. I don't have the time to build Middle-earth."
Harvey opened his mouth, but Marvin continued before he could interrupt.
"And even if I did… I still wouldn't replace Peter."
Harvey frowned. "Why not?"
"Because this world already exists in his head."
Marvin's tone remained steady. "He's spent years living with Tolkien's work. He's developed The Hobbit. He's worked through *The Lord of the Rings*. He knows the mythology. He knows the languages. He knows the cultures. He knows why the story matters."
Marvin met Harvey's eyes. "You don't replace that. There are plenty of directors who know how to stage explosions. There are very few who genuinely understand Tolkien."
He gave a small shrug. "I trust Peter. That's enough for me."
Silence settled between them.
Harvey's smile never quite disappeared.
But it became noticeably tighter. He had expected resistance. He hadn't expected absolute certainty.
There wasn't even room to negotiate. Marvin had already made his decision. Peter Jackson wasn't simply directing the films.
As far as Marvin was concerned… He was irreplaceable.
Harvey felt his he had lost the leverage on a potential goldmine.
Again…
After the triumph of the 71st Academy Awards, Harvey Weinstein stood at the height of his influence. Within Hollywood, he had become the man many believed could turn a respected performance into an Oscar-winning one. Actors, directors, and producers all wanted to be on good terms with Miramax's most powerful executive.
Among the brightest stars orbiting that world were Ben Affleck and Matt Damon.
They were hardly unknown newcomers. In 1997, the two lifelong friends from Boston had stunned Hollywood with Good Will Hunting.
Matt Damon starred as Will Hunting, while Ben Affleck played his loyal friend, Chuckie. More importantly, the pair shared screenwriting credit on the film, a script that earned widespread critical acclaim and captured the Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay at the 70th Oscars.
Overnight, they became two of the industry's most sought-after young talents.
Their careers, however, became closely intertwined with Miramax and Harvey Weinstein's growing influence. Like many rising actors of the era, they benefited enormously from Weinstein's aggressive awards campaigns, his unmatched promotional machine, and the considerable leverage he wielded throughout Hollywood. To many observers, staying in Harvey's good graces simply seemed like the practical way to navigate the industry at the time.
But their success was deeply tied to the dark, transactional underbelly of the industry.
Ben Affleck had gotten deeply involved with Harvey Weinstein because of their participation in *Shakespeare in Love*. It was a widely known, open industry secret that Gwyneth Paltrow's decision to "crawl into Harvey's bed" to secure her leading roles was heavily persuaded and facilitated by Ben Affleck.
What was even more interesting, and deeply cynical to those who knew the truth, was that during the film's massive promotional period, Ben Affleck and Gwyneth Paltrow were frequently presented to the public as one of the industry's golden couples. Magazine covers, red carpets, premieres—the relationship became part of the story Hollywood sold alongside the film itself.
While Ben Affleck deliberately acted as a highly visible shield. He provided cover for Gwyneth and Harvey's dark, underground transactional relationship until Gwyneth successfully won the Oscar she desired. Once the gold statue was in her hand, she decisively broke away from both of them, her leverage secured.
Behind closed doors, however, rumors traveled faster than limousines.
The industry thrived on whispers. Every studio lot, every agency office, every private party carried another version of the truth. Who was loyal to whom. Who owed favors. Who protected whom. Which careers had been built on talent alone, and which had required compromises nobody would ever admit publicly.
Harvey had a terrifying, widely known reputation in Hollywood. He could be accurately described as a top-tier villain to normal people. He had committed numerous, horrific offenses over decades: assaulting actresses, assaulting nannies, and harassing and forcing himself upon young girls who wanted a shot at fame.
The entire ecosystem of Hollywood was built on these dark, unspoken transactions. To Marvin, looking at it through the eyes of a demon, the moral outrage of the public was almost amusing.
Hollywood liked to present itself as a dream factory built on art and idealism. In reality, it was also a marketplace of ambition, ego, favors, influence, flesh and leverage. Every powerful institution developed its own currency. In Hollywood, prestige was simply another form of wealth.
That did not mean everyone at the top was corrupt. Far from it. Marvin had already met enough decent people to know otherwise.